Entry tags:

harry/draco, nc-17, worldcup

FIC: Montague and Capulet (Part Two)
Please see Part One for header/warnings. This story is now completely posted.

Part Two

Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!
See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
That heaven finds means to kill your joys…
And I for winking at your discords too
Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd.

Prince of Verona in Romeo and Juliet ~~William Shakespeare

ooOOoo

Montague and Capulet, indeed. I'd have occasion to think of those two sorry souls in the months that were to come: how their hatred and pride, how their projection of their sympathies—or lack thereof—took their most precious treasures away, in the most tragic of circumstances.

But that morning in late March, I had no idea that my world was about to fall in around me. I'd checked with Minerva at least twice a week since that visit to Hogwarts, and as far as I knew, the girls were on their best behavior, their animosity in check. I could only hope that the truce would be a permanent one.

At the sound of the Floo, I looked up, surprised to see a familiar but out-of-place face.

"Kingsley?" I asked, puzzled for an instant, then was filled with a sudden and horrible premonition.

"Harry. You need to step through to Minerva's office. Now," he said soberly.

Grabbing up my cloak, I was only a moment behind him, lurching out from the fireplace to find myself in a deathly silent room.

Minerva was seated behind her desk, Draco in one of the armchairs in front of it. As I took the empty one without prompting, I noticed the two Aurors standing on either side of the room.

When the Headmistress stood, it was only then that I noticed that her eyes were red-rimmed, her face drawn and pale. And suddenly, I wanted to stop time, because I knew. Senseless to fathom just how, but I did. As I listened to her voice, I lost all sense of who was there with me.

Their Heads of Houses had alerted the Headmistress that both girls were missing when their dorm mates had got up that morning. The alarm had gone out and the search had begun, the teachers beginning with the castle itself, then spreading their net to the grounds, where they'd finally found them both on the Quidditch pitch.

No one knew when they'd gone out there—they'd both been last seen in their common rooms close to bedtime. Their friends had told the Headmistress that the two of them had agreed to meet and have a 'talk', but hadn't been aware of their plans beyond that.

They'd been on their brooms, out on the pitch, in the middle of the night. Why they would've chosen such a place and time was anyone's guess. Lisle was found first, off to the side of the Slytherin grandstand. It was obvious that she'd fallen from a great height, given that her neck was broken and her broom in pieces.

Jilly was a short distance away, and it wasn't clear, but the consensus was that she'd died a short time later from massive injuries to her face and head. Her broom was intact close by, the only evidence that she'd fallen, the fact that the handle had furrowed a foot into the muddy ground.

Their wands were missing, but a search of the pitch located them, and given that they'd not been found on their persons, Priori had been performed on both of them.

I was aghast as Kingsley droned out the list of spells and hexes that had been cast: Body-Binds, Reducters, Stinging Hexes, and lastly, Stunners had been the final curse that each girl had cast. I'd had no idea that my daughter had even known how to cast it.

It was assumed that they'd Stunned each other almost simultaneously, then had plummeted to the ground and to their deaths.

As the account ended, with Kingsley informing us that the Headmistress had filled him in on the girls' long history of mutual baiting and feuding, I looked up blearily, in shock, at the room around me, suddenly aware that the two Aurors had their hands on their wands in their sheaths. I realized that what they expected made perfect sense. We were the fathers of two girls who'd been trained by these very fathers to react to each other with hostility.

I was only vaguely aware of Minerva's, "You'll want to see them, of course," then Draco being led from the room by Kingsley and one of the Aurors. I felt a hand on my knee as the Headmistress knelt in front of me.

It was an effort to focus on her face. My heart was pounding in my ears, and I was reasonably certain I was about to lose my breakfast, and I did. She held the bin out for me as I retched, then sat back on her heels, studying me worriedly.

"Harry, I'm so very, very sorry," she said gently as she handed me her handkerchief.

I wiped my mouth, then put my head between my knees for a moment, before finally looking up. "I…I don't know how…oh god, Ginny!" I groaned as I put my face in my hands. "Has she—"

Minerva shook her head. "That can wait for the moment, dear. We'll collect her after Draco's gone. I think that would be best." She hesitated. "You don't have to be here for that, if you'd prefer…"

I shook my head as I looked up again. "No, I'll stay. OH GOD! How could this happen? They're only thirteen!" I cried out, suddenly standing to my feet. I had to move, I had to get out of here…I had to see my daughter! It was a mistake—it couldn't be true….it couldn’t be true.

My hands balled in fists at my side, I stared at Minerva, whose face had paled, just two bright circles of color in the center of her cheeks. "Harry, they've been on this path for a—"

"No, I don't need to hear that right now," I said slowly as my eyes filled.

Her face sad and resigned, she said, "No, I imagine you don't." She turned to her desk and poured me a measure of firewhisky. "Drink," she commanded as she held it out, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

My hand shook as I tossed it back without protest, then fell into the chair again. She sat beside me then, the two of us waiting in silence, as she held my hand and stroked it comfortingly, as if I were a distressed student.

When the door opened and Kingsley said, "Harry," I methodically got to my feet and followed him through the silent hallways to the infirmary. I wondered idly where all the students were, and guessed they'd been confined to the Great Hall for the moment.

Madam Pomfrey murmured a "I'm so very sorry, Harry," as I took in the room where I'd spent so many days of my student years. At the far end of the infirmary, there were two beds shielded from view by curtained partitions. I followed numbly as I was led around one of them, then was faced with the brutal evidence that I wanted desperately to flee, but needed desperately to confront.

I knew it was Jilly by her hair, which had been brushed out and arranged on the pillow. Her face was almost unrecognizable, bruised and swollen by the impact. A chair appeared behind me, and I sat and pulled it close, vaguely aware that I'd been discreetly left alone.

I took her hand and threaded my fingers through her lifeless ones, staring at her face. "Jilly," I mouthed, but no sound came out, the word stuck in the back of my throat. Reaching around her with my other arm, I pulled her close, and buried my face in the crook of her neck, and then, finally, the tears came.

A hundred images flashed through my brain: the newborn I'd held in my arms, the toothy baby I'd bounced on my knee, the giggling toddler I'd chased through the hollyhocks, the gleeful child I'd taught to sit a broom, the winsome girl as she chose her robes at Madam Malkin's, the gangly adolescent who still managed to climb in my lap.

Then the final picture was of the third-year watching me apprehensively, pleading with her eyes, as I'd stepped backward into the Floo, only weeks ago. How I wished then that I'd taken her words to heart. If only I'd listened, and taken her home.

If only…

If only…

If only…

ooOOoo

The aftermath was a blur of pain, self-loathing and blame.

Oh yes, blame.

Ginny was inconsolable, and when she heard the whole of it, she blamed me. I couldn't argue with that. Molly blamed me as well. Ginny's brothers were mostly silent, but I could sense their condemnation.

I blamed Draco, of course, at least in those first weeks, but even then I knew this was a smoke screen for the person who deserved most of the blame. I was certain that Draco was dealing with his own dragons of self-doubt and guilt. In the end, we'd both have to face the regrettable parts we'd played.

Mostly, I blamed myself.

Why had it been so important that Draco acknowledge his debt to me? Why had I not understood, at the time, that he'd been grieving for his father, for the mess his life had become? I understood, over a period of months, that his grief alone might've accounted for his treatment of me, that first time we'd locked horns. But then…he'd had his chance to make amends afterward, and had chosen his path as well. So we'd both been at fault, it would seem. Why had we put the screws to each other the way we had? I supposed it had to do with years of practice and habit.

But the most unforgivable thing we'd both done had been to instill that legacy into our daughters. Two little girls who otherwise might've met on the train and, finding themselves in that rare redheaded league, could've very well been friends. With no knowledge of the hostility between their fathers, with no ingrained distrust of each other's motives and hyped-up rhetoric learnt at home, they would've had no reason, none at all, to carry on where their fathers had left off.

Both Draco and I were drawn and quartered in the Prophet, he more than I, given my slightly faded hero status. I heard the murmurs in the Alley, the furtive looks as people came into the shop, but I didn't care. My Jilly was gone, as well as Draco's Lisle, and nothing could bring them back. We both had to live with the knowledge that it could've been otherwise.

As July approached that year, I was paler and thinner than I'd ever been. Sleep came in short spurts, only when exhaustion forced it on me. I muddled through my days, dreading my nights, but as Jilly's birthday approached, I laid my plans. Then on the afternoon of the sixteenth, I closed the shop early and headed for Muggle London.

Muggle, because I wanted to avoid the flower shop in Diagon Alley. The last thing I needed was to run into any of the Weasley family buying flowers for the same occasion. I went home and had a cup of tea, waiting for dusk, knowing that by then they would've paid their respects and been long gone.

I Apparated to the cemetery in Ottery St. Catchpole, watching warily to make certain I was alone. Walking slowly toward the family plot, I was filled with memories of how Jilly'd loved to come here as a child. We'd walk between the plots and read the family names and dates, Molly telling her stories about the people who rested here. I reached the top of the crest, then took a moment to stop and look down at the small, gated enclosure where the Weasley clan was mostly buried.

My breath caught in my chest as I saw him. What the bloody hell is he doing here?

I didn't relish a confrontation with him now, not here, not on this day. But then I noticed that he was holding a large bouquet of flowers.

And suddenly, I understood.

As I watched him, the last of the sunset catching the silver in his hair, I realized that he was speaking, and all of a sudden, I was undone, as my eyes filled with tears.

He was talking to my Jilly, and I could only imagine what he might have to say to her. He reached up a hand and wiped at his eyes, then went to one knee on the ground to place the flowers to the side of the marker. After he'd stood again, he bowed his head for a moment, then turned on the spot and was gone.

I threaded my way between the markers, wondering if I'd imagined the entire scene. But the flowers were there.

A clutch of asters and roses, pinks and purples, they were tied together with a soft yellow ribbon. I knelt to the ground, on both knees, and it only seemed right to take up the flowers and unwind the ribbon, then tie my own into them. Laying it gently back in place, I realized that Draco had probably spent the last few months much the same as I had, and had regrets, not only for his daughter, but for mine as well.

ooOOoo

I knew that Lisle's birthday was the twentieth, only because it'd been so close to Jilly's, and Ginny and I had found that funny at the time. In the four days since I'd witnessed that remarkable event, I'd come to the conclusion that Draco had done something that I wouldn't have even thought to do. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to be out-done, not at all. I realized that I mourned for both of these beautiful girls, and so, spurred on by his gesture that'd touched me more than I wanted to admit, I repeated my routine of just four days ago—purchasing an identical bunch of flowers—then almost panicked when I realized I didn't know where the Malfoys buried their dead.

Rummaging through the pile of old Prophets that Dobby never threw out, I found Lisle's obituary and the place of interment. Relieved that I'd be able to pay my respects, I Apparated on the evening of the twentieth to the small plot that stood just outside the borders of the former Malfoy Manor.

A perfect Apparition that landed me just twenty feet from Draco Malfoy.

I prepared myself for the worst, standing stock still, as he looked at me from the other side of the plot, his eyes wide. When he didn't speak, but only looked down at the grave, I cautiously made my way to stand beside him.

There in front of the marker lay the same clutch of flowers, but with a blue ribbon this time. We stood in silence for a moment, then I knelt down and gently placed my bouquet beside his own.

Standing, I took a look around me. "It's a beautiful spot," I murmured.

Still not looking at me, he nodded. "Lisle liked to come here. I brought her to see her grandfather's grave. She was fascinated by the markers and the engravings…the history of the place."

And with those words, this simple fact of his daughter's life that he'd been willing to share with me, in an inexplicable moment of candor, it was all wiped away. I was filled with sadness, and the dawning of terrible irony, that it'd taken this…to finally bring us to our senses.

"How have you been?" I asked him, turning to face him.

His mouth twisted as he replied, "Pathetic. Same as you, I expect."

Looking down at the marker, he seemed distracted as he bit his lower lip, and I knew it was time for me to go.

"Take care of yourself, then," I told him as I prepared to leave.

He nodded, unsmiling. "You as well."

ooOOoo

This year, we've decided to visit the girl's graves on the same day, in between their birthdays, settling on the eighteenth.

At the Malfoy family plot, I'm wandering amongst the tombstones, brushing dead leaves away to read the engravings, giving Draco a bit of privacy before we leave.

When I see him stand, I casually make my way to stand beside him. He's already placed the flowers we've brought, and for a moment, the two of us are silent. Neither of us has cried this time, although the sadness is palpable.

"What do you say to her when we come?" I ask him curiously, no longer afraid of intruding.

He smiles as he turns to look at me. "The other years, how sorry I was, but this time, I told her about you and me."

"You and me?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah, how we're getting on. What we do every day." He pauses, seeming thoughtful. "I think they'd be happy about that, don't you?"

There's a lump in my throat, but I swallow it down. "Yeah, I think they would."

ooOOoo

Later that day, his confession of the fact that we're 'getting on' echoes in my head. I can't deny that it's true; we are getting on; we depend on each other; we draw strength from each other; we look out for each other. I wonder, for not the first time, about the rightness of it, and more importantly, how exactly this has happened. This 'getting on.'

It occurs to me that it's a matter of that age-old question of the chicken and the egg: which came first? Are he and I becoming closer because our grief is lessening, or is our grief diminishing because our friendship is deepening? I have a wild irrational thought that this isn't right, that we should pull away from each other and hold on to our anguish. But it's a fleeting thought; as with most emotions in life, grief must have its day, then it's time to do what you must to move on.

ooOOoo

It was a week after that chance meeting on Lisle's birthday that Draco showed up at Ollivander's at closing. As he stepped to the counter, I could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

"Draco," I said, realizing suddenly that I wasn't at all surprised to see him.

He nodded curtly, then opened his mouth, and for a moment he seemed to be at a loss at what to say. He did surprise me then when he said my name. "Harry." He glanced back at the door, then turned to me again. "You're about to close?"

Lifting my wand, I flipped the window sign to 'Closed' and turned the lock. "Just did."

"I just got off as well, and I wanted to stop by and…" He cocked his head to the side. "I was thinking that we need to talk."

Standing from my stool, I pushed my logbook aside. "I think you're right," I told him soberly, watching as he tried to hide the relief in his face. "Where…would you like—"

"Doesn't matter to me. Here, or I suppose we could go to my place." He held up a brown paper sack. "I've bought us some Ogden's."

Shaking my head, I gestured toward the Floo. "How about Grimmauld? Dobby's expecting me, and we could have a bite to eat, then…talk."

"Grimmauld," he murmured. "I've not been there since I was a child." He considered me shrewdly. "I'd forgotten you had an elf."

I rolled my eyes. "Sometimes I think it's Dobby who has me." I hesitated. "At the end of the war when the Ministry ordered Kreacher to be Kissed, Dobby sort of adopted me." I wondered why I'd felt the need to tell him this. "So…you'll come?"

He shrugged. "Of course."

ooOOoo

It wasn't the most pleasant of evenings; neither of us really ate, making Dobby tsk and mutter as he removed our barely touched plates.

After we'd settled into the library, 'talking' began in earnest.

We started with the present and worked our way backwards: the agony of the past four months, the reaction of the press and the wizarding world, how we avoided socializing with people we normally saw, and finally we spoke of the emptiness.

He told me about Lisle and what she'd been like, and I listened, hearing the echo of my own grief and loneliness in his voice and in his words. I talked about Jilly, too, and Ginny.

We'd consumed about half the bottle, each of us, I think, preparing for the hardest part yet to come. There was a lull in the conversation, an awkward silence that signaled we both knew that one of us would have to be the first. Given that Draco had done his part by appearing in my shop, I decided it only fair that it should be me.

"Did you know, in third year, the Headmaster gave Hermione a Time-Turner so she could double up on her classes?" I asked.

"Really?"

I nodded, then added wistfully, "I've thought about that a lot lately, how I wish I could use one to…go back and do some things over." Glancing down at my drink, I took a moment to summon my courage. "If only, you know. Like what I said to you after the inquest. I could've avoided all of this if I'd just been decent to you. God, you'd just lost your father," I murmured. "Pretty heartless of me to treat you the way I did."

"It was a horrible time," he agreed. "I wasn't sleeping. You sort of caught me off guard."

"Well, I’m sorry for that, I really am. And for all the times after that too. It seemed like every time we ran into each other, all I could think was 'same old Draco.'" I searched his face anxiously. "When Jilly was older and started asking questions—that was the part I'm most ashamed of. She was a captive audience, and the things I told her, well, I knew it wasn't right, what I was doing, but I didn't…" Shaking my head, I backtracked. "I was going to say I didn't think, but that's not true. There's no excuse for…any of it." I smiled sadly. "I was Jilly's hero, and she took offense for me. Picked up my attitude…and Lisle got caught in the middle."

Draco had set his glass aside and leant forward in his chair to put his head in his hands. For a moment, he didn't speak, then he finally looked up. "But the 'same old Draco' part was true. I knew what I should do, months after the inquest when I'd got my head straight. And I can't even blame it on Malfoy pride. It was my choice, at that point; I let all of it go on, because it felt good, in a way."

I made a face. "That time we met in the Alley, with Pansy and Ginny? You're right—that felt good."

"It did, because I'd convinced myself that you weren't interested in an apology or a thank you, that you'd go on believing what you wanted to. Pansy tried to set me straight, but I wouldn't listen." He sighed and sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed on his hands in his lap. "Lisle…I filled her head with stories about you, not nice ones. What you were like at Hogwarts, how Gryffindors looked down on purebloods…she never had a chance. Both girls were caught in the middle of our…." Slowly, his eyes drifted up to mine. "You said it—if only. If only we'd done this sooner."

We talked for a while longer, but as we both stood when it was time for him to go, I turned to him and held out my hand. "I'm so very sorry, Draco, for my part in this. From the very beginning."

He stared down at my hand, then looked up at my face. Reaching out, he took my hand and shook it firmly. "Myself as well," he paused, then swallowed. "Although it's years overdue, thank you for saving my life."

ooOOoo

Although no one but the two of us knew that we'd finally settled our differences, I took comfort in the knowledge that the wrong had been righted, but still grieved over the fact that it'd come too late for our daughters.

Over the next few months, Draco stopped by the shop after work, now and then, and I'd haul him off to Grimmauld, where we'd share a meal, then spend the evening talking, sometimes just sitting in silence.

After Yule, he became a weekly visitor, usually on Friday nights. I lent him books from the library, and he even brought me a few from Obscurus he thought I might like. We often talked about Jilly and Lisle, about our marriages, and on a rare occasion, played a game of chess or backgammon.

By spring, he was a daily visitor for supper. Dobby was beside himself with joy, finally having someone who appreciated his more elaborate dishes and 'experiments.'

It was early in July when he asked me, "Does it ever bother you, living here? You know, with the memories, the empty house?"

I thought for a moment. "Not really. Grimmauld was shut up until I moved here after Jilly left for Hogwarts. So she was only here for one week at Yule, then part of each summer." I looked around me. "But…I don't let myself think about it too much. Those times when she was here." I scrutinized his face. "Why?"

He wouldn't meet my eyes. "I've decided to sell the house. Been there since before Lisle was born, and just recently, I've realized…" He looked up finally. "…it's not good for me. So, I'm looking for a flat."

"In London?" I asked slowly.

He nodded. "Makes sense, don't you think?"

"About the house, I guess I can understand that. But a flat? You're used to…space, and privacy."

Shrugging, he agreed. "True. But I'm not there all that much anyway. Just to sleep, although the weekends are hard sometimes." He smiled at me suddenly. "I work during the day, and the rest of the time, I'm mostly here," he said sheepishly.

"Which I'm glad for, honestly. Who knows? Maybe I'd think more about…things best left alone, if you weren't."

I thought about it over the weekend, and realized what I'd told him was true. I was rarely alone now in the house, except for the weekends, when I managed to keep myself distracted with books and outings. When Draco was there, I almost felt content in my solitude.

Who would've ever thought that we'd end up this way? After years of outright hostility, after a common tragedy, after a year of grieving, here we were, spending most of our free time together. I knew that most would consider it ludicrous, what I'd decided to offer, and I wasn't so stupid as to think there wouldn't be talk, and perhaps unpleasant repercussions.

When he came on Monday, I waited until Dobby'd cleared the dishes, then asked him to leave us alone until I called for tea.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Draco asked, seeming slightly curious.

"I've been thinking about this all weekend, and…" I'd meant to outline my reasoning first, so surprised even myself when I just blurted it out. "I think you should move in here. At Grimmauld," I said firmly.

He sat up straight, his mouth dropping open. "Here?" he asked disbelievingly.

"You're here most of the time anyway. The house is huge, there's plenty of space. We wouldn't even have to cross paths if you didn't want to." I realized how stupid that sounded, so I added, my face suddenly flushing. "I mean, I'd like it if you wanted to live here. It's…lonely and I've come to…depend on you being here. There's the library, and you'd have your own study, if you want. And we'll share the expenses, although that wouldn't even be necessary." I stopped, wondering why I felt so awkward and anxious.

His face was a picture of astonishment, but I knew him well enough to detect the slight glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "You've thought this out, haven't you?" he asked.

"Yes, I have, and if you'd just think about it, you'd see how sensible it is."

He finally smiled. "People will talk, Harry."

"Like that'll be something new," I muttered, but then I had to smile as well.

Placing his hands on the table, he chewed at his lower lip, then murmured, "I don't know what to say."

"Say yes."

He looked around at the kitchen, obviously moved, then answered quietly, "Yes."

I called Dobby and told him to forget the tea, and bring us whisky.

ooOOoo

Oh yes, there'd been the mother of all backlashes when the news broke out. The Prophet had run a series on the two of us, chronicling our personal histories, from our infamous rivalry at Hogwarts, through our opposing stances in the war, to the inevitable saga of how we'd failed our daughters.

The most surprising ally in all of this had been Ginny, who'd paid us a rare and surprise visit at Grimmauld. There'd been tears, then a mind-boggling congratulations on our 'relationship.' Draco looked on, flummoxed, as I unsuccessfully tried to disabuse her of this notion.

And so, we began this new chapter of our lives, two erstwhile enemies, living in peace and attempting to pick up the pieces of our mutually orchestrated self-destruction.

ooOOoo

Jilly would've been seventeen two days ago, Lisle as well, in two days' time. It's the evening of our joint visit to decorate their graves, and as usual, we're slightly maudlin and uncommunicative. Not uncomfortable with each other, though. Just quiet. I suppose we'll suffer through this every year in July…forever…but it's easier now, having someone close by who suffers the same, and understands.

We say our good nights, and I'm still lying awake when he comes to my room. I'm to the point now that it's almost impossible for me to fall asleep before he gets here.

Eyes half-closed, at first I barely register the break in his routine. I notice him drop his robe to the chair, then instead of the usual dip in the bed when he lies atop the coverlet, I see him lift it instead and slip quickly beneath it.

As he moves closer to me in the bed, I roll to my side. "Draco."

"Hmmm?"

"You're in bed with me," I tell him stupidly.

"Yeah? So what else is new?"

"I mean, you're in bed with me. Not on the top."

There's a slight pause. "Yeah, I know. Is that a problem?" he asks, reaching out to place his palm against my chest.

"No, it's not a problem, but…you do remember that I'm queer?"

"I thought you weren't sure," he says softly, and I can hear the tease in his voice.

"No, actually, I am sure," I grumble. "Just checking that you understood that."

He pulls his hand away. "Listen, I can't fall asleep without you. I'm tired of sleeping on the top, and I figure that if we're going to share the bed, then we should share the bed. Unless that's a problem." He rolls to his usual position, facing away from me.

"No problem," I tell him hoarsely, as he reaches backward for my arm, signaling me to move closer. "It's just…you're warm, and fit, and…a man," I groan out as I feel the inevitable begin to happen.

He's felt it too, and I'm shocked when he only laughs. "It's all right, Harry."

"Easy for you to say," I mumble into the hair at his neck, then sigh as he laces our fingers together against his chest.

ooOOoo

He's torturing me, I finally decide, but after a few days, I begin to get used to him being there like that…every night. It's a comforting thing, really, to feel the heat of someone else's body against your own, pressed in tightly. I know I can't control my reaction to him, and as it doesn't seem to bother him, why should I complain? But once again, I wonder…

In late September, I can tell the moment he steps through the Floo that evening that something's happened. He's smiling, his eyes alight, his face the happiest I've ever seen it.

"Well, you must've had a brilliant day," I comment as Dobby serves us.

"I did," he tells me smugly. "Dobby, this smells wonderful!"

Dobby beams. "I made Master Draco's favorite—sweetbreads and rashers!"

"Super!"

"Draco," I growl. "Spill it!"

His eyes sparkle. "I've been promoted, back to the front of the shop again! Starting Monday, no more inventory, no more uncrating, and no more haggling with suppliers. I'm the new chief counter man!"

My mouth drops open. "That's terrific!" I enthuse. "I know how bored you've been back there. So, what brought this on?" I'm truly happy for him, as this is the position he'd held until he'd been 'demoted' after the girls…because the proprietor didn't want him interacting with customers.

"Mr. Claiborne says he's really missed having me out there, and now that things have settled down, he wants me back to making sales. I was so chuffed when he told me, I wanted to Floo you right away."

"You certainly deserve it," I smile at him.

"You have any plans for tomorrow? I need to get new robes, and some ties, and maybe a pair of shoes, and a decent cloak. And a vest," he rambles on happily, as my heart is about to overflow, just as happy as he is. Well, very nearly.

"My day is yours," I tell him. "And afterward, we'll celebrate. Go to a pub and toss a few back. All right?" I ask him.

"You're on."

ooOOoo

We spend the afternoon shopping, and for once, he doesn't seem to worry about money spent on clothing. I aid and abet his momentary extravaganza, as he's usually too frugal for his own good. I even talk him into a pair of Muggle jeans and a soft gray jumper, with a pair of black trainers thrown in for good measure. That night, when we're getting ready to go out, I insist that he wear them. He looks…carefree and casual, so unlike the everyday Draco I've lived with for the past two plus years.

I take him to a pub I've frequented for years, where there's a jazz band and a rugged mahogany bar that runs the length of the room.

We're well into our cups, toasting his good fortune and anything else we can think of. Turning in our seats, we to listen to the band for a while, then at the break in the set, he touches my arm. I know he's noticed the clientele is mostly men, so I'm prepared for the question.

"So. This is a gay pub. Is this where you come when you…?" He raises an eyebrow.

"When I what?" I ask innocently.

He blinks. "When you're looking for…someone?"

I know I could have some fun here, but I decide to be straightforward. "I've not been here in a while. But yes, it's where I used to come."

"So…how does that work exactly? Finding someone?"

I purse my lips. "You really want to know that?"

He frowns. "I asked, didn't I?"

"Draco, it's the same as if you were in a pub, looking for a woman. You see someone interesting, you buy them a drink, or they buy you one, you talk, and then see what happens. End of story."

"Oh. I wasn't sure." He has that look on his face, the one he wears when he's trying not to show how curious he is about something. "So…how often do you come here?"

I reach out and flick his cheek with my finger. "When was the last time I went out and you didn't know where I was going?" I ask him dryly.

"I…I can't recall you ever doing that," he says doubtfully.

"Exactly, because I haven't. Not since you came to live at Grimmauld," I tell him nonchalantly.

"But why? Don't you have…needs?" he asks, his face flushing slightly.

Admiring the blush in his cheeks, I have to smile. "Same ones you have. And no, I've not had the urge to come here, mostly because you and I occupy each other's time."

"Well, sure, but not that way," he protests.

"If you haven't felt the need to find someone, then why do you think I would?" I ask.

He tilts his head as he thinks about this. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Well, there's your answer. Anything else? A tutorial on how we do it?" I ask sarcastically, just to see him blush again, delighted when he does.

"No, no…I just wondered." He smiles slyly. "And I'm perfectly aware of how you do it."

"Thank god. I wasn't looking forward to that conversation," I grumble, but have to smile when he laughs out loud.

ooOOoo

That night, we take the stairs up together as usual, but at the top, instead of heading for his room, Draco makes the turn with me to mine.

"It's stupid, me going through the motions of walking down there, then coming back here, ten minutes later. If you don't mind?"

"Why would I mind? Mi casa es su casa," I tell him, making him snort.

I'm in bed before he is, mostly because I never bother to fold or hang my clothes until morning. I watch as he undresses, folding each item and stacking them neatly on the chair. I'm lying on my side, not expecting him to shed his boxers and tee-shirt, his usual sleeping gear. I can't help but take in a breath of surprise when he does. Before I get much of a glimpse, he's Noxed the light and slipped into bed.

I'm wondering why the change in his routine, when the answer becomes crystal clear.

"Can you…lie on your back?" he asks as he slides close to me.

"Sure," I say as I roll from my side. "But why do you—" I gasp as he throws an arm across my bare chest, then slips his leg over my equally bare…bits. "Draco," I groan out, turning my head toward his face as he nuzzles my hair.

"Shhh, it's all right," he says breathily.

I suffer through his rearranging himself until he's comfortable, and it's an incredible feeling, having him draped around me this way. Except that I'm almost fully erect beneath his leg, and although I'm not embarrassed, I have to say it.

"What's got into you?" I ask gently, bringing my left arm up to curl around his back.

"I…just wanted to hold you. You do it for me all the time, so… Don't you like it?"

"I do, but…it's making me wonder about you."

But my wondering is cut short as he grinds himself into my hip and I feel him, fully aroused against me.

"No need to wonder. Remember what you told me at the pub? You're interested in me, hmm, you bought me a drink, we talked, so…let's just see what happens."

Oh, I don't need any convincing on that point. I reach up and ruffle his hair in response.

"I've been thinking about us…you…a lot," he tells me softly. "And all I'm asking is that you…give me some time to get used to it." When he ruts against me again and groans, I have to smile. "So…can we do this, while I'm thinking on…that?"

"No argument here," I laugh as he groans again and buries his face in my neck.

ooOOoo

In the morning, I'm awake first. He's still draped over me, his breath tickling my ear as he softly snores. I'd forgotten how good this feels—limbs tangled, skin sticking together in slightly sweaty spots. One of the most incredible feelings in life.

I smile as I think of Jilly, and how she'd tried to find me someone. Even as young as she was, I think she sensed there was something I needed she could never give me. Someone. Someone to sleep with, someone to hold and someone to wake up with.

A lover.

Not that we're there yet—not that I've ever in my wildest dreams imagined we would be—but now, as I gently smooth the skin of his hip, I wonder if the impossible, just possibly, might be on the horizon.

ooOOoo

This is the fourth Yule we've spent together. I remember how awkward and stilted that first one was, when Draco had just come for dinner. We'd not had too much to say to each other, lost in our own private memories, that first Christmas without our girls.

But the successive ones, although somewhat easier, weren't celebrations either. We passed them as we did any other non-work day, and it was only Dobby's insistence on a turkey with trimmings that made the day different from any other.

This year, though, it's Draco and I both who're different. We've teased Dobby about the menu, and how we're expecting plum pudding and Christmas crackers. In typical Dobby style, he's planning on both.

We arrive home on a Friday, and after dinner are astounded to find a huge Christmas tree lying in the library, still bound up in its roping. I look at Draco and roll my eyes.

"Dobby!" I call out, and he pops to my side instantly. "What's this?" I ask him sternly, pointing to the tree.

"That is Master Harry and Master Draco's Yule tree," Dobby says calmly. "Dobby brought it from Hogwarts. Professor Hagrid helped Dobby to find it."

"Oh he did, did he? We don't put up a tree, Dobby, you know that," I chastise him, shooting a cautious look at Draco, who's walking a circuit around the tree.

"Dobby forgot," the elf lies glibly. "And Dobby is very sorry, but Dobby's lumbago is frightful, and Dobby cannot decorate it. Dobby is very sorry, but Master Harry and Master Draco will be needing to put the decorations on themselves."

I can see the tug of the smile at the side of Draco's mouth as he comes to stand beside me. I'm having to do a bit of mouth-straightening of my own. "Dobby, the elves at Hogwarts use magic to decorate the trees. Hmm?"

Wiping a gnarled hand against his forehead, Dobby whinges, "Dobby cannot do it, even with magic, Master Harry. Dobby is feeling very poorly, sir."

I put my hand to my face to cover my mouth, then tell him, "All right, Dobby. You can go." When he's gone, Draco and I stand for a moment and stare at the tree.

"We've just been handled by a house-elf," he murmurs.

"Yeah. So…" I look at him. "What do you want to do?"

"Decorate it, I guess."

So now we have a tree, decorated with the few things Jilly and I had, along with a small box of family ornaments that Draco kept. Clearly some of them were made by the girls; we smile as we work, telling each other the stories that go along with each of them. When we're done, we light the fairy lights and sit cross-legged in front of the tree. I can't help but think of the last tree that stood there.

Draco must sense this, because he drapes an arm around my shoulder and squeezes hard. "You all right?"

I stare up at the tree, the glittering ornaments and lights, and breathe in the fresh pine smell. Laying my head on his shoulder, I whisper, "I'm fine."

ooOOoo

We visit the pub, every now and then. It's nice to have a reason to dress up in something other than robes and go out where there're people who don't know us. We sit at the bar and talk for a while, then end up listening to the band.

I've watched Draco as he watches the other couples. I know at first he had to struggle not to stare, but now he doesn't even blush at what he sees. I think that's mostly a good thing….

Because honestly, there're nights when I have to fight not to pin him to the bed and just finally… But I never would. I know he's working things out in his head, even if other parts of him seem more than ready.

I sure as bloody hell will be ready when he is. And at least for me, it's not just a matter of lust. I'm genuinely fond of him. Fond of Draco Malfoy. Now there's a bizarre combination of words. True nonetheless, though.

For some reason I've not been able to figure out, in the last few days before Christmas Day itself, there's an…air of expectation, not only in the house, but between the two of us. Part of it's Dobby's fault, for sure. He's been baking and cooking for days. Wreathes have appeared on all of the doors; festive candles float in the rooms; holly has been twined along all the railings. I've not said a word to him, because I've finally decided that it's high time we celebrated something in the usual way.

And the two of us have been lighthearted and playful with each other in a way we've never been before. There's a glitter in Draco's eyes when he looks at me that makes me shiver, and I've noticed that he no longer looks away when I catch him watching me: instead, he smiles.

Even at night, Draco's hands have begun to stray into new territories, touching me with his fingertips as he cautiously explores the 'safer' areas, and I've been bold enough to touch him back, tracing his lips with my fingers, smiling in the dark when I feel the tip of his tongue against them.

On Christmas Day, it appears that Dobby is in charge, ordering us from breakfast to the library, where I notice there are several gifts beneath the tree. There's one from the two of us for Dobby—a black lacquered box with his name engraved on it, containing six pairs of argyle socks. I finally have to order him to stop his bowing, hinting that his lumbago might start up again if he doesn't. He leaves us to deal with the rest of the gifts alone.

There's a package from Minerva that's marked with both our names. It's a set of photos, individual shots of Jilly and Lisle in their Quidditch gear, taken when the teams had sat for photos in their third year. Draco and I sit side by side and admire them, as they wink and wave to us, their cheeks pink and hair blowing in the wind, a Snitch darting in and out of the photos.

We decide to set them on either end of the sideboard, then both of us stand and watch them for a moment.

"I think they'd be happy for us," Draco says softly, his hand finding mine between us.

I squeeze it. "I think they would be too."

Draco gives me a cloak brooch, a gold-filigreed wandmaker's insignia with a small ruby where the two wands intersect. "It's beautiful," I murmur as I examine it, my heart full when I see the uncertainty in his eyes give way to satisfaction.

"It's for your cloak," he tells me as I fasten it to my jumper.

"I know, but I want to wear it now. Thank you," I tell him as I wrap my arms around him, then pull back to kiss him on the cheek.

When I hand him the small box, he sits on the settee to open it. His eyes go wide as he lifts out the heavy silver link bracelet, a shimmering moonstone set into its clasp.

"Your birthstone," I tell him, then lean in to take it from him. He sits quietly as I undo the clasp and fasten it around his wrist. As I admire how it looks, he lifts his hand, and pats my cheek.

"Thanks, Harry. It's…well, you know how I love jewelry," he smiles, then brushes my hair from my eyes as he inches closer, and for a moment I think he's going to… But he throws his arms around my neck and holds me fiercely for a moment.

We take a walk in the park that afternoon, and it just seems natural for me to reach down and take his hand, not surprised when he doesn't pull it away.

Dobby has outdone himself this year; the table is piled high, and we both tease him that he should be working at Hogwarts. As requested, there's plum pudding, and even ice-cream, although I'll be damned if I know where he got it.

We spend the evening over several games of chess. The library is warm and welcoming, the tree throwing a prism of colors onto the walls of the room, the fire in the hearth crackling cozily as we take turns trouncing each other royally.

As the final treat of our Christmas Day, we break out the 'special' brandy, then take our snifters and sit side-by-side on the settee. We have nothing more to say to each other, and for a while we're contentedly basking in the warmth of the fire, watching Jilly and Lisle's photos as we sip away.

He nudges my knee with his own. "Ready for bed?" he asks as he sets his glass on the table in front of us.

"Yeah, I am." I set my glass beside his, then sit back with a sigh. "It was a good day."

"We'll have more of them, I think," he says softly.

"I think so too. God knows we…" I stop, as saying we 'deserve' them seems wrong somehow.

As I feel him move, I roll my head to the side to look at him. He's up on his knees, then surprises me when he brings his face so close to mine that I have to refocus my eyes.

"We do deserve it. My god, we've hated ourselves for what we did…would've ripped our hearts out, both of us, if it could've made a difference. All I know now is that I've changed, Harry, and so have you." He brings a hand up and takes hold of my chin. "Do you have any doubt at all what Jilly would tell you?"

"No," I reply hoarsely. "None at all."

He nods. "Neither do I. So…more good days." His eyes drift slowly down to my lips, and in that very second, I know what he's about to do. "And I think a good place to start…" He's closed his eyes, angling his head, and I watch, fascinated, until that very last moment when I close mine as well.

It's a chaste kiss at the start, dry lips against dry lips, until I use my tongue to wet them. He's moved on the settee, his arm around my neck as he holds my head in place. I've reached up to hold on to him too, and for a moment, everything ceases to exist, except for the feel of him. Everywhere he touches me—his hands, his lips, his knee in my side—is on fire, and god I want more of him.

When he pulls away, his cheeks are pink, his eyes wide as he brings a hand up to my face. I grab it and kiss the inside of his wrist, then smile against his skin when he groans.

ooOOoo

The kiss was a good place to start, he said. I'll second that, I think, as we don't waste any time making our way up the stairs to my room. But as I watch him undress, I'm already wondering if that's where we'll leave off for the rest of the night. He's asked me to give him time to get used to things, and that kiss…well, if I have to settle with that for a while, I'll be perfectly content.

Draco slips into bed, as he throws the coverlet to the end of it. I watch, wide-eyed, as he straddles my hips and sits firmly atop me. So much for taking time to get used to things….

As he leans in, our chests together, he tells me, his eyes dilated, "I think I’m queer." As he slides his hands beneath my shoulders and lies against me, I laugh out loud.

"You do, do you?"

"Yeah, but…only queer for you," he mutters against my collarbone.

"That'll work," I tell him, sliding my hands down over his arse. He jerks forward and grinds our cocks together. My god, I realize soberly, I have to be careful…so careful.

I roll us in the bed without warning, and his gray eyes are huge as he stares up at me.

"Draco…let me…I want to…I've wanted for so long…" I cover him completely, and for a few moments, the only sound is the two of us breathing harshly, my head bent to the side of his neck as we hump frantically against each other.

I begin that slow slide of discovery downward, stopping to suck his nipples as he twists his fingers in my hair. Gently, I force his legs apart, then slip down between them, resting my face in the wiry hair at his groin. He groans and pushes against me, then lets out a rasp as I take him into my mouth. When he arches upward, I hold him in place with my hands, using my mouth and tongue to force more delicious sounds from the back of his throat.

When he's close, I can sense him trying to warn me, but I shake my head and bob my head up and down faster. He comes, and I pull the wet warmth of him deeper into my mouth, swallowing noisily and hungrily around him.

Holding him afterward, he's pressed against my chest, my arms cradled around him. His eyes are closed as I brush his hair from his face. Then, overcome with a tenderness I've never felt before, I lean down and kiss him thoroughly and gently.

"You swallowed," he says as he opens his eyes, then reaches out to rest his hand at the back of my neck. "You always do that?"

"I'll always do it with you," I tell him, smiling. "Did you like it? Still think you're queer?" I tease, tapping his nose with my finger.

He catches it and sucks it into his mouth. I can't help it—I groan and push my cock against his hip.

He pulls my finger out and makes a show of licking it afterward. "Oh yeah, I think I am. And I…did I like it? Couldn't you tell?"

I'm about to burst if he keeps this up. "You seemed to. Just making sure."

"I loved it…so…what's next?" He pulls away and comes up on an elbow, then reaches between us to finger the head of my cock. He swallows nervously, though. "I…I wanted you too. But you'll have to tell me…."

I smile and move closer, arching into his hand. "Just keep doing that…and I'll…" My eyes flutter closed at the sensations he's creating, then snap open when he pulls his hand away.

"No, not a chance," he says. "I want…I want to fuck." He frowns. "Not fuck you. I want you to fuck me."

"Draco," I whisper. "We have all the time in the world. Don't have to do everything in one night," I tell him, taking his hand and putting it back on my cock, but he pulls it away again.

"You're right, we can do everything later. But tonight, you're doing the fucking part." His eyes are insistent, his chin coming up in that stubborn Malfoy way I know so well. "Please…don't make me beg you," he adds, in what clearly sounds like begging to me.

I smile slowly. "Now there's a tempting prospect." I lean in and kiss him again. When I pull back, my eyes are solemn. "Are you sure?"

He nods. "I'm sure. Just…tell me what to do."

"You trust me?" I ask, trying to ignore the ache between my legs, wanting this to be perfect. "I won't hurt you, I promise. But if I do, you have to tell me…if it's too much."

Licking his lips first, he murmurs, "I want to take care of you…the way you've done for me. So…can we just…"

"Roll on your side," I tell him, and when he does, I put my hand behind his upper thigh and push. "Bend your knee and pull your leg up. That's it," I praise him. Reaching behind me, I find the lube in the drawer of the bedside table. When my hand is ready, I slip in close behind him and press my chest against his back, sliding my hand between the cheeks of his arse. "Relax…this part can really feel good if you just relax."

I've done this once before, but I know what it's like to be stretched this way, so I take my time, and I notice he's making 'mmmm-ing' sounds as he presses his face into the pillow.

I pull my fingers out and he moans. "Are you ready for the next part?" I ask.

"Only if the next part is your cock. God, do you always talk so much?" he mutters over his shoulder.

I grin even though I know he can't see me. "No, just talking you through it. Next time, there'll be no talking at all," I warn him as I lube my cock.

Pressing in between his cheeks, I grit my teeth to keep from coming. He's tight, and hot, and I'm suddenly filled with emotion that almost chokes me, as I realize what a step he's taken tonight, but especially because he's taking it for me.

In one quick thrust, I'm into him, and then I stop when he cries out, freezing in place for a moment. "Relax," I breathe into the hair at his neck, rubbing my hand gently across his stomach. In response, I feel him squeeze around my cock, and I growl, "No, that's not relaxing, and if you do that again, I'll come, so…relax…please."

I wait until I feel him obey, then we're on our way. I quickly get lost in the rhythm and sensation of it, only vaguely aware that he's reached back to clutch at my hip, matching me, thrust for thrust.

When I come, I bite him lightly on the shoulder, then pant heavily into the flesh of his back as I pulse it all into him. My arms are wrapped around him, holding on tightly, licking at the salt of his neck until I feel myself slip out of him.

He turns in the bed as I collapse behind him, and I see him sit up and reach for the coverlet. Lying back, he faces me and moves as close as he can, then forces a leg between mine, so that we're forehead to forehead, our arms draped over each other.

"You all right?" I manage to breathe out, still out of breath.

"No more talking," he says against my lips, then kisses me once…twice. "Sleep, Harry."

"Yes, sir," I mumble.

ooOOoo

He's gone when I awake. I shower and dress, then head for the kitchen, where I find him reading the Prophet.

"Happy Boxing Day," he says as he slides me the first section, not looking up.

"Same to you," I say as I pour my tea. Dobby is hovering at my elbow, wearing a 'cat-that-swallowed-the-cream' expression. When I lift an eyebrow at him, he graces me with a beatific smile, then nods before he pops away.

When breakfast is over and the paper fully perused, Draco raises an eyebrow at me. "Sleep well?" he asks, smiling slightly.

"Very well. You?"

"Never better. A bit sticky, though," he adds, his eyes sparkling. "Next time…a cleaning charm, I think."

"Draco…" I hesitate, and am chagrined when I see him slightly tense. "What you said last night about being queer…for me," I pause again.

"Yes?" he asks warily.

"I…I just want you to know that I don't expect that from you. I mean, I don't expect you to be…to do what we did just for me."

"Aha. I get it. You think I'd sleep with you just because you're queer and I might feel like I owe you something?" he asks, and I can hear the mild disgust in the question.

I shake my head. "No, I don't think that at all. I just wanted to make sure you know…" I don't finish, my eyes going wide as he pushes his chair back and stands. Rounding the table, he stalks down the length of it. I continue uncertainly, "You know perfectly well how much I want you, and…" I stop when he's standing beside me.

Pulling my chair out, he's on my lap in a heartbeat. His head on my shoulder, he tells me, "I want you, and if that makes me queer, then so be it. Not because I feel obligated, not because it'll make you happy…well, that's part of it, I guess, but only a fringe benefit." He lifts his head to look at me. "You want me, and I want you. Not just in bed, either. Don't you know that by now?"

I feel the flush in my face; it's not embarrassment, though, it's pure and simple pleasure. I angle my head and kiss him then, a long, slow kiss that I suspect will mean a detour back to bed. "I know it."

ooOOoo

I lost the two people in my life whom I'd always thought would be there, and now find I'll be spending the rest of my days with the most unlikely of companions.

We both wonder how our lives would've turned out if we'd done the right things; it's an intriguing contemplation, but for the most part, we don't dwell on that too much. Neither Jilly nor Lisle would've wanted us to, we both sense.

Are we still Montague and Capulet? I think so. It's an imprint from our past that can never be wiped away, given what we did…and failed to do.

Yes, the sad truth is that 'Reparo in time saves nine' could've saved the lives of our daughters. But this last Reparo, between the two of us, has changed Montague and Capulet into simply Harry and Draco, star-crossed lovers who are more at peace than we have a right to be, content with each other, happy with our days and comforted by our nights.

FIN