A Hint of Normalcy
The grip on Draco's arm was little better than a vice and he felt a tremor of fear wrack through him as his back slammed into rough plaster. Mindless eyes glinted at him in the darkness and there was manic certainty in that beloved voice when it informed, "I can fix you. I will."
His knees buckled without his consent and the fingers twisted tighter to keep him upright. His eyes rolled back as two emotions warred for dominance within him: his fear and his undying trust. "Harry, please," he managed, but it was weak and whimpered.
The eyes flashed mockingly and the voice demanded of him, "Please what, Draco?" He felt the sharp edge of a knife press diligently just under the bend of his elbow and looked down to see his skin denting boldly around the point. Suddenly the tip was withdrawn and Harry tapped the flat of it against the ink dark patch of skin menacingly. "I'm offering to make it all better," he told him with a wistful persuasion. "Isn't that what you wanted?"
Draco's gaze dropped down to their feet and he noticed with a lightheaded brilliance that they always seemed to be in opposing positions. Something soft brushed his cheek and his head snapped up to find Harry watching him imploringly. He gripped Draco's arm like an offering and assured him with a growl in the back of his throat, "I'll cut it out and then people will see. They'll see that I'm not fucking some evil wannabe minion." Draco felt a pinch as the first pinprick of blood dribbled down his forearm and he closed his eyes tightly. "Isn't that what you want," Harry whispered encouragingly, "for them to know you're sorry for what you've done?"
The blade sliced in with a slow and artful cadence and Draco swore he could feel every nick in the dull edge. He let out a low moan and felt his knees give out entirely as they took him to the floor with them. He only managed a desperate and pleading, "Harry—" before he gave up on words entirely.
Harry sank down with him and Draco felt fingers curl around his own, as if to say 'we go down together'. Draco took in a deep gulp of air and felt a forehead press tight against his own and he was sick with the thought that this was worth whatever followed, that this closeness with Harry could outweigh any pain that might come.
Breath ghosted over his dry lips as Harry shushed his slight whimpers with a reassuring, "It'll only hurt for a moment," before he rammed the blade in up to its hilt and started to cut away his betrayal.
~*~
The secretary glanced at him with poorly concealed revulsion when she waved him over with a sharp, "Disloyal Mercenary."
Draco sneered down his nose at her and was nearly past her desk when he stopped and rounded on her, trying to channel his younger self with a dash of Pansy's spot on cruelty. "And exactly how long did it take you to think of that, sweetie? Since I sat down, hmm?" The girl gaped, completely taken aback, and Draco cocked his head with a shrewd look on his face. "By the way, the way you chomp on that gum makes you look exactly like a cow chewing its cud. And with hips like that people will get there eventually so why force the observation?"
He strode off to the door and paused at the handle to throw over his shoulder at the devastated girl, "By the way, hun," he whispered in a stage voice, "the roots are supposed to match the rest of the hair." He grinned to himself as he entered the office in front of him, slowly remembering how easy it was destroy someone.
He straightened his posture as he realized that the world could beat him down but that didn't mean he couldn't beat back. Somewhere in his transition from adolescence to adulthood, he had forgotten what it was like to feel confident in himself and he was determined to get that feeling back.
He stalked into the middle of the room purposefully and threw his hands down on either side of the desk as he leaned forward into Millard Barnus' face determinedly. "I want a job," he said coolly.
The man's eyes widened in surprise before he chuckled and said in a voice that seemed to rumble up directly from his belly, "You're not alone, Fido." He gazed at Draco's undiminished ferocity in cock-eyed interest and asked with hearty humor, "Makes you think 'm gonna give you one? No offense, young 'un, but you're inexperienced and not much welcomed in the wizarding world 'sides," he indicated Draco's left arm and added, "ain't no one gonna give you an interview, you're more likely to get a kick."
Draco tossed the folder he'd been diligently working on for the past three weeks on the man's desk triumphantly. "That's where you're wrong." He smiled victoriously as the man thumbed through the first few pages curiously. "Caroline Schaffer's—the new headmistress'—interview, haven't you been after her for months?"
Barnus lit up like a kid on his first broom as he whipped through the rest. He growled up at Draco happily, waving the folder, "This ain't half bad."
Draco knew as much but he felt himself flush with pride that the man was willing to admit it. He ordered the thoughts in his head into a sort of honest dishonesty and laid his cards on the table, hiding the ace up his sleeve.
"You're right that I'm not well-liked," Draco said, putting his limitations out in plain sight but twisting it to his advantage—whether there actually was one there or not... well, "practically a pariah in fact and, while that may lead to private derision, outwardly, it leads to effortless intimidation. And that's what got you that interview," he jabbed his finger pointedly at the folder in Barnus' hand, "and it's not something just anybody off the street can offer you."
The man leaned back contemplatively, eyeing him like a hawk and rubbing his wobbly chin. "Makes you think I wan' o hire someone who can scare You Know Who-fearin' cit'zens into talkin'?"
This one he knew and Draco stood nonchalantly, examining his fingernails before saying coolly, "I was under the impression that the Prophet didn't care how the results were gotten, only that they were."
The man laughed outright and glanced at him in speculative amusement. "You worked fer a paper 'fore, boy?"
"No, sir," Draco answered primly.
"Then that's just natural talent, eh?" He chuckled, a calculating gleam to his eyes. Clearly the accent didn't mean this man could be discounted as a true shark. He watched Draco in deep contemplation and seemed to be weighing the pros and cons of something before he stuck out his hand and grumbled, "Well, boy-o, I'm gonna take a chance on ya. Yer hired."
Draco smirked and grasped the other man's hand in a strong grip. Barnus tugged him closer and his expression turned serious. "I'm expectin' you'll deliver."
Draco's smirk widened. "I guarantee it, sir."
The other man backed off with a genial grin and chuckled with a hand on his rotund stomach. "Now that's what I like to hear, Malfoy." He placed a hand on his shoulder and escorted him to the door, saying robustly, "I don't doubt it. I don't doubt it, boy."
Draco walked out of the building feeling as though a weight had been lifted. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself and he couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at the thought. He paused and realized he wasn't just an extension; he really did have a personality and an identity that deviated from Harry's own. He was free of him. Finally.
He took the long way home, luxuriating in the fresh air, and was glad he had when he walked through his apartment door and found what was waiting for him. If only he'd known he wouldn't be getting out of bed for the next few days, he would have stopped off at the park first.
~*~
"I'm betting you know something about this." Draco's voice was tight and bitter but not trembling as he had feared. He blinked owlishly at Granger before pushing the short missive at her like it was a ticking time bomb. She frowned and picked it up gingerly.
Draco couldn't watch her read it. He couldn't watch her mouth form the words that he knew were written on the page:
Draco,
There aren't many words I have a right to when it comes to you. None, in fact. Nor do I deserve any favors from you, and you have to know that I hate having to ask. The person I was when I was with you, I despise him with everything in me and I'm doing all I can to put the final nail in his coffin. That's why I'm writing this. My counselor says I need to confront the people I've hurt. Not hard to figure out who's at the top of that list. Right, so, if you'll come maybe it'll help? Both of us even.
I I miss you. I hate myself for writing that.
Harry
He felt a soft touch on his hand and looked up to find Granger gazing at him with equal parts concern and pity. She held out the letter to him but Draco couldn't bring himself to willingly touch it again. She sighed and placed it between them like a morbid centerpiece. Draco couldn't help but stare at accusingly. He had probably scribbled it out in between marathon fucks while Draco had been unable to get out of bed for two full days because of it.
It wasn't the words as much as it was the letter itself. Proof that he was alive, that he had gone on after... that it wasn't over.
Granger cleared her throat as unobtrusively as she could and said weakly when she held Draco's attention, "That's almost two weeks worth of work there." Her gaze refocused to the seemingly innocuous letter as Draco stared at her in disbelief. They didn't speak of him, at lease not like this. By tacit agreement, they pretended as though Granger didn't know Potter personally. She twisted her napkin in her lap and bit her lip. "I can't tell you how many different versions he tore up. One just had 'I'm sorry' written over nearly every inch of the parchment—both sides."
Draco's hands were shaking and he couldn't believe how betrayed he felt. "Is this—" he forced through the tightness in his throat, "is this a game to you?"
"No, Draco!" Granger immediately defended. Her hand reached out for his again but Draco pulled away and she lowered her gaze desolately. "You've just... you're stronger than you're letting yourself believe you are," she said finally, gaining momentum toward the end. She gave him a hard glare and added tersely, "You can handle mentions of him, you just don't want to. But I know you, Draco, and you're better than this. You're used to falling apart at even the thought of Harry but I know you're not that weak anymore so stop acting like it!"
"Granger—"
"Harry," she cut him off full stop with the sharp word. Draco was literally blind with rage and was getting to his feet when she whispered to her own lap, "Don't fall apart just because you think you should." Her chair shifted closer to his and she placed a hand on his forearm. "Take a deep breath. Draco, that button has been pushed so many times that it's out of service and you know it."
Draco inhaled as deeply as he was able and closed his eyes. He didn't know if she was right but, more than anything, he wanted her to be. He had been trying to build up an immunity to... to Potter but it had seemed a futile effort.
He opened his eyes and said in a shaky voice that was trying for cool, "What happened to his owl?"
"Nothing," Granger admitted, a smile that was part relief and part amusement curving her lips, "he just didn't want you to recognize it and refuse to take the letter."
Draco snorted, a shiver racing up his spine, "Could have done the same when I recognized his handwriting, or didn't he realize?"
"Probably didn't cross his mind. He's been a bit, ah... frantic," she said carefully.
Draco picked up the letter with sweaty hands and noted with a sniff, "No valediction."
She smiled. "Said he couldn't manage to find one that didn't sound impersonal. Though all the ones I picked up were signed 'Love.'"
Draco's stomach lurched and a jolt tore up his back, leaving him feeling as though his flesh had been shredded down the middle. His jaw tightened and his eyes were swimming in agony. "He never loved me, Granger," he managed through clenched teeth, "never."
"I think you'd be surprised, Draco," she said softly. They sat in silence until she offered meekly, "You're not going, are you?"
A hoarse laugh escaped his throat and he wondered seriously, "Did you really think I would?"
Granger sighed and shook her head. "Honestly, no."
Draco cocked an eyebrow. "If it were you... would you?"
"That's not fair, Draco," she reproved without any bite.
He huffed in contrived amusement and pointed out, "I've heard that life isn't."
She smiled hesitantly at him and said, "Blaise told me about the job, so clearly there are some instances." Draco couldn't help his answering grin and Granger's own smile widened as she realized, "You're proud of that, aren't you?"
"Of course I am," Draco answered forcefully. "It's the first thing I..."
"The first thing you... what?" She prodded when he trailed off.
He breathed deeply and admitted, "It's the first thing I've done that's really made me like myself in years." He smiled tentatively. "It feels... I can't even begin to tell you."
She squeezed his hand and her eyes crinkled in delight. "You look happy."
Draco sighed and said cautiously, "I think I am."
~*~
Blaise collapsed onto one of the sturdier boxes and rubbed a hand over his sweaty hair with a whooshing breath and a winded grin. Draco waited until he was settled to thrust the parchment under his nose. Blaise took it questioningly and read with wide eyes. It was awhile after he finished before he could bring himself to ask, "What are you going to do?"
Draco grinned and sat next to Blaise on his makeshift seat. "Burn that for starters," he said, wrinkling his nose at the letter, "kick Granger out of my life and begin making my new start in Azerbaijan." Blaise shoved him with a shoulder and Draco admitted with a smile, "I don't know."
"You know," Blaise started guardedly, "with finding the place and me moving in and everything, it's been days since we've talked about him."
Draco offered him a boastful grin that was beaming with pride. "I know."
Blaise paused for a moment before he nudged Draco again. He folded up the parchment and placed it in his back pocket as he stood up, holding out a hand for Draco. When he had hefted the blonde to his feet, he took a smoke out of his coat pocket, stuck it in his mouth and sauntered out to the balcony. "Want to know what I think?" He asked, turning to look back at Draco. Draco didn't answer and, after a beat, Blaise prompted with a frown, "Draco?"
"I'm thinking," Draco said seriously.
"Git," Blaise muttered, lighting his cigarette. He blew out a thick plume after a moment and said in a clear voice, "I think you should go."
"What?" Draco sputtered in surprise. That certainly wasn't what he'd expected to hear, least of all from Blaise.
Blaise shrugged. "It's who you are, Draco. Because as much as you profess different, you don't want him to fail."
Draco slumped against the balcony, resting his cheek on the cool stone, and asked in a muffled voice, "I should though, shouldn't I?"
"No," Blaise said, shaking his head as he turned around to look back at the half-finished apartment. "It's petty and bitter and maybe satisfying in the short-term but it's not healing," he said wisely. "This," he took the parchment out of his pocket and shook it, "this is therapeutic, for the both of you," before he let it go and it floated down over the side like a dandelion seed in the wind.
Draco sighed and relaxed enough that his eyes started to close. He was glad to see it gone even if a piece of him did feel like it was losing something precious.
"I don't know if I can handle..." he finally managed tiredly.
He felt Blaise's hand smooth over his back as the other man whispered softly, "I know, but you need this."
~*~
Idiot boy who wastes perfectly good parchment,
Of course he's no right to ask it of you and of course you shouldn't go for him. You go because you need to see the pitiful boy rather than the all-powerful god you've built up in your head. You go to come to terms with the fact that he only had as much power as you allowed him. You fed into him, for reasons only you can comprehend. You go to come to terms with whatever is chasing you that you are so diligently running from; whatever it is that is so vicious that you felt it better to hide in his sadism than face it. You go because it's what you need to move on. You go for you. Idiot.
Severus
I've seen your premiere article, it's nice to know you've some talent in your chosen field though I still believe you would have been more at home in a Potions lab.
Draco snorted as he finished Severus' parchment. It was good to know that the man's bout as supportive godparent had only been a temporary insanity. Draco could practically feel the judgment dripping off of every letter but instead of angering him, it made him smile. It was just like being back at Hogwarts and turning in a perfect paper just to have Severus send it back covered in red ink.
He was just reading the postscript and muttering to himself, "Even managed to get my choice of occupation in there. Well done, Severus," when he heard a soft gasp. His eyes drifted up lazily and were just returning to the letter when he registered what he'd seen.
His head snapped up and he felt the blood drain from his face as a frayed and worn Harry Potter took a tentative step closer to him with little more than a breath and a disbelieving, "Draco?"