Suki Has Gone Insane At Last

Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 20/21 - NC-17

sukibluekitty@googlemail.com — Fri, 04 Jan 2008 16:17:56 GMT

Title: Parity Transformations

Fandom: HP

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: NC-17 overall

Summary: Eleven years since he ran from Hogwarts, 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 done 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 is already planned out in full, it will not be compliant with book 7 and will therefore contain NO SPOILERS.

Previous Chapters: HERE

March was the worst month of Draco’s life; at least it felt that way. The Prophet’s reporters were everywhere and the stories they were printing got gradually worse and worse as the days past. Ron and Harry were constantly bickering and one such argument resulted in Harry storming back to the house, past Draco and into the garden where Draco found him struggling to not to cry. Shocked and unsure what to do, Draco immediately baked an apple crumble and served it with double cream. It seemed to help and Harry kissed him so sweetly, but the peace didn’t last for long.

Everyday, the walls closed further in, the Prophet suffocating them and the spotlight blazing like a blue flame; it scorched and burned and Harry started to go slightly mad.

‘Is everything all right?’ Draco asked one afternoon, noticing Harry’s jigging leg and the absence of little voices.

‘I just flooed the kids to Molly’s,’ Harry said.

‘Why? What’s happened? Are they alright? Harry, speak to me!’

‘Why are we hanging around, Draco? Why are we just sitting here while they sit outside? They’ve got a tent up now, a bloody press tent. Have you seen it? I can’t stand this anymore. I can’t stand it!’

‘I’m sorry. We’ll move, we’ll just move. I’ll make a call. We’ll be out of here by tonight.’ A little part of Draco hated himself. It was his fault they’d delayed moving, hoping his plan would come through. But it had been over a month and so far no-one was biting. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.’

Harry shook his head and got up. He paced and ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands with too much force for an absolutely sane person. ‘No, it’s not good enough.’

‘Oh …’ Inner Draco clutched at his broken heart.

‘No! No,’ Harry said, surging forward with alarming speed and grasping Draco’s arms. ‘I meant the moving isn’t good enough. It’s not going to solve anything, is it?’

‘I …’

‘Is it?!’

‘I don’t know!’

‘It’s not good enough,’ Harry said again. ‘I know it’s not. What will all this do to the kids?’

Harry walked to the window. ‘Look at them. They can’t even see the house but they’re still taking pictures. How crazy is that?’

‘Harry, there’s something I need to tell you.’

But Harry wasn’t listening. He threw open the door and stormed down the driveway.

Death Eater Attacks Press the headline said the next day, and there on the front page was a picture of Draco struggling with Rita Skeeter’s photographer.

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry said, hanging his head in shame. ‘I can’t believe they blamed you.’

Draco carefully folded the paper up and then tossed it straight out the open kitchen window. ‘The famous Potter temper,’ he said, and then smiled. ‘It was a damn good punch, though, Harry. Very impressive. I feel proud to take the blame for such an act.’

‘My selfless boyfriend.’

They held hands and leaned against the kitchen counter.

‘Do you feel better now?’ Draco asked. ‘You certainly don’t seem quite so psychotic.’

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand. ‘I’m better. I felt better the moment my fist connected with that git’s nose. Hey, violence really does solve some things.’

‘Yes,’ Draco said, bright and proud, ‘and crime also pays.’

A week later they were packing. Draco had found a lovely Georgian house for rent in Brighton that was gloriously spacious and only a short walk from the beach. He should have realised that property and contracts took such a long time, and Draco was so annoyed at himself for putting Harry through extra stress when they should have just upped and moved while Pansy kept an eye on everything else.

There was a flash of green fire from the fireplace and out stepped Ron, his face bright red and his brow dripping sweat. ‘Any more?’

Draco pointed to the corner of the room. It was bare now apart from a stack of boxes. ‘Those and this one when I’ve marked it.’

Ron nodded. ‘Right.’

‘We should try to get on,’ Draco said, his back to Ron. ‘For Harry’s sake. At least for now.’

Ron nodded again. ‘Right. For Harry.’

‘Good,’ Draco said, turning around. ‘And then when I turn evil you can feel free to tell him you told him so.’

Ron pondered that. ‘Yeah, alright. You’ve got yourself a deal.’

They shook hands and Draco waited until Ron flooed out with another pile of boxes before he allowed himself a luxurious smirk.

‘What are you grinning at?’ a bemused Harry asked as he passed through the living room with a crying, mud-covered child who could have been either Kasen or James.

‘Nothing. Just got myself a good deal, that’s all.’

*****

The house was quiet and alien. It felt still, lifeless, strange and below him. He’d done his research into Muggle ways and was surrounded gadgets and ‘electrical’ items that made no sense and were ugly and black.

Draco picked up Kasen from his Moses basket and rocked him. Bright blue eyes stared up at him and tiny little lips seemed to smile.

‘Good afternoon, Kasen. It’s just you and me now.’

Kasen made a happy noise and he flexed his fingers until Draco offered him his thumb. Kasen held tightly to it.

‘I’m sorry we couldn’t stay. But … this is a nice area. At least it should be for the price I paid. Do you know what the galleons to pounds exchange rate is these days? Disgraceful.’

More happy noises and Draco forgot about the silence. He sat on the sofa with his son and talked to him, told him of all the fun they would have together and of all the security and safety Draco would provide.

‘And you haven’t seen the garden yet, have you? Would you like to have a look? Yes, I think you would.’

He wrapped Kasen in an extra blanket and carried him outside. The garden was overgrown with weeds – brambles, thistles and nettles waiting in every corner to tangle and snare.

‘Isn’t it magnificent?’ Draco said, proudly looking around the garden. ‘Well, not really. But it will be. I’m going to take up gardening.’ He looked back down at his gurgling son. ‘I’ve bought books on the subject and even something called a gardening ‘video’, whatever that is. I’m going to turn this miniature rainforest into something glorious, somewhere for you to play and somewhere for me to think clearly. Yes, I like it better out here. I like it very much.’

*****

The new house was cold and gloomy. Draco shivered and hugged a cushion to his chest. He stared out the window at all the other cold, gloomy houses.

The fireplace flared green and Harry half tripped out into the living room. ‘Why are you standing in the dark?’ he asked, flicking on the main light. ‘And why haven’t you put the heating on?’

Draco stared miserably over his shoulder and attempted to force a beaming smile. ‘No reason, Harry.’

‘No reason except?’

‘Except that I hate it. I miss Winchester.’

‘It’s been 12 minutes.’

‘I don’t like this house.’

‘Right.’ Harry disappeared from sight so Draco sat on the sofa and curled up as best he could considering his abominable surroundings. He closed his eyes and remembered Winchester with its green leaves and fresh scents of lilies and roses, Kasen running through open fields and falling down ditches, and his little broken farm house encased in poppies and bluebells.

‘That’s better,’ Harry said.

Draco opened his eyes, frowned and sat up. The room was no longer cold and grey, but snug and peachy. It was dark outside now, but the street lamp cast a warm orange glow. The fire was flickering and, along the mantelpiece, candle flames danced and welcomed.

‘What did you do?’

‘Turned the heating and the lights on. You okay?’

Draco swung his feet to the floor. ‘Sit with me?’

Harry sat down next to him and Draco fiddled with a loose cotton thread on Harry’s jeans. ‘I failed you, and I’m sorry.’

‘Is this about this big secret master plan of yours?’

Draco nodded and tugged at the cotton.

‘It doesn’t matter, Draco, honestly. Whatever it was, don’t worry about it.’

‘But it was going to be such a glorious surprise. A hundred birds with one stone.’ Draco breathed in, held it, then exhaled one dramatically long and depressed sigh.

‘Is there no chance at all?’ Harry asked. ‘Or have you been completely foiled?’

‘Foiled, I think. I don’t really know. It’s just not working out like I hoped it would. I thought … I thought … oh never mind. It’s obviously not going to happen.’

Harry put his arm around Draco’s shoulders. ‘I love how you plot for me.’

Draco snorted. ‘Plotting is the easy part. Evil Plans are a piece of cake; it’s actually pulling them off that’s the big problem. I don’t seem to have inherited that knack.’

‘Uh, I don’t think your father had that knack to pass down.’

‘My mother did. She always got what she wanted – more or less.’

They sat in silence, gazing at the fire and listening to the children pattering around upstairs even though they were supposed to be in bed. Kasen and James were adjusting well; it seemed they weren’t bothered where they lived, just as long as they had a plentiful supply of orange squash and Playmobile.

‘I used to get everything I wanted,’ Draco continued, and Harry nodded knowingly. ‘But then there was that pesky war and, somehow, I lost my mojo.’

Harry’s shoulders were shaking. ‘Mojo?’

‘Don’t laugh at me. I’m being deadly serious.’

Harry lifted an eyebrow, then he looked up at the creaking ceiling. ‘ARE YOU TWO KIDS IN BED?’ he yelled, and Draco winced at the ear-splitting sound.

There was a noise of scrambling children upstairs, then a faint, ‘Yes!’

‘Maybe I can help you with that lost mojo,’ Harry said, then he kissed Draco’s jaw.

‘How so?’ Draco asked, receiving Harry over his lap, Harry’s hands undoing his shirt and Harry’s lips brushing his throat. ‘Oh, I see. Well, you can try.’

Harry smiled against Draco’s neck and sucked as his fingers popped buttons and Draco’s hands went off on their own private mission of sexual exploration.

‘I must say, I do like your endeavours.’

‘Shh,’ Harry said, sliding his hand inside Draco’s jeans. ‘There’s your mojo.’

‘Oh my god, my eyes!’

Harry jumped up, spun around, staggered back and tripped sideways over Draco’s foot.

‘Ow!’ Draco cried. He hastily retracted his foot and buttoned up his jeans. ‘Don’t you knock?’ he said to the face in the fireplace.

‘On what?’ Pansy asked.

‘Who are …?’ Harry squinted into the fire. ‘Pansy Parkinson?!’

‘Potter,’ Pansy greeted coolly, then she turned to Draco and grinned in true Slytherin style. ‘Draco, honey, I’ve got good news. No, scrap that, I’ve got fabulous news. No, bollocks to that, I’ve got—’

‘Pansy!’ Draco shrieked, just to cut her off. He glanced at Harry’s confused and slightly unhappy face and laughed pathetically. ‘Pansy, I thought we agreed to use the rings,’ he said, holding up his hand with the signet ring on the second finger. ‘Beep me, I said. Subtlety was the name of the game.’

‘Monkeys to that.’ Pansy said, her face almost one enormous smirk. She clicked her fingers twice. ‘My office, now. I’ve got cake. And did I mention the gorgeously fabulous news that will make you the happiest man on the planet?’

She disappeared and Draco was left with one highly un-amused boyfriend.

‘Erm …’

‘What,’ Harry said, ‘was that woman doing in our fireplace?’

Draco drummed his fingers at the sides of his legs. ‘Who, Pansy?’

‘No, Queen Elizabeth I. I didn’t realise you were such bosom buddies with our former Monarch!’

‘All right, no need to shout. Remember that surprise I told you about?’

‘Your ex is your big surprise? Oh, I’m so glad I waited.’

‘Urgh, don’t be so vulgar!’ Draco spat. ‘Girls! Pansy and I were never an item.’

‘Don’t lie, I saw you.’

‘Saw me what?’

Harry looked away. ‘She was stroking your hair,’ he said just loud enough for Draco to hear.

‘When?!’

Harry’s cheeks started to redden and he toed the corner of the rug with one socked foot. ‘Sixth Year. On the train.’

Draco looked at him blankly. He blinked once. ‘I don’t remember that.’

‘She did.’

‘Oh. Well, it wasn’t what it looked like.’

‘I’m not an idiot.’

‘Yes you are. Pansy was part of my entourage. She adored me, no doubt, but she was well aware I wasn’t going to plunge her sink.’

‘Excuse me, what?’

‘You know. Do it with her, a girl. She was my fag hag, Harry. She kept the other girls away and practised her make-up on me.’

Hesitantly, Harry looked up, and when he did Draco was right in front of him, smirking and leaning down to kiss him.

‘She knew?’ Harry asked. ‘In school? Did you tell her?’

‘I didn’t have to. She was my best friend.’

‘So you and her never …’ Harry waggled one hand back and forth.

‘Certainly not,’ Draco said, looking slightly green.

‘HEY!’ Pansy’s annoyed face said as it popped back into the fire. ‘Shift it, Malfoy, before I tear these very important parchments into itty bitty little bits.’

‘Coming, Pans.’

She popped out again and Draco took Harry’s hands in his. ‘I have to go, just for a while. And when I come back I’ll start trying to explain.’

Harry nodded and attempted a smile.

‘Don’t worry,’ Draco said. ‘I don’t know exactly how far along we are, but whatever Pansy says, we’ll talk about it, you and me. I promise. I love you, Harry.’

‘Okay, fine. Wait … What did you just—?’

Draco made a hasty and strategic bee-line for the fire. In other words, he legged it. ‘Parkinson & Sons!’

‘Wait!’

*****

Draco tripped out of Pansy’s office fireplace.

‘Hey, Daddy Cool, smooth entrance.’

‘Never mind that. I just did something supremely stupid.’

Pansy shrugged and flicked her long hair over her shoulder. ‘What’s new?’

‘Oh fine, if you’re going to be unhelpful.’

‘Unhelpful? Draco, sweetie pie, I’m your angel in disguise.’ She grinned and Draco had the urge to shield his eyes from the brilliant illuminations Pansy called her teeth. It was her ‘I’ve been a bad girl’ smile and once upon a time it would have made Draco grin in kind.

Her smile faltered and she placed her fingers at the corners of Draco’s lips and tried to lift them. ‘Smile, honey, it’s all good.’

‘Is it?’ he asked, ‘because I feel like everything is slipping away from me. I feel like it’s all going wrong. I feel like—’

Pansy rolled her eyes and moved behind her desk. ‘Don’t be so overdramatic. Nothing could be further from the truth.’ She pulled an enormous pile of parchments from her drawer and placed them in the middle of the desk.

Draco eyed them from across the room. ‘Then you really do have good news for me?’

‘The best. It’s done, Draco.’ Pansy sat back in her chair and folded her arms.

‘It sold?’ Draco sat down and picked up the first parchment slowly and carefully, as though any quick movements would scare it away. He skimmed over the contract and looked up into Pansy’s smug face. ‘The Manor, the land? Everything?’

Pansy nodded. ‘Everything.’

Draco felt his hands begin to shake and he quickly put down the parchment. ‘Oh my Merlin.’

Pansy silently nudged a small glass of firewhisky towards him, and Draco snatched it and downed it without a second thought. ‘Who bought it?’ he asked.

‘Sorry, anonymous buyer.’

‘I see.’

‘Are you okay?’

Draco swallowed and seriously thought about that question. He’d just sold his family home to a stranger, betrayed his name, thrown away his heritage. He felt sick, he felt gutted, he felt …

‘Wonderful,’ he said, and then he finally smiled. ‘I feel wonderful. What next, Pansy?’ he said, sitting forward eagerly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, what do we do now? What’s the next step?’

‘I’m going to sit back and enjoy the fee you’re going to pay me. As for you, sit back and enjoy, baby. It’s Christmas!’

‘It’s April, what are you talking about?!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What do you mean what do I mean? I mean I don’t understand what you mean.’

Pansy frowned and delicately chewed one brightly polished purple nail. ‘Meaning?’

‘Pansy,’ Draco warned. ‘I know you of old. Stop toying with me.’

‘You’re no fun,’ she protested, although she had that huge smile on her face again. ‘Fine. The Manor and all its “accessories” have been sold, for the asking price I might add, and the proceeds have been used to purchase the Prophet. The previous owners have scarpered, one to the Bahamas to start his life of luxury and the other to deepest Mongolia in fear of his reputation and his Squirrel Girls.’

‘Squirrel?’

‘Think Bunny girls, but smaller ears and much bushier tails. My private dick is the best in town, Draco, literally.

‘Anyway, it’s yours, sweetheart. Run it into the ground, turn it into something respectable, the choice is all yours. Oh, but be careful or you’ll be broke before the year’s out.’

‘But …’

‘But?’

‘I … I thought it was going to be hard.’

‘Bloody cheek! It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.’

‘Oh, Pans, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I just thought I would have to do something dastardly.’

Pansy got up and walked around the desk. She propped herself next to Draco and tapped his chin until he looked up. ‘That’s what I’m here for,’ she said. ‘So, did I do good?’

‘You know,’ Draco said, standing, ‘I think you inherited my mojo.’

‘I’m sorry?’

He hugged her, squeezed her until she was laughing. ‘I love you, Pansy. Oh Merlin, I’ve got to stop saying that. I must have opened a gate. Don’t let me near anyone else.’

Pansy pulled back enough to kiss his cheek, then she laid her head on his shoulder and said, ‘Be happy, Draco. I love you, too.’

Draco kissed her cheek and sat back down, leaving Pansy holding on to air. He clapped his hands twice and scraped his chair closer to the desk. ‘Chop chop, where do I sign? I’ve got to get back to Harry.’

‘He’s a lucky man,’ Pansy said, passing over the first stack of contracts with a sigh.

Draco grinned and was sure Pansy needed to shield her eyes. ‘I know.’

To Be Concluded …

luciusfqf :: luciusfqf
because Lucius needs love too!

Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 19/21 - NC-17

sukibluekitty@googlemail.com — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 18:30:50 GMT

Title: Parity Transformations

Fandom: HP

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: NC-17 overall

Summary: Eleven years since he ran from Hogwarts, 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 done 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 is already planned out in full, it will not be compliant with book 7 and will therefore contain NO SPOILERS.

Previous Chapters: HERE

Draco Malfoy admired his reflection in the mirror. He looked stunning, if he did say so himself. He couldn’t entirely say he felt comfortable, though, at least not in the literal sense. He wasn’t used to the high collar and the tight trousers. The cloak was annoying and heels just weren’t his thing anymore. He longed for his Levis.

‘Wow,’ Harry said. ‘You’ll be on the Cover of Witch Weekly if you’re not careful.’

Draco gave him a brilliant smile. ‘Do you really think I look okay?’

‘Well obviously I prefer you with fewer clothes, but you apart from that you look great. More than great.’ Harry’s hands found their way onto Draco’s shirt, around his waist, smoothing over his hips …

‘Stop that,’ Draco said, stepping back. ‘The last thing I need is to get an erection in these trousers. There isn’t room.’

Draco had been wide awake all night, half worrying and half excited. He wasn’t used to throwing his weight around to such an extent anymore and the thought of it was like insulin to a diabetic.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come? I could leave the boys with Molly. They’d be fine and I could wait outside if you wanted to go to the meeting by yourself, I wouldn’t mind.’

Draco tilted his head and leaned in. ‘No need. I’ll be fine.’

‘I just worry.’

‘I know.’ They kissed. ‘As would I if our positions were reversed.’

‘Positions?’

An hour later Draco said goodbye to the children and left Harry to his perverted thoughts. He Apparated to Charring Cross and entered the Leaky Cauldron. Hush immediately swept across the pub as heads turned and eyes looked him up and down.

He closed the door behind him and used those few moments to gather his thoughts, wits and confidence, and to remember why he was doing this.

When he turned to face everyone, it was with an air of arrogance and superiority. ‘Yes?’ he asked. ‘Something wrong? Yes, that’s right, this is what a clean person looks like.’ He waited until they all began to look away then he walked confidently through the crowds and back into his world.

Diagon Alley was just as he remembered it: dirty and claustrophobic. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. Parchment, ink, mothballs and animal dung, the scent of a typical wizard. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, but it was a familiar one. He glanced at the cobbled street and pictured himself walking alongside his mother and father, holding their hands.

*****

‘Mother, can I have an owl?

‘Not until you go to school.’

‘That’s years! Goyle’s got an owl, why can’t I have one?’

‘Draco, you don’t need an owl. You’re too young. Honestly, pre-school children with owls, whatever next, Lucius?’

‘I want one!’

Draco’s father squatted down in front of him, his gloved hands resting on Draco’s shoulders. ‘That’s enough. Your mother has told you no.’

‘Yes, Sir,’ Draco said reluctantly.

‘But how about something better? How about a snake?’

Draco gasped and threw his arms around his father. ‘Thank you!’

*****

A witch bumped his shoulder as she passed, a squat, blob of a woman. Draco gave her the dirtiest look he could muster and turned back to face his future.

Diagon Alley stretched into the distance, the ground mostly obscured by milling people, talking, chattering, shouting, going about their business with sweet obliviousness. Draco Malfoy was about to change their world forever; they just didn’t know it yet.

Draco walked with his chin held high. His strides were confident and he stared straight ahead. The crowds parted and let him though and chatter turned to murmured speculation and whispered fear.

And they would fear him, just as they’d feared his father.

Heads turned and eyes stared. Children pointed and their parents pulled them away. Ludicrous. Such a reaction to a person who had sought retreat and was only back because The Power That Be had dragged him back against his will.

He passed Flourish and Blotts and nodded a greeting to a tall wizard in tall hat with a tall cane. He looked like someone his father would have made a point to know. The confused man nodded back.

Madam Malkin’s was gone and in its place was a pet shop. Brightly coloured fish swam in a tank outside; they changed colour and fizzled with electricity. As he passed, a big blue fish blinked at him and changed to violet as its spiked tail swished against the glass and rocked the tank. Kasen would love one of those, Draco thought.

Gringotts was its usual magnificent self and Draco resisted going inside. There would be time for that later. Instead he stopped and bowed to a Goblin he recognised and enquired after his health and fortune. The crowds stared angrily and Draco turned and raised an eyebrow in question, daring anyone to come forward from the masses and challenge him one on one.

No-one did.

But two words echoed across the crowds over and over again and it got louder as the crowd grew and surged.

DeathEaterDeathEaterDeathEaterDeathEaterDeathEaterDeathEaterDeathEater

Draco walked faster. The crowd was puffing up, readying, rising up. There weren’t any pitchforks but Draco wouldn’t have been surprised by them. He kept his head high and walked with every bit of dwindling confidence he had.

‘You’re not welcome here, Death Eater!’ one single voice, daring to be heard above the others, said.

Draco had two choices: carry on walking and let this cretin publicly label him or turn around and stand his ground. He chose the option that would make his father proud.

‘And you are?’ he said to an angry wizard with a bright purple face and a large white cat at his ankles. ‘No-one significant, I suspect,’ he went on. ‘Remove yourself from my presence and I’ll consider forgetting your face.’

‘We don’t want your sort around here so I suggest you clear off before there’s trouble.’

‘Trouble? From you, I assume?’

‘Bloody right from me.’

‘I see. So you’re threatening me? And in front of all these witnesses, tut, tut. And what, may I ask, did I do to deserve such treatment?’

The man opened his mouth and closed it again when he couldn’t think of an answer.

‘I thought so,’ Draco said. ‘Good day.’ He walked away feeling pleased with himself and it was only when he’d put a fair distance between himself and the angry mob that he heard the wizard bravely shout, ‘Tosser!’

‘The manners of some people,’ he said lightly, shaking his head in good humour as he passed an elderly witch and her friends. ‘I do like your hat. Very … abstract. The monkey tails are a nice touch!’

The witch grinned a black and white grin. ‘Thank you, kind sir. Thank you indeed.’ Then to her friends, ‘Such a nice boy. Who was that?’

At the end of Diagon Alley, past Ollivander’s, was Parkinson & Sons, a solicitors office that occupied a miniscule building that was wedged between two huge shops like a single piece of cucumber in a door-stop sandwich. A tiny brass plaque next to the door stated the business name and the solicitors working inside. It was a select establishment. You were either a life-long client going back generations, or you were nothing.

Draco entered without knocking and stood expectantly in front of the receptionist’s desk.

‘Do you have an appointment?’ the witch asked, dabbing at a spot of what appeared to be mayonnaise on her blouse.

‘Of course.’

‘And you are?’

Draco waited and the witch continued to dab, her serviette smearing the mess rather than soaking it up. When she eventually realised she hadn’t been answered, she put down the tissue and looked up.

‘Who do you think I am?’ Draco said.

‘Erm …’ And then her eyes widened with recognition. ‘You’re … Okay, if you’d just like to wait—’

‘I don’t wait.’

‘No, no, of course not, follow me,’ she said quickly.

She got out of her chair but failed to gain any height. Draco followed her along the corridor and up the stairs, along another corridor and then back down a different flight of stairs. The next corridor curved around in a circle and they arrived back at the reception desk and a door opposite that Draco hadn’t noticed the first time.

‘Security measures,’ she said apologetically, and then knocked and entered the room. ‘Mr Malfoy to see you.’

‘Excellent. Bring him in, please.’

Draco swept into the room, a perfect copy of his father, sleek, poised, confident.

‘Hello, Draco. I wondered when I’d be seeing you again. You certainly kept me waiting.’

‘Pansy? Oh bollocks.’

*****

Pansy Parkinson handed Draco a piece of parchment. ‘Are you over the shock yet?’ she asked, handing him her quill. ‘Sign there. And there. I can’t believe you didn’t realise it was me.’

‘The sign said Parkinson and Son,’ Draco pointed out.

‘Yes, I keep meaning to fix that. Actually, your appointment was with Daddy, but I arranged an overseas crisis for him so I could see you instead. Draco, you’ve never once written to me since school.’

Draco had no doubt that if anyone could arrange an overseas crisis at one days notice, it was Pansy Parkinson. It made him remember the good times and he reached across the desk for her hand. ‘Oh Pansy, I have missed you.’

‘Not enough to owl me, though,’ she said, twining their fingers together.

‘It was difficult. I needed to make a clean break of it. If it helps, I was sorry to leave you behind. Nobody quite understood me like you did.’

She patted his hand and then extracted her own to reach for a tissue. ‘You were complicated, but not too complicated for me,’ she said as she dabbed at her eyes. ‘I hope you’ve not replaced me.’

‘Of course not! You were, and always will be, the one fag hag in my life.’

‘I should hope so. I gave you years of my life, Draco Malfoy. I expect recompense when we’re all done with this. And speaking of, how quickly do you want this to happen?’

‘Quickly. Or quicker, if possible.’

‘And you’re absolutely sure you want to do this? It’s a lot to loose.’

‘It’s not loss. It’s a means to an end.’

Pansy jumped up from her chair and clapped her hands. ‘This is so exciting! It’s been months since I’ve taken anyone to the cleaners. Daddy says I always go too far.’

‘Do you really think we can do this?’ Draco said. He looked around Pansy’s office, at her opulent furnishings, and academic certificates adorning the walls. In another world, in another dimension and in another universe, this could have been his life.

‘Oh absolutely. It’s just a matter of how much it will take.’

‘Well, offer the money first, the threats can come later. But not too much later. Let me know when they’re ready to admit defeat and I’ll begin stage two.’

‘About stage two,’ Pansy said, sitting back down in a movement that was positively sulky, ‘don’t you think you’re being a little … overly generous. You could achieve much more for so much less.’

‘Nonsense. I want to do it. I want there to be a difference between me and my father, and even if the world doesn’t know it, this is that difference. My gift will come from the heart.’

Pansy looked moved for no more than a moment. Then she picked up her quill and countersigned Draco’s parchments. ‘Potter did this to you. He made you all … queer.’

Draco laughed. ‘I think I did that all by myself. Although he does give me a hand now and again.’

The quill fell from pansy’s hand. ‘It’s true? You and Potter? I thought the Prophet was exaggerating, as usual. You’re actually buggering him?’

‘Pansy!’

‘I’ll take that as a yes. You’re a sly one, Draco, I’ll give you that.’

‘There’s nothing sly about it. We met, our children clashed nearly as badly as we did, and we had to sort it out. It grew from there.’

‘Children. Shudder. And what did it grow into? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love.’

‘No comment.’

‘I’m not a reporter so answer the question properly.’

Draco thought about his life pre and post Potter. There was no doubt that Harry had filled a hole in his heart. But did he really love him?

‘I … I’m doing this for him. All of it. I could just take my son and leave, disappear like I did the first time because when I’m out of sight I’m eventually out of mind. Harry doesn’t have that luxury. He needs a much bigger fix.’

‘I see.’ Pansy looked a little green. ‘How … sickeningly romantic. You’ll be marrying him next.’

‘Marrying? I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘Well don’t. That was just me putting unnecessary thoughts in your head. Clear them out at once. We have bigger things afoot. Now, for the last time, are you absolutely sure?’

For Kasen. For James.

For Harry.

‘Absolutely,’ Draco said. ‘Do it. Send the owls.’

Pansy nodded, stood and held out her arms. ‘Good luck,’ she said.

‘I don’t think I’ll need it with you on my side.’ Draco closed his eyes and held his friend tightly. ‘My beloved Pansy.’

‘My Draco.’ She pulled away from him. ‘And you’d better tell Potter that. You’re mine, not his.’

‘I’ll tell him.’

‘Good. Now shoo before I get all girly and emotional.’

If there was anyone that would fight his corner and do his dirty work, it was Pansy. Her eyes were watery, but behind the unshed tears was determination and loyalty. She wouldn’t let him down.

Draco kissed her goodbye and Disapparated.

******

Apparating into the middle of the Weasleys’s front lawn wasn’t one of Draco’s best plans. He was instantly blinded by cameras and flummoxed by a hundred shouted questions.

‘Get in here, you bloody idiot!’

Something tall and ginger grabbed him and hauled him into the house.

‘Mind the robes, honestly.’

‘Draco, where have you been?’ Harry walked towards him, his face taut and worried, but the children overtook him and Draco was presented with several works of fine art and his very own used paintbrush.

‘I told you this morning, my solicitor.’

‘For seven hours?! Tell me what’s going on?’

‘Yeah, Daddy,’ Kasen said, ‘Tell us what’s going on and when dinner is.’

‘You haven’t eaten?’ Draco asked him.

‘No, your kid’s been starving waiting for you.’

‘Ah, Ron. I thought I heard an IQ dripping.’

‘Shut it, Malfoy. You’ve got some explaining to do.’

‘To you? I seriously doubt it.’

‘That’s enough!’ Harry tried not to shout but failed. ‘Kids, why don’t you go tell Molly we’re ready to eat. Ron, back off for a minute. Draco, come with me.’

Harry led him to an empty bedroom and sat them both on the bed. It wasn’t a very good bed and Draco wondered how long they could sit on it before the end sloped enough for them to end up on the floor. Not that it would be a bad thing …

‘On a scale of one to ten,’ Harry said, ‘how evil have you been today?’

Draco sighed and looked over at a torn poster of the Weird Sisters. ‘Well, considering I’m usually a two, perhaps three, I’ve been evil up to maybe a four.’

Harry nodded. ‘Seriously, you’re up to something. What is it?’

‘Nothing for you to worry about.’

‘Bad luck, then, because I am worried.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you went to see your solicitor and didn’t come back for seven hours.’

‘I told you I’d be a while!’

‘It doesn’t take seven hours to move some money about!’

‘Oh fine, have it your way,’ Draco said, getting up and flouncing over to the window. He crossed his arms and stared out at the reporters. ‘I wanted it to be a surprise.’

‘A surprise?’ Harry said. ‘For me?’

‘Of course for you.’ Draco turned around. ‘Oh don’t make me spoil it, please, Harry.’ He sat back down on the bed. ‘I promise I haven’t done anything remotely illegal or immoral. You do believe me, don’t you?’

Harry sighed and took Draco’s face in his hands. ‘Of course I believe you. I was just worried. I don’t like being worried. It makes me …’

‘Arsey.’

‘Yeah. You were in the Evening Prophet again. They got a picture of the crowds of Diagon Alley parting to let you through.’

‘Really? Did it look impressive?’

‘Very. And, according the Prophet, sinister.’

‘Sinister? Is that what they actually said? Oh my, I think I like that.’

‘Stop it,’ Harry said, but he was smiling. ‘Let’s have some dinner.’

*****

Dinner was an awkward affair with only the children fully at ease. Ron sulked at the end of the table, while Hermione chatted inanely about Ministry matters to Mr Weasley who had nothing more constructive to say than, ‘Well, hasn’t it been a lovely gay, uh, day?’

When the ordeal was over, Harry asked Draco to floo back with the children while he stayed to talk to Molly who had apparently been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the day.

‘Daddy, can I have a Unicorn?’ Kasen asked as they stepped from Harry’s fireplace.

‘Certainly not.’

Both Kasen and James looked rather disappointed, as though Kasen asking had been a genius plot they’d been working on all day.

‘But how about another fish? A special fish.’

The boys looked at each other, their faces lighting up. ‘Yes please!’ they both said.

‘Excellent. But shush, don’t tell Harry. We just have to wait for a few … well, awhile. But then, when everything is ready, we’ll get your fish. How about that?’

They nodded eagerly and Draco ruffled their hair and wandered upstairs in an almost dreamlike state. He unbuttoned his shirt as he walked and imagined what it was going to be like, when Pansy called for the final time, when the plan was at its peak and he’d got his way. Oh the things he was going to show Kasen, and Hogwarts was top of the list. Draco could just see his little face alight with wonder, just like his was when his father had first shown him.

*****

Draco looked around him, at the polished floors and the high ceilings, the suits of armour and ancient sculptures. A hundred painted eyes watched him and a ghost drifted in the distance.

‘My instincts say Durmstrang, but I expect Narcissa will get her way.’

‘I don’t want to go to Durmstrang!’ Draco said. ‘I like Hogwarts!’

His father ignored him so Draco turned to the man on his other side. ‘I like Hogwarts,’ he repeated more calmly. ‘I expect it’s the best. It is, isn’t it?’

He didn’t get an answer so he let go of his father’s hand and ran ahead to catch one of the staircases just as it moved. He gripped the banister tightly as his father had advised and laughed as it swung round.

‘Who are you, then?’ said a tall ginger-haired boy waiting on the connecting platform.

‘Draco Malfoy. Who are you? Your hair is a funny colour.’

‘Draco, come away, please.’

He considered disobeying, but only for a moment. He grinned up at the strange looking boy and then jumped onto the next staircase. He rode them for what seemed like hours and was hungry by the time he was finished.

‘Perhaps consider Durmstrang.’

‘Nonsense. Narcissa won’t have it.’

‘Perhaps she could be persuaded. The fame and notoriety of Hogwarts could be destructive to a young boy’s education.’

His father laughed and took Draco’s sweaty hand the moment he held it out. ‘Anyone would think you were trying to put me off. Is there something I should know?’

The other man said nothing so Draco looked up at his father, at the amused smile as it slowly slid away.

‘Severus? What have you to tell me?’

‘Nothing. It’s just that The Ministry has little to do with the school these days, no influence. Durmstrang is much more tightly run. I thought you should know.’

It was the first time in Draco’s life that he’d detected a lie, but by the time he was looking a giant squid in the eye, he’d forgotten.

*****

Harry returned within the hour, looking pale and tired. ‘There were tears,’ he announced, and then pounced on a packet of chocolate biscuits.

‘Who? You?’

‘Molly. I know she didn’t think I’d be single forever, but me moving on just feels like she’s lost a little bit more of Ginny.’

‘I hope that wasn’t what she said. That selfish wench!’

‘Don’t be a bastard. She was upset.’

‘That doesn’t mean she can make you feel guilty about it.’

‘That wasn’t her intention. And if it makes you feel better, she said you were a very handsome choice and she’d have gone for you herself if she’d been thirty years younger, despite your terrible reputation and villainous haircut.’

Draco wasn’t sure if he was flattered or disgusted so he pushed all thoughts of either to the back of his head and concentrated on making Harry feel better. He ran him a bath, put the children to bed, held him close and kissed him slowly. And when they made love, he relinquished all the control he could and let Harry go his own way.

It was only the second time in his life that he’d allowed anyone that kind of power over him and, as Harry slid inside, Draco allowed himself to hope this was forever.

TBC …

</i>

luciusfqf :: luciusfqf
because Lucius needs love too!

Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 18/21 - NC-17

sukibluekitty@googlemail.com — Tue, 18 Dec 2007 18:45:27 GMT

Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 13/? - NC-17

sukibluekitty@googlemail.com — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 19:19:31 GMT

Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 9/? - NC-17 overall

sukibluekitty@googlemail.com — Mon, 08 Oct 2007 18:28:13 GMT

Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 8/? - NC-17 overall

sukibluekitty@googlemail.com — Mon, 24 Sep 2007 18:09:57 GMT

Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 6/? - NC-17 overall

sukibluekitty@googlemail.com — Tue, 04 Sep 2007 18:32:01 GMT

Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 5/? - NC-17 overall

sukibluekitty@googlemail.com — Tue, 14 Aug 2007 19:32:36 GMT

Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 4/? - NC-17 overall

sukibluekitty@googlemail.com — Wed, 08 Aug 2007 18:33:36 GMT

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 done 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 is already planned out in full, it will not be compliant with book 7 and will therefore contain NO SPOILERS.

Previous Chapters: HERE

For three days after lunch with Potter, Draco flailed. He burned eggs, shrank t-shirts, put his door keys in the fridge and forgot to wake Kasen for day care.

On day four, Draco finally decided enough was enough. He wasn’t going to think about Potter or James for a moment longer.

Then he remembered he had promised Potter he would call Otterbourne First School to arrange a meeting with the Headmistress.

Damnation.

The phone call to the school was relatively un-traumatic. The Headmistress, Mrs Appling, was pleased to hear from him and was more than happy to meet with Potter and his son. Now all Draco had to do was telephone Potter and tell him the good news.

So, an hour later, Draco found himself sitting on the edge of Kasen’s bed, biting his bottom lip and watching Kasen feed his new fish with all the care of a surgeon performing a heart bypass.

Izzy and Wizzy surfaced, their mouths suckering up fish flakes like a vacuum cleaner inhaling handkerchiefs.

‘How would you like to telephone James?’ Draco asked.

Kasen gasped and scrambled from the bed. Draco caught the tub of fish flakes before they could hit the floor and spill.

‘Yes, please!’

Draco stood and held out his hand, smiling faintly when Kasen grasped it. ‘Come on, then. You can tell him all about your new friends.’

‘Izzy and Wizzy!’

‘Exactly. And then you could give him a message for me, for his father.’

Excited, Kasen nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘Tell James that I’ve spoken with the school and his father is to contact Mrs Appling at his convenience. She has agreed to meet with them both and it all looks rather hopeful. Got that?’

Kasen nodded again and threw himself down on the sofa. ‘Got it. Can I tell James about when we saw that lady fall over?’

Draco remembered the woman in Paul’s Pets as she slipped on a squeaky hot dog and landed on a pile of Eukanuba. Draco had managed to hide his amusement, but Kasen had roared with laughter, pointing and then telling the sales girl that it was good enough to make You’ve Been Framed. Draco had picked up their bag of fish, grabbed Kasen’s hand, and fled.

‘If you must, but try not to laugh; it wasn’t funny.’ Draco and Kasen smirked at each other.

Draco flipped open his address book and found Potter’s number. He dialled, waited for the ringing tone, shoved the phone at Kasen, and quickly attended to something urgent in the garden.

Actually, there was always something to do in the garden and at first glance, Draco could see a wilting rose and … my goodness, a bramble! Draco hurried over to it, stopping at the shed to collect his secateurs, gloves, spade and kneeler. While he unwrapped the monstrous weed from his precious Marie de Blois, Draco tried not to think about what a coward he was.

Friendship was a wonderful thing, but there were times when it came with a price.

Harry Potter was back in his life – his new life; the one he’d built just for him and Kasen. It was a peaceful existence, if a little lonely, but Draco could honestly say that was happy, certainly much more so than he had been before he’d left the wizarding world behind.

It was all very well latching on to Potter like a familiar, if somewhat threadbare, blanket, but what did it really mean? Was Potter still in touch with his friends? Who knew Potter was here?

How long would it be until they all descended and wrecked Draco’s perfect little life? It scared him much more than he cared to admit.

‘Bugger,’ Draco whispered to himself. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

It was forty minutes later when Draco carefully crept back into his own house. He found Kasen sitting happily on the sofa singing along to an advert for car insurance.

Draco sat down next to him. ‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

Kasen grinned at him. ‘James is starting day care with me on Wednesday.’

‘Hm. Yes. Wonderful,’ Draco said. ‘Did you give him my message?’

‘Yes, Daddy. Mr Potter said thank you very much.’

‘Did he? Oh good.’ Draco drummed his fingers on his knees and tried to decide what he was feeling. Whatever it was, it was complicated. ‘Did you speak with him yourself?’

‘Yep.’

‘And he didn’t ask to speak to me?’

‘Nope.’

‘I see.’ Draco got up and went back to the garden muttering something about ungrateful wizards.

**

On the Wednesday, Draco was up extra early, partly because a thoughtless blackbird was making a Merlin-awful crowing noise directly outside his window, partly because he felt a little bit sick, partly because he still hadn’t decided what to wear, and partly because he wanted to make sure he had time to use the hair straighteners he would never admit to owning.

He roused Kasen at a quarter to eight and got him washed and dressed.

‘I’m going to see James today,’ Kasen reminded him.

‘Are you? I’d completely forgotten.’

‘We might see Mr Potter!’

Draco poured milk onto Kasen’s Rice Krispies, and buttered him a slice of toast. ‘I suppose we might,’ he said casually.

Kasen looked at him with little narrowed eyes. Draco wasn’t sure what was going through his son’s mind at that moment. Kasen had a not-so-funny habit of seeing right through him, even when there was nothing to see, such as now.

‘Hurry up and finish your cereal,’ Draco said as Kasen opened his mouth to say something probably far too insightful for a four-year-old. ‘But not too fast or you’ll get indigestion.’

‘What?’

‘Belly ache. And don’t say “what”.’

Kasen rolled his eyes, sighed: ‘Yes, daddy,’ and, with absolute concentration, went about the exceedingly difficult task of eating Rice Krispies at the perfect speed.

At eight-twenty-five exactly, Draco and Kasen left the house and walked to the nearest bus stop, which was a mere thirty second walk. The bus arrived precisely three minutes late, as it always did.

It wasn’t far from Draco’s house to the day care centre, but Draco liked to take Kasen there on the bus; firstly, because Kasen adored the bus; and secondly, it left Kasen with more energy to enjoy his morning. They always walked home afterwards and that last bit of exercise generally tired Kasen out just in time for a rather convenient nap.

Draco flashed his Megarider ticket to the driver and let Kasen lead the way to the seats near the back, which Kasen preferred as they were higher.

As the bus rounded the corner, the morning sun streamed though all the windows on the left side of bus, blinding anyone stupid enough to sit that side. Sitting on the right, it was just comfortably warm, and Draco let his thoughts drift to how much flour he had left in the pantry and whether it was time to have the Leylandii tree removed from the front garden before it blocked out all the sun or, worse, fell down.

Kasen pointed out three squirrels – one horribly squashed on the other side of the road – and then the usual group of teenaged school children got on and took their place along the very back seats.

The bus passed Old Parsonage Road and Draco deliberately didn’t look. Kasen, however, pressed his face to the glass and watched until the road was out of sight. He was in danger of doing himself a serious mischief with his head squashed up against the window at such a curious angle. He unravelled himself at last and beamed up at Draco.

Five minutes later, Draco nudged his son, and Kasen leaned over to press the bell.

Kasen had been going to Ladybird Day Care Centre for the past year, ever since Draco had realised that keeping Kasen with him all of the time was both selfish and unhealthy for his son. If he hadn’t let go then, he would never have let go.

But still, Kasen was a relatively solitary child. He seemed to enjoy his three days a week at the playgroup, but was always happy when Draco collected him at home-time and never asked to see the other children outside of Ladybird hours. Draco sometimes wondered of he’d done Kasen irreparable damage by not adequately socialising him at an earlier age. Yet Kasen seemed content: he coloured books, read, made jigsaw puzzles, played games, sang to himself and pestered Draco constantly for made-up stories. He was a happy child, and Draco comforted himself with that fact.

They crossed the road to the day centre and, as usual, Draco took Kasen all the way inside, pausing at the door to search his memory for the security code, as he did every time. He nodded politely and said good morning to Janie, who had come to take Kasen’s jacket, and then spotted Potter and his son standing off to the side.

‘Look, Kasen, there’s James. Why don’t you go and say hello, make him feel welcome.’

Kasen dashed over there and Draco followed at a much more leisurely pace.

‘I’ll stay with you, okay? For today. Come on, I know you’ll enjoy yourself,’ Draco heard Potter say.

‘Won’t,’ James replied, wiping angrily at his eyes with the backs of his hands. ‘Don’t like it.’

‘Hello,’ Kasen interrupted with childish obliviousness.

‘Hey, Kasen,’ Potter greeted. ‘Draco.’

‘Potter.’

‘Are you coming to play?’ Kasen asked. ‘I’ll show you where the sparkles are. They’ve got gold ones now.’

James shook his head and burrowed closer to his father. ‘Don’t want to.’

Kasen just blinked at him, not comprehending the problem. ‘But … Mrs Thomas is going to let us play the traffic light game today. She promised!’

James wiped at his eyes again, looking a little bit intrigued. ‘What’s that?’

‘You have to run around and around and around and around and when Mrs Thomas shouts “red” you have to stand really still, and when she shouts “amber” you have to sit down really quickly. And you can only move when she shouts “green”.’

‘That sounds like fun, doesn’t it, James?’ Potter said with the biggest fake smile Draco had ever seen.

‘Mm.’

‘They give you biscuits at eleven if you’re good,’ Draco added. ‘Chocolate ones sometimes.’

‘Come on,’ Kasen whined. ‘It’s fun. My daddy will make you a bird.’

Draco felt huge green, watery eyes turn to him, full of hope and a little bit of anticipation. ‘Of course I will. A special one just for you.’ He held out his hand, surprised when James immediately took it, and led them all over to a table in the corner.

Potter looked bemused until Kasen passed over a huge sheet of green paper and Draco started to fold.

‘You remember my paper birds, don’t you, Potter? I’m sure I made you at least one or two when we were at school.’

A look of sudden recollection shot across Potter’s face. ‘Oh yeah, I remember.’

Draco looked up and cheerfully returned Potter’s dawning grin.

‘It’s called Ori - gami,’ Kasen said slowly and carefully, his gazed fixed on Draco’s hands and the bird taking shape, ‘isn’t it, Daddy?’

‘Absolutely right. Well done.’

Potter raised his eyebrows at Kasen, looking impressed, and Draco felt a whoosh of pride zip through him.

‘Daddy can do other animals, too,’ Kasen bragged, clearly just as proud of his father as his father was of him.

‘There you go. One special bird just for you.’ Draco handed over the paper bird and James took it with careful hands and an awed expression. James thanked him shyly and grinned up at his father.

A little crowd had gathered by this point, some who had seen Draco demonstrate this talent before and some who hadn’t.

‘Can I have a bird, too?’ a little girl with a flowery yellow dress and a face full of freckles asked.

Mrs Thomas dropped a pile of coloured paper in front of Draco. ‘Looks like you’re going to be here for awhile,’ she remarked as she walked away.

Not having anything better to do, Draco took the top sheet of paper and began making another bird, a smaller one with not so many intricacies. All the children watched avidly.

One hour, eighteen paper birds, three paper giraffes and one paper duck-billed platypus later, Draco was done and James was feeling settled enough for Potter to leave him.

They walked outside together and stood at the entrance.

‘You were good with them,’ Potter said, ‘and with James. Thanks. You’ve been …’ Potter flapped his hand, ‘you know.’

Draco nodded, quite sure that he did indeed know. ‘You’re welcome. I can’t stand to see a child upset – usually. Erm, I don’t know if I ever apologised for what happened at Farley Mount, but … I do – apologise, I mean. My temper still gets away with me sometimes.’

Potter nodded at him. ‘Thank you.’

Draco hesitated, afraid of what he might be letting into his life while still yearning for … something. Companionship. ‘Well, I suppose I should be going.’

‘Yeah, me too. I suppose. Unless, do you want to get a drink or something? A coffee?’

Draco’s heart thumped a little harder and he linked his fingers behind his back in case they started shaking. ‘I prefer tea,’ he said coolly, ‘as well you know.’

‘Beg your pardon,’ Potter said cordially and with forward tilt of his head. ‘Then how about tea? My treat.’

‘All right, then. A trip into town?’ he suggested quickly, mostly to avoid any question of Potter asking to come home with him.

‘Into Winchester? Sounds great. I haven’t been yet.’

‘Haven’t been? My goodness, what’s wrong with you?’

Potter shrugged. ‘You know how it is when you move. And, uh, James isn’t very good with crowds.’

There was a story there, Draco was sure of it. He wasn’t so sure if it was one he would get to hear.

**

It was so cold, but blessedly dark. No-one would see him. No-one would know he was here and recognise him.

The house was abandoned; Draco had watched the family leave and then the Death Eaters arrive. The family hadn’t gotten far and the street had lit up with flashes of brilliant green death.

Concealed in a shed just three doors down, Draco had waited the night and the next day, afraid to peek in case they were waiting for him, lined up like a firing squad, their wands drawn and their lips curving up in pleasure.

Now Draco huddled in the back bedroom, squeezed into a corner, his belly finally full but his hands unable to stop shaking. He would stay here just one night and then move on. His mother had told him to keep moving and so he would do just that. His trust for her was implicit, as it always had been.

Now he feared he would never trust another. Or he would never be given the chance.

He shut his eyes and tried not to hear her voice screaming inside his head.

***

Draco was pleasantly surprised to find that Potter could drive. He owned a very spacious, silver Peugeot 307 SW: a fine looking vehicle, sort of like an Estate but a little more snazzy.

Draco had often wondered if he should learn to drive; it certainly would be more convenient, and it would be nice just to get in and drive Kasen to wherever they both wanted to go. The beach would be nice.

They didn’t speak much on the journey into town. Potter had some modern-sounding music playing softly from the stereo and Draco was content to gaze out of the window; there was always something to see, something to observe.

Draco directed them to the Guildhall, a magnificent Victorian building in the centre of the city. It was a beautiful place and one that Draco loved to come to, but didn’t often get the chance. The last time was just before a graduation ceremony set to take place at the cathedral. He’d lounged on the wall opposite and watched the boys and girls, men and women, posing for pictures upon the front staircase, dressed in long black gowns and funny square hats. They could almost have been witches and wizards, if the hats had been pointier. Draco had felt his heart clench painfully. He’d never been given the opportunity to graduate Hogwarts. But perhaps that was just a small regret compared to everything else.

That day he’d taken Kasen for a picnic in the cathedral grounds. They’d sat in the shade of a great oak, with sandwiches, cakes and small cartons of Ribena, making daisy chains and watching the graduates file into the cathedral and then out again, surrounded by friends and family, every face smiling and excited.

The car jolted to a stop.

‘Sorry,’ Potter apologised. ‘Haven’t got used to the brakes yet.’

They parked in a car park at the top of town, and Draco led them back down past King Alfred’s statue and Draco’s favourite bakery, which he thought proper to point out. He was sure James would love their Cherry Bakewells.

As it was a midweek morning and the schools were still in, just, the city centre wasn’t too busy. A few people milled about here and there, but it lacked the sort of bustle one would expect to find in one of the larger cities.

‘Wow, nice,’ Potter said as they approached the Guildhall.

‘I like it.’

‘There’s really a café in there?’

‘There is. A very nice one.’

They walked up the stairs together in companionable silence, Potter looking all around him, every inch the tourist, and Draco pleased that he’d shown him something worth seeing.

The café was a sizable establishment, the inside beautifully ornate with high, stone ceilings. They chose to sit outside, though, as it was a nice day, and managed to find a table which was suitably shady. They ordered tea for two and a pastry each.

‘I think you’ll like it here,’ Draco blurted before the companionable silence turned awkward. ‘James certainly will. There’s so much to keep a curious mind active and interested.’

‘I hope so,’ Potter said quietly. ‘It’s been really hard for him.’

Draco stared at him for a long time, wondering what was going through Potter’s head, wondering if Potter needed to talk just like he had needed to. Draco had opened his heart and spilled his woes to an infant, his only friend. Maybe, if Potter wanted a …

‘You really are running, aren’t you?’ Draco said.

Potter nodded and stared into his tea.

‘May I ask why?’

Potter was silent and for a while Draco thought he wasn’t going to be privy to an answer.

‘It was too much. Too much for too long.’

‘What was? The glory of being Saint Potter? Got boring, did it?’ There was no heat behind the words and not a hint of a joke either.

‘Actually, yes.’

Draco put down his cup in shock. ‘Explain.’

‘Are you going to tell me I’m ungrateful, that I never went through what you did?’ Potter asked.

‘You don’t know what I went though,’ Draco said, his voice turning several degrees colder.

‘I’ve got a pretty good idea. And I’m sorry I didn’t help you.’

‘You don’t change, do you, Potter? Always talking such bollocks.’

‘I mean it.’

‘No you don’t. You didn’t give two hoots about me, the disgraced Death Eater, and that was fair enough. You had your victory parade, which you deserved. I just had my regrets.’

Potter’s expression crumpled into confusion. ‘Did you just have a go at me or say something nice?’

Draco shifted awkwardly, one eye squinting as the breeze picked up, shifted a shrub and exposed the sun. ‘I’m not sure. Knowing me, I was having a go.’

Potter laughed and rubbed wearily at his forehead. ‘There’s the Draco I love to hate.’

‘I never left the building.’

‘You are different, though. Really different. I’m sorry I opened my big trap about your dad in front of Kasen. And I am sorry now that I didn’t help you when you needed it most. I’m sorry that I used –’

‘Let’s not think about any of that. What’s done is done. Why don’t we talk about why you’re running?’

Potter nodded, taking the hint that it was time to shut up. There were some things Draco didn’t want to think about.

‘They wouldn’t leave me alone,’ Potter whispered.

‘Who?’ Draco demanded to know.

‘The Prophet. The public. The Ministry. I was either their saviour and they chased me everywhere I went, their fucking cameras clicking in my face and people constantly touching me, touching James, wanting a piece of us. Or, I was public enemy number one.’

‘Yes, I saw you fall from grace on the Prophet’s front page a few times.’

‘It was so much more than that. And I never did anything to deserve it. I’m just me. I’m just human, a normal human wizard. I make mistakes; I fuck up; I’m just like everyone else. But no-one else seems to get that. They think they own a piece of me, that I’m public property. I couldn’t stand it anymore.’

‘How bad did it get exactly?’

‘People camped out on my front lawn. Photographers and reporters following me wherever I went. My house was broken into. They forced their way into James’s playgroup. He was terrified. We couldn’t go out without someone begging us to help them. And that was when I was liked.’

‘And when you were disliked?’

Potter leaned forward, putting his elbows onto the wooden table. ‘I’m sure you remember what they did to you.’

He did. It had been hell. In the end he’d confined himself to the manor. ‘The Prophet!’ he spat, throwing his hands up into the air. ‘Let’s rile up the public with some cock and bull story! Let’s see whose life we can ruin next with lies and exaggerations!’

‘Exactly!’ Potter snapped. He drained his cup, slammed it back on the saucer and reached for the tea pot.

Draco tried to remember some of the things he’d read about Potter in the Prophet in recent months. He was willing to bet at least half of them weren’t true. He didn’t take the Prophet’s word for anything. The only reason he still subscribed to the grubby excuse for a rag was to keep abreast of what was being said about himself.

‘So … am I right in assuming that James isn’t a squib?’

‘You know, it wouldn’t matter to me if he was,’ Potter said, his top lip curling with distaste.

‘Nor I,’ Draco quickly defended. ‘There’s no shame in it.’

Potter blinked rapidly. ‘Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?’

‘I grew up, Potter. I learned – the hard way.’

‘Don’t you feel bitter? That they forced you out of your world?’

Draco considered that. ‘Sometimes. Mainly, no, but I do have some regrets about leaving.’

‘Like?’

‘Mostly, that Kasen will never be able to attend Hogwarts.’

‘You’re really never going back?’ Potter asked.

Draco smiled faintly. ‘Are you?’

‘I don’t know,’ Potter said. ‘I wish … I wish Ginny was here. She’d know what to do.’

Draco thought about giving Potter his condolences, but it seemed a little late and probably a little fake. He settled on something neutral. ‘I expect you miss her.’

‘Like crazy. She was one of my best friends. James talks about her everyday.’

‘I assume the Prophet lied about all of that, too?’

Potter grinned to himself. ‘No, they got a few bits and pieces right.’

Draco sipped his tea and arched an eyebrow. ‘So, you’re a megalomaniacal, bisexual adulterating attention seeker with a penchant for half-goblins?’

‘Erm, okay, no. But they did get the bisexual bit right. As you know.’

Draco’s cup paused momentarily on the way from his mouth to the saucer.

‘But Ginny and I divorced because we weren’t in love,’ Potter continued. ‘It was mutual. We were friends. The damn Prophet knew that. Then when she died, they jumped on me like I was the cancer that killed her.’

Draco remembered reading about Ginny’s death about two years ago, and he remembered the scandal that had hit just a few months later. He knew it was all probably lies, but the bitter little boy inside him had wanted to believe that Potter had hastened his wife’s death by taking her son away from her. ‘You took James because she was ill? She couldn’t look after him anymore.’

Potter shook his head. ‘No, at the end, she couldn’t look after him, but we always had joint custody, so there was never a point where I took him away. One day he was with me and he was never able to go back.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Draco said.

‘Yeah, so am I. James watched his mother die and then he was forced to watch them rip his father apart. It’s no wonder he’s so withdrawn. I couldn’t let him suffer like that anymore. Enough was enough.’

‘Understandable.’

They fell silent for a while after that. Draco drained his tea and finished his croissant. He listened to the twittering of the birds in the potted tree behind him and the clinking of saucers and plates as the waitress cleared away a table over in the corner. ‘Where are your friends?’ he said.

‘Around. They’ve really stuck by me – Ron and Hermione especially, and Molly has been wonderful; I would have died of starvation if it hadn’t been for her roast chickens.’

Draco nodded. ‘But you still had to get away.’

‘They left me no choice. Just like they didn’t leave you one either.’

No, they hadn’t. The Prophet had ripped him to shreds on a weekly, and sometimes daily, basis. Lie after lie after lie. The Manor became his prison and his body a convict. He’d wished for Azkaban.

‘How much of it was true?’ Potter asked. ‘What they said about you.’

‘Some of it was ludicrously untrue. Obviously. I mean, me, stalking a Hufflepuff? Really.’

Potter laughed, then thought better of it, stifling the last snigger behind his apple turnover.

‘Oh go on, laugh, that one is rather funny, looking back on it,’ Draco responded lightly. ‘But it was awful at the time. You name it, I was accused of it. And the worse thing was that much of it could very well have been the sort of trick my father used to pull.’

‘Tarred with the same brush,’ Potter remarked.

‘Quite. And a lot of it perfectly deserved. But I don’t think I deserved to be hounded, to have my whole life turned into a freak show. It was a lonely and unbearable existence, Potter, I won’t deny it. I did the right thing in leaving. I’ve spent the best years of my life here with Kasen.’

Potter looked thoughtful and Draco just knew Potter wanted to ask about Kasen’s mother. The Prophet had harped on and on about it, wondering who the mother was and how Draco knew her and why he and the baby disappeared shortly after the baby’s birth. And still, to this day, they speculated.

‘Rita Skeeter should be hung, drawn and quartered,’ Draco said, just to distract Potter from asking any unwelcome questions. ‘And then diced, put in a stew and fed to her minions. How that harpy ever became editor I’ll never know.’

‘You’re asking the wrong person.’

‘Hm.’

That sat a while longer, slowly easing out the serious conversation and bringing in easier topics such as what was showing at the theatre, Otterbourne’s dreadfully noisy bin collections, and the absolute necessity of supporting the local milkman. By the time it came to leave, they had fallen into an easy and light banter, the harshness of the wizarding world left behind in their saucers along with spilled tea and a small black fly.

The wandered around for a little while, Draco showing Potter the top part of the town and the cathedral. His stupidly rash suggestion of a picnic for the boys was met with a pleased smile and a statement that James liked cheese and pickle sandwiches.

Potter’s behaviour was agreeable enough, much more pleasant than he remembered from school or the years that followed it. He had always wondered how Potter’s scrawny bunch of followers had tolerated someone with such a martyr complex.

Maybe Potter had changed. The war had certainly sobered Draco, so maybe it was the same for Potter.

Maybe now it was possible for them to meet somewhere in the middle of their legendary personality clash and actually get along.

Draco chose not to mention it.

TBC …

A/N: Most of the places I am describing in this fic are real. Just in case anyone is interested, this is the Guildhall and this is Winchester Cathedral

Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 3/? - NC-17 overall

sukibluekitty@googlemail.com — Wed, 08 Aug 2007 18:30:58 GMT

Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 2/? - NC-17 overall

sukibluekitty@googlemail.com — Wed, 08 Aug 2007 18:25:31 GMT

Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 1/? - NC-17 overall

sukibluekitty@googlemail.com — Wed, 08 Aug 2007 18:20:48 GMT

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 done by amejisuto. Thank you, darling.

A/N: Compliant with all canon up to HBP so there may be spoilers for any of the six books. As this fic is already planned out in full, it will not be compliant with book 7. Apologies for my bad timing.

Previous Chapter: HERE

Draco Malfoy loved to walk. There was something about putting one foot in front of the other, no plans and no intentions, and seeing where you would end up.

As a boy he’d dreamed of gazing over hills and valleys, and running as far and fast as his legs would take him just for the hell of it, just because it was fun. Freedom. But that was before he discovered power and self restraint, and before the Dark Arts became more interesting that the limitless sky above. That was before the power to hurt became preferable to jumping in puddles.

It seemed fitting that Draco Malfoy would one day come full circle.

The ground was firm and dry today, a sunny contrast to the previous week when the grass beneath his feet had been drowned by a continuous four-day downpour. That week, Draco had truly needed his two hundred pound walking boots. This week, though, the sun had been shining just as it should in June, and the grassland was to be easily negotiated.

Draco left the light shadows of the oak trees and took slow steps uphill towards the next patch of forest. Farley Mount was extensive, miles of chalk down grassland and woodland. There were an almost unlimited number of routes to take and parts of the county park to see, but even though Draco had been walking here every Sunday for the past three years, he had yet to see it all.

Draco Malfoy was a creature of habit. He liked his ordered life, his porridge for breakfast everyday, and his walk through Farley Mount County Park every Sunday. He got up at six o’clock sharp every day courtesy of his very accurate body clock, liked to read The Daily Prophet and The Times, in that order, with a mug of strong Twinings Breakfast Tea, everyday. He got his hair trimmed every six weeks, his nails done every two weeks and settled his bills the moment they came by Muggle post.

There was only one thing in Draco’s life that disrupted this order: a person: a very small person who invited chaos, dirt, non-stop chatter, and a life of happiness that Draco treasured far beyond any expanse of power or abundance of riches: a son.

‘Not too far!’ Draco called into the distance at the disappearing speck that was his child. Immediately, the faraway speck stopped, then became larger and larger as it closed in, forming the vision of a small boy of four, with a slightly pointy face, floppy flaxen hair and a Cheshire Cat grin.

‘Come on! Too slow!’ the boy bellowed back, stopping and jumping up and down.

‘Have pity on your old father,’ Draco said with mock weakness.

‘I’ll help you, Daddy!’ The little boy rushed to his father and took his hand, to all intents and purposes dragging him up the steep embankment.

‘You’re supposed to tell me I’m not old, not rush to my aid,’ Draco said with an exasperated chuckle. He let himself be lead up to the top of the bank where the grassland suddenly dipped again. His son let go of his hand, got down on his side, and rolled all the way down the little hill.

Draco chose a more sensible route, detouring to the left and following a thin, windy, whitish-coloured path that took much more time to get down than the roly-poly method.

Kasen Miles Narciso Malfoy stood bouncing while he waited, clearly impatient and desperate to be on his little way.

‘Go on, then,’ Draco said, waving him away. But stay where I can see you, or I’ll Accio you right back.'

There was mischief written all over Kasen’s face. Draco looked around him – no Muggles in sight – and grinned back at his son.

Kasen took off with surprising speed for one with such small legs. He laughed joyfully as he ran, speeding in the direction of the woodland and the boggy track and bridleway beyond, the last place Draco wanted him to go. Even in the summer months, that track – an access road for forestry vehicles, although Draco had never once seen so much as a Land Rover go down it – never fully dried up, and the mud could easily reach the top of and then fill Kasen’s Wellington boots.

Draco gave him a three second start, which was as much as he dared, and then he took off after his son, his long strides quickly making up the distance. He stopped dead, pulled out his wand, and shouted, ‘ACCIO KASEN MILES NARCISO MALFOY!’

Kasen flew backwards through the air, laughing, squealing and kicking, and landed comfortably and securely in his father’s arms. He wiggled until Draco put him down, then he went charging off again, obviously hoping for a repeat performance. He stopped suddenly when a small, dark-haired boy, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear, emerged from the trees.

Kasen stared at him, wariness creeping over his face, and Draco cursed himself for installing such suspicion in his own son.

‘Who are you?’ Kasen asked, his chin rising and his back straightening.

His tone was polite enough, but Draco recognised it as Kasen’s formal voice, a voice just like his own, reserved for strangers, people that he didn’t know, people that might be bad.

The dark-haired boy seemed to be considering Kasen, and Draco moved closer to ensure his son behaved and inflicted no rudeness upon the small stranger.

‘I’m James. Do you want to play?’

It saddened Draco that instead of turning excitedly to ask permission, his son instead narrowed his eyes and asked guardedly, ‘What sort of game?’

As it turned out, the answer to that question was not one that needed words. The little boy pulled back his arm and lobbed a great fist-full of mud, splattering a shocked Kasen.

‘Now you have to get me!’

The little boy turned tail and ran, leaving a stunned Kasen blinking up at his equally stunned father.

‘Well,’ Draco said, a little lost for words, ‘I’m not sure that was altogether appropriate behaviour.’

Kasen’s jaw snapped shut and his bewildered expression turned to one of determined revenge. He turned and charged into the woods.

‘Oh, erm, Kasen, I don’t think … Oh bugger.’ Draco pocketed his wand and ran after his son, following a four-year-old’s version of a war cry.

He weaved in and out of the trees, stumbling over fallen branches and annoyingly random humps of raised ground. Draco tried to increase his speed, but it wasn’t easy considering his height and the way the tree branches hung just where he didn’t want them to be.

Kasen’s war-cry carried through the woods. To be honest, it was more like listening to a bad opera than a charging warrior. Draco followed the sound, wondering how his son had gotten so far away from him so quickly.

A bubble of panic formed in Draco’s gut as he closed in on where he new the old track to be. He sped up, ignoring the thin wisp-like branches that tried to tangle in his long hair. He had a terrible feeling.

‘Kasen, come back here! Don’t you dare cross that track!’

Kasen’s call to arms ceased and Draco stopped, desperately looking around him to try to get his bearings back. Each direction looked exactly the same and Draco wasn’t entirely sure that he hadn’t turned himself all the way around.

There was a rumble in the distance and, for a moment, Draco mistook it for the sound of thunder, a familiar noise from just a week ago when Hampshire was blanketed in a cascade of rain that flooded roads, schools, homes and made even a small shopping trip into Winchester Town Centre into an absolute nightmare.

The noise grew louder and horror dawned on Draco as he recognised the sound of a tractor close by. The squeals of his son rose into the air again and Draco’s head snapped in its direction, and he took off at a dead run.

Of all the moments for a bloody tractor to actually use that damnable, poor excuse for a road, it had to be now. Draco was very aware that the boggy track was well in use, the deep tire tracks a dead giveaway, but never had he seen a vehicle pass down it.

The noise of the tractor was loud now, uncomfortable to Draco’s ears, and he struggled to hear any sound beyond it. Where was Kasen? Had he gone the other way? Was he in front? Was he on the road?

Draco’s chest constricted painfully. This was all his fault. He hadn’t been strict enough with Kasen. This would never have happened if he’d been more like his father. Lucius Malfoy would never have permitted his son to run amuck in such a fashion.

Totally panic-stricken and the track now in sight, Draco burst from the undergrowth. And nearly collided with the tractor. He staggered back and clutched at his frantically beating heart.

‘Daddy!’

Draco looked anxiously around him as the tractor passed, a wave of sheer relief settling over him at the sight of his son, safe and sound and holding hands with ... Harry Potter.

The tractor passed and Potter made his way over, releasing the children to make their own way.

‘Christ, are you alright?’

Draco wasn’t sure that he was, but he nodded a brief affirmative anyway.

‘Are you sure?’ Potter persisted. ‘You’re white as a ... Malfoy?’

Draco laughed. It was sudden and loud and tinged with hysteria. Harry Potter looked a little bit taken aback.

‘White as a Malfoy?’ Draco repeated. ‘That’s a new one.’

Kasen launched himself at Draco, wrapping his small arms around his father’s legs and nearly knocking him over.

‘Sorry, that was supposed to be two sentences. Your son?’ Potter asked, looking down at where Draco’s hand was stroking Kasen’s now mud-soaked hair.

‘Very perceptive.’

Potter shrugged. ‘I still read The Prophet. It was pretty big news.’

‘Indeed,’ Draco said, his one-word answer laced with an unhealthy amount of bitterness. ‘As was yours. This is him, I assume? This is the newest Potter hooligan?’

‘Hey …’

Draco continued, old grievances coming to the surface along with stone-cold anger that he could have lost his son today, the only person who meant anything and everything to him, the person who had saved him. ‘Your foolhardy son nearly cost mine his life.’

Potter looked incredulously at him. ‘How do you work that out?’

‘My son could have been run over!’

‘Don’t be daft, Malfoy. The only one of us not looking where they were going was you.’

‘How dare you! Perhaps you should consider training your offspring a little better before you pass judgement on other people. Actually, forget it. I should have known you’d someday spawn a thoughtless, selfish, jumped up little twit like yourself. I should have prepared myself for his inevitable arrival.’

Both children were in shock by the time Draco had finished his tirade. Kasen’s eyes were wide and his mouth was open again. James’ bottom lip was trembling.

‘You know what,’ Potter sneered, stepping into Draco’s personal space. ‘I put up with you for years. Six long years, Malfoy. I let you stay at Grimmauld Place, even after what you’d done. I offered you sanctuary when no one else would even look at you. You’d have gone to Azkaban if it wasn’t for me! I’m sure Lucius would have loved to see you.’

‘Potter. Shut. Up.’ Rage filled him, total and utter fury. He’d never hated anyone more in his entire life.

‘Why? Why should I? It’s alright for you to say crappy things, but for some reason I can’t? Why is that Malfoy? Some kind of superiority thing? Because I think the mighty fell a long time ago.’

'Yes,' Draco said softly but threateningly. ‘That we did.’ He glared at Potter, his lips pressed together to form a thin line of utter hatred. ‘Thank you for the history lesson.’

‘Daddy? Daddy? Father!’ Kasen tugged insistently on his father’s sleeve. ‘What’s Azkabran? Is Grandfather Lucius really there?’

Draco’s hand gently touched his son’s head again, but his eyes were firmly locked onto Potter’s. He got no satisfaction at the look of absolute horror that crossed Potter’s face.

‘Shit, Malfoy, I’m –’

‘Come, Kasen. I think it’s time we left.’

He walked away with his son, vibrating with anger and with no outlet for it. Kasen would ask questions; he was that type of boy. But although Draco had had four years to come up with answers, he had absolutely no clue what he would say.

How do you tell your child his daddy was the bad guy?

**

‘Well done, Draco. Well done. I didn’t honestly think you had it in you.’

A cold, wretched hand touched his chin and caressed his cheek. Draco closed his eyes and tried to hear only the sound of celebrating around him instead of the thundering of his own heart and his mother’s tearful breathing.

‘Dumbledore finally dead. And it was all down to you. Such loyalty.’

Draco shook his head and opened his eyes. He knew; somehow the Dark Lord knew. ‘I didn’t … I couldn’t … Severus did it for me.’

The hand held his chin high and squeezed.

‘My Lord,' Severus interrupted, ‘it was a matter of time. The Order were present and we had to make a quick escape. Draco hesitated. No doubt the old fool had been trying to talk his way out of his … predicament. I finished Draco’s task only to save time. I have no doubts he would have finished Dumbledore himself under better circumstances.’

Draco held his breath and the Dark Lord’s penetrating gaze. He felt a coldness press and push inside his head and Draco started to shake at the effort of concealment.

The Dark Lord smiled.

**

Otterbourne was a quiet village. Six miles South of Winchester, it was just far enough away to leave behind the hustle and bustle of a city. Not that Winchester was much of a city, not in the modern sense of the word. There was something about it that reminded Draco of Diagon Alley, with its old fashioned buildings and uneven streets.

Otterbourne itself was relatively isolated and it gave Draco a much needed sense of peace and contentment. Open countryside dominated the small village, and scattered in between were four pubs, a school, a parish church, a post office and a village shop. It was a simple place, unremarkable, just how Draco liked it.

He and Kasen lived in what was once a one-level farmhouse. The farm had long since closed down and its occupants moved on. The house had switched owners five times in ten years by the time Draco came to view it. It had been fixed up, sold on, updated, sold on again, until the simple property in the centre of the village had become highly sought after and terribly expensive.

Three years ago, Draco bought it without a second thought. It was the only property he’d seen. It was his first time around proper Muggles, he was tired, impatient, he had a screaming one-year-old in his arms, and he just wanted to get on with it all before he changed his mind. The decision to leave his world hadn’t been an easy one, even if it had been the only one.

Draco and Kasen toed off their walking boots and Draco lined them up next to the front door. He hung up their coats while Kasen stood and watched him.

‘What?’ he asked, feeling his son’s stares from behind him.

‘Who was that man?’

Draco smoothed out non-existent creases from his coat, delaying his answer. He really didn’t want to answer that question, or any question, in fact.

One query lead to another and another and then another. But he’d promised himself when he demanded to take Kasen that he would never lie to him, never deceive him, never pretend to be someone he wasn’t.

‘That was Harry Potter.’ Draco waited and watched expressions of thought flit over Kasen’s little face, waiting for the moment the name would click into place. And sure enough, it did.

Kasen’s eyes widened to a comical size and his mouth dropped open. ‘Harry Potter won the war!’

Draco took his son’s hand and together they walked through the front room, dining room and into the kitchen where he pulled a small stool over to the sink. ‘Yes, he did. Wash your hands.’

Draco had told Kasen only the basics so far, and he didn’t feel guilty about that at all. Kasen was far too young for all the gruesome details of such an ugly event. All he needed to know was that a bad man had forced a division within the wizarding world, one side against the other. Harry Potter had been the Leader of the Light and he had saved entire world.

‘Daddy, you shouted at Harry Potter!'

‘Wouldn’t be the first time,’ Draco muttered. ‘Do you want a sandwich?’

‘Spam!’ Kasen yelled. He leapt off the stool, pulled himself onto a chair and waited for his sandwich with his clean palms pressed flat against the table top and his feet swinging in mid-air.

‘Potter and I went to school together. We were in the same year – different Houses, though.’

‘Hogwarts,” Kasen breathed.

Any mention of Hogwarts gave a Kasen a dreamy, far-away look in his eyes. He relished any stories Draco told him of the school, with its ghosts and moving portraits and killer hippogriffs.

‘That’s right.’

‘Were you and Mr Potter friends?’

‘Never,’ said Draco. ‘We were constantly at each other’s throats, loathed the sight of each other. We had quite the reputation, actually. Why the teachers didn’t think to keep us apart more often, I’ll never know.

‘Potter was in Gryffindor. As I’ve told you before, Slytherin and Gryffindor despised each other on principle.’

‘That’s stupid,’ Kasen said.

‘That’s as maybe, but Potter was sort of the leader of his House and I the leader of mine. We fought continuously, both of us as bad as the other at times.’

Kasen let the matter drop when he received his crustless sandwich. Draco made himself a mug of tea and poured Kasen a glass of orange and pineapple squash. When he sat down at the table and took a sip of his tea, Kasen was ready with more questions.

‘What’s Azkabran?’

‘Azkaban,’ Draco corrected. ‘It’s the wizarding prison.’

‘Oh.’ Kasen looked down at his one remaining square of sandwich, his brows furrowing in thought. ‘Is Grandfather really there?’ he asked quietly.

‘Was. He died, remember?’

Kasen nodded. ‘Was he a bad man?’

‘… He was a greedy man. He hungered for power, wealth, influence. The Malfoy’s were a name to be reckoned with and had been for a very long time. Lucius did his very best to keep up a reputation that had been constructed centuries before. But along the way, he fell foul to the Dark Lord and his ways.’

‘Voldewort!’ Kasen gasped after a moment of thought, and Draco nearly choked on his tea.

‘Voldemort,” Draco said, proud of himself for almost not wincing. ‘But we don’t say his name in this house, Kasen. We say “You-Know-Who”.’

Kasen apologised to his father and asked what happened next.

‘He did a bad thing. He hurt people. All at the whim of Him. And he got caught in the act and imprisoned. I was fifteen. He was sent to Azkaban and there he died four years later. I was twenty-one then. That was six years ago.’

Draco sipped at his tea and cast a furtive glance at his son. Kasen was staring at him. He knew his story must have sounded to cold to such young ears, but Draco only wanted to be clear. He didn’t want to tell this story to anyone, much less his own son, and he only wanted to tell it once.

‘Do you hate Grandfather?’

Draco shook his head and put down his mug. ‘I loved him. Very much. And I know that he loved me and my mother very much, too. He was simply allowed his own way for far too long. He never learned right from wrong, and his wrong-doing escalated until it ultimately destroyed him and our family.’

Kasen met his gaze with such a sudden stare that Draco was momentarily hoisted back twenty-three years and he saw the mirror image of himself glaring accusingly at his own father.

‘Were you bad, too?’

‘Yes,’ Draco said immediately. ‘I behaved in a most appalling way for most of my life. I was a spoiled, self-important brat and I did terrible things.’

‘Did you go to prison?’

‘No. I was ... lucky. I probably should have.’

The accusing expression turned worried. ‘Why?’

‘Before the war started, but after your grandfather was sent to Azkaban, I was given a terrible mission by the Dark Lord. I was to complete this mission or suffer the consequences. It was a punishment meant for my father. The Dark Lord did not expect me to succeed. I was meant to die.’

‘No!’ Kasen sprung up from his chair, knocking the table and slopping the glass of squash over the surface.

‘It’s okay, Kasen. It’s okay,’ Draco said. He opened his arms and accepted Kasen into them, lifting him onto his lap and soothing his sudden tears. ‘Everything is fine now, see? We’ve had a happy ending, haven’t we?’

‘I don’t want you to die. You won’t, will you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘And they won’t take you to Azkaban, will they?’

‘No.’

Not that “they” hadn’t tried, but that wasn’t something Draco wanted to go into right now.

‘Would you like to watch a film with me, Kasen?’ Draco asked. He didn’t want to continue with the story and he was reasonably sure Kasen didn’t want to either. ‘I was thinking Monsters Inc. We haven’t watched that for ages, have we? Why don’t you go and put the DVD in for me. You know I always get it wrong.’

Sniffing, Kasen nodded and jumped down. He stopped before he got to the door way and turned back, his expression resolute. “I’ll always love you, Daddy, even if you do bad things.’

Draco smiled sadly and hoped it would never ever come to that again. ‘And I you.’

TBC ...