A Fine Line

Warnings: Rating is for subsequent chapters, H/D slash, substance abuse.

Author's note: Many thanks to my ever-patient BETA, Oldoverholt, and to Peter and Travis, thanks for sharing your story.

A Fine Line

Prologue

The Handshake

Three years ago...

Harry walked across the Great Hall toward Ron and Hermione where they sat at one of the long tables among a group of DA members, all of whom were looking tense. "It's all arranged," he told them in a near-whisper, sitting down on the bench between Ron and Neville. "The Order will be in Hogsmeade at exactly six o'clock, and we're meeting Tonks and Mad-Eye there. The last Horcrux has been destroyed. The last remnant of Voldemort's soul is all that's left. The rest of the plan is in their hands." The others nodded somberly and whispered among themselves, occasionally looking up at the Staff Table where Dumbledore and Snape sat with equally serious expressions.

The group relaxed a bit as the serving dishes filled with food for the evening's casual meal, but Harry noticed Ron's eyes narrowing as he looked toward the aisle between the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables. He turned to look over his shoulder, and saw Draco Malfoy walking toward them with a look on his face Harry had never seen before. Definitely not his trademark sneer. "Potter, a word please?" Ron, Seamus and Neville had all come to their feet, their wands out.

Harry considered briefly, and then nodded. He made shushing gestures to the others, then stood and followed Malfoy out into the Entrance Hall to the corner by the hourglasses imbedded in the wall. He leaned against the Gryffindor hourglass, filled with sparkling rubies, and asked, "So, what is this about, Malfoy?" He crossed his arms in front of him and looked inquiringly at Draco.

"Look, Potter, I know we've never gotten along, but I know what your group is about tonight. I can help you."

Harry snorted. "Why should I believe you of all people?"

Malfoy sighed and leaned against the Slytherin hourglass, his blond hair silhouetted against the emeralds it contained. "Look. I know things," he said, looking uncomfortable. "My father was involved in things. Things that I don't believe in, but I have no choice but to behave as if I do, because of what he believes, you see? I know what The Dark Lord has planned; how he is going to trap your people in the High Street. I can't do what they want me to do tonight. I won't do it. I just hope that my godfather won't suffer the consequences." His voice quavered slightly, and he put his hands to the sleeves of his robe, pushing them up to reveal pale skin on both forearms. "Potter...I haven't taken the mark. I don't believe in what they are doing. I believe in you." He took a deep breath, and extended his right hand slowly. "Please, Po...Harry. Let me help."

Harry looked at him closely with narrowed eyes. He seemed sincere, but Malfoy had proven to be rather tricky and devious during the time Harry had known him, and when had he ever offered to help with anything? He was opening his mouth to tell Malfoy to go fuck himself, when he saw a glint of something unexpected in Malfoy's eyes. His head screamed NO but his heart urged him to move, and he put out his hand and clasped Malfoy's. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he said, softly, "but I think you're telling me the truth."

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Six Months Later...

Harry reached up and got a grip on the triangle of metal hanging over his hospital bed and attempted to pull himself upright with it, moving his hips in an effort to rearrange his left leg which was immobilized in a bulky brace. "Damn!" he spat, as the covers shifted and he ended up exactly where he had started. He let go of the trapeze with an annoyed flip of his wrist, sending it swinging. He looked up at the sound from the doorway, and saw Hermione and Draco in the doorway, smiling at him. "Think this is amusing, do you?"

"Hilarious," said Hermione, dryly. "We're here to try to finalize these plans before we lose our deposits on everything, or you two change your minds." She and Draco approached the bed and she opened a book of formal wear in Harry's lap, gesturing to several pages with folded corners. "See what you think. There are also some pictures of cakes and menus for catering. You have to make the final choices today."

Draco's hand appeared in his, and squeezed. Harry chewed his thumbnail, a fine line creasing his forehead as he looked at dress robes. "I like the black robes for Draco, with his coloring, but I think I like the emerald ones for me. They would have looked good on Ron, too." He looked at the expression on Hermione's face, and immediately said, "Oh, Hermione...oh, I'm sorry."

Hermione nodded, biting her lips, and said, "Yes, they would have looked lovely on him. And you two will be dashing as well. I'll get them ordered right away, so we can schedule the alterations." She scooped up the book and left the room, her hand over her mouth.

Draco moved the wheeled table from in front of Harry, and sat down on the bed beside him. "You shouldn't have said that, Harry. It's still too soon." He sighed, and rubbed his forehead.

"I know," replied Harry, looking away. "It just slipped out. I can't believe he's gone. I didn't mean to hurt her... I just can't believe I'll never see him again." He leaned into Draco's arms, and tiredly allowed himself be held. Harry still could not believe that Ron, his best friend in the world, was dead.

Draco had indeed been telling the truth six months ago when he had revealed the details of Voldemort's plan to ambush the Order of the Phoenix, and with his information they had been able to plan a counter attack that the Death Eaters had not been expecting. Draco had stood behind Harry as he had cast the spell that had defeated Voldemort, and had caught him as the Death Eater's collective attack had dropped him to the ground. Other Death Eaters there had killed Ron and Neville, as well as Luna Lovegood. No one had been able to find out what spells they had used on Harry for several days, and he had remained in a protective sleep induced by potions for over two weeks until they had deemed him sufficiently recovered.

Draco had been devastated by Harry's injuries; he had been so determined to protect him and prove himself an ally that he had held a vigil of sorts at Harry's bedside, leaving only for the bathroom, even taking meals in Harry's room. He proved his newfound dedication to Hermione as well during the days that followed, and had even provided physical support during Ron's funeral, when it seemed her legs would simply not hold her up.

Harry had eventually awakened, and that left the three of them with the difficult task of coming to terms with their complex feelings. Harry had trouble dealing with Hermione being so friendly with Draco, and Hermione had trouble with Harry having trouble with it. Harry tried desperately to accept the fact that Ron was gone, but he had not seen Ron's body, or the funeral, and in his mind he was able to deny this terrible thing. Draco finally confessed to Hermione with some embarrassment that he had asked Colin to take a few pictures during the funeral, and instead of hexing him, as he had anticipated, she hugged him fiercely and they both had sat with Harry as he looked at them. They were not morbid at all, she decided, but they left no doubt in Harry's mind that Ron was dead. There was the evidence in not-living, not-moving color, and Harry had cried bitterly as the truth finally sunk in. Draco had held him as he had sobbed until he had fallen asleep, completely exhausted.

Hermione recognized at that point that there was something special between him and Draco, whether they wanted to admit it or not, and had aggressively nurtured it. So aggressively, in fact, that Harry and Draco were planning a ceremony of commitment, which was to be held as soon as Harry was up and walking again. Lucius Malfoy had not been pleased at the idea of his son pursuing a relationship with The Boy Who Lived Much Too Long, and had been quick to let Draco know it, but Draco had told his father in no uncertain terms that he was a wizard of age, and as such, followed his father's rules no more. "I mean you no disrespect, Father, but my relationship with Harry is something that is not negotiable." Harry had been determined to legally take Draco's name, even though they would not be legally married. Draco, although secretly pleased to no end, had refused to let him do it, insisting that he keep Potter, in honor of his parents and the sacrifice they had made for their son.

They had decided, each for his or her own reasons, not to return to Hogwarts for seventh year, and they began the process of building their new lives. Draco sought a position with the Ministry. Hermione began studies as an assistant mediwitch having taken her N.E.W.T.'s early, which surprised no one. Harry went to rehab. The therapy was agonizing at times, but he stuck through months of it, screaming, grunting, swearing, sweating, and crying. With Hermione and Draco there, he took his first painful steps on crutches, biting his lower lip bloody, with his therapist, Steve, cheering and crying for him. As he dropped, exhausted, into the wheelchair he looked at Steve's elated face and thought, I want to do that. I want to feel glad for someone else's accomplishments and know that I helped.

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Two years ago...

Harry stood in the kitchen and leaned tiredly on his crutches, looking out the window overlooking the little garden. He had wandered through the house in silence and had returned to this room, and the view. The flowerbeds were a riot of color, with tomatoes, strawberries, and runner beans intermingled with the bright flowers. He smiled at the thought of picking his own lunch from that adorable kitchen garden. I love this house... He moved over to the door overlooking the large back porch, and supported himself on the frame, tugging to adjust the stiff brace that still supported his left knee.

Draco came into the kitchen shaking his head. "I've looked all around this house, Harry, and I just don't think this is the place for us." Harry looked up, surprised, but let him continue. "The living room is much too small, the master bedroom is upstairs...you aren't ready for stairs everyday, and there's only room in the driveway for one car. It just won't do. I'm going out to tell the realtor that we're going to keep looking."

"Draco, are you mad? The loft bedroom is lovely, plenty of room, with our own bath. I can do stairs pretty well now," he said, gesturing to his crutches, "and the brace comes off for good in a month. I can sleep downstairs temporarily if I need to. There's a nice sized spare room. The kitchen is perfect, the strawberries are ripening in the flowerbed, the living room and the study can be combined by knocking out this wall," he said, gesturing at the offending wall, "and I love it." He looked at Draco pleadingly. "Please? I really do, it just feels like home."

Draco sighed. "I guess there's no point in trying to explain that I work in London, you will be studying in London, we should live in London? I don't want to live in the arse-end of nowhere." Harry snorted. "And, there's nothing near here. No cinema, no restaurants, no pub..."

"Draco, we don't go to pubs. There are apparition points close to the university, so traveling to classes won't be a problem. I don't start school for another few months anyway." He looked curiously at Draco. "Don't you love the quiet here?" He pushed open the back door and listened to the silence. "It will be private and perfect."

Draco turned and looked out the window to the garden, shaking his head. "It's too remote. What if you need a healer? What if you have a problem at home and I'm in London? I don't want to be that far away from you, Harry."

Harry moved forward and slid his arms around Draco, pressing his lips to Draco's neck. "Please, just look around again. I love this house." He stepped back to lean on the doorframe again and began ticking off points on his fingers as Draco turned to face him, shaking his head. "It's perfect. Look...one...there are apparition points in the hospital, two...you hate the cinema, three...we really do only have the one car and we almost never drive it, four...mobile phone, and five...you apparate to the ministry to work. It's not nowhere, for heaven's sake, it's Wothingham upon Sea, and if that doesn't sound like a Malfoy place to live, I don't know what does. I'm doing much better now that my therapy is finished, I'm hardly taking the pain medications, and I'm walking better every day; I'm not fast but I'm not frail, Draco. Besides, Hermione's house is only a mile or so across town, Severus is available in case of an emergency, and it's just lovely here." He put his forehead to Draco's, and looked into Draco's gray eyes with his endless green ones, blinking his dark lashes slowly. "Please? For me?"

Draco growled, shook his head, and went resignedly outside to tell the realtor that of course, they would take the house.

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