Facade

Author Notes: Yes, two at once. These chapters are very separate in my mind, despite the fact that they're being posted at once. Thanks to, as always, my betas. Heidi, EQ, and LM. Three women I respect and love dearly and who never give up on me, or my fic, even if it's three months between chapters.

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Façade
Chapter Twelve
Scotch Rhapsody
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As the carriage rolled and bumped and jostled its way north, Harry pondered that there really was no landscape more beautiful than that of Godric's Hollow.

When the familiar peaks and hills came into view, Harry leaned out the window, moving to the edge of his seat with childlike eagerness. This was home, and he had been too far away from it for far too long. Errol pulled up the drive and Harry stepped out of the carriage, the feel of familiar soil beneath his feet making him smile broadly. One of his servants arrived breathless, alerted by the sound of a carriage, and Harry directed him to help Errol down from the driver's seat and invite him to sup with the rest of the staff that night.

"Harry!"

He turned around, his smile widening as he saw Sirius coming from the doorway towards him. He opened his arms and crushed his slighter godfather in a tight embrace. The emotional strain of his time away from his home caught up with him quickly, and he reveled in the security of being somewhere he belonged, with people who cared for him. Finally releasing the other man he couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"It's so good to see you, Sirius," Harry confessed. The homecoming was a joyous occasion, but it could not erase the previous weeks' lines of strain around Harry's mouth.

"And you too-but aren't you early? We did not expect you back for another two weeks at least." Sirius smiled fondly at Harry and ruffled his godson's hair. His own jet black hair-the only trait shared by godson and godfather-was pulled back in a neat queue. His clothing, while finely made, was also out of current fashion, but then, Sirius did not seem to care what was in fashion.

"I know. I left the Burrow in a bit of a hurry." The strained timbre was not lost on the man Harry considered to be his closest family.

"Problems?" he asked, arching a black brow. At Harry's miserable look he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder with a sympathetic smile. "Come inside, then. It's nearly time for supper."

Inside the large house that, even at only half the size of Malfoy Manor, was still enormous, Remus was seated in the back sitting room. With his graying hair pulled back in an unfashionable ponytail like Sirius', and with a sifter of brandy in his hand and a large leather volume on his lap, he looked every inch the man of gentle breeding Harry knew him to be. As Sirius and Harry entered, he looked up and immediately smiled. "Hello, Harry. Welcome home."

Harry smiled and as Remus set the volume aside, stood, embraced him with as much familial love as he had embraced Sirius. Remus did not seem surprised to see Harry as Sirius had been, but then, it took quite a lot to shock the mild mannered gentleman.

"Harry's left the Burrow in a bit of hurry, he said," Sirius related in a conspiratorial whisper, giving the other gentleman a significant glance.

"Oh, dear. Come and sit, Harry. Would you like some brandy? Wine?" Remus sat back down and watched the younger man with concern.

Harry attempted a smile and sat down on the sofa, rolling his aching shoulders as he let a bone deep yawn escape him. "No thank you, Remus. It's nothing, really."

"You left the Burrow over nothing? I find that hard to believe," Sirius said quietly. His blue eyes examined Harry for signs that would betray the reasons for his godson's sudden return.

All at once Harry felt the enormity of what had taken place while he was away and the heavy burden of everything he would have to explain. Tired from traveling, he did not feel up to sharing every event immediately. "Don't let's speak of it now. I feel a little road weary. I'm sure I'll feel better after a bath," he said.

Sirius and Remus exchanged another look. After a moment, Sirius nodded. "Of course. I'll ask Mrs. Figg to prepare a bath. In the meantime, just rest up, Harry. It's wonderful to see you again."

"Thank you, Sirius." Harry stood and walked towards the door. When he got to the doorway, he placed his hand on the wood and turned his head to look over his shoulder. He smiled warmly at his two friends. "It's good to be here. I hadn't realized how much I had missed this place."

Sirius smiled in return. "Welcome home, Master Potter."

~_~

Harry did feel better after a long bath, having rinsed away the dirt and grime from the road, as well as soaking his sore muscles. Toweling off and dressing casually, he decided to forego his waistcoat and jacket in favor of shirtsleeves. Skin still flushed from the hot bath, he traveled downstairs to find Sirius and Remus involved in a whispered discussion, their faces close to each other in the evening candlelight. There was a possessive gleam in Sirius' eyes as he spoke to the other gentleman, and Remus responded with a smile much warmer than that of a friend. The scene was so familiar to Harry from his time with Draco that he felt incredibly awkward. He missed that intimacy that he had experienced with Draco: feeling as if there was no world outside of each other's eyes.

"Am I . . . interrupting?" Harry said shyly.

Sirius turned his gaze and sat back casually, making sure there was a discreet distance between himself and Remus. "Of course not, Harry. This is your home after all."

Draco's enlightening remarks about Sirius' and Remus' relationship seemed so obvious now that he saw them for himself, and now that he knew from even his limited experience the boundaries of friendship and male intimacy in society. Hadn't he and Draco used those same tricks on Lady Narcissa? He gave Sirius a sidelong glance and moved to sit in the wing chair nearest the fire. "And yours and Remus' as well. Your intimacy is such that you might as well share beds."

The remark had its intended effect. Remus coughed politely and exchanged looks with Sirius, who tried to cover his flustered response.

"I've always been grateful for Remus' company here with me," Sirius said slowly, taking a long drink of his after dinner cordial.

"I'm sure you have." Harry smiled again and then turned his face towards the fire. He hovered on the edge of confession, brushing the damp tendrils of hair from his face in contemplation. When he turned towards them again, his voice had taken a more serious tone. "Is it difficult, Sirius?"

The older gentleman tensed visibly, his voice falsely innocent. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"Never marrying." Harry drew a deep breath before the words began pouring out in a steady stream, almost out of his control. "Having to supply weak excuses about taste and time and desire to explain that while you understand the importance of marrying and that ladies are all very beautiful and wonderful . . . you would much rather keep company with another man?" He finished in a rush, his eyes bright with emotion, searching his godfather's face for a connection, and understanding.

Remus carefully put his arm around Sirius, noting the shocked, but comprehending expression in his companion's eyes. "It can be difficult, Harry. But, if the man makes your senses swim, and your heart pound when you look at him…if you want to shiver at the sound of his voice and cry when he touches you. Then, perhaps, it's worth the difficulty," Remus said sincerely, answering for the two of them.

Harry was silent a long moment, absorbing this. Remus' confession acted as not only the voice of reason, but the voice of honesty. He had discovered his godfather's secret, but he had done it as an insider, looking for reassurance and advice. Harry looked up and smiled awkwardly at the two men. "Thanks."

"Oh, Harry," Sirius sighed, resting his face in his hands to rub his temples. "This comes as quite a surprise."

Remus stroked the other man's back, but kept his eyes on the young master. "Is that why you left the Burrow so early?"

Harry nodded miserably. "Yes."

"You and . . . Ron?" Remus said, glancing at Sirius in concern.

"Ron? Oh god. No, not Ron. Ron is very, very happily married," Harry said, laughing a bit.

Sirius lifted his head "Then . . ."

Harry sat quietly for a moment, and sighed, his voice barely audible. "I told Ron I couldn't marry Ginny. He didn't understand."

He brushed over the cruel insults they had thrown at one another to explain as simply as possible. "There's no excuse for my behavior. I led everyone to believe that I would marry Miss Weasley. I led Ginny to believe I would marry her. And my rejection, however kindly I attempted to make it, could not have been taken well."

Remus moved to sit on the arm of Sirius' chair, resting his arm on his companion's shoulder. "Is there a reason for this rejection, now, at this time?"

Harry hesitated, and then nodded. "Yes."

"And his name is?" Sirius asked, giving his godson a sidelong glance.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Draco Malfoy."

"Who?" Sirius frowned and shifted in his chair.

"The man I wrote you about. The man I met at Hogwarts. The friend of Miss Granger's-now Mrs. Weasley," Harry said quietly, amazed at how good it felt to talk about Draco to someone.

"But . . . you wrote us that you hated him. Didn't he, Remus?" Sirius said, still puzzled.

Remus only smiled. "It seems that Harry's opinion of him has changed. Just as my opinion of you changed, all those years ago."

Sirius smiled back and Harry watched them, recognizing the twist in his gut as envy, not disgust. He blushed as he watched the two of them share a private smile.

"How was it for you and Remus?" he blurted out.

The two men were startled out of their reverie by Harry's question. Remus moved from the arm of the sofa to the sofa proper and Sirius placed his hand on his companion's thigh. "Well, we knew each other growing up. Went to school together, experimented together." Remus blushed at that remark and Sirius laughed, shrugging. "It was natural. I've always known."

"Well, it was natural for Sirius, perhaps. I however, was not so sure. It wasn't until much later that I realized that the feelings I had for Sirius weren't just a young man's infatuation." Remus clasped Sirius' hand at the other man's indignant snort. "You see, I came from a very traditional family, and there was quite a lot of pressure to marry a nice, traditional girl. At last, I realized that my own happiness meant more to me than family, or name. But it wasn't an easy decision to make. And it's not one that I recommend without thorough contemplation."

"I've always thought I wanted a family," Harry said, leaning his chin on his hand. "Because I never had one of my own, you see. But now, I've seen how some families are. And how they can cut off all contact with other people. Now that Ron has a wife, he'll have little need for a best friend. I don't know if I could ever separate myself from the people I care about."

Sirius smiled sympathetically. "There is a reason marriage is regarded as a trap by most gentlemen of our class, Harry. Remus and I enjoy a certain amount of freedom in our confirmed bachelor states. We can socialize freely, travel, and spend time with the important people in our lives, like you."

"Were we married," Sirius continued, "we would have familial responsibilities, and would likely not be able to see each other, much less spend time with you."

"Will you tell us about this Malfoy?" Remus asked shyly.

Harry's smile was small, but genuine as he collected his thoughts about the man who had changed his life so drastically in only a few months. "Well, Draco is very proud. The first time I saw him he danced but two dances, one with Miss Weasley and one with Miss Granger. His manners are very fastidious-as a result of his breeding, you see-and he is capable of being extremely unpleasant when he wishes. But beyond all that public façade, he has this way of making me feel like . . . I matter. Me. Not my family or my name. But me. The real me."

Harry paused in his description, a little in awe of himself for speaking so freely and of Draco, for making him feel that way. He pictured the man in his mind and blushed. "He's absolutely breathtaking to look at, as well. Fine, silky blond hair. So blond it's almost white. Pale skin…" he blushed in remembrance of Draco's other physical attributes and continued his catalogue of his lover's virtues. "And Draco is very educated, but considering his heritage it's not surprising. The Malfoys are landed gentry. Malfoy Manor is easily twice the size of Godric's Hollow and in a prime location."

"So let's see. Rich, attractive, learned, and he obviously has good taste, if he has chosen you," Sirius said.

Harry blushed. "Yes, well. That part is a bit unbelievable."

"Why should it be unbelievable?" Remus asked.

"Well, you know. I'm nothing special." Harry said, shaking his head with a sigh. "You cannot convince me that it's anything but fantastic that a beautiful aristocrat would want to be with me, when he obviously has his choice of any men or women he could possibly want."

"But he wants you," Sirius said.

"Yes, well…" Harry trailed off.

Remus cleared his throat to tactfully change the subject, perhaps understanding Harry's doubt in Draco and himself. "When are you going to see him again?"

Harry smiled gratefully at Remus, but knew he was still flushed uncomfortably. Draco's attraction to him was something he was not ready to face yet. "I don't know. He's in London for the season. He gave me directions to write to him, but there's really no reason for me to go to London."

"Other than to meet with a certain gentleman," Remus suggested slyly.

"Remus!" The blush was back in full force. "Come, come, we're adults. We can take months of separation," Harry protested.

"Months? Has it been that long already?" Sirius asked.

"Well, not exactly. It's been twenty three days." Harry said defensively.

"I remember when James would count the days away from Miss Evans," Remus said. "How remarkable that this trait should be hereditary for Potters in love."

~_~

Harry wandered the grounds of Godric's Hollow one afternoon, almost a week after he had returned. He had just come from speaking with his steward, Dobby, about the rents from the tenants and the successful harvest they were having. Sirius had been only too happy to turn over a greater part of the overseeing of the estate to his godson. He felt important, needed, and completely at home. He also had the company of Sirius and Remus, who understood him better than he understood himself at times, and things to keep his mind busy. He should have been content.

But he wasn't.

Throughout every moment, waking or dreaming, Draco coursed through his being. Harry measured the days by how many hours he would last between thinking of the blond. Or thinking about not thinking about Draco. This kind of obsessive need, he concluded, could not be normal. It should not be possible for another person to enter his humors like a sickness from which he never quite recovered. Despite Sirius and Remus' obvious attachment to one another, he was not convinced that his feelings for Draco were natural.

It was ridiculous how eagerly he waited for Draco's correspondence, and how when the lengthy letters arrived at irregular intervals, he would spend the rest of the day filled with relief and excitement. Draco's letters generally contained large amounts of dry humor and scathing observations about various society members, as well as sweet, even romantic confessions of a passionate nature. He had not thought Draco was an artist, but the provocative drawings that always accompanied the letters made Harry blush with their explicitness.

They did write about Ovid. And Marlowe, Burns, Milton, and Blake. Remus walked into the library one night to see Harry madly writing out theories and interpretations, surrounded by stacks of books and crumpled paper. Draco was fascinating intellectually, and despite the hours of research it took for him to create a letter he felt worthy of Draco's attention, Draco never dismissed his theories. He hadn't worked this hard on anything like this since university, but Harry never felt pressure to be right with Draco. Instead, the pressure he felt was to be able to express himself as clearly as possible to the man who meant everything to him.

As his weeks in the North stretched into months, Harry grew more restless. It had gotten to the point where he would use any excuse to get out of the manor and into the countryside, even venturing into the nearby villages for supplies that Dobby could have easily sent another servant to purchase. The honest truth was that Harry was running out of ways to distract himself. With the harvest completed, and winter looming on the horizon, there was little to keep him occupied. And if Harry was not occupied, he would think of dangerous things. Like Draco Malfoy, lounging half naked in bed as sunlight streamed through the curtains, painting his pale skin with splashes of color like liquid butter.

There was no word from Ron, but Harry did not expect there to be. He was too busy thinking of ways to punish himself for hurting his best friend with his actions to think of how to apologize for them. Besides, it wasn't as if Ron was asking for an apology. Ron wanted Harry gone from his life, or so he had indicated, and Harry was determined to do his duty to his friend, no matter how painful it was to himself. In the same self sacrificing way, Harry was determined to not go to London to see Draco, although every day over the past month he had the same argument with himself between his desiring to go to London, and the emotional resistance to the idea, as there was no reason for the trip. Draco, after all, never indicated in his letters that he needed to see Harry, and certainly that meant his presence wasn't required. If he had been welcome at Draco's residence, the blond would have mentioned it, wouldn't he? Turning up in London without warning would not be a wise action.

There was absolutely no reason for him to go to London. None, whatsoever.

There was no occasion for such a journey either, until Sirius remarked casually one evening over dinner that the investments Harry's father had made before his death had matured, and with Harry's coming of age, needed to be either collected or reinvested in town.

"In town?" Harry repeated slowly, his pulse racing from just the thought of meeting Draco in London again.

"Why, yes, Harry. Correspondence simply won't do for such a large transaction. There's no telling who could be corresponding," Sirius said sagely, and Remus nodded in agreement.

"But, ah, how would me going to town be any different?" Harry hesitated. His reluctance puzzled him. Hadn't he been waiting for an excuse to go to London for the past month? Hadn't he desired Draco's company above all else?

"Harry, I knew your father since we were children together. There's not a day that goes by that I cannot see some semblance of his behavior in you, whether it be a glance or a posture," he smiled at Harry and nodded confidently. "Trust me, Harry. They'll believe you are James' son. The letters of introduction and agent's words will likely not even be necessary."

It took more convincing, but Harry at last gave in. The relieved look in Sirius' face when he finally agreed did not escape his notice. Whatever it might mean, Harry knew that financial investments would not be his main concern in London.