Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
Genres:
Romance Slash
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 06/17/2003
Updated: 07/25/2005
Words: 99,146
Chapters: 29
Hits: 317,001

Second Chances

kishijoten

Story Summary:
For the first time in over a decade, Harry Potter crosses paths with Draco Malfoy. Both have changed a great deal, but what do those changes mean to them - and to each other? **slash**

Chapter 22

Chapter Summary:
Repercussions. Guilt. Apologies. Detentions.
Posted:
03/09/2004
Hits:
8,947
Author's Note:
Many, many thanks to the Fantastic Four (my beta-readers :) ) for getting chapter 22 back to me so quickly. And many more thanks to the all the reviewers who encourage me to write, write, write! :)


His emotions in complete turmoil, Harry avoided the Great Hall to hide away in his office until the beginning of afternoon classes. The classes went by in a sort of slow-motion blur, and eventually Harry was able to return to his office where he attempted to collect his scattered thoughts.

Harry felt guilty for hurting Oliver, even as a small voice in the back of his head, which sounded suspiciously like Draco, shouted at him that he shouldn't feel guilty because Oliver had hurt him first. Regardless, Oliver had been his friend for a long time, and he hated that he had been the cause of the pain he had seen in the other man's face.

Pushing the feelings of guilt aside, Harry went down to dinner. As soon as he entered the Great Hall, he noticed the hushed whispers of the faculty. Only when he realised that the other teachers' attention was directed toward the students did he relax, secure in the knowledge that the whispers were not about him and the incident in his classroom. Taking his seat, he let his eyes slide over the assembled students, wondering what had caused the stir amongst the other teachers. As his mind processed what his eyes were taking in, he couldn't help grinning.

Sera Malfoy was seated across from Adrian at the Hufflepuff table. Armand Delacour sat to her right, with his cousin Ella opposite him. Isabella Zabini perched nervously on the edge of a seat in the midst of a group of second year Ravenclaws. A few other students sat with their friends rather than at their own House tables.

"What should we do?" Harry overheard Professor Sprout asking the Headmistress. He looked down the table at Minerva, eager to hear what she had to say about the situation.

McGonagall sat quietly for a moment, watching the students and mentally examining the unexpected turn of events. "As long as there are no disciplinary issues, I think for the moment we should do nothing. I should be very interested to see what will come of this." That said, the Headmistress turned her attention from the unusual sight before her to her dinner plate. The rest of the staff took their cue from her and did the same.

*** *** ***

Snape had been kind enough - or, more likely, wise enough - not to spread about the information that Damien had been the one to rat on his fellow pranksters. The entire house was treating the boy coolly as it was, incensed over the drastic loss of house points. Even Damien's partners-in-crime were angry with the boy, despite the fact that they were every bit as guilty of any wrongdoing. With Sera defecting to the Hufflepuff table for meals, Damien was forced to sit more or less alone, slightly apart from the rest of the Slytherins.

As Damien sat glowering at his brother and sister and contemplating the gross unfairness of life as he knew it, someone dropped into the space that separated him from his housemates. Glancing over, Damien noted that the occupant of said space was one of the other boys who had been in on the prank - a fellow second year student named Leopold Middleton. He wasn't certain whether he should be grateful for the company or worried about what the other boy might want with him.

"Malfoy," Leopold snapped, the single word conveying an infinite amount of anger and loathing. Damien cringed inwardly but looked his friend in the eye. "Thanks to you, I'm stuck in detention during tryouts next week," Leopold continued. "And I've got to write a four-foot essay on the properties of murtlap and its use in potions. It's bad enough that I know shite about murtlap, whatever in the hell it might be, but if I can't try out, the Slytherin team is doomed! Aldridge and Hayman say I'd be perfect for seeker, and Merlin knows we need a good one. But I'm stuck in detention next week. Slytherin is going to come in dead last in Quidditch and in the house point competition, and it's entirely your fault!" Leopold paused for breath at last, panting slightly as he waited for Damien's response.

Damien let his eyes flick back to the Hufflepuff table, and a sinister smile curled his lips. "Not to worry, Leo," he said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "I've got an idea."

*** *** ***

After dinner, Harry immediately headed for his office. Although he didn't have anything pressing waiting for him, he liked to be available for his students. Without any work needing his immediate attention, Harry allowed himself to indulge in the rare treat of a Muggle paperback novel. He secretly hoped that none of his students would seek him out and that he would be allowed to relax a little after the horror of the past few days.

Just as Harry was becoming engrossed in his novel, a knock at his office door drew him out of the story again. With a tired sigh, he lay the paperback aside and tried to not sound terribly aggravated when he called 'Come in'. To his surprise, his visitor was not a student, but Draco Malfoy.

"Draco," he greeted.

"Harry. I talked to Minerva about the little student rebellion. She seems to think it's a good thing," Draco said by way of explaining his presence in Harry's office. He pushed the door partially shut and crossed the room to half-sit, half-lean on the corner of the desk.

"I think it could be, as well," Harry agreed, leaning back in his chair to look up at Draco. "You know that Professor Dumbledore always advocated the Houses inter-House cooperation. He had put various proposals before the Board and the Ministry to try to integrate the Houses, but none of them ever passed. Perhaps letting the children take matters into their own hands might be a step in the right direction."

"Perhaps," Draco replied distractedly. He seemed more focused on the folds in his robes than on their conversation.

Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Draco," he said in a firm, commanding tone. He waited until Draco's eyes met his own before continuing. "Why don't you tell me why you're really here?"

"I'm here because I was a complete arse to you yesterday evening," Draco explained. "I came to apologise to you. Again. I know I had no right to..." Draco paused to swallow, looking away from Harry's eyes. "I had no right to be jealous," he continued in a quieter tone. "I certainly had no right to kiss you. I'm sorry."

"It's true that you had no right to act the way that you did," Harry affirmed. "It isn't fair to give me false hope, Draco."

"I never meant to. Harry, I know I made a mistake when I let you walk away that day. I know I was wrong to let Damien dictate my life. But it's done now, and I'm not certain how to undo it without tearing my family apart." He paused for a moment, his attention fixed once again on the folds of his robes. "I'd like it if we could...if we could reclaim our friendship while I figure out what to do."

In that moment, Harry understood how Oliver must have felt that very morning when he himself had issued a similar request. The situation was different, though. Draco honestly wanted things to go back to the way they were, and Harry was willing to wait. And in truth, he had never stopped thinking of Draco as his friend.

"I like to think that we're both mature enough to handle being friends, despite what's happened," Harry said at last. "As for anything else.... I'll only wait for so long, Draco. I can only wait for so long." Even as the words left his mouth, Harry knew they were a lie - he'd wait forever for Draco if he knew he would be with the other man in the end.

"I understand," Draco said quietly. He lifted his head to look at Harry and smiled almost shyly. "I never asked you to wait for me, you know." Harry flushed slightly, and Draco's smile grew as he took the other man's hand in his own. "I'm glad you're willing to wait, Harry."

The two men sat for a time simply smiling at one another, their hands clasped loosely between them. Draco grazed Harry's jaw-line with the back of his knuckles and leaned forward with the intention of capturing Harry's lips with his own. Damien's voice stopped him cold.

"Potter," Damien said, his voice dripping with venom. "I'm here from Professor Snape."

Draco turned to look at his son, guilt etched on his pale face. He glanced back at Harry. "I'd better be going," he said in a near-whisper.

"Good night, Draco," Harry said, forcing his voice into what he hoped sounded like a professional tone.

"Good night," Draco replied. He slipped past Damien, leaving his son alone with Harry.

"You said Professor Snape sent you?"

"Yes," Damien replied insolently. "As part of my punishment, I'm to apologise to you."

Harry repressed the urge to vent his skepticism. He could hardly wait to hear Damien's completely insincere apology.

"Professor Snape is right, though," Damien continued, his voice softening slightly. "I do owe you an apology. What I did was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Completely shocked by the earnestness of the boy's tone, Harry sat up straighter and looked at Damien, searching for some sign that the boy actually meant the apology. His very manner supported the genuineness of his words.

Now that he had Harry's full attention, Damien continued. "It was completely unconscionable of me to attack you for being gay when I hate you for entirely different reasons. From now on, I'll give more thought to my motivations before acting on them."

With that, the boy turned on his heel and stalked out of the office. Harry sat staring after the boy, open-mouthed and stunned.

*** *** ***

Damien reported to the Potions classroom for his first night of detention immediately after leaving Potter's office. To his surprise, it was the Headmistress rather than Snape who met him at the door.

"Professor McGonagall," he greeted civilly. His forehead wrinkled in confusion as he glanced around the classroom in search of his Head of House. "Is Professor Snape not here?"

"I will be overseeing your detention, Mister Malfoy," the Headmistress explained. "Please take a seat." She gestured vaguely at one of the worktables which was laden with books, parchment, ink, and quills.

Damien dropped down at the worktable with an inward groan. He'd likely be stuck copying who-knows-what out of the textbooks, slaving over endless sheets of parchment for half the night.

"Your detention for this evening is as follows: you will complete a brief essay on the Mandrake Restorative Draft; you will also complete a research report on the Chamber of Secrets; lastly, you will compose an essay tying the two topics together. All of the information you need is contained in those books, but if you have any further questions, I should be able to answer them. I suggest you use your time wisely, Mister Malfoy, as failure to complete this project in a timely manner will result in further detentions."

Damien gaped at the Headmistress for a minute or two before realising that she was completely serious about the evening's detention. With a scowl, he pulled open the first book and began his research.

*** *** ***

Over two hours later, Damien stood up from the desk, stretching his aching muscles. McGonagall peered over her glasses at him, clearly doubting that he had completed his assignments.

"Just taking a bit of a break, Headmistress," Damien assured her. "And I do have a question about the Chamber of Secrets."

Minerva closed the cover on the book she was reading and laid it aside. "What do you wish to know, Mister Malfoy?"

"This book," he said, indicating a tome authored by a Miss Hermione Granger, "spins an interesting tale about how the Chamber of Secrets was reopened about twenty years ago."

"It isn't an interesting tale, Mister Malfoy. It is a true account," the Headmistress huffed. "I was Deputy Headmistress here at the time, and I remember the events as if they happened only yesterday. I assure you that Miss Granger's book is completely factual."

Damien gazed at the book with renewed interest. Since the story had revolved around none other than the famous Harry Potter, he had automatically assumed it was simply a tall tale. If the Headmistress said it was true though, perhaps there might be some validity to it. The woman didn't seem the type to be taken by flights of fancy.

"Let me try again," Damien said. "What I was saying is that this book says that an enchanted diary led to the Chamber being reopened. Does anyone know how a little girl managed to get her hands on Voldemort's diary?"

McGonagall flinched slightly at the boy's nonchalant use of the Dark Lord's name, even though the wizard was long dead. Although it was slowing becoming more common to hear Lord Voldemort referred to by his self-given name, Minerva doubted that she would ever grow accustomed to hearing it uttered so nonchalantly. "Apparently, the diary was slipped in among Ginny Weasley's other school books during an altercation that took place just before Ginny came to Hogwarts."

"Why would someone give her Voldemort's diary?"

"Perhaps he gave Ginny the diary because he wanted the Chamber of Secrets reopened. Perhaps he had other reasons that never came to light. I believe he chose the Weasley girl because of a long-standing feud between himself and Ginny's father."

"Who?"

"Your grandfather, Lucius Malfoy."

Outrage blazed in Damien's eyes. "Rubbish!" he snapped. "Why would Grandfather want the Chamber reopened?"

"I think that is something you need to puzzle out for yourself, Mister Malfoy. Now, I suggest you finish your essays. It's getting late, and I'd like to get to bed at a decent hour."

Fuming, Damien returned to his work. The Headmistress' accusations made no sense. Why would his grandfather want some monster to petrify a bunch of Hogwarts students?

As he continued his research, Damien began to see a trend; all of the students who were attacked by the basilisk had been Muggleborn or half-blood, and only dumb luck had kept them from being killed. Memories of Lucius' lectures about the purity of blood sprang to mind, but he forced the traitorous thoughts aside. Perhaps Headmistress McGonagall had some sort of vendetta against his grandfather. Whatever the case, he would not let the woman's theories colour his own opinions.

*** *** ***

Oliver Wood slumped in his seat at the Head Table, listlessly pushing scrambled eggs around on his plate. There were dark circles under his eyes, and misery rolled off of him in nearly palpable waves. Just the sight of him sitting there looking so forlorn tore at Harry's heart. He hadn't thought it possible for him to feel any worse about hurting Oliver, but he did.

"It isn't polite to stare at people, Harry." Draco's soft drawl drew Harry out of his brooding, and he turned his attention away from Oliver. "Something wrong?" Draco asked gently.

Harry shook his head slightly and let his eyes drop to his own half-eaten breakfast. "Just feeling a bit guilty," he admitted in a hushed voice.

Draco's brows drew furrowed slightly in puzzlement. "Whatever for?"

"Not being a better man," Harry replied. "I have to go." He tossed his napkin down beside his plate, rose, and all but ran from the room.

Draco hesitated for only a moment before following.

In the hallway, Draco found Harry leaning against one of the cool stone walls for support. His eyes were squinted shut, his face pale and covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

"Harry," Draco gasped, moving to the other man's side. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked. He pulled Harry into his arms. "You're trembling."

"I'll be all right," Harry assured him in a shaky voice. "Just a bit dizzy."

"Vertigo?" Draco guessed, remembering a long ago conversation about the effects that the war had wreaked on Harry's mind and body. He felt Harry nod an affirmation. "What do we do about it?"

"Potion. In my room. And I need to lie down," Harry answered breathlessly. His strength seemed to be fading quickly.

Mindless of anything except Harry's well-being, Draco began the arduous task of helping the ill man back to his quarters. The short walk seemed to take half a lifetime, but at last they were safely at their destination. Draco guided Harry to the bed.

"Top drawer," Harry said, pointing vaguely in the direction of a small writing desk.

A row of neatly labeled potions lay in a small teakwood box nestled into a rear corner of the desk. "Calming potion?" he asked, pulling one of the vials from the box.

Harry didn't respond verbally, but held out one quivering hand for the potion. Draco pushed the hand aside gently, uncapped the vial, and held it to Harry's lips.

The potion began to work almost immediately, and Harry sank back into his pillows with a relieved sigh. His eyes slipped closed, and within minutes he was sleeping soundly.

Draco didn't waste time pondering the situation. He needed to speak with the Headmistress. Classes would be starting soon, and someone would have to take over for Harry for the day.

Moving carefully so as not to wake Harry, Draco slipped off the man's glasses and set them on the table beside the bed. He pulled the bedcovers up and kissed Harry's forehead before slipping almost silently from the room.

*** *** ***

Much later, Harry awoke with a start. His brain was a bit fuzzy from sleep, but he was certain he was supposed to be somewhere. He rolled on his side to peer at the clock, and his eyes widened in alarm. Apparently he had slept through the better part of the day; it was late afternoon, and classes would be ending soon.

Dragging himself from the bed, he took a quick shower to wake up and then dressed quickly and left his rooms. He needed to talk to Draco.

*** *** ***

Draco strode out of the Transfiguration classroom and nearly ran right into Harry. He scowled for a moment, the response almost instinctive, and then forced a smile. "Feeling better?" he asked.

"Much." Harry assured him. "Listen, I wanted to talk with you about what happened this morning."

Draco glanced around at the students moving about in the hallway. "We can talk in my office."

Once inside Draco's office, Harry flung himself into an armchair and took a deep breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off.

"So the vertigo is triggered by stress?"

Harry nodded. "Usually."

"God knows you've been under a great deal of stress lately. Will it happen again, do you think?" Draco sat down on the arm of the chair Harry occupied, feeling the need to be as physically close to the other man as possible.

"I hope not," Harry replied wistfully. He turned his head so that his cheek was pressed against Draco's side. "I promised myself that when the term started, I would find some way to relieve stress that isn't self-destructive. I just haven't gotten around to it yet."

Draco stroked Harry's hair absently. "Have you considering taking a sabbatical?"

Harry sighed. "There isn't anyone to take my place. But even if there was, I'm not ready to admit defeat." He snuggled further into the warmth of Draco's body. "I'll be fine."

For a time, Draco sat stroking Harry's hair, lost in thought. "What can I do to help?" he asked at last, breaking the stillness of the room and causing Harry to startle slightly.

"What you're doing right now is rather nice," Harry said softly. At Draco's quiet laugh, Harry pulled away and looked up at him. "I've got Sheila to talk things out with and the potions for when things go pear-shaped, but neither of them do me nearly as much good as time like this."

Draco caressed Harry's cheek and smiled down at him tenderly. "You've got me when things go pear-shaped, too, you know. And I'd like to think you can talk things out with me as well."

Harry's expression darkened slightly. "There are some things you're probably better off not knowing."

"I don't want you to ever feel you need to protect me, Harry," Draco said, cupping Harry's chin in his hand and meeting his gaze directly. "I'm willing to listen to anything you want or need to say - even if you think I won't like it."

"If you're certain," Harry replied, sounding unsure.

"I'm certain. Now you'd best clear off before one of my students stumbles in and starts some sort of crazy rumour about us," Draco teased, rising from the arm of the chair.

The instant that Harry gained his feet, he found himself wrapped tightly in Draco's arms. Draco's lips found his own and they brushed together in the lightest of kisses. "And for God's sake, quit making me worry about you."

Harry laughed. "I'll try my best," he promised.

"I'll find you after dinner," Draco said. "If that's all right, I mean."

"Of course it's all right," Harry replied. "I'll be in my room. I'm fairly certain you remember the way."

"I think I can manage to find it. I'll see you later, then, and you can tell me about what's troubling you."

"Must I?" Harry asked, his expression pained.

Draco's answer was very Snape-like glare. It might have been more effective if his mouth hadn't been threatening to turn up at the corners.

Feeling a hundred times better than he had that morning, Harry let himself out of Draco's office. His troubles might not have all spontaneously disappeared, but at least he wouldn't have to face them alone.