A Stranger Garden

Chapter 8.

2029.

As much as he hated to admit it, things were looking up in Draco's world since Potter had graced his Ballroom with his presence. Boorish Gryffindor that he was. Draco noticed that Potter still had the tendency to expect deference from everyone, himself included. Draco surmised that it was probably something he'd grown used to, having people fawn all over him for most of his life. Which was bloody annoying, really. Apart from defeating the Dark Lord, what had Potter done to deserve all the adulation? And it wasn't as if he'd done it off his own bat, there had been a damned prophesy about it. He'd had no choice but to fight, so he'd not chosen to do the right thing at all. Fate and bloody luck, that's all it was.

And where was Draco's fate and luck? There was no prophesy about him, unless there was one that said he'd be an innocent bystander, brutally killed before his time, leaving a beautiful body in the prime of his youth. Such a tragedy. No one cried for him, no one had flocked to the streets when he died, no one had even attended his funeral! He'd been so hurt when he found out about the service. Andromeda and Teddy...he really had been forgotten. Except Potter hadn't forgotten. He'd been pretty good about visiting and spending time with Draco since he'd found him. He'd even managed to get Teddy to visit once when he agreed to put off the decision to sell the Manor for a while.

That had been an emotion-laden visit. It had been hard seeing Teddy as a man, when the last time he'd seen him was as a ten-year-old boy. The change in their relationship was further exacerbated by the fact that Draco had been twenty-eight when he died, yet his portrait was of him as an eighteen-year-old. Awkwardly, they'd tried to reestablish the friendliness they'd shared but, whilst Potter mentioned later that it was obvious to see the regard they held for each other, Draco felt like they had lost whatever it was they'd seen in each other. Besides, he could do without Potter's pity, so he was inclined to ignore any words of wisdom that came from that mouth.

From the moment Teddy walked out of the Ballroom, Draco had sensed that he was delaying for Potter's sake alone and that the Manor would be sold sooner or later. It was devastating to say the least. But he surprised himself by feeling grateful to Potter for the extension, not that he was planning on letting Potter know that.

Something else he wasn't going to admit to anyone, least of all himself, was that Potter had grown up fairly fit for an old guy. Perhaps Draco had just discovered a latent thing for men with greying hair at their temples.

Although, it would explain the shameless attempt at seducing Pansy's Uncle Terence when he was sixteen.

He'd first met the then thirty-six year old not long after he turned sixteen. His father and Pansy's were in Azkaban and neither Draco nor Pansy knew how to cope terribly well. He'd spent a lot of his summer at Pansy's house, both in an attempt to escape his mother who was frantically trying to use the family influence to gain Lucius' freedom, and in order to offer and receive some moral support.

Being summer they'd made liberal use of her pool and surrounds, spending afternoons and evenings basking in the warm sun and swimming in the cool water. Terence was fun and, initially, Draco had only seen Terence's attention as offering support, for which he was very grateful. Especially when Terence told Draco that he'd be called before the Dark Lord before the end of summer.

The fact that Terence had his arm around Draco's shoulder at the time triggered thoughts about the different type of support he'd like to receive from Terence. His sixteen-year-old libido went into overdrive. Never one to overlook an opportunity to take advantage of a situation, Draco reinterpreted the touching as something he could use to his benefit. The protection of the strong Terence might make all the difference. There were worse things than having your father in Azkaban after all.

So, he'd curled up under Terence's arm when he received the bad news and cried piteously. His arms had slid around the older man and he'd hung on tight, and when he'd almost stopped crying, he looked up, eyes full of tears, into Terence's kind face with his brown hair just beginning to show signs of graying at the temples. Before he could stop to think of the consequences, he'd leant in and kissed Terence on the mouth.

Terence had, of course, been very firm and pushed him away, telling him that he preferred women, and ones his own age at that. Even though he was flattered, he wasn't interested. Draco wondered later, because Terence Parkinson was definitely a Death Eater, if somehow his mission wasn't made harder due to Terence mentioning the clumsy seduction attempt to the Dark Lord.

Now, the fact that he decided he found greying hair at the temples attractive, meant that maybe he'd not just been trying to get protection.

It was something to think about anyway.

He still hated Potter, though. Distinguishably greying or not.

.o0o.

Each day Draco made his coffee and sat in the library as close to the front of the painting as he could, so that he could read the newspaper. Several months ago, Potter had set up a pedestal, which displayed the current day's paper. It was typical bloody goody-goody Potter, and Draco simply despised feeling indebted or, Merlin help him, grateful to the idiot. However, he wasn't about to do something ridiculous and lose the vast wealth of new things to learn and read about by saying something scathing. And he wasn't about to experience the need to wash his mouth out with soap by thanking Potter, either.

Still, he almost ruined it by default. Potter had charmed the pedestal to turn the page only when Draco asked it nicely.

"You have to say, 'turn the page, please', Malfoy."

"It's a bloody spell, Potter, there's no need for false manners for a spell!" Draco scoffed.

"For my spells there is," he said, grinning. "Try it."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the pedestal. "Turn," he demanded, ignoring Potter's suggestion.

"Turn what? Turn into a rainbow? Turn tail and run away?"

When the pedestal began to answer him back, Potter's delighted laughter rang round the room.

"Malfoy, I warned you, you have to show manners to my spell or it will continue to taunt you."

"You arsehole, Potter!" Draco folded his arms in a huff and refused to speak at all after that. But after half an hour of the bloody pedestal continually adding scurrilous comments, like 'turn queer?' and 'turn around and I'll show you demanding,' which were becoming worse the longer it went on, Draco had just about had enough.

"I suppose you think this is funny, don't you, Potter?"

"Hilarious. It's up to you if you want to read the papers. I've paid for them to be delivered every day and one of the elves will come in and set them up for you, enlarging the writing so you can read it. But if you continue to abuse the poor pedestal then it won't feel obliged to help you out."

Grudgingly, Draco had given in, but only after the pedestal shouted 'turn into a fairy and fly away, never to return, like Tinkerbell,' and begun humming off key tunes, knowing that if he didn't, he'd have to listen to horrid versions of 'Boil me in your cauldron of love,' forever.

With the pedestal under control, at least he was able to keep up with what was happening in the outside world. He still had no visitors and, really, that was the way he wanted it now. People had forgotten him; his friends had either died or moved on with their lives and had no time for the portrait of a friend they'd lost contact with at the end of the war.

From his reading of the Prophet he'd reacquainted himself with the social world of the Pureblood and avidly read all the gossip. He'd seen several familiar names and assumed that it was children of people he'd known. Potter rolled his eyes at Draco's obsession with high society, but Draco merely looked down his nose at Potter and told him he wouldn't know high society if it bit him on the arse.

Potter had responded by saying that his arse was a very nice arse and that if anyone wanted to bite it then they had better be good looking and male. In which case, he wouldn't care if they were high society or not.

It was lucky that Draco had been sitting down. Potter liked cock? Nice one, he'd thought, approvingly. They'd never spoken about it before. He'd assumed that because Potter had married the female Weasley and produced several offspring, that the golden boy was straight. And his own sexual preferences were none of Potter's business; it was territory better left alone. Draco would feel weird talking about his sexuality with Potter, he hated him. Discussing intimate details of sexual preferences might indicate that they were like friends or something.

And Hell would freeze over before he'd consider Potter a friend. Draco may have pushed all thought of an eternity of revenge upon Potter's naked body to the back of his mind, but it was still there safely shrouded until he was ready for it.

.o0o.

"I see the circus is in town," Draco commented as Potter let himself into the Ballroom.

"Nice to see you, too."

"If the description fits..." Draco chuckled smugly and then sipped at his coffee.

"I could just collect the rest of the items for the museum and never come back."

"Ah, you'd miss me too much, Potter."

"What makes you say that?"

Draco pointed to the newspaper. "Your life must be terribly boring. In all the weeks I've been reading the papers, your name hasn't appeared once. I add beauty and colour to your life. I must be your only social outlet."

Potter laughed. "You think that after more than twenty years they still care about what I get up to? They don't. They might follow the careers of James and Lily because they're famous in their own right, but I generally stay away from the limelight. Although..."

Potter sat down in the chair he'd provided for himself so he could be comfortable. He looked far away, like he was considering something.

After several frustrating minutes of telling himself not to ask, Draco finally gave in, exasperated yet curious despite himself.

"Although, what, Potter?"

Grinning, Potter looked at him, mirth dancing in his vivid green eyes. "The media had a field day when I came out. That was almost worth putting up with the stalking and the Howlers I received."

"Oh, I don't know, I bet there was a marked increase in the number of people who admitted they were gay after that. Misguided as they are, the public always did give you too much influence over their decision making and gave you too much credit for being a good role model."

"Are you saying that one can't be gay and be a good role model?"

Draco looked back at him exasperated. "Of course not. I'm merely saying that they give you undue influence. Your sexuality has nothing to do with the fact that, whether I like it or not, you're their hero and defeated the Dark Lord. I bet now it's all right to be gay because Harry Potter says so and not because it's always been all right."

"I hadn't thought of it like that," Potter replied, his eyebrows almost getting lost in his floppy fringe. Draco could see the wheels turning in Potter's tiny brain. Of course he'd never thought of it like that; he'd always had the freedom to do exactly as he chose and had always expected everyone to just agree with him. And he'd once called Draco spoilt!

"No, that can't be right, because Al came out to me way before I started dating blokes."

Draco shrugged. "He's your son, I assume he grew up with the same thoughtless arrogance as his father."

"I'm not arrogant!" Potter protested, hotly.

"Please," scoffed Draco. "You are one of the most arrogant people I know. All through Hogwarts you showed your arrogance, in just about everything you did."

"Name me once!" Potter demanded.

"Oh, how about the second time I met you, when you refused to shake my hand? That do?"

"That wasn't arrogance, that was not wanting to be friends with a snobbish piece of work like yourself. Someone who had been rude to the first two friends I ever had."

"Get over yourself, Potter. Even the almighty berk who lived would have had friends growing up. Only losers don't have friends."

Potter gave him a hard look and then stood. "I always said that you had no fucking idea about who I am."

Then he walked away, back towards the doors. When he reached them and pulled one open, he stopped, back still to Draco.

"The reason I came here today was to tell you that Teddy has finally decided to sell the Manor but you'll be well looked after because I've decided to buy it."

Then he exited, leaving Draco slack-jawed and in shock, simmering between the relief that there wouldn't be strangers in his house, rage that Potter was now going to own his beautiful family home and shame that he'd been unable to stop Potter of all people from being allowed to claim Malfoy property as his own. Shame that he'd chosen with his heart and not his head on who should succeed him when he died.