C'est La Vie
By Kitsune Yarisha
A/N: The War is finally over and it seems that a time of peace has been reached in the Wizarding World. Wizards and Muggles alike are rejoicing around the world but for two people, the war has left scars that have not yet healed. H/D
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter characters, potions, spells, or any other facet of the series mentioned in this fan work nor do I make a profit from it. The entire franchise belongs, with respect, to one Mrs. J.K. Rowling along with several toy, film, and etcetera companies that are noted and dully mentioned.
Chapter One: Understanding
"If I knew you and you knew me,
If both of us could see clearly,
And with inner sight divine
The meaning of your heart and mine,
I'm sure we would differ less,
And clasp our hands in friendliness;
Our thoughts would pleasantly agree,
If I knew you and you knew me." – Nixon Waterman
"A simple rule in dealing with those who are hard to get along with is to remember that this person is striving to assert his superiority; and you must deal with him from that point of view." – Alfred Alder
--
Scourgify, among other wonderfully brilliant cleaning spells, had been an asset of monumental portions in the cleaning of Grimmauld Place.
What had once been a gloomy tunnel was now a glowing and comforting hallway with new wallpaper and paint, as well as a brand new, brighter carpet to replace the threadbare one that had previously adorned the wood floors for god knows how many years. The gas lamps hadn't been replaced but they had been scrubbed, shined, and lit.
Mrs. Black seemed a bit more civil after her house had been scrubbed down, her frame polished, and her ink touched up by an extremely well-paid pureblood artist. She also seemed just a tad bit more respecting of Mrs. Weasley now, even if she still went on a screaming spree to remind everyone how much she detested mudbloods and blood traitors in her house.
Harry couldn't help but silently thank Mrs. Weasley for taking it upon herself to clean up what was now Harry's house and making it sparkle in all the right places. The young man was sure that if Sirius had been alive he would have been very pleased with what the house really looked like under all that dust and mold that had inhabited it for so long.
He pushed open a less than redone door and frowned in thought. Really, he hadn't ever needed to go this far down into Grimmauld Place ever before and the chill was reminding him of the Potion's room in the dungeons at Hogwarts; mildly appropriate if you knew who was being held down here.
Hermione Granger followed him closely into the last hall they had to cross before they reached the room the former Death Eater had been dragged into.
Harry could tell she was deep in thought as they passed a portrait of an older generation Malfoy and Black chatting away over cups of Earl Grey.
"Just in here, I believe," Hermione whispered, her voice still echoing in the hall as she opened the door for him.
He inclined his head in thanks and stepped into the gloom beyond the hall.
"Potter."
The chill that set over him was replaced by an icy torrent of wind that accompanied that voice. He winced and smiled unsurely. "Malfoy, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you to Grimmauld?"
Draco Malfoy had barely changed in the year that had transcended the war. Even now, he was still tall and slender with cold, light grey eyes set elegantly in his pale face. His hair had grown longer, brushing his shoulders ever so slightly and his face had grown from sharp-featured to more handsomely define. From where he sat on the couch, he looked every bit the aristocrat he was born to be.
The world around him, however, had not been left so untouched and composed. The entire Wizarding World was set on having elections take place to rehire witches and wizards to the Ministry of Magic and Death Eaters were to report to the newly established Ministry just as the Mudbloods once had to.
Of course, several people were still outraged because a good few were suspect to follow Voldemort without the Dark Mark and therefore weren't considered Death Eaters.
"I wanted to see my godcousin," he said, smirking at the twin looks of astonishment and confusion. He motioned to Harry as the one he was speaking about. "I owe you a Wizard debt. Two fold, I presume, since you saved my life twice before you defeated Voldemort."
Hermione flinched and covered her mouth, looking away at the mention of the deceased Dark Lord.
"Dear God, Merlin. You can't tell me you still can't say his name? Most Death Eaters wouldn't call his name out of respect and then afterword it was jinxed!"
Harry didn't comment on Hermione's act. She was still pretty upset about losing Fred, Remus, and Tonks to that man and refused to ever say his name. Besides, he was surprised Malfoy could say it so casually. "You don't need to pay me back. There's nothing I need or want you to do."
Draco's eyes casually caught his own. A smile crept over his face, not a mocking one but it wasn't anything else. "I won't use this debt in my favor. I'm merely saying that if something comes up that you need, just ring, won't you? I refuse to be indebted to you." He paused and then added very quietly, "Father has become very ill and I expect he won't last much longer. That must be good news to you, but Mother and I will be left with a lot of power, wealth, and land. I could give you a lot of that."
Harry shook his head. "No, I'll think of something."
There was a short pause that sailed through the air at that moment. The fact that a civil conversation had just passed between them was actually very remarkable.
For the first time since the fateful meeting in the robe shop, Harry felt as though Malfoy considered him his equal. He tried desperately to hide the small grin that had worked up on his face.
"Granger, please, pull for self together, won't you? Some of us aren't ready to experience a second bout of crying for to-." Draco abruptly stop speaking, adverting his eyes from both of them with a blush.
Wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, she mumbled, quietly, "Oh, you poor thing. You must be worried sick about your father." Without a thought or care, she moved forward to embrace Draco around the shoulders, placing her head delicately on his shoulder. "Crying helps, you know. That's something I learned this last year…" She kept on talking even though Draco had frozen beneath her touch.
Startled and clearly unsure, Draco jerked to look up at Harry. His eyes conveyed what he would not speak.
Harry's grin broadened and he set himself up on a stool near the door and made gestures that caused Draco to double take.
The blond haired boy tugged his arms from beneath the woman's body over his and place two hands gently and hesitantly on her shoulders, one patting carefully. He paused and spoke, "I'm fine. Father is important and I look up to him, yes, but he's nothing compared to what Severus was to me. Severus and I had a shared pain and understanding; he felt more like a father to me than Father ever has."
Hermione nodded, silently, urging Draco on by moving and taking a seat beside him. She could care less what had transpired between them back in school for the last six years. He was another grieving soul who had lost an important someone just like she had.
"It isn't worth the pain of speaking," he said coldly, resolutely but looked something akin to apologetic when Hermione drew away, knowing she had overstepped her bounds.
"Of course," she said sullenly, drawing into herself and walking the length of the room to the fireplace that sat plainly against the wall. She placed a log or two inside and lit a dancing fire with a tip of her wand and a murmured spell, apparently trying to chase away at the coldness that so suddenly plagued her as it did Harry.
Draco pulled a folded set of parchment from his cloak and shook it open. The cover of the Daily Prophet stared grimly into the faces of those in the room as it displayed moving pictures of a snaking line of Death Eaters set for a cold, unwelcomed reintroduction with the bowels of Azkaban. "You've read it, haven't you? They're searching for anyone seen on the wrong side at the last battle." He left unspoken the sentence that would befall those who had supported Voldemort's uprising and the rebuilding of Azkaban to contend with the loss of its most treasured guards and the breechings it had suffered during the War.
With a twisted countenance, Harry nodded. The emotions of pleasure and guilt waged a war inside him that still he had yet to face. So many of those people had killed his friends and family and yet, they were still people to Harry and he knew some of them were still innocent. Innocent like one Draco Malfoy.
"They came to the Manor," Draco drawled calmly, folding the paper once more and laying it at the open spot by his side. "I'm to go on trial at the Ministry this forthcoming Sunday. I was, after all, seen rambling off to a known Death Eater that I was on his side and he was a great fool. Additionally, many have testified against Father and me. Against the former, they have a case. Against me, they have little more than words of the wicked."
Hermione frowned.
Harry knew what she was thinking of and beat her to the question she seemed a little desperate to ask. Carefully, the brunette mused aloud, "You don't have a Dark Mark." It wasn't a question even if it did sound like one.
Black robes slid out of uniform and a glove that struggled to stay in place was pulled away. Pale, unblemished skin turned rosy in the cool air of the lower rooms of Grimmauld.
Little more than the words of the wicked, was right. Draco didn't have a Dark Mark which meant the Ministry couldn't take him in unless he either confessed or the Dark Lord himself testified against him. Luckily for him, said Dark Lord couldn't very well breathe or walk let alone speak against someone's innocence. Secondly, Harry planned on being present for this trail and for making a case in Draco's favor, if one should be needed.
The glove was replaced, after the witch and wizard had gotten an eyeful and mumbled a few charms to make sure the mark wasn't being concealed somehow, and the sleeve and robes that had been shaken away where now being pulled firmly into place.
"It would also seem that the Manor is not fit to live in at the moment. I'll be buying a flat in London and demolishing the mansion and having it rebuilt. All this, of course, will happen after my trail and clearing so the Ministry can go through the house and take what they'd like. Father will either die soon or be taken to Azkaban to die in and Mother will likely as not wait for the Manor's repair at one of her relative's home."
A thought crept quietly into the very mind of Harry Potter. It hissed and whispered on an idea that moved forward to the light and spoke an action that twisted itself free of mind and into words.
"Why don't you stay at Grimmauld instead of buying a flat?" Harry asked, suddenly.
Hermione gave him a strange look as if she didn't know quite what to make of the sudden offer.
Grey eyes looked deeply into Harry's for a long silent moment, as if judging the sincerity of those words. Draco sighed and closed his eyes, breaking the scrutiny in favor of massaging his temples against what was most likely an oncoming headache. "Very well," he murmured, "I'll take you up on your offer. I'll stay at Grimmauld Place until the Manor is completed."
It was Draco's turn to be stared at by Hermione's unwavering stare of confusion. Evidently, she thought she had missed something.
Harry would speak to her later.
"At the moment, however, I'm well overdue for my return home and Mother will be worrying herself into frenzy soon. I will return to Grimmauld only after the trail unless an emergency happens to come up. Thank you, Potter, Granger, for your time and understanding. Until we meet again." Draco stood and inclined his head to them in farewell before apparating away to his home far from Grimmauld Place.
Hermione extinguished the fire she had begun only minutes before and gave Harry a pointed look as they left the lowest level of Sirius's old home.
Clearly, Harry had some explaining to do.
To Be Continued
A/N: I don't know if anyone's done something like this before but I've never read it. At first, I thought of continuing on the original story with no regard to the seventh book but somehow it just didn't feel right. I scraped about half of the original peace and began anew from there, quickly trying to imagine the new plot. Hermione, though it seems at first, doesn't accept Draco at all, but that brief moment she lets down prejudice because finally she has someone to grieve with. Of course, Draco denies her such comfort.