Facade

Author Notes: Here at last, here at last. ^_^;; I apologize for my four month absence. Hopefully, this chapter and the one that follows will make up for it a little bit. Massive thank yous belong to my betas Heidi (SuperWoman), Earthquake (UberWoman), and Lady Morsmordre (LofflyWoman) for all their help and support through the weeks during Christmas break and January when I finally got all of this writing done. I love them each of them more than words can say and appreciate everything they've done for me. Sincerely. Now, on with the show . . .

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Façade
Chapter Eleven
Popular Song
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The trip from Malfoy Manor to the Burrow was long and tiring, not only because of the absence of company. The landscape seemed monotonous, devoid of color or interest. Restless, Harry spent the majority of the journey attempting to steel himself to indifference. He was returning to the home of his best friend Ron, after all. There was no reason to be low in spirits. And, in another two weeks, he would be back home at Godric's Hollow with his godfather and Remus. That was more than enough reason to push aside the feelings of longing that threatened to overwhelm him every time he glanced at the blue sky-remarkably like Draco's eyes, and just as endless. One could spend eternity staring into the blue void and never be satisfied.

It was, Harry noted, the first time he had ever looked forward to the overcast winter skies.

Upon his arrival, the newly married Mr. and Mrs. Weasley greeted him with enthusiasm. Hermione frowned at Harry's vague statements about the weeks he had spent with Draco, but Ron seemed satisfied, grinning cheerfully when Harry mentioned that he had beaten Malfoy at billiards. Of course, Harry neglected to mention the prize he had won.

In the next few weeks, the Weasley household was relatively quiet. Harry and Ron spent their days riding and shooting while the ladies stayed at home, doing whatever it was that ladies did in the afternoon. Sometimes the strains of the pianoforte could be heard coming from the parlor as the men returned for supper. More often than not it was Mozart that Miss Weasley selected, which always made Harry flush and remember the losing battle he fought with his memory regarding Draco Malfoy.

In early September, a rider arrived with the news of Percy Weasley's promotion, and the entire redheaded clan decided to celebrate with an outdoor picnic the following weekend. The twins and Charlie arrived with the Regiment in high spirits. The eldest Weasley brother, Bill, was detained abroad, but the mysterious Miss Clearwater appeared with her family, and Harry was not surprised to hear talk of marriage. Percy's promotion guaranteed him an income capable of providing a comfortable living for the happy couple, in London proper no less.

After the new Mrs. Weasley had taken the future Mrs. Weasley aside for private conversation, Harry and Ron took a long walk around the perimeter. It felt good to be with Ron again, as comfortable friends, and although marriage had changed his friend, as Harry had expected, he was happy to see that there was no awkwardness between them. He was relieved to not have to fend off more questions about his visit to Derbyshire. However, Ron's thoughts for once did not seem to tend towards the aristocratic blond.

"Ginny wants to spend this coming winter with Charlie and the twins. Actually, I think she wants to spend time with a certain Mr. Creevey," he said casually, carefully watching Harry's reaction. Ron had never been subtle.

Harry felt the familiar pangs of guilt that appeared whenever he remembered his rejection of Miss Weasley, but endeavored to keep his countenance neutral under Ron's scrutiny. "I see. Who's this Mr. Creevey?"

"Some officer. He sketches. Carries a little notebook and a pencil wherever he goes and makes little drawings. Bloody annoying if you ask me, but Ginny seems taken with him." His friend nodded his head towards Miss Weasley, who stood underneath a large oak tree surrounded by four redcoats. Harry was startled to see how flirtatious her smile was, and how often her eyes seemed to dart in his direction.

Harry smiled with relief. "That's good, then. That she likes his attentions I mean."

Ron made a face and elbowed Harry. "If you ask me, she's just trying to attract your attention. Her flirtations could quickly get out of control, though, if you don't put your foot down, Harry. If she's going to be your wife you want her to be respectable, don't you?"

Harry swallowed, and cleared his throat. He had expected to have to discuss the matter of the wife eventually. He purposefully turned his back to Ginny to give his friend his full attention. "It's really none of my business who Ginny wants to flirt with, Ron. And ah, regarding her being my wife . . . I've already informed Miss Weasley that I have no inclination to marry."

Ron looked stunned, his jaw working silently. When at last he did speak, it was an angry whisper. "But Harry . . . everyone thinks you're to marry Ginny."

The moment stretched between them. Harry looked at his hands. He remembered the way Draco had talked to him about Ginny, and how she desperately needed to be herself and not just the role assigned to her. But how could he explain all that to Ron?

"I'm very fond of Ginny, Ron," Harry started, raising his eyes to meet Ron's. "But I can't help feeling she would be happier marrying someone else," he finished lamely. Not to mention that ever since Draco Malfoy had caught his attention at Hogwarts he hadn't been able to think of a female, or another male, for that matter.

"You think that Ginny wouldn't want to marry you? Have you completely lost your senses?"

Harry took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. "Ron, you're my oldest friend in the world. I couldn't marry Ginny. I'm not worthy of her."

"Now I know you've lost your senses. You're the only person good enough for her."

"I'm not. I can't give-I mean-Ron, this is very difficult." Harry's voice shook with emotion and he glanced over his shoulder at Ginny and the rest of the family before taking Ron's arm and leading him away from the crowd. "Please listen to me, Ron. I cannot marry Ginny."

Ron's tone became even more heated. "Explain quickly before I reconsider our friendship."

Ron might as well have punched him. The air went out of Harry's lungs and he blanched, his voice becoming high with desperation. "Look at how happy she is with Mr. Creevey. That alone should prove that her attachment to me was as forced as mine to her."

"Do you honestly want Ginny to marry an officer? Not even a gentleman. What sort of future would she have?" Ron was livid, his face red with emotion.

Harry glowered as he stepped closer to the taller redhead. "Is that all I am to you? A gentleman who can marry your sister? Don't you have any concern for my feelings in the matter?"

Ron glared down at Harry. "You have to marry sometime, Harry. And why not Ginny?"

Harry's expression became torn as Ron asked the question that he wasn't ready to answer. Married? How could he possibly get married now that he had . . . experienced such things with Malfoy. "Don't ask this of me, Ron. I'm warning you. I cannot marry Ginny."

Ron glared down at Harry, not bothering to keep his voice down. "Why? Isn't she good enough for you? Or do you have some other attachment that you've kept from us?"

Harry stared back coolly, aghast at the reaction his best friend was having to the news but bearing the brunt of the attack dutifully. It was nothing more than he deserved, after all. "It's not about Ginny. There isn't any girl I want to marry."

Something stopped the redhead in his anger, and Harry knew from experience that Ron had reached his breaking point. The deathly quiet was far more dangerous than the blustery anger. "Why do I have the feeling that Malfoy is to blame for this?"

Harry took a deep breath, refusing to rise to the bait. "Leave him out of this, Ron."

"So he is involved. You had never had these thoughts before you met that man. He's put ideas in your head about marrying someone in his own circles. A Weasley isn't good enough for you anymore," Ron hissed. His fists were clenched and he raised one in threat.

Harry caught Ron's hand, his eyes a brilliant green that seemed to dazzle Ron even as he struggled against his friend's grasp. "Stop it, Ron. This has nothing to do with your family's estate," Harry spoke, his voice choked with suppressed emotion.

Ron's chest heaved as he took deep breaths, the anger changing into disbelief. "It's true, then. You do think you can do better than Ginny. I cannot believe what I'm hearing."

Harry released Ron's hand and took a step back, keeping his eyes focused on his best friend's face. "Nor can I. Now I beg of you to calm yourself. Ron, please."

Harry would never forget the look in Ron's eyes-betrayal and jealousy struggled simultaneously with resentment and pride. His friend swallowed, making sure his voice was controlled before he spoke, his voice trembling. "Harry, tell me, please, if my friendship has meant anything to you. Why is his influence so much more important than mine? You've known him such a short time."

Harry looked away, cheeks coloring with something other than anger. "I can't explain it, Ron. Don't ask me this again, please."

Harry's eyes examined the ground beneath their feet, and the dead, dry grass baked golden by the summer heat. He did not see the immense hurt in Ron's eyes, but he could hear it in his voice. "Don't worry, Harry," Ron spat. "I won't ask anything of you again. Except for you to leave the Burrow as soon as it is convenient for you to do so."

Harry nodded, his fists clenched with suppressed temper. Regardless of his feelings, he was the one in the wrong. "I'll leave directly," he said quietly, and walked towards the house.

~_~

After informing the elder Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that news from town had reminded Harry of his long overdue responsibilities, Harry went to the stables. Finding the Weasleys' elderly servant, Errol, he informed the kindly old man that he would be leaving tomorrow for the North. After making his excuses to Charlie and congratulating Percy on his upcoming nuptials, Harry returned to his room and started packing. It was unfortunate that his sudden departure from The Burrow would mean that he did not have time to write and inform Sirius and Remus of his imminent arrival. Although he regretted leaving The Burrow in anger, he was looking forward to seeing his godfather and his companion again. Draco's enlightening perspective on his godfather's choices led Harry to believe that his godfather could be a source of aid not only in coming to terms with his feelings, but also how to deal with these feelings in polite and intimate company. He could be perfectly honest with Sirius and Remus regarding his relationship with Draco. However, how best to approach them was a source of contention.

A door opening caused Harry to look up from his trunk. Hermione appeared in the doorway holding a small letter and wearing an apologetic expression.

"My apologies, Mr. Potter. This letter came for you this morning. With all the excitement I did not remember to deliver it before now." She held it out for him, still regarding him carefully. Harry stood hastily and reached out for the letter, opening it quickly.

He recognized the hand immediately. His heart beat rapidly as he all too well remembered the last time the former Miss Granger had given him a letter from this person.

Dear Harry,

I apologize for the presumption of writing you so soon after your departure, and at The Burrow of all places. My father has lately returned from business abroad and announced, in the usual Malfoy Manner, that we are to go to Town for the Season. To my Mother's utter Disappointment, Miss Parkinson will not accompany us due to Familial Obligations-her own, for once.

I have enclosed directions to our London address in the hope that when you return North to that Godforsaken Hollow you will be Desperate enough for company to write to me. To further entice you, I've ordered the newest translation of Ovid's Erotique Poems, knowing how well you enjoy the Latin Poets, which I hope to interpret for you at length. I will prove to you, never doubt, exactly how Earthly your Spiritual Latin Poets are, just as I proved to you the Sensual Nature of the esteemed Mr. Donne. I remember precisely how Loudly and Enthusiastically you voiced your Agreement by the end of our Discussion. Do you?

I am, Yours etc.

Draco Malfoy

Post Scriptum: Tell Hermione what you will, but if she delivers this letter as I foresee, she will not be satisfied until she knows the contents.

Harry glanced up from the parchment to meet the unabashedly direct stare, knowing full well that his cheeks were burning from Draco's words of encouragement.

"May I inquire as to the nature of your letter, Mr. Potter?" Hermione said, her cordiality a thin veneer upon her curiosity.

Harry could not meet her eyes, opting instead to fold and refold the papers, focusing on the words written in Draco's hand. "A personal nature, Mrs. Weasley," he said, his voice cracking like a schoolboy's. He cleared his throat and continued. "And I would prefer to keep it that way, Ron's feelings towards Mr. Malfoy being what they are." He continued studying the parchment, his eyes widening as a sketch on the back of one sheet caught his eye.

Merciful Heavens. He squinted, barely registering that Hermione was asking him a question. Yes, that was definitely an ink sketch of two men coupling on a sofa. A specific sofa. And, if he dared remember, a specific incident.

"Mr. Potter?"

He gasped and looked up. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione regarded him, her brown eyes examining his face. "He's an amazing gentleman, Mr. Potter, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is." And brazen, to write such a provocative letter. And to include a lewd drawing on the back of one sheet. Had he no shame? He hastily folded the paper, praying that Mrs. Weasley was too occupied with her questions to have noticed his blush, or the reason for it.

Hermione did not seem to notice his discomfiture. Or if she did, she ignored it, as she continued in her questioning. "Did you enjoy Malfoy Manor?"

"Very much. It is a lovely estate." Not half so lovely as the man who stood to inherit it, however.

"Yes. With lovely grounds. Did you perhaps get a chance to swim in the lake?" She was teasing him now. There was a definite sparkle of mischief in her brown eyes.

Memories of the first time Draco kissed him came flooding back. "Erm, yes, I did. On occasion."

"I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Potter. Pray, when you write a reply to Mr. Malfoy, include my best wishes for his health and happiness." She turned then, as if unsure of her position or her old boldness, and clasped Harry's hand, squeezing it tight. "I wish you the same as well, Mr. Potter," she said earnestly. "Do take care of him, please," she pleaded, her brown eyes searching Harry's own for reassurance.

Harry nodded, the burden of Ron's reaction somewhat lightened by his wife's support. "Yes, of course, Mrs. Weasley."

She left him then, smiling sweetly, and Harry was glad for the time alone.

~_~

Taking his leave less than a month after his return was uncomfortable. Ron refused to see him off. Mrs. Weasley wished him a good voyage on behalf of herself and her stubborn husband. Harry was grateful for her easy smile the apparent understanding about Ron, and Draco. Miss Weasley made an appearance, and thus the infamous Mr. Creevey came also. He shook Harry's hand enthusiastically and his eyes were riveted to Harry's scar. When he proclaimed that he would love to draw Harry for his collection, Harry blushed and muttered a polite demurral.

His paid his compliments to the elder Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and stepped into the carriage, weary of travel and company and glad for once to be going home.

His true home.