Title: Under the Surface
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC17/Adult
Warnings: Contains character death (not H/D) and mpreg.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong JK Rowling and associated publishers. I make no profit from this endeavour.
Author's Notes: Thank you to singlemomsummer and triomakesmehot for their amazing beta skills. Without Summer's cheerleading and support I would still be staring blankly at the screen trying to figure out the ending! Summer - you rock!
This fic is loosely based on an old romance novel (title is long forgotten) I read in secret when I was 12, so essentially, this is 'Harlequin HD' - if I ever remember the name, I'll fess it up! Written for hd bigbang 2011.
Summary: Draco Malfoy stands in the way of Harry and the person he loves more than anyone else in the world. Harry's not going to let that stop him.

()()()

Harry sat at the bedside of the woman who had been the closest he'd ever come to having a mother, Molly Weasley notwithstanding, his hand in hers as she struggled to breathe.

"It's not too late," he said. "The curse-breakers could find a solution any day now-"

"My dear, they've had four years, and nothing has been forthcoming yet. I'm afraid the wife of a Death Eater is not at the top of the list of priorities at the Ministry." Harry's hand tightened in hers. He knew she was right, he also knew that Draco had spent a fortune on private consultants from every corner of the globe, magical and Muggle, yet even that had been unsuccessful.

Harry dashed a tear away with the back of his hand. When Narcissa died he would lose his lifeline, his last thread of hope. He loved her, for her selflessness and compassion, and for what she had done for him these past two years. Had it not been for Narcissa, Harry thought he might well have given up. She treated him as she treated her own son.

"I can't bear to think about it," he sniffed. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you."

"You're the strongest person I know," Narcissa told him kindly. "The strongest I've ever known. To go through the things you have, your childhood, the way you were served up to the Dark Lord like you were, a sacrifice for the greater good…"

"If I'm so strong, how did I end up here, like this? I let myself be walked all over. He broke me, and I let him." Harry hung his head in shame. One minute he'd been the saviour of the wizarding world, and the next, he'd become a man he couldn't recognise, even with the hindsight he now possessed. It had been that insecurity that led to his current situation. He was past all of that now; he was back to his old self again, the man he had been before the war had ended and he'd failed to protect the people he loved.

Harry was never meant to live. He was supposed to die with Voldemort, the sacrifice for the defeat of a tyrant being Harry's own life. Narcissa had saved him then, and she was saving him now.

"You mustn't be so hard on yourself," Narcissa said now. "Things happen, life happens, and you still have that life and you have to go on living it."

Harry smiled and leant forward to kiss her on her forehead. "How is Draco?" he asked, immediately feeling the tightening in his stomach at the mere thought of the blond.

Narcissa sighed. "Away on business again," she said sadly. "He's away more than he is here. His memories are tormenting him. I don't think he'll ever be the same again. Losing one's life partner to their death is not something a person comes to terms with easily."

Harry snorted in disgust, not bothering to hide the contempt he felt towards Draco Malfoy, "He'd lost his husband long before death took anyone. When he drove him away, when he took his child from him and refused to allow him to see his baby, even for an hour."

Draco Malfoy was a cold-hearted man, incapable of love or any kind of compassion or tenderness. He had driven away his husband with his cold indifference, and when he had uncovered evidence of what he perceived to be an affair he had warded the manor so that the poor man could not get back into the house he had been living in for two years. Draco's husband had never seen his son again; he had eventually gone to Australia, his heart broken, to start a new life, and had been killed in a Muggle, plane crash over Ayr's Rock.

"You don't see how he regrets what happened, how he wishes he could change things, take them back." Narcissa defended her son, as Harry knew she would. He loved her for that, but he couldn't agree with her.

"Has he told you he has regrets?"

"No, but he's my son, I know from the way he behaves. He loved his husband; his betrayal nearly finished him off."

"That's not love, Narcissa, that is hate. Even now, he spends no time with the son he fought so hard to keep." Draco's son was the spitting image of his dead parent and nothing of a Malfoy in his appearance; and Harry hoped his personality would be spared as well.

"Draco loves Gabe, you know that."

"I know that he's always away, that his beloved son is more or less permanently cared for by house-elves or Pansy Parkinson-Nott, neither of which I consider to be suitable full-time carers to a three year old."

"Yes, well, he and I have had words about the amount of time he spends away from the manor, and Gabe, but Draco tells me -"

Narcissa stilled at the unmistakable sound of Apparition interrupted them. Someone had Apparated into the sitting room downstairs.

Harry tensed, knowing full well who it was likely to be. Pansy was up at the main manor house, the elves knew not to make surprise appearances like that, and the grounds were strongly warded against everyone else, save for Harry as a visitor and friend to Narcissa, and Theo Nott, who lived in the west wing of the manor with his wife Pansy.

The door opened and Draco Malfoy entered. Harry's heart sped up and his throat filled with bile. He hated this man more than life. It was a testimony to his love and respect for Narcissa that he could even as much as tolerate the other man's presence in the slightest. If he had thought there was a chance Draco would come back from wherever it was he had gone, then Harry wouldn't have hung around long enough to risk a chance meeting like this.

Draco's formal robes, clipped neatly in place over a dark grey suit, hung off Draco's tall, lithe frame with an elegance Harry himself had no hope of ever possessing. His blond hair was slicked back like he had favoured in his school days, the style Harry knew Narcissa preferred seeing on her son. He glanced at Harry, his beautiful pale mask twisting into a sneer at the sight of Harry.

"Sorry, Mother, I did not realise you had company," Draco apologised, sarcasm dripping out of every word. He turned and inclined his head at Harry. "What a pleasant surprise."

Fucking liar, thought Harry. Draco had resented Harry's presence from the first day Narcissa had invited him to visit, but Narcissa had stubbornly insisted that he was a friend and could visit whenever he liked. Then, when Narcissa's condition began to deteriorate and the frequency of Harry's visits increased, Draco had stopped protesting because Harry's presence always seemed to soothe and cheer her up.

"Likewise, Mr. Malfoy," Harry responded coldly. He glanced at Narcissa who was watching their exchange with a frown. "How is your son?"

Draco's eyes narrowed, "Gabe is well, thank you." He turned to his mother. "He's been asking about you, he wonders why he can't come and visit his grandmother."

Narcissa shook her head, "No, Draco, I don't want the boy to remember me like this."

"When did you last spend any time with your son yourself, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry couldn't help asking, his barely contained anger simmering beneath the surface. He knew Draco barely spent any time with his little boy. Harry suspected he knew why, but with a man like Draco, there could be any number of reasons.

"What the hell does it have to do with you how much time I spend with my son?" Draco spat, the cool mask dropping for a moment to reveal his anger and disdain.

"I do so wish you two boys would make more of an effort to get along, for my sake if for no other reason," Narcissa interrupted.

Harry stood up. "I was about to be on my way." He closed his grasp around the cloak hanging off the back of his chair and draped it around his shoulders. "Narcissa, I'll be back tomorrow." He leant over and pecked her cheek before turning for the door.

"I'll see you out," Draco said, shooting a glance at his mother who nodded her approval.

"That won't be necessary," Harry objected. "I'm perfectly capable of walking downstairs and Disapparating."

"Nevertheless, I insist," Draco said smoothly and Harry knew he had no choice but to agree. Draco held open the door and Harry passed through, trying to keep his expression neutral. As he walked down the narrow staircase into the lower rooms of the cottage, he was all too aware of who was behind him and what was at stake here.

When he reached the sitting room Harry turned and forced a smile at Draco. "We'll meet again, I'm sure, Mr. Malfoy," he said as politely as he could muster, trying not to grind his teeth as he spoke.

"No, wait, please don't go yet," Draco said and Harry was shocked at the almost friendly tone of voice. "You don't like me much, do you?"

Harry gaped. He wanted to say 'like? I loathe you,' but he managed to control himself. Draco Malfoy was the one person he had to rein himself in around more than any other. Instead he said, "I feel it is you who does not like me, Mr. Malfoy."

"On the contrary, I cannot dislike you when I do not know you," Draco said, looking uncomfortable. "I feel we could make more of an effort with one another, for Mother's sake. She seems to view you almost as a second son; and I whilst I was suspicious at first-"

"I-"

Draco held up a hand to placate Harry. "I was suspicious, but she trusts you and I trust her, so with that in mind; would you care to join me for dinner tonight?"

A cold tendril of fear unwound itself from somewhere deep within Harry and wrapped itself around his heart, squeezing until he felt he couldn't breathe with the constriction it enforced.

"I don't think so," Harry replied.

"Oh. If you have plans this evening, then another would suffice. Perhaps if you let me know when you are free we can arrange it then."

"No," Harry said, trying desperately to control the way his hands had started to shake. He shoved them into the pockets of his robe and attempted to inch towards the door. "You misunderstand me. I have no desire to spend an evening in your company, not tonight or any other night."

Draco's cheeks flushed pink. "I see."

"I think perhaps, Mr. Malfoy, that your time might be better spent with your son. You fought so desperately to gain custody of him, after all." Harry knew he was treading on thin ice, but he couldn't help himself. Draco Malfoy had excluded his husband from his and their son's lives so thoroughly and utterly that the other man had been so broken hearted, so without hope, that he had left the country and travelled thousands of miles to get away from the destructive sphere of his spouse, and whilst there he had died without ever seeing his son again. Yet here Draco was, with his precious child all to himself and he barely spent any time with the child.

Harry had seen some of the little boy, before Narcissa's illness had reached the stage it was at now, and he knew the child – Gabe – loved his father unconditionally. When he spoke of Draco it was with clear adoration that broke Harry's heart. Harry suspected Draco's coldness towards the child was due to the resemblance he had to his other father, Draco's dead husband. Draco had treated his husband abominably; now it seemed that his poor son would fare the same.

"That is the second time today you have made reference to the amount of time I spend with my son," Draco ground out. "My son is loved and cared for, and I don't quite see where this impression comes from that I am not a loving father-"

"I didn't say you did not love the child, Mr. Malfoy, merely that perhaps your time would be better spent with him, than having dinner with me."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Is this your only reason for refusing me?"

"It's the only reason you're getting," Harry said with a calmness he did not feel. "Now, if that will be all, I have to be getting home. Good night." Before Draco could attempt to detain him further, Harry Disapparated.

()()()

When Harry Apparated into the hallway of his tiny flat he almost collapsed against the wall, so laboured was his breathing. His heart was beating so fast he felt he might explode. Oh Merlin, this latest encounter had been the worst yet. Behind Draco's excuses for inviting him to dinner lay so much more than what appeared on the surface. Draco was attracted to him, Harry knew the signs even if Draco tried to hide behind his cold façade, and Harry knew the truth.

Well, Harry wasn't about to get sucked in. He'd seen first-hand how Draco treated the person he supposedly loved. Supposedly being the operative word there. Draco Malfoy wasn't capable of love.

Harry wearily headed down the hall to his bedroom and discarded his clothes into the hamper before heading for the bathroom and the shower. He stood naked in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the door and stared at the man looking back at him with a sigh.

His glamour still held. The man in the mirror shared only Harry's height and build, as those were difficult to maintain even under a glamour such as the one Harry was using. He had slightly curly light brown hair, light brown eyes that did not need glasses, skin a shade or two paler than Harry's own, and a face that was designed not to draw attention. Harry liked to think he looked average. His scar was gone. This man was not Harry Potter; he was Ewen Johnson, the home-schooled son of an old friend of Narcissa Malfoy and a complete invention thought up by himself and Narcissa.

This man staring back at him from the mirror was not Harry Potter, one-time husband of Draco Malfoy, now assumed dead to all but a close few. Ewen Johnson could get past the wards at Malfoy Manor, could catch the odd glimpse of the little boy he had given birth to three years before and if he was lucky he could spend some time with him. If he was still Harry Potter, he would not have made it within five miles of the manor and his son before Draco's security removed him. A few stolen minutes with his baby were better than nothing at all.

It was ironic how boring, plain, Ewen Johnson could get past all those defences, and if he wanted, he could work his way back into Draco's bed. That would never happen. Harry hated Draco for what he had done to him; he was here for his son and his son alone. Draco could be as vile or as charming as he wished, and Harry knew full well exactly how wonderfully he pulled off both states, but Harry would die for real before he let Draco Malfoy touch him again.

()()()

Draco watched Ewen Disapparate with a blank face, only letting the mask fall when the other man had gone.

What had just happened? He didn't even know where that invite to dinner had come from, so to have it so unrepentantly thrown back in his face stung. He didn't know why he had asked Ewen Johnson to dinner and he did not understand why it rankled that he had been so easily dismissed. He didn't even like the man.

Yet there was something about him, something that had crawled its way under his skin and was nibbling away at him. He wanted to know Ewen; he itched to touch him. No one else had ever made him feel like that, no one other than Harry.

With that thought, Draco deflated. Harry Potter. His Harry. Grief swirled inside him and the iron clamp around his heart constricted. Sometimes Draco didn't know how he managed to carry on, but he had to, for Gabe. Every day hurt more than the last. People always said grief became easier to bear, but Draco didn't know that feeling. He just missed Harry more and more the more time that passed.

Harry's death was Draco's fault. He had pushed him away, so far that Harry had taken himself to the other side of the world rather than try to make things work with him, even for Gabe's sake. Draco had to live with that every single day, and sometimes the weight of it consumed him.

When he found he was still staring at the spot Ewen Johnson had vacated seconds before, Draco shook his head and headed back to the stairs to visit his mother. Yes, there was an attraction there for Ewen. In fact, Ewen was the only person other than Harry he had been drawn to 'in that way' in his lifetime.

Draco felt both scared and exhilarated. He also felt guilty. Ewen's refusal of his invitation was for the best. Draco did not deserve a second shot at happiness. He'd all but killed the love of his life with his own bare hands. He should not be given another chance to fuck up someone else's life.

"I hope you were nice to Ewen," Narcissa said when Draco found his way back upstairs again. "You know my wishes with regard to him when I die, and I don't want you making things awkward for him."

"Mother, what makes you think that Ewen will even want to accept your bequest? There are not many wizards who would want to live here in the manor grounds."

"Ewen will. He loves the peace and quiet of the countryside; and he has little money to afford it on his own," Narcissa looked pleadingly at Draco. "It's important to me that he be given this chance; please don't spoil it. He has never asked me for anything, and he doesn't know I'm planning this."

Draco sighed, and hoped that if Ewen Johnson did accept Narcissa's bequest, he would stay out of Draco's way – and that Draco would have the self-control to stay out of his.

()()()

Thank you for reading, I hope it doesn't get too confusing with the Harry/Ewen thing (I confused myself when writing this!) - if you like it, please tell me!

More shortly.