Second Chances

Harry awoke the next morning sweaty and tangled up in his sheets with his heart racing. The pleasant dreams he had been having - starring none other than Draco Malfoy - left him both aroused and shaken. Lusting after his childhood enemy just couldn't be healthy.

Lying there, alone in his massive bed, Harry contemplated his attraction to Malfoy. Even back in school he had entertained more than a few stray sexual thoughts about Draco, but the attraction was much stronger now. Something about the man's intensity and haughty demeanour sent tendrils of desire snaking through Harry's body. Draco's tall, lean frame and exquisitely sculpted facial features didn't hurt matters any, either.

In his school days, Harry had toyed briefly with the idea of seducing Draco Malfoy. At the time, he had no idea what seduction involved. Older and wiser, the thought of fumbling his way through an attempted seduction of the suave, cool, beautiful man Draco had become was enough to make Harry queasy. No, he'd be making no such stupid mistake.

***************************

The following Monday, Harry waited with Adrian on the steps of Hogwarts castle. Malfoy arrived, was greeted enthusiastically by his son, and exchanged civilities with Harry as usual. Harry again accompanied the duo into Hogsmeade, settling immediately into a chair in Dr. Ponsford's waiting room. With a curious glance at Harry, Draco set aside his cloak and seated himself primly in a chair as far from Harry as space would allow.

Harry studied Draco surreptitiously for a few minutes before speaking. "Seraphine and Damien were as outspoken as their brother on the subject of werewolves. You appear to have three Lycanthropes' Right's activists on your hands," he said with a slight smile.

Draco looked uncomfortable at the topic of conversation. He rose from his chair and paced across the room, stopping before a Muggle painting of a moonlit ocean shore.

"Does it bother you that they're so vocal on the subject?" Harry asked.

"No, of course not," Draco replied casually.

"Why does it bother you when I mention werewolves, Malfoy?"

Draco turned and gave Harry a small, tired smile. "Remus Lupin was the first subject on which I ever openly opposed my father," he said simply. At the confused but intrigued expression on Harry's face, Draco decided to explain. "Lupin was the first decent Dark Arts teacher we had. He knew the subject. His classes were interesting and well organized. In short, he was a competent teacher. Of course, I had other competent teachers," Draco's words faded into silence as he turned his attention back to the painting, lost in his own thoughts. "Some of the teachers treated me like I was pond scum because of who my father is. Some treated me like royalty for the same reason. Lupin was different. He treated me fairly, neither bowing and scraping nor looking down on me. Sometimes I would go to his office and talk with him about trivial things that no one else cared to hear. He always listened. When he left, I lost the only real friend I had at Hogwarts. At the time, at least." Draco turned around slowly, his eyes not really focusing on anything.

"He is quite a good listener, though I don't feel right asking him to listen to my fears and insecurities," Harry said, not really knowing why he was opening up to this virtual stranger.

"Are those the sorts of things you talk to her about?" Draco asked, gesturing towards Dr. Ponsford's inner sanctum.

"Sometimes," Harry admitted.

"Does it help?"

"I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for Sheila."

Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry's familiarity with the doctor.

Harry grinned. "I've been a patient here for over a decade. I think I'm allowed to call her by her given name."

"That long?" Draco asked incredulously.

"That long," Harry affirmed. "She wasn't the first therapist I ever visited, but she's certainly the best. Then again, I'd have been better off telling my problems to Snape than to some of the doctors I've visited," he explained with a wry grin.

"Certainly they couldn't have been that bad," Draco chided, slipping back into his seat.

"Dumbledore sent me to my first therapist the year after the Umbridge fiasco; the stupid cow wanted to lock me away in St. Mungo's, and after a year of hearing everyone talking about how I'd gone 'round the bend, I was none too happy with her pronouncement. The second therapist told me I'd rot in the 7^th level of hell for having impure thoughts about other boys. The third was certain that I was only pretending to be unstable to garner attention. Need I go on?"

"The 7^th level of hell? Obviously incompetent. The 7^th level of hell is reserved for the violent, not the lustful," Draco said with mock seriousness, folding his hands calmly in his lap but certain that Potter must be able to hear the sudden racing, pounding rhythm of his heartbeat. Harry's candid admissions had caught him off guard, and he wished - not for the first time - that he had paid some attention to the rumours from home while he was abroad.

Harry stared at the other man in complete disbelief, a grin slowly spreading its way across his face. Draco smirked back at him and then turned his attention back to the painting, trying to shunt away the stray thoughts conjured up by Harry's offhand confession about his sexual orientation.

"It's meant to be calming," Harry said after a moment.

Draco made a small, non-committal noise. "The shoreline looks like Ireland, but the water....the water is all wrong. The water belongs somewhere tropical. Hawaii, perhaps, or Jamaica."

Harry never spared so much as a glance at the painting. He sat still, mesmerized by the sight of Draco Malfoy with all of his defences temporarily stripped away. There was such a longing in the grey eyes that Harry's heart did a little flip in his chest as he wished, just for an instant, that the longing gaze was fixed on him rather than some imaginary paradise.

With a sigh, Harry turned his gaze away from the beautiful man who shared the waiting room with him. One thing was certain: he would have a lot to talk to Dr. Ponsford about today.

************************

Draco was secretly pleased when Harry joined him and Adrian the next week for the walk into Hogsmeade, although he would rather die than admit it. Adrian greeted Draco with his customary bear hug, Harry gave him a slight nod, and then they were traveling the well-beaten path into the wizarding village.

"Tell me more about when you were at school with my dad," Adrian requested.

Harry hesitated, uncertain what exactly to tell the boy that didn't end or begin with hexes, hurled insults, fistfights, or death threats. Draco took advantage of Harry's momentary silence.

"Your professor and his friends were rather incorrigible," Draco stated with a little smirk. "They were always getting into trouble. Dueling in the hallways, sneaking out of bed at night, showing up in places that were off limits...."

Adrian's eyes went wide with surprise, and he glanced up at Harry who merely grinned at the boy.

"It's true," he confirmed. "Of course, half the time when I was breaking the rules, it was because your dad had tricked me into it. He managed to get into his fair share of mischief, too, you know."

"You did?" Adrian asked, looking up at his father with something like admiration shining in his eyes.

Draco laughed and pulled his son to his side. "Of course I did. All boys get into trouble at school. It's an unwritten rule. Don't get any ideas, though."

Adrian grinned and snuggled under his dad's cloak, glad that the weather was still mild enough for such things.

"Your professor had a bit of a mean streak," Draco continued.

"And you didn't?" Harry asked, sounding more amused than insulted.

"Quiet, Potter. I'm telling this story," Draco replied calmly. "As I was saying, Potter had a bit of a mean streak. Seems he enjoyed frightening the wits out of unsuspecting young boys."

"Only if the unsuspecting little brat deserved it," Harry replied with a grin.

Draco ignored Harry's comment and forged ahead. "During a visit to Hogsmeade, my friends and I decided to explore a little. We headed to the edge of town where there stood a ramshackle old house known as the Shrieking Shack, which was rumoured to be haunted by crazed spirits. There I was, minding my own business, when I was violently assaulted by an unseen presence. We all assumed that the spirits were angry at being disturbed."

Harry laughed aloud. "You were insulting my best friend, not minding your own business," he corrected. "And I'd hardly call being doused in a bit of mud 'violent'."

"Regardless, we were young and impressionable and had no idea where the attacks were coming from. It was more than a little unnerving. Seeing your disembodied head floating around didn't help matters any either. Crabbe and Goyle had nightmares for weeks, and I had to put up with being awakened by their groaning."

"The Shrieking Shack is gone, you know," Harry said, suddenly turning more serious. He reached out to open the door of Dr. Ponsford's office and usher his companions inside.

"I noticed that it had been replaced with a newly built house. I can't imagine who would have the nerve to tear down the Shack..."

Draco and Harry paused in their conversation to greet Sheila. Once she had shut herself up in her office with Adrian and he and Draco were seated, Harry continued.

"Remus Lupin," Harry said softly.

"What about him?" Draco asked, puzzled.

"He's the one who had the Shrieking Shack town down. It's his house that stands there now."

The profound sadness in Harry's eyes touched something in Draco. His paternal instincts, he imagined, as he suddenly wanted to sooth Harry the way he did his children.

"Why?" Draco asked gently.

"You know the rumours about the Shack, but I'm guessing you don't know the truth," Harry said, lifting his head to look into Draco's eyes.

Draco shook his head slightly, and Harry began to explain.

"There were never any spirits haunting the Shack. The noises the locals heard...." Harry paused, swallowing hard and blinking. "The Shrieking Shack was built the year Remus Lupin started to school at Hogwarts. It was built for his use, in fact. The screams and the ruckus..."

"The transformation," Draco said quietly.

Harry nodded. "My godfather, Sirius, and Remus were really good friends, you know. Sirius was an animagus, and he used to run around with Remus when the moon was full. When Sirius died," Harry paused and swallowed thickly. "When Sirius died, it was like a part of Remus died, too. He couldn't bear the sight of the Shreiking Shack any longer, so when things settled down after the war, we had the place torn down. Remus couldn't stand the sight of the empty hill where it had stood, so we built a house there. I guess it helped, some, but he's had so much taken from him..." Harry stopped, realising that his voice was shaking with emotion. He really didn't want Malfoy seeing him vulnerable. He turned his gaze towards the Muggle painting and withdrew into his own mind.

After many long moments of silence, a slight rustle of fabric drew Harry back from his thoughts to reality. Turning his attention from the painting, he saw that Draco had moved to sit beside him. The grey eyes held a hint of uncertainty.

Neither moved, either to increase or to decrease the distance between them. The silence between them was no longer uncomfortable, and each found the other's presence somehow reassuring. They remained quiet until Adrian emerged from the inner office, then said their goodbyes before going their separate ways.

Harry didn't join Adrian and Draco the following week. He parted company with the two on Hogwarts' wide front steps, explaining to Adrian that he had other matters to attend to that day. In truth, Harry simply didn't want to make a nuisance of himself.

The week after that, however, he accompanied them into Hogsmeade once again. He said goodbye before they reached Dr. Ponsford's office and headed up the lane to visit Remus.

Three-quarters of an hour later, he returned to Sheila's office, arriving just a few minutes before his own appointment was scheduled to begin. As he slipped quietly into the office, Draco Malfoy looked up, peering at Harry over the top of a pair of stylish reading glasses. With a look of minor annoyance, Draco checked the time on his pocket watch. He removed the glasses and tucked them into his pocket, let the paperback book he had been reading fall closed, and then slipped that into his pocket as well.

"Potter," he greeted civilly.

"Good afternoon," Harry replied in kind.

Before either man could strike up a conversation, or even decide whether he wanted to do such a thing, the door to the inner office opened. Adrian stepped out, casting a slightly concerned look at the doctor, who was holding one hand to her forehead.

"Mister Malfoy, I know I specifically asked you to be here today so that I could chat with you a bit about Adrian, but if it wouldn't be too much bother, I'd like to reschedule. I'm afraid I'm developing a migraine."

"I understand," Draco said, his tone respectful and more cordial than it had been when he greeted Harry. "It isn't any bother at all."

"Thank you so much, dear," Sheila replied. She turned to face Harry as Draco helped Adrian on with his cloak. "Harry, do you mind awfully if we put off your session till another day?"

"No, of course I don't mind. Is there anything I can do for you?" Harry replied immediately, concern evident on his face.

"No, no. I'll be fine. I just need to take my headache potion and have a bit of a lie-down. But thank you for asking, Harry."

Harry held the door for Draco and Adrian, and then followed them out into the slightly cool April day.

"I guess I'll see you back at school, then," Harry said to Adrian, preparing to head back to Hogwarts.

"Professor?" Adrian began, a little hesitantly. "Would you like to stay and have dinner with us?"

Looking down into those innocent, pleading eyes, Harry was uncertain how he could possibly refuse. He glanced up at Draco, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I'd love to," Harry said honestly, earning a beaming smile and a warm hug from Adrian.

Muttering some disparaging remarks about the quality of the few dining establishments in Hogsmeade, Draco turned in the direction of his own home. A short walk and a dash of childish prattle later, Harry found himself standing before an immaculate white stone house of moderate size.

The house was spotless inside as well as out, and Harry felt slightly ill at ease as he carefully hung his cloak on a peg beside Draco's. A moment later, Adrian tossed his own cloak at a peg, missed, and never looked back as he dashed into the house and bolted up the stairs to his room.

Shaking his head and grinning slightly, Draco retrieved the cloak from the floor to hang it properly. He crossed the foyer and stepped onto the plush silver-grey carpet that graced the stairs and landings.

"Adrian!" he called, sounding stern but not really cross.

An instant later, Adrian's face appeared over upstairs railing. "Yeah?"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I mean... Yes, sir?" Adrian corrected himself.

"Where are your manners, young man?" Draco asked rhetorically. "Don't you think you should come down and entertain our guest while I see to dinner?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the mention of Draco 'seeing to dinner.' After a moment's thought, however, Harry concluded that Draco must mean 'telling the house elf what to do,' an idea which seemed much more plausible.

Adrian bounded back down the stairs. "Sorry," he said, addressing Harry more than his father. "Um..." He seemed at a loss for how to entertain his guest.

With a slight smile that wasn't quite a smirk, Draco headed for the kitchen, leaving Harry alone with the younger Malfoy.

"Want a tour of the house?" Adrian asked at last.

Harry answered with a smile, and then let Adrian drag him through the cottage.

"This is the sitting room," Adrian said as they stepped from the foyer.

The room was spacious and comfortably appointed. Two deep couches and an oversized chair with an ottoman faced a rather large television. Harry couldn't help grinning as he inspected the TV, not at all surprised to see that it had obviously been enchanted to work without electricity.

"Dad says he's gotten used to Muggle things. Truth is he likes Muggle things. Grandfather, of course, doesn't approve, but Grand-mere does, so it's okay."

Besides the television, Harry noted that there was also a digital disc player with an expansive and eclectic collection of movies and a stereo with an even more expansive collection of Muggle and wizard music.

Aside from the Muggle contraptions, there were shelves filled with books - fiction and non-fiction, Muggle and wizard, all perfectly organized according to some system that only Draco fully understood. On one of the shelves stood a wizard's chess set. On another shelf, there was a framed photo of Draco's children.

Various photographs of the children graced the walls, a few featuring Draco or his parents as well. The photos drew Harry's attention, and for an immeasurable amount of time, he lost himself in studying the photographs. What enchanted him most was the way that Draco kept turning to look at one child or another, never keeping his attention on the photographer.

Adrian tugged impatiently at Harry's sleeve and ushered him back the way they had come. He started up the stairs, saying, "The only other rooms down here are the kitchen and the dining room. You'll see those later."

Harry followed Adrian upstairs, letting one hand glide over the polished grey-tone wood of the banister. Upstairs, as down, the rooms lay on both sides of the stairway. Adrian led Harry down the hallway to the right.

"Dad's study," he said as they entered the first room they encountered. "He's in here a lot when he isn't in the family room with us. And we have to come in here when we're in trouble or he wants to talk to us about something important."

Harry could understand that. The room held an atmosphere of gravity and solemnity that made him a bit uncomfortable. The study, he noted, was decorated in Slytherin green and silver.

"Come on," Adrian said quietly. "I don't like it in here."

Continuing the tour, Adrian pointed out which bedroom belonged to each family member, but refrained from showing Harry most of the rooms themselves as Draco's was warded, Sera's was off-limits, and Damien's was, in Adrian's words, a dung-heap.

The door to Adrian's room, however, stood open, as Adrian had left it before his father had called him back downstairs. Adrian wandered inside, and Harry followed, stopping in the doorway to look around the boy's private lair.

The room was simply appointed with an overly large bed, a desk, an armoire, bookshelves, and something that looked like a pirate's treasure chest. The chest was open, and peeking inside to sate his curiosity, Harry saw that it was filled with games, toys, and interest trinkets which Harry assumed were memoirs of the family's travels. An oil-on-canvas portrait of the Malfoy children hung on the wall opposite the bed; Harry was surprised to find that the portrait didn't move. Adrian hopped up to sit on the edge of his bed and sat idly kicking his feet, obviously at a loss for what to do next. The boy was saved by the sound of Draco's voice, calling up to let them know that dinner was ready.

Harry hadn't been expecting dinner to be ready so soon; he assumed that the house-elves had been ordered earlier in the day to have the meal ready at a certain time. He watched in amusement as Adrian, with the enthusiasm that only the very young and the very hungry have for food, disappeared in a flash. Harry and Draco followed behind more slowly, joining the boy at the family-sized dining table.

Harry had been expecting a long table - the kind they had in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, or like he had seen in movies. He had envisioned himself at one end, and Draco at the other, unable to speak to one another without yelling.

When compared to his mental image, Harry found the seating almost intimate.

The meal, too, came as a surprise. Where Harry had expected something unpronounceable and likely unpalatable, he found a fairly plain meal of roast chicken and vegetables, which turned out to be quite delicious.

Adrian waited for some cue from his father - a slight inclination of Draco's head that could not quite be called a nod - and then dug into his meal with relish. Harry chuckled slightly, thinking that the boy was acting as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. Draco took up his knife and fork and began to work his way genteelly through his chicken and vegetables. Harry did his best to mimic Draco's fluid movements, but felt like an oaf beside the other man's grace and poise.

After a few moments of silence, Adrian halted his assault on the chicken, and licked his lips. "Kira Macmillan said her dad said that you and my Dad were the two best Quidditch players Hogwarts has ever seen," he said to Harry.

Harry almost choked on his bite of potato. Dabbing at his mouth with his napkin, he quickly regained his equanimity. "I think that's taking it a bit far, Adrian. Hogwarts has turned out many fine Quidditch players. I'm certain there were a fair few better than myself or even your dad - some of which were at school with us."

Draco smirked. "I believe it would be fair to say, however, that we were two of the most fiercely competitive players Hogwarts has seen."

"Especially when we played against one another," Harry agreed.

"Kira Macmillan also said that her dad said you two didn't get on very well," Adrian added, looking down at his plate.

"I believe that could very well be the understatement of the century," Draco replied calmly, secretly wanting to throttle Kira Macmillan and her meddling fool of a father.

"Kira's father was at school with us," Harry explained. "Ernie Macmillan," he added at Draco's blank stare.

"Oh," Draco responded at last. "That pompous ass."

"I'm certain Mr. Macmillan has a good many stories about both of us, although, as he was not a close friend of mine - and I'm assuming not of your father's, either - he doesn't have all the facts."

"What else has Mr. Macmillan told his daughter?" Draco asked, resuming the task of methodically dissecting his dinner.

"Um... He...uh. He said that when you were at school, there were never any girls on the Slytherin Quidditch team," Adrian stammered, leaning forward to hide his rapidly reddening face.

This time, Harry did choke on his bite of potato. Draco dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter.

"Is that true?" Adrian asked, looking up cautiously.

"Yes, Adrian, it's true," Draco confirmed quietly.

"So, you were just joking around about dating one of your teammates?"

Draco looked away from his son's inquisitive gaze. "No, I wasn't joking, Adrian."

The boy looked a bit uncomfortable. "You dated a boy?"

"Yes, I did. An older boy. We began seeing one another when I was fifteen, but he broke it off when he left school at the end of that same term. His parents wanted him to marry a girl of good family, and he wanted to make his parents happy. It wasn't until my own parents pressured me into marriage that I truly understood Adrian's motivation..."

"You named me after your boyfriend?" Adrian cried. Sounding more amused than alarmed. Harry stared at Draco, looking more alarmed than amused.

Draco smiled a little sheepishly. "Not exactly, no. Your mother wanted to name you after her favourite cousin, who just happened to by my ex-boyfriend. I liked the irony, so I agreed."

Adrian buried his face in his hands. Draco, worried about how the shock of all these revelations might affect Adrian, pushed back his chair to go and see to his son. At the same moment, Harry did likewise.

Ignoring the sound of the chairs scraping against the floor, Adrian moved one hand from his face to pound it lightly against the table.

"Adrian?" Harry asked, worried.

The boy burst into undignified giggles. "I'm sorry," he gasped between bouts of laughter. "But...but..." He was overcome with another round of helpless giggles. Draco and Harry cast a worried glance at one another, certain the boy's mind had finally broken.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Adrian smiled at the two men. "I'm named after my Dad's ex-boyfriend. How weird is that?"

Relief washing over him, Draco sat down rather heavily in a chair on one side of Adrian. On the opposite side, Harry pulled his chair a little nearer to the boy.

"So," Adrian asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep from grinning. "Is it true that you... well...that you're dating Professor Potter?"

Harry looked down at his hands, a flush rising in his cheeks. He was certain that he could feel Draco's eyes on him.

"Why ever would you think that?" Draco asked smoothly.

"Kira Macmillan," Adrian replied.

Harry glanced up, confused. "Why would she think that?"

Adrian shrugged. "Kira said her dad saw you two in the Three Broomsticks one night. He said you're both... well, you know. And that the only reason you two could have for being there together and not hexing each other was if you were having an affair."

Draco blanched. Harry felt as if the world had suddenly turned upside down. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to quash the sickening dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

Fighting to regain his equilibrium, Harry straightened in his seat and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could think what to say, he heard Draco's soft drawling tones.

"Would it upset you if Harry and I were seeing one another?" he asked, watching his son closely to gauge his expression.

"Of course not," Adrian replied matter-of-factly. "I'd think it brilliant. It would be weird, but brilliant. So, is it true?"

Draco shook his head slightly. "No, Adrian. It's just a rumour. Harry and I were in the Three Broomsticks talking about you."

"Oh," Adrian said, looking a little downcast. "But don't you like Professor Potter?"

"Adrian," Harry said suddenly. "I'm not certain you should be asking that." He didn't want to have to listen to Draco go on about how Harry was not his type.

Draco ignored Harry's well-meaning interruption. "Yes, of course I like him, Adrian. Very much so," he acknowledged, looking up at Harry with an unreadable expression. Seeing the question forming on Adrian's lips, Draco cut him off. "And even if Harry likes me as well, there is more to a relationship than that Adrian. I wish I could explain, but it's one of those things you only truly understand with experience."

"And often not even then," Harry added.

"Very true," Draco agreed.

Adrian appeared to think about this for a moment, and then nodded slightly. He turned to Harry. "Is it true, then, that you... um... You know...like boys?"

Harry smiled. "Yes, I prefer men."

"Do you like my dad?"

"Adrian, honestly!" Draco cried, not entirely certain that he wanted to know the answer.

"What's not to like?" Harry answered with a grin.

Draco let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

"I can't say I understand why you'd want to date another guy. Girls are soft and pretty. Boys are just...boys."

"I don't know," Harry said, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Your dad is rather pretty."

A spot of pink tinting each cheek, Draco ignored Harry's comment and turned to face his son. "You can't understand why I would want to date another man, and I can't understand why anyone would want to date a woman. I think we're on equal footing, there."

"But you married Mum," Adrian said, looking confused.

Harry leaned forward slightly in his seat. He was curious as to the story behind Draco's marriage and divorce.

Draco sighed and slumped back in his chair, a habit he did not often indulge in. "My parents, as I said before, pressured me into marriage. I married the woman they thought most suitable. I'm certain Father doesn't know of my predilection for males, else he would have disowned me long ago. I think Mother suspects, but she is the very epitome of discretion."

"You didn't stay married," Adrian continued.

"No. I intended to, of course, but... I didn't like the way Pansy treated you children. I did what I thought best for the three of you."

Adrian shrugged. "I don't really remember her. I only ever remember there being you and Sera and Damien. And there was me of course. We didn't need her, anyway."

"No," Draco replied, leaning in to hug his son. "We didn't."