Secondhand Robes (part 11)…by Samayel
Draco woke on his last day at the manor with a pounding headache. He'd taken to drinking wine at night to speed the onset of sleep, and to dim the dreams that plagued him. This morning, he paid for his indulgence in spades.
Contrary to what he'd imagined, the manor hadn't been as comfortable as he'd hoped. Oh, the comforts were as wonderful as always, but he was more alone than ever he'd been at Hogwarts or Diagon Alley. It was just one boy, trying to be a man, and a pack of house-elves, rattling around in an enormous mansion like peas in a giant pod.
He felt like a little boy wearing a grown man's robes. Despite his best efforts to fit the role of 'Lord of the Manor', he still felt lost, uncertain, and horribly, frighteningly alone. The dreams hadn't helped things much, either.
Every night, he dreamed of Potter. Sometimes they were innocent but disconcerting, like the one where they'd been playing Quidditch and laughing, but other times they were the kind of dreams that made his face flush when he remembered them. He'd been wanking more often than ever he could recall, and it scarcely did any good. The gnawing realization that some needs couldn't be fulfilled by his hand was slowly becoming clearer.
He'd tried not to think of Harry, but he was alone every day in a giant house with nothing to do but a few bits of paperwork. He wouldn't even be here if it hadn't been for Potter and his friends. How could he escape from thinking of Harry under these circumstances?
He still hadn't answered Harry's letter. He'd wanted to…sometimes, but he just couldn't imagine what he could say that could undo what had passed between them. Even if he said yes, there would still be enemies laying in wait for them, outraged friends, and incensed elders carping on about it being wrong for both of them. Draco thought of himself as a realist, and a realist looking at this situation would turn and flee with no regrets.
So how come he regretted this so much?
'You know why.'
His annoying inner voice had been cropping up more insistently than ever. Draco often caught himself dodging unpleasant thoughts, searching for more comfortable notions, and his own conscience sometimes corrected him and drove him to look at matters he didn't enjoy, but urgently needed to address. Mostly, he wished that his conscience would fuck the hell off and leave him be. Today was no exception.
Tomorrow morning he would be back at Hogwarts, back in Slytherin, and Harry would be there, making Draco ache with every glance. He had money, a home, a wardrobe that was full to bursting, and all the food and personal comforts anyone could imagine.
So why wasn't he happy?
'You know why.'
Fuck.
Draco ate, bathed, and busied himself packing his things for Hogwarts, along with a taking along ridiculous amount number of Galleons, just to make sure he could rub his wealth in the noses of those who had slighted him.
He left the wine alone that night, and lacking the ingredients for the appropriate potion, he simply accepted that he was going to dream of Harry. It really wasn't such an awful fate, just terribly distracting. Tomorrow would be hard enough, a little distraction might be the only comfort he got, so he might as well enjoy it.
That night, Draco did indeed dream of Harry, and more importantly, he had an epiphany. Certain things were as clear to him as day itself, and he put his worries aside. He knew what he had to do, it was just a matter of doing it. Draco woke with an air of calm about him that he had never had before, and he left early, arriving at Hogwarts long before the train.
His things were unpacked well ahead of the arriving Slytherin crowd, and he lounged in the common room as they trundled in before the feast. He was wearing his finest robes, which he'd set the elves to adjusting perfectly, and sporting a thick pouch of gold at his hip. He put on an ostentatious show for the arriving students.
Those who had been passing decent to him over the last couple of months were greeted warmly, while those who had snubbed him or who had openly spoken ill of him were savagely snubbed in return.
He made it utterly clear to all that he was the new Lord Malfoy, and that he possessed enough wealth to buy their like a thousand times over, and sell them at a loss each time, just for fun.
He even flung a handful of Galleons to the floor and let others pick them up as he walked away, just to remind them all that their fortunes were his pocket change.
Having firmly reminded everyone in Slytherin that he was the master of his own destiny, Draco made his way to the Great Hall. There was one more point he had to make, and this one would be the most spectacular of all.
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Harry had pined away at Grimmauld Place for two whole weeks. No letter came. Hogwarts had always been the place he was happiest to see, but today it filled him with dread and sadness. Today, he would have to walk the same halls with Draco Malfoy, and somehow manage not to wind up looking like a heartsick Hufflepuff.
He knew Draco had got the manor back, and he knew that with the case resolved, Draco had his gold back as well. He'd half hoped that when Draco got the word that he was Lord Malfoy, that he'd be so happy he'd contact Harry as soon as he could. Days ticked by, and Ron and Hermione only chided him that Malfoys were incapable of gratitude, no matter how much someone did for them.
Maybe they'd been right. With so much money and power, who would really need Harry? Evidently not Draco.
At least it didn't hurt so much anymore. It stung, but it hadn't been like losing Sirius. The pain went away, and all that were left were the faint and wonderful wisps of memory that Harry cherished.
The kiss. Draco's hands on his waist. Draco's lips on his neck, and just behind his ear. Blond hair and eyes like ice and scudding clouds. It had been a brief and doomed little thing, but at least Harry had those bittersweet memories. He didn't want anyone else, but he'd been alone all his life really...he could deal with it.
Harry sat in the same compartment on the train that he'd been in two months before. He rode alone, idly wondering if Malfoy was even on the train. No one else had seen him, and Harry hadn't heard of or seen anyone resembling Malfoy at the platform, either.
The Great Hall was in its usual bustle, arriving students seating themselves and making small talk before they supped, and Harry took his place at the Gryffindor table and listened to the chatter of friends and classmates.
Harry's back was to the entrance, and it was Ron's creased brow and surprised glare that made Harry turn and look.
Draco Malfoy stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, dressed like a king, staring directly at Harry, and waiting. As soon as Harry returned his gaze, Draco smiled. Harry wanted to melt when he saw that smile, and he was half out of his seat before he saw Malfoy mouth the words 'Come here' to him.
Harry walked the room until he stood in front of Draco, a little confused, but full of hope for the first time in two weeks. He was so focused on Draco that he didn't notice the silence creeping across the Great Hall, or the fact that every eye was upon them.
He didn't know what to say, so he settled for smiling and waiting for Draco to take the lead, mulling over how to keep from spooking Draco off if he wasn't in the mood for certain topics. Harry was utterly unprepared for what came next.
Draco closed the distance between them with two quick steps, slid his arms around a shocked and silent Harry's waist, and kissed him passionately in front of the entire assembled student body.
A deafening cacophony arose as hundreds of Hogwarts students began babbling at the same time, some in outrage, some with envy, and even some with awe.
The kiss drifted into a full-on snog, the likes of which were usually reserved for far less public places, and just as the staff began to think about intervening, Draco broke away from Harry, who was a bit dizzy and dreamy eyed.
Harry finally got his senses back a few seconds later, and almost shouting over the roar of students, laughingly asked Draco, "What changed your mind?"
Draco pulled Harry close, because this answer was only for him, and spoke the words slowly, punctuating them with kisses.
"Because…Malfoys…do what they please…and…because…Draco...Malfoy…doesn't...wear…second...hand...robes."
Very few people in Hogwarts were happy that day, but Harry and Draco finally were, and that was all that really mattered. Draco never had cause to doubt his decision, and Harry never came to regret his choice, and that, as they say, was that.
THE END