The rain is so bad that they’ve stopped classes for the day. It thumps on the roof with loud intensity, making it impossible to focus on anything else. It’s the greyest Tuesday afternoon I think I’ve ever seen in my eighteen years.
Getting back into the rhythm of Hogwarts has been strange after hunting horcruxes for a year. The castle is still being rebuilt and everyone has to pitch in, and of course there’s no more impending threats, but besides that it’s rather similar to previous years.
Since classes have been let out I start searching for Ginny. She might be in the greenhouses with Neville, but I’m not sure. We haven’t had time to exchange schedules yet, so I don’t exactly have a quick lead.
A lot of people clap me on the back as I walk through the corridors. I’ve always been used to attention, even though I’ve never really liked it, but this is a whole new level. When I first discovered the wizarding world people came up to talk to me all the time. Then it all sort of died down and people whispered and talked about me whenever I passed, occasionally said hello, but never really approached me; maybe they wanted to give me some space. Then after the Goblet of Fire deal a lot of this talk was negative, and it sort of continued with the ‘Chosen One’ business. And of course there’s always been headlines, HARRY POTTER this and HARRY POTTER that. But none of that was as much as it all is now. Now everyone wants to be near, know every detail. I’m a little stuck.
After about half an hour of searching I still haven’t found any trace of Ginny. Eventually, I give up on the castle and just decide to head to the greenhouse. I trot down a few flights of stairs and then take a deep breath at one of the exits before running out into the pouring rain.
It’s around midday, but you’d never be able to tell. The light around me is all just a blue filter. Rain thumps down all around me, and as I feel the top of my head I feel that my hair is already soaked. I start running towards the greenhouse, already freezing. As I scamper down the path I notice a flickering oil lamp lighting up the greenhouse.
I’m about three paces from the greenhouse when the rain starts pouring down harder than I thought possible. I rip open the door and fling myself into the makeshift building. The door slams shut behind me, forced closed by the violence of the wind.
I fall on the ground, knocking my chin against the wooded part of the greenhouse. “Ah!” I yelp. I hear someone jump and I see a quill fall to the ground, black ink spilling off of it. “Ginny?” I ask, a drowsy tone to my voice.
Silence, and then a voice that doesn’t belong to Ginny. “No,” it says. I look up to see Draco Malfoy, his face only illuminated by the flicker of the oil lamp.
“Malfoy?” I ask curiously, pushing myself off the ground. Everyone was surprised when Draco got off easier than the rest of his family, and even more surprised when he was allowed to come back to Hogwarts to finish his seventh year. I was surprised as well, but where they we all angry, I was relieved. I only saw a part of what he went through, but I know for sure he didn’t decide to join the Death Eaters of his own volition.
Now he walks through the halls with his eyes to the ground, whispers and glares following him. Even the members of his own house have a newfound destain for him.
I feel bad for him.
“Potter, what are you doing her?” He questions.
“I’m, uh, looking for my girlfriend.” I reply.
“Well, she’s not here. Professor Sprout hasn’t taught any classes today.”
“So why are you here?”
“I’m studying, and I’m helping out. Sort of desperate for people’s trust nowadays.”
“I didn’t think you’d come back.” I whisper.
“Well, it’ll be hard enough getting a job with the criminal offence of being a Death Eater, let alone not having done my NEWTs.”
I honestly can’t think of anything to say to that, but eventually I know what to say. “Well, it’s not like any of us had the most normal time at school.”
He laughs and says, “yeah.”
“I mean, the only things that actually truly made sense were dating and classes.”
“Well,” Malfoy whispers, looking away. “You dated.”
“What you… You never had anyone you liked.”
“Oh I did, but I never pursued it.”
“They never would have gone for me.”
Sure Malfoy was a bit of a git in our earlier school years, but he had tons of adoring housemates, and he wasn’t half bad looking either. I’m really starting to wonder why he never went ‘round with anyone.
“Who was she?” I ask curiously. He turns away even more.
“It doesn’t matter. And I don’t see why you would care anyway.”
“I’m just curious as to why you think she wouldn’t of gone out with you.”
“Just stop saying she!” He shouts all of a sudden, looking back at me with eyes hollowed with sleep-deprivation. He gets off of the stool he’d been sitting on, and stomps up to me. We’re face to face, and for the next part he lowers his voice. “You. It was always you.”
He sounds like he’s about to cry, so I step forward impulsively and press my palm to the side of his face. “Don’t,” he exclaims, knocking my hand away.
“It’s only natural to be kind to the person you like. Maybe if you hadn’t spent the last eight years insulting me I’d have given it a chance.”
“I harassed you all those years because I was a stuck up little brat. It’s not like I knew I was in love with you when I was eleven. I would have been nicer. But I knew that if I just started being kind all of a sudden you’d think I was a fake.”
“You never wanted to date other people?”
He shakes his head, tears slowly falling down his cheeks. He sniffs and wipes them, clearly embarrassed. “What if we kissed? Just once.”
“I’m not a ‘try before buy’ Potter. I have feelings.”
“I know that.” I glare. “I just,”
“I want to know if I ever felt the same way for you. Just this once.”
And unexpectedly, Malfoy nods, wipes his tears again, and starts to lean in.
It didn’t feel different than any other kiss I’d had necessarily; there was that same warm feeling in the pit of my stomach, and the same moisture of a breath taken before the kiss on my neck, but there was something I couldn’t place. This kiss was more… Dreamlike.
And through the haze, I find myself enjoying the kiss. Malfoy’s mouth opens and I’m not hesitant to put my tongue into his mouth. Our lips move around each others and all of a sudden Malfoy pushes me back towards the wall and I… I trip.
I fall to the ground, the back of my head hitting an oak stool. When I’m finally on the floor I can’t feel the pain. I see Malfoy over me, my vision blurring at the edges.
I shoot up with a bolt, a blanket falling off of me. I look around at my surroundings, at first unfamiliar, but eventually recognized. I’m home, in my living room. Rain thumps down loudly on the roof, and the fireplace crackles.
My youngest son looks down at me, green eyes bright with concern. “Morning,” he says, handing me a cup of coffee.
“Why am I sleeping on the couch?” I ask him, because I really don’t know.
“You and Mom are getting a divorce.” He tells me, sitting down. Clearly he’s had to tell me this before.
“Why don’t I know this?”
“Sometimes you forget things.” He shrugs, sliding off the couch. “It’s not a big deal, you remember the important stuff, or the things you’re okay with.”
I’m slightly confused. “I’m not okay with your mother and I getting a divorce?”
“Well, you sort of are, but not really. She was working a lot, so you were a bit angry with her since she was never home, and you were loosing attraction to her, so she wasn’t all too happy about that.”
“Anyways, I have to ask you a question or two. Your healer says we should ask you questions if you don’t remember things.”
“Okay,” I say. “Fire away.”
“Do you know who I am?” He asks.
“Of course. You’re my son, Albus.”
“Okay, how old am I?”
“What’s Mum’s name?”
“Where do we live?”
After a few more questions Al seems satisfied, and by then my oldest has come downstairs. “Morning Dad.” James greets, making his way to the kitchen.
“You should probably get ready,” Albus tells me. “You need to be at work in forty-five minutes.” So I listen, and I get up to take a shower.
When I’m out of the shower, dressed and ready to leave, my ten year-old daughter and my wife are in the kitchen.
“Good morning Harry.” Ginny smiles lightly. Now I remember everything about the divorce, including the fact that it’s mutual. “Are you okay, you look a little sick?”
I run a hand through my newly clean black hair and groan. “No, I just had a strange dream. Thanks for asking.”
“No problem.” She says, her voice as soft as I remember it. “Listen,” she continues, getting up and flicking her wand at the dishes. “I have to report on the Harpies versus Puddlemere match today, would you mind watching the kids when you get home from work?” I nod as Albus shrugs, my daughter cheers excitedly, and James—who is going through his rebel phase—groans.
With that I’m off to work, walking to our nearest wizard neighbours in the rain to use their floo. The rain is just how it was in the dream, beating down on me with intense vigour.
When I finally walk into the office my assistant runs at me. “Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter! Auror Malfoy is in your office, he says that you’re three minutes late for a meeting you scheduled with him!”
“Malfoy,” I growl under my breath. As if I haven’t dealt with him enough today. And that dream felt so real. Urgh!
I walk into my office, shrugging off my rain soaked coat and hanging it on my coat rack. My office is much smaller than it was when I had the head auror job, but even though the office is small I’ve made it cozy with plants and pictures of my family. I lost the head auror job when my memory problems started resurfacing two or three years ago; but I don’t mind the Transportation Department.
Draco Malfoy sits in one of my leather chairs, shuffling papers against my desk.
“Hola,” he says grimly, after looking up to see me. “This rain is something, huh?”
“Yeah yeah, what do you want?” I ask, taking a seat at my desk.
“Well, my aurors keep getting arrested for riding brooms in muggle areas, so I need to order brooms with the invisibility spells and muggle wards on them, but you’re in charge of all of the budgets for Ministry transportation. So, I need you to sign a contract stating that you allow money out of the budget.”
“When do you need this by?”
“Next week at the latest, but preferably by Friday.” He says. “Hopefully the rain lets up by then. It hasn’t been like this for nineteen or so years.”
It wasn’t a dream? I think to myself.
“What wasn’t a dream?” Malfoy asks, and I realize that I’ve thought aloud. I reach from my desk to close my door, and then I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Have we ever?” I start awkwardly. “Um, have—have we ever ki—?” I can’t seem to finish my sentence, no matter how much I try to force the words out.”
“Kissed?” Malfoy finishes for me. He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a long breath. “Yes.” I have to stop myself from gawking. “A few times actually.” He admits.
“When was the last time?” I ask, even though I’m not so sure I want to know.
“We were about twenty-three. It was three weeks before your wedding day, when I told you that you needed to choose to end it with Ginny or me. And our kissing got rough, and you hit your head.”
“I hit my head the first time we kissed in my dream.”
“You dreamed about it?” He asks curiously.
“Well, memory, but yeah.”
“You haven’t remembered anything since that night. I felt so guilty that I had to lie about how you lost your memory. Eventually you had little enough problems to deal with it, but then it got worse again, so you had to quit. You’ve had less trouble but you’ve never truly remembered how you hit your head.”
“I guess I sort of knew some of that already, but why do you think I figured this all out just now?”
He shrugs. “Who knows?”
“I’m sorry.” I say all of a sudden, rubbing my stubbled chin.
“What for?” Malfoy asks.
“For you having to deal with this throughout the years. For never calling you Draco even though you lied for me. For not coming to your wife’s funeral.”
Draco takes a deep breath. “Don’t apologize. I’ve always been on my own to deal with things anyways.”
Suddenly I find myself gripping the sides of his face and drinking him in, our lips pressing like they did all those years ago.
“I’m sorry,” I state. I stare him in the eyes, to make sure he knows it. I am really, truly, sorry.
He frowns but then he chuckles a little. Draco. He smiles and says, “I still love you.”
I give him a quick kiss and then turn to leave, grabbing my coat. “I’ll talk to you later.”
And I can feel him smiling at me. And it feels better than I ever thought it could.
Author’s Note: I honestly don’t even know what this is. I sort of just got the idea out of the blue, so here it is. Hope you enjoyed it.
Thanks for reading and wherever you are, have a fabulous day!
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