Suki Has Gone Insane At Last

Title: Parity Transformations

Fandom: HP

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: NC-17 overall

Summary: Eleven years since he ran from Hogwarts and seven years since the end of the war, Draco has moved on. Now in his late twenties, Draco lives a reclusive life in a tiny village in Hampshire. Never in a million years does he expect to cross paths with Harry Potter again. But he does, and there are two, rather small and rather excitable, complications.

Beta'd by amejisuto. Thank you, darling!

A/N: Compliant with all canon up to HBP so there may be spoilers for any of the first six books. As this fic was already planned out in full before the release, it will not be compliant with book 7 and will therefore contain NO SPOILERS.


Previous Chapters: HERE




It was mid August and Draco woke up to find himself in a sweat. Eyes still shut tight against the sun streaming through the thin bedroom curtains, he groped at the bedside table until he located the buttons on the small desktop fan that had been whirring silently all night long. The fan picked up the pace and Draco sighed with relief and flopped onto his back.

As per usual, his first coherent thought was of the state of his lawn. The hotter-than-usual summer heat was literally toasting his grass. Draco was surprised there hadn’t been a hosepipe ban in the Hampshire area yet. Those poor mugs down in Surrey had been without their hoses and carwashes for the last two weeks.

Draco rolled out of bed and groggily stuffed his feet into his fluffy cream-coloured mules, a joke Christmas present from Edward and Doris Brumfitt, the owners of the local shop. Draco had laughed at the time but, actually, they were rather comfortable.

Draco yawned, stretched and trudged out of his bedroom. He visited the bathroom first and then made a beeline for the garden. The air was pleasant outside and Draco took in a great gulp of it, blinking rapidly to wake himself up. Then, he turned on the outside tap and started up the sprinklers. He would be damned in hell for water wastage before he let his hollyhocks wilt.

Breakfast was a small affair: cereal, tea, orange juice and grumpy little boy who didn’t want to go to day care.

‘Are you ill?’

Kasen nodded pitifully.

‘With what?’

‘Belly ache.’

‘Have you?’ Draco asked, touching his palm to Kasen’s forehead. ‘I bet you’ve got a headache too, haven’t you?’

Kasen nodded again, long exaggerated bobs of his head. ‘Hurts.’

Draco tried not to smile. ‘And what about your leg? Is that sore, too?’

‘Really sore.’

‘Oh dear. Perhaps you’ve got a bone in it.’

‘Yes, Daddy, a big one!’

‘Never mind, I’m sure it’ll go away soon.’

‘It won’t!’

‘It will. Go and get dressed, Kasen. I won’t have you being late.’

‘But I don’t feel well!’

Draco gave him The Look and Kasen stormed upstairs, making sure to connect with every step as hard as he could.

The time was getting on and Draco needed to wash and dress himself. He scooped up the used crockery and stacked them neatly in the sink, placing the cutlery on top in an orderly fashion.

He got halfway to the stairs before he was halted by a loud knock.

‘Potter,’ he said when he’d opened the door. He looked down. ‘James.’ He looked down even further – at the fluffy slippers he was still wearing. Damn.

Potter looked at them too, but obviously chose the sensible option of not commenting.

‘Hey, sorry to be a pain, but I was wondering if you could take James to day care with Kasen. And pick him up. I wouldn’t ask, but something came up. I promise I won’t do it again. Just this once. I’d be so grateful …’

Draco shook his head and held up his hand. ‘Stop the grovelling, I can’t stand it. It’s fine. Leave him with me.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course. What time should I expect you back?’

‘Probably late.’

Draco ushered James into the house and pointed him in the direction of the television. ‘Is there something wrong?’ he asked when he returned to the door.

It certainly looked like something was wrong. Draco noted Potter’s shaking fingers.

Potter’s voice dropped to a low whisper and he steadfastly refused to meet Draco’s curious gaze. ‘Remus died.’

Draco stood stunned for a moment, lost for what to say. He remembered Remus as kind man and a good man. Draco had run from him once, but only once. Remus Lupin was a man you could trust.

‘I … didn’t dislike him.’

Potter laughed. The sound was bitter. ‘Coming from you, that’s high praise indeed.’

Draco narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. ‘I’m sorry I’m not emotional enough for your tastes. I simply meant that he was just about the only person that didn’t look at me like I was the dirt on the bottom of his shoe. He left me alone. I respected him. I’m sorry he’s dead and I’m sorry you lost a friend. Better?’

‘You really are an arsehole.’

‘Granted. Anything else?’

Potter shook his head and seemed to hover for a moment, like he was conflicted. Finally, he turned and walked away. ‘I seriously doubt it.’

And just what did that mean? Potter wouldn’t ask for another favour? Ever?

Well, good. There was nothing worse than people that constantly begged for favours and for help. There was nothing worse than people that leaned on you and relied on you and needed you when they had no-one else …

‘Potter. Wait!’ Draco jogged down the path to catch him up. ‘Harry, wait, I’m sorry.’ He stopped Potter with a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m a right bastard first thing in the morning. I inherited the grumpy gene from my mother so it’s not technically my fault.’

‘You called me Harry.’

‘Did I? Whoops.’

‘Sorry,’ Harry said. ‘I’m feeling a little …’

‘I believe the term you are looking for is ‘emo’,’ Draco said, making air-quotes with his fingers. ‘Seriously though, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I’m an insensitive twit. My ability to communicate with people used to be passable at best; now it’s a constant uphill struggle.’

Potter’s lips twitched, as though they wanted to smile but couldn’t quite make it. ‘You don’t have to be defensive with me. I didn’t understand all those years ago, but I do now. Oh, and Hermione has got those exact same slippers.’

Potter walked away and Draco was left wondering exactly what it was Potter understood and where Hermione got her slippers because he was having the most terrible time trying to find a spare pair.


*****

He was there, just a few feet away. Saint Potter.

Draco watched, crouched low, his palms on the dirty ground and his hooded head peeking around the corner of the building. His vision blurred and he swayed and clutched his stomach as hunger burned him.

Saint Potter, who would save a match from its own flame.

Draco watched cautiously, moving further back as Potter neared. He couldn’t go on. This was no life to lead. This was worse than death. No money, no roof, no food, no companionship. Just nothing.

But maybe Potter would help him. Maybe Potter would take pity.

Because pity was fine with Draco. He didn’t care about pride anymore, not when his hands only stopped shaking when he was asleep, and when all he wanted was a drink of water but he was too frightened to move for days at a time.

What was the worst Potter could do? Hex him? Beat him up?

Turn him over to the Ministry? Draco gasped at that thought. He quickly slapped his hand over his mouth and slunk further back into the shadows. What if The Ministry tortured him for information?

What if they sent him to Azkaban? The Dark Lord would find him for sure. Oh, sweet Merlin, no, no, no, this was a bad idea, a ludicrous idea.

Unsteadily, Draco stood, bracing himself with one hand against the wall. Potter must not find him.

Draco ran. But his feet felt so heavy and his footsteps sounded like thunder in the silent desert. Each stormy step sent shock waves up Draco’s body and he screwed his eyes up against the pain of his protesting body.

‘MALFOY!’

He heard his name clear enough through Potter’s voice, that irritating do-gooder tone that meant Potter was feeling righteous – as usual. Well, Draco wasn’t going to stop. Potter would have to Hex him good and proper, because he wasn’t going to stop, wasn’t going to give in, wasn’t going to –

The spell hit Draco square in the back and he fell. He didn’t feel the pain of the fall, only the hunger in his belly and the fear of The Dark Lord. His laboured breathing slowed even further and he tried to focus, tried to stay awake, as his face rested in a shallow puddle and a dark Potter-shaped shadow fell over him.

He needed to stay conscious. He had to. He had something he desperately needed to say.

Potter rolled him over and Draco stared at the reflection of the streetlamp in Potter’s glasses. ‘Kill me.’



*****

After James’s arrival, Kasen suddenly felt all better and Draco took them both to day care. James enjoyed his very first Muggle bus ride and Kasen delighted in pointing out all the Otterborne Highlights such as the wonky post box, the hedge shaped (unintentionally) like a penguin and the splendid example of ancient roadkill that was gradually getting flatter as the weeks passed by.

Draco did some shopping while the boys were at day care. He wandered around Winchester, picking up some essentials from Safeway and some non-essentials from The Brooks Centre including a CD from HMV and a pair of smart dress trousers from Cadogan, a clothes shop which specialised in ‘dressy and unusual’ mens and ladies wear. He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt the need to buy something so extravagant when he had nowhere to go, but then again, the brain of Draco Malfoy was beyond its own brilliance so why argue?

The time went quickly and before Draco knew it, he had shopped a little more and was then picking up the children and forcing Kasen and James to carry a potted orchid each, something else that had taken his fancy.

‘When is Daddy coming back?’

Draco slipped the key into the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open with his shoulder. ‘Soon, I expect.’

‘Can James stay for tea?’ Kasen asked.

‘Of course.’ He looked back at James and was alarmed to see his face so pale, his little fingers fidgeting against the flowerpot he was holding. ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ he told James, taking the pot from him and placing it carefully on the table. He squatted down to James’s height and took hold of his shoulders. ‘Do you like water, getting wet?’

James nodded and from behind them Kasen gasped and dropped his orchid. ‘Can we play in the sprinklers?!’

Draco rolled his eyes and retrieved the fallen orchid, petting its pot as though that would comfort it. ‘You may. Find James some trunks, please.’ Kasen raced up the stairs soon followed by James. ‘And be careful. No pushing each other!’

Draco drifted for the rest of the day, torn between wanting to get on and do things, watching the children play at jumping through the sprinklers and thinking about Harry Potter. Eventually, he settled on reclining on a sun lounger under the shade of a plum tree, a book in hand and the children in clear view. He watched them play more than he read his book and so eventually gave up on that and just watched from behind his Armani sunglasses.

At some point he dropped off, and was woken by two insistent prods in his side and a declaration of hunger. Claiming that he hadn’t, in fact, gone to sleep, Draco grumbled and dragged himself back into the house to start tea.

It was seven o’clock and both children were yawning when Draco next looked at the clock. Potter still wasn’t back. Draco didn’t mind. He liked James. He was a sweet boy, not at all like his father, and it was wonderful to see Kasen having such fun, even if Draco did feel a little left out.

Draco debated what to do about the boys’ bedtime and eventually decided that he should put them both to bed now. If James was anything like Kasen then he’d barely bat an eyelid when Potter carried him home later. He put James in a pair of Kasen’s pyjamas, the green ones with the silver trim, and let them both take his bed.

By eight o’clock, insistent clouds floated overhead and the colour of the sky dimmed to a tired whitish grey. There was still no sign of Potter. Draco decided not to worry and instead made himself a cup of tea and turned on the television. There was a film starting on one of the movie channels, Gosford Park, which looked quite good so Draco retrieved a bag of nuts from the kitchen and settled down to watch.

When the knock at the door eventually came, Draco jolted awake to find he’d long ago missed the end of the film.

‘Potter,’ he greeted once he’d smoothed down his flyaway hair and flung open the door. ‘Is everything alright?’

‘I thought it was Harry now.’

‘What?’

‘Harry. Instead of Potter. You called me Harry earlier. I like it better.’

Draco nodded and stepped aside, carefully watching Harry’s empty expression. It would probably be hard for a stranger to tell that something was wrong, but Draco had known Harry Potter for a long time and there was something missing, something … zesty.

No, not zesty. That was a stupid word to think.

Potter was usually more animated, more vibrant. This version was so still.

‘Would you like some tea?’ Draco asked. ‘I’ve got some Assam. I could make it strong. James is asleep, by the way, in my bed, with Kasen. He’s had a good day. They’ve been splashing about in the sprinklers.’

That made Harry smile. He sat down on the sofa and stared over at one of the new orchids. ‘Did he ask about Remus?’

‘No.’

‘Oh.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t read good or bad into that. I don’t suppose he understands about … I’ll make the tea.’

Draco made sure to clank about the kitchen as much as possible to cover up the awful quiet. He liked the quiet, but he was used to the sort that came because there was no one else there to make any noise.

He poked his head back into the living room and told Potter – no, told Harry – to help himself to the TV remote. He also asked if Harry had eaten and promptly made him a cheese and tomato sandwich and put together a small plate of biscuits to accompany the tea.

‘What happened?’ Draco asked, handing Harry a mug that said World’s Greatest Dad on the side.

‘It was just his time.’

‘Surely not. He can’t have been that old.’

Harry shrugged. ‘It was his condition. It puts such a strain on the body, on the heart specifically. Last night it just … gave out. Game over.’

‘I didn’t realise. Is a short life expectancy something that affects all werewolves?’

‘I’ve always assumed so. I haven’t known that many werewolves. Don’t you remember him from school, the way he always looked so ill, so grey around the edges.’

‘I remember him being a scruffbag. And he was just as bad, or worse, at Headquarters.’ Draco paused for thought. ‘Oh. That was his condition? I always assumed he was just very shabby. Trampish.’

‘You would,’ Harry said, not entirely unkindly. ‘No, he was just ill, I guess. Doesn’t matter now.’

Draco picked up a Rich Tea biscuit and dunked it. ‘You were still close?’

‘Sort of. Yeah.’

When nothing else was forthcoming Draco asked, ‘How are the others taking it?’

‘Everyone’s really shaken up. I mean, we knew this was coming, we just didn’t expect it to be … now.’

‘Always tomorrow,” Draco said.

Harry nodded again. ‘Never today.’

‘I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I suppose you could say I know a little something about loss.’

They stared at each other then, Draco daring Harry with a look to tell him that his loss was worth less because Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were the enemy, were evil.

‘I know you do. I’m sorry about that, too. I really am.’ Harry downed his tea and got up. ‘I’m going to get James. Thanks for looking after him today. If there’s ever a time I can return the favour, just ask.’

‘It was really no trouble. He’s a good boy.’

Harry smiled his thanks and followed Draco up the stairs to his room where he carefully lifted James into his arms. Kasen only stirred slightly and when Draco returned alone twenty minutes later, he stirred again and wrapped his fingers around Draco’s hair where it lay on the pillow.

It was a long time before Draco was able to nod off, his thoughts dominated by a sickly feeling and a desire to do something he’d never had the nerve to do before. The past was exactly that and so what was the point in harping on about it? If Draco could make peace with Harry Potter of all people, then there was someone else that deserved the same courtesy.



TBC …