A/N there are discussions about self-harm and suicide early in this chapter. Marked between ***, please skip if you will find this triggering.
Although he swore he wasn't going to be drawn to Potter and that he couldn't afford for his life to get complexly embroiled with 'The Boy Who Lived'; a week later, Draco found himself at puppy training classes again. Once more, he found himself sitting too close to Harry. Their thighs touched because of the closeness of the chairs squashed together around the side of the room. Draco found it disconcerting, barely able to focus on their conversation. He was beginning to regret accepting the invite because he didn't know what to say and was becoming flustered by their proximity and the smell of Harry's aftershave. It kept taking him back to the brief exchange before his trial when they stood in the corridor and Harry had-for want of a better phrase-'cared for him and his mother' before they faced the Wizengamot. He had taken Harry's tenderness to heart when he'd shut himself away from the Wizarding World and sunk himself into his veterinary studies. It had, to a degree, confused him that Harry would act so benevolently towards him after all their school years but it had also taught him a lot about forgiveness and moving forward.
They watched as Miss Summerlee explained to the group about teaching their puppies to lie down. Using a treat, she demonstrated with Mr Hercules, getting him to follow the treat to the floor.
'I get the impression you've already taught Mr Hercules all the tricks,' Draco muttered as the big puppy did exactly what was expected of him.
Harry smiled, crinkles appearing around his eyes. 'You've caught me out. Yes, this is for Teddy. He gets so excited around Hercules and tries to get him to do things but doesn't understand how. Hercules is fine to keep going over the basics, it means the harder stuff that I do with him comes a bit easier.'
'How long will it take, the military training?'
Harry shrugged, 'four to seven months, depending on the dog's nature and our relationship. We have to build trust as well as the skills.'
'He clearly adores you; he looks to you all the time.'
'Teddy or Hercules?' smiled Harry, giving a thumbs-up to the boy who was doing really well with Hercules.
'Both. I suppose you must not notice it anymore, with all your adoring fans falling at your feet...' Draco faltered when he saw a familiar flicker of annoyance cross Harry's face. 'Sorry, that was uncalled for...' Draco added quietly.
Harry looked at him sharply, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows and Draco immediately wanted to smooth it away.
'...don't be on tenterhooks around me, Draco. I'm not going to retaliate. We're not kids anymore...'
'...I know, I just didn't mean to annoy you.'
'You didn't. Though I do ask that you differentiate between those who simply view me as the Boy who Lived Twice and someone like Teddy, who's my family. By all means, take the piss out of the sycophantic idiots who only see me as "Harry The Saviour Potter" but not my family.'
'Sorry,' Draco mumbled inaudibly. 'Old habits die hard sometimes but I really don't want to go back to how things were. Apart from the fact that I haven't duelled with anyone for years so if you decided on that route, I'd come out of it far worse.'
Harry nudged him with his shoulder. 'I'm not going to duel with you. I've learned my lesson after the last time ended fucking badly. For which I'm sorry.'
'You apologised already.'
'I wasn't sure you accepted it. It was a big change in our dynamic to approach you like that and I can completely understand if you never forgive me. I had to let you know though; that I was sorry.'
'I know. Sorry I wasn't very gracious at the time.'
'I didn't expect you to be. I'd nearly killed you. It was awful.'
They'd both leant forward, mirroring each other with their elbows on their knees, shoulder to shoulder and their hands clasped out in front of them. It was easier to talk without making eye contact. They spoke in low, quiet voices despite being far away from anyone else in the room.
***
'You looked wretched.'
'I felt wretched but you were in a far worse place. If only I had realised how... tormented you were, how low...'
'...you can say it. There's no point in pretending I wasn't about to commit suicide at that point, I had already broken the mirror and had the piece of glass in my hand, I'd already started to cut my skin...'
'I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't even realise the moment I'd walked in on you. I couldn't see that. If I had, perhaps things would have played out differently. I would've tried to stop you and I'd never had fought you or cast that bloody spell. At the time I just reacted. Badly. With a spell I didn't know what it would do. It was idiotic of me. So, so stupid...'
Draco's heart beat heavily at scraping up the past and of revisiting this particular event but he understood that perhaps they needed to talk openly about it. In some ways he felt lighter for sharing the moment with someone who understood.
'I did react first. Merlin! I was so angry with you for turning up at that precise moment. It had to be you who caught me at my weakest and most vulnerable.' He smiled weakly. 'Yes, it makes unfathomable sense that it would be you. It was always you, Potter, everywhere I turned. So, I did what I do best and I lashed out. And I did try and cast an Unforgiveable on you...'
'...but it was an inconceivably bad attempt!'
'Hey!'
Harry looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
Draco sunk his head in shame. 'I didn't really mean it.'
'I realised that afterwards...'
Draco wondered if it was strange that he wanted to reach out and comfort Harry. It all seemed the wrong way around. He supposed they both carried considerable guilt from that time. 'It was a mistake. We all made mistakes. Some of mine were so colossal it's hard to reconcile them with any sort of peace. I think I'll forever carry the culpability of that time; that I believed in his cause when it was so obviously flawed and awful and... Fuck!' he hissed, almost in pain, 'I was so proud to take the Mark. It was only afterwards that I began to understand what it actually meant...' Draco gulped, fighting back tears that stung his eyes. It was too hard to revisit it all.
Harry had reached across and gripped his wrist firmly. He found comfort in and he looked at Harry with a sad smile and slightly blurred vision.
'Sorry to upset you,' Harry said softly. 'Perhaps we should talk about something else.'
'You never told anyone about the Cruciatus...'
'I told mum. She wanted to expel you but I said she'd have to expel me too because my curse was equally as unforgiveable, if not worse. She couldn't argue with that.'
Draco snorted. 'That sounds very Slytherin of you yet so very honourably Gryffindorish at the same time.' He paused, studying his hands. 'Fuck! It was a terrible year... Maybe worse than seventh year. It was when I came to understand my father's fallibility and I stopped believing in him and his ways. It was a long way to fall,' said Draco quietly. 'That day, I reached rock bottom. I just wanted to bleed all that hateful "pure" blood out of my body.'
'I'm glad that didn't happen, even though I...'
They both knew what Harry meant, that he'd nearly done it for Draco.
'If you hadn't turned up, I would have done it. I felt so numb, I remember thinking that it wasn't going to hurt, that if I sliced my skin open it would just bleed and I wouldn't feel it. Only it did hurt and I just happened to look up and the first thing I saw was your eyes...'
***
He looked into Harry's eyes now, so green behind his glasses. It seemed fantastical that anyone could have eyes that green. They made Draco think of the Forbidden Forest; enticing and dangerous, drawing him into shadows that seemed to offer safety. They were a contradiction: unreal, yet so very, very real with bright flecks that were almost lime green set against dark Aleppo-pine green around the edges. He remembered his mother once telling him about the irony of the colour of the killing curse: that green was symbolic of compassion, and harmony; that it brings hope and alleviates anxiety and often indicates safety. Yes, Potter's eyes were a paradox, offering an honest safety that Draco felt he was drowning in. They made him feel like he couldn't catch his breath, like he was suffocating. They made him feel alive.
He shuddered and never before had he wanted someone to hold him as much as he wanted it from Harry in that moment. He was glad Harry still had his hand on Draco's wrist and it felt like there was electricity crackling between them. But that touch was keeping him grounded and it brought back memories of the hospital wing and the warmth Harry's touch had brought him in the most desperate of times.
'I guess we have to look at the good things that came out of that day,' Harry said.
'Like you not killing me?'
'Definitely like me not killing you. And I finally understood. I finally saw that the situation we were in wasn't black and white. I didn't know what was going on with you but I saw you clearly didn't have a choice in whatever it was.'
'You gave me hope, when you came and told me not to give up and believe things may end up differently. I held on to that. I hoped the Order might managed to intervene, something, anything. Dumbledore still died...'
'...he was already dying...'
'...I wasn't sure I wanted to believe that when you said it in court.'
'For all his wisdom and experience, the stupid bugger decided it was a good idea to wear a cursed ring. Severus was keeping him alive until "the right time". It was all about "the right time" with him. He held back an awful lot of information that might have helped me because it wasn't "the right time" and then there was the small matter of me having to die at "the right time".'
'You really did survive another killing curse?'
'Yes.' There was an abruptness in Harry's voice and he removed his hand from Draco's wrist and sat back in his chair. Draco immediately missed its warmth.
He sat back too and it was his turn to nudge Harry's shoulder. 'Sorry.'
Harry gave a heavy sigh. 'Don't apologise, it's me. I need to take a leaf out of my own book and differentiate between a friend asking and someone from the sycophantic idiotic adoring masses...'
'Friend?'
'What else should I call you? We've saved each other's lives and managed several civilised conversations now on four separate occasions, five if you include outside the court room. I think we're doing okay.'
'So, you're not about to challenge me to a duel?'
'Not unless you're about to do something particularly nefarious.'
'So this is what the invitations to join you are about, you still think I'm about to do something nefarious... you're stalking me again...' Draco teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Harry grinned, 'I'm intrigued to know what reprehensible thoughts are going through that clever mind of yours.' Harry leant close and said in an illegally husky voice, 'are they terribly wicked?'
'What would you do if they were?' Draco automatically challenged, his heart beating wildly. What was he doing? He was positively flirting with the Chosen One... It both thrilled and terrified him.
'Well, I couldn't punish you for your thoughts alone. That would be ridiculous. So, I would be required to witness you in action and then it would depend on the category of immorality that such actions fell under...'
'Do you taunt all Death-Eaters like this? Is this what you learn in Auror school?'
'Oh yes, didn't you know? Tomorrow I'm having dinner with Macnair and on Saturday I'm on a double date with the Carrows. My ambition is to woo all the world's criminals into Azkaban...'
'...Have you run out of adoring fans so that you now have to resort to the criminal underworld?'
'Hmmm. I like playing with fire... But I think I've spotted a flaw. You don't fit into the categories of criminal underworld or Death-Eater, considering you were acquitted and you're now a fully qualified animal-doctor...'
'Perhaps further of said "wooing" is required for you fully understand me...' Oh gods, thought Draco, what am I saying?
Harry smiled at him wickedly. 'Dinner, then? Saturday. Just you and me?'
Draco gulped but covered it with 'what about your double date with the Carrows?'
Harry's gaze dropped greedily to Draco's neck as he watched Draco's Adam's apple undoubtedly give his nervousness away. There was a glint in his eyes when he looked back at Draco. 'I'll blow them off. You're much prettier,' he grinned.
'POTTER! I'm not pretty, I'll only concede to handsomer. And that's very fickle and shallow of you. I expected better. We'd better make it the Saturday after, it would be very unchivalrous of you and would play hellfire with your squeaky-clean Boy-Wonder reputation if you start standing up your dates for no better reason than finding a prettier option.'
'So, you do admit to being pretty?'
'You're twisting my words.'
'On a more serious note,' said Harry, feeling slightly hot and flushed. 'It might be good for us to rehash some of our schooldays if we're truly to be become friends now. Just so we can put it to bed, so to speak...'
'You have a one-track mind,' smiled Draco, though he looked a bit flushed too. 'All of it?'
'That might take six years. Perhaps just some key moments. I admit to feeling relieved that we've talked about the incident in the bathroom...'
Draco nodded. 'Yes,' he said quietly. 'Me too.'
'And I do want to know more about you... I want to understand...'
'It's an uncomfortable proposition but logical. Especially as my past is far more uncomfortable than yours.'
'We all have our skeletons.'
'I don't believe Saint Harry Potter has skeletons in the closet. I'm pescatarian, is that going to be a problem?'
'Of course not,' Harry said. 'It just means I'll have to find us somewhere extra special.'
When Harry got home that night, and after he'd put Teddy to bed, he Floo-ed Mione.
As soon as he mentioned the name 'Draco', she squeed loudly and withdrew from the flames. Next minute the Floo was flaring into life and she was stepping into the sitting room in Grimmauld Place. She positively leapt on Harry, hugging him tightly and grinning from ear-to-ear.
'Mione, calm down,' Harry huffed.
'But... oh my god...! It's so perfect, don't you see!'
'We're just trying to lay the past to rest.'
'Sure,' she said. 'Tell me everything. In fact, scrap that, get your pensieve, I want to see.'
Harry sighed, 'some of it is uncomfortable viewing.'
They went to his study and carefully retrieved the pensieve from the cupboard. He wiped it down and slowly withdrew the mist of his memory to drop into the bowl. Then they both dipped into the recent swirling memory of the puppy training class.
'Oh my god!' Mione squealed again when they'd finished watching it. 'Oh my god! He's blatantly flirting with you. He actually told you in no uncertain terms to "woo" him! And you! You're outrageous!' She thumped his arm playfully. 'He looks good, you know.'
'I'm well aware,' said Harry, running a hand through his hair. 'I believe I've mentioned the bit about him being straight.'
'Then you'll have to woo him around the corner with your charm. What was that business with him staring into your eyes?'
'I'm not entirely sure. It was surreally intense though.'
'And you managed to keep your magic under control?'
'Just. It took a lot of concentration. I could feel it crackling under my skin like it needed to escape.'
'Hmmm,' said Mione. 'Flirting and staring into the eyes of one's supposed arch-nemesis and looking like he wants to kiss you doesn't suggest he's straight in the slightest. Perhaps he just doesn't realise his preference for all things Potter yet, what with his father being an utter control freak and mapping Draco's life out for him, including, no doubt, an arranged marriage. So, I suspect you're needing a babysitter on Saturday?'
'Please,' said Harry, trying to ignore the bit about Draco looking like he wanted to kiss him, it hadn't felt like that at the time.
'Only if I get a blow-by-blow account.'
Harry rolled his eyes. 'Of course.'
'What are you going to wear?'
'Mione! I've got ten days before I need to think about that.'
'No. Absolutely not. We're going shopping on Saturday, Mr Potter. And you can get your hair trimmed. White shirt, I think. White always makes your eyes more vibrant. He'll be falling into their greenness, again, especially if you have a light stubble. It's to die for...'
'Mione, I'm not a "to die for" kind of bloke.'
'Pfft. Yes you are. Now, ripped navy jeans and boots or is it a suit type date...'
'...it's not a date.'
'Sure. Where are you going?'
'I don't know yet. He's a pescatarian so I'd like to find a good restaurant. Boutiquey or something unusual. I can't imagine the last time he was taken out somewhere special, he said he's been a positive recluse since school.'
'How about Brighton, on the seafront? Then you can stroll along the promenade hand-in-hand afterwards. Wizarding community is relatively small so you won't be plagued and you know Dean and Seamus moved there because there's a big Muggle gay community. It means you don't need to worry...'
'Dean and Seamus will be upset if they hear I've been and I don't call in.'
'So, we'll go shopping there with Teddy this Saturday and meet up with them. I bet they can recommend somewhere too so you can check it out and get your bearings before your actual date.'
'Mione, it's not a date. We're just going for a meal.'
'Sure,' she dismissed. 'It's good that you were able to talk about the sixth year so openly. It marks a real change in your relationship. I suppose that means I can no longer indulge in the very special benefits of being your very bestfriend,' she smiled sadly.
'Mione...' Harry held her chin as they stood close together, looking into her deep brown eyes intently. 'We haven't been there for a long time...'
'I know,' she smiled. 'Just sometimes...' her voice had dropped to a whisper suddenly and she threw her arms around his shoulders and buried her head into his neck. 'I really miss him,' she said quietly. 'You always help me forget and now I'm going to lose you too.'
'Hey,' Harry said, holding her tight against him. 'You're not losing me. I'm still here. I'll always be here.'
'Harry,' she said timidly. 'Can I stay tonight? No... you know... just as friends... I just need some company. I just want you to hold me while I sleep. You'll have to lend me a t-shirt though.'
'Of course.'
'Thank you...'
He kissed her hair softly, his fingers caught in her tumbling curls.
'Do you think he ever thinks about me?' she mumbled nearly inaudibly into his shirt.
'I'm sure he does,' Harry whispered. 'I'm sure he does. He'd be a fool not to.'
'He is a fool,' she said and Harry knew she was crying despite trying to hide it. 'He's a bloody stupid, idiotic, horrible fool, but he's my fool...'
Harry lay awake for a long time that night with Mione curled into his arms, sleeping soundly with her head on his shoulder. They'd kept it platonic, talking quietly until her eyelids drooped and she fell asleep.
Memories of the war and his endless fights with Draco were stirred up but so was the hurt of Ron deserting Mione. She felt so tiny against him and he thought she was losing weight again. She went through phases of not looking after herself properly as she threw herself into her Ministry work to try to forget her loneliness. He wished he could look after her more. He wished Ron was around to look after her in the first place. She was a diamond who deserved to shine in the sunlight and sometimes Harry felt so angry with Ron for taking that away from her.
He sighed heavily.
Ron really needed to buck his ideas up and face some home truths. He'd had his time to try and get his head together after the war. Yes, he was running from the past but Harry believed that now it was time to return to reality. They were all struggling. None of them had healed completely. But life had to carry on otherwise there was a risk that it spiralled totally out of control. Harry thought Ron was living a lie and wasn't being true to himself. He knew that Ron had always admired his parents and their moral virtues that prioritised love, faithfulness, honesty, and family. Ron's lifestyle went against all that and Harry knew Molly and Arthur were upset by it too. They certainly didn't know the full story and they were certainly proud of his career but they didn't approve of the long line of women he paraded on his arm in the press.
I should, he thought, contact him. Try and talk to him about the situation.
The problem was, when Harry did see Ron between matches or seasons, they both avoided discussing Mione. Harry was still way too angry about Ron deserting Mione. And Ron knew Harry was way too angry about it. And Harry's temper was occasionally still volatile even though he'd calmed considerably since the war. Last time they tried to talk about her; Harry had broken Ron's nose with his fist. Despite that, they managed to maintain their friendship, neither wanted to completely break from each other. Harry supposed there were too many shared experiences to let go of and they'd often talk of their adventures up until the end of sixth year. Nothing of the seventh year though; they never talked about being on the run and hunting Horcruxes or the final Battle. If they got close, Ron would just shut down and leave.
Harry knew that Ron really needed a friend right now, even if Ron didn't quite register the fact. Harry recognised that he was probably the only true friend Ron had; there were his Quidditch team mates but he highly doubted Ron truly opened up to them and none of them would actually understand what they'd been through. Harry also saw that if he shut Ron out completely then there was no hope of him returning to the fold and getting back with Mione; he'd cut himself off from everyone else, even his family... especially his family... he hadn't talked to George at all since Fred's death. He could barely sit in the same room as his older brother. No, it was Harry was who kept that delicate thread connected, even if he'd complicated matters with Mione in the past. Harry also knew Ron was ashamed and unhappy but that didn't help matters. Somehow, he had to forgive his friend and pull him out of a very deep precipice.
***