Rematch

CHAPTER FIVE

Draco stabbed the spatula at the bacon sizzling away in the pan. He threw his arms up briefly, so that the sleeves of Alexei's shirt fell back out of the way, before returning to his task. A frown creased his brow, his lips pushed into a thoughtful pout. His hair was still wet from his shower, and was combed back, dripping water down the nape of his neck. The back of Alexei's white shirt with its widely spaced pale green stripes was plastered to his back by the damp. Occasional drips made their way down the back of his borrowed jeans, slung low on his hips and barely held up by his own belt. His feet were bare and cold on the granite tiles of Alexei's kitchen floor. Draco did not know what an appealing sight he made as he concentrated so fiercely on the bacon in the frying pan.

He shifted it tersely, flipping the rashers over and pulling his sleeves up again.

"Butty, or should I do eggs?" he asked shortly.

Alexei was leant against the counter, resting on his left arm whilst swirling something in a wine glass in his right. His dark green shirt was unbuttoned and made the green flecks in his amber eyes more noticeable. A black silk tie was hanging around his neck, with his trousers and belt being black also. He was watching Draco with mild amusement and curiosity.

"Eggs," he said finally, brushing hair out of his eyes.

"I never thought eggs were your thing," Draco replied bitterly, swapping the spatula into his left hand and cracking eggs into the pan with his right. "If I offered you fried tadpoles, maybe..."

He glanced over his shoulder with a brief, devilish grin, before returning his attention to the food he was cooking.

"Get me some plates, you lazy git," he ordered Alexei.

"Tadpoles?" Alexei echoed, raising an eyebrow and taking a drink from his glass. "Can't you get them yourself? I'm rather enjoying the show you're putting on."

"Making your bloody breakfast at three in the morning in your clothes and having a hissy fit?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow but not turning. "Remind you of the days when you actually bothered to bring girls back here?"

Alexei chuckled, pushing himself away from the counter and moving to the cupboard where he kept the plates. "You need to loosen up, Draco. Und girls do still come back here," he smirked, placing the plates he had retrieved next to Draco on the countertop followed by cutlery. "I just haven't let any recently, with you being here, you'd get lonely."

"I never used to get lonely when you had girls over here," Draco reminded him, scooping several rashers and two eggs onto each plate. "No one gets lonely in this house."

"Yes, but you we never so..." Alexei waved the hand with his glass elaborately. "Like this."

"Miserable? Lovesick?" Draco prompted. "So much of a sentimental prat?" He picked up his plate and hopped up to sit on the counter.

"Ja." Alexei picked up his own plate and speared some of the bacon with his knife. "Come to any conclusions yet?"

"Not really," Draco replied, shoveling some food into his mouth and pushing the pan off the heat with his foot. "Not much to conclude. I think they're going to expel me, and good fucking riddance. I don't want my NEWTs. What have I got left in the world that would make it worth trying?"

"You still have him," Alexei answered before eating the bacon he had speared. "But you're denying yourself that."

Draco nodded morosely, leaning back against one of the wall units as he chewed, gazing at the huge skylight in the ceiling of the basement kitchen. The sky was a rich velvet blue, studded with stars. The softly glowing clock on the wall showed that it was 3:14 am. They had both found themselves incapable of sleeping, and so Draco had volunteered to cook breakfast. Alexei had leaned against the door outside the bathroom while Draco showered, and had given him some clothes. His mere company was enough to soothe Draco to the point that he could think clearly about this.

Alexei sighed, rooting around in a cupboard for a piece of bread to wipe his plate clean with. "Why are you doing this, Draco?" he asked tiredly.

It was now going on three weeks since Draco had got in touch, and had asked if he could stay at Alexei's. In the whole time, Alexei hadn't managed to get anything out of Draco as to why. He knew the whole story, but not the reason behind it.

"Because I'm hungry," Draco answered, scooping the last rasher from the pan and eating it greedily. He knew perfectly well what Alexei was asking, but really didn't fancy answering it. He had avoided it so far, and it was becoming like a game he had played when he was very young. He had tried to see how long he could stay awake in a straight stretch. It hurt; he hallucinated, had headaches, his body practically shut down, but he kept going because he couldn't shake the idea from his head. He knew that if he just tried to explain to Alexei, then maybe things would make sense, but he couldn't do that. He'd lose the game.

Alexei rolled his eyes and wiped a piece of bread around his plate before eating it, and placing the plate in the sink where the House Elf would find and clean it later.

"You at least deserve an explanation, Draco," he said as he stretched his arms above his head, linking his hands and cracking his bones as he did so. "Can't you give yourself that?"

"I didn't take human biology. I don't know how to explain hunger," Draco replied.

He sighed, slipping off the counter and stacking his plate on top of Alexei's.

"I'm sorry. I'm not ready to think about any of it, at least not yet." He walked to the small flight of stairs, leading up to a higher section in the ceiling where French doors led out onto the patio. Moonlight spilt down across him, shining pale silver-blue from his hair. He put his hands in his pockets and turned.

"I know it's not how you've lived, but sometimes things that we don't like are good for us." He looked up out of the door again. "He's not doing me any good, and I'm doing him even less good. He'll be better without me. He deserves someone who doesn't piss him around like this."

The doorbell sounded.

"I'll get it," Alexei called up to Draco before walking out of the kitchen whilst doing up the buttons on his shirt, so he at least looked half-presentable. He ran a hand through his hair before opening the door and fixing his customary grin on his face.

"Hello?"

"Is Draco here?"

Draco froze at the familiarity of the voice. It couldn't be. That wasn't fucking possible.

Alexei blinked, letting out a long, low breath. "Aren't you supposed to be dead?" he asked pointedly.

"It's a failing I have," the man at the door admitted.

Down in the kitchen, Draco slumped back against the wall, eyes wide with shock.

Alexei smirked, stepping back from the door to allow Lucius entrance to his home.

"I wouldn't recommend talking to him just yet, he's been through a lot." He paused. "Although, he has probably heard everything anyway."

"Probably," Lucius agreed. He stopped. "Would you go and talk to him?" he asked, sounding apprehensive.

"Fine, fine," Alexei said, turning from the door to walk back to the kitchen and to the French doors. Alexei, for his part, was taking the knowledge that Lucius was alive and not dead like Draco had said, very well.

He slid the door open with one hand and stepped out onto the balcony. Immediately, he noticed Draco's position slumped against the wall and knew he had heard. "Draco?" he asked tentatively.

"Is that my father?" Draco asked in a dangerously level tone. His eyes were blank.

"Ja," Alexei said unsurely, stepping forward to place a hand on Draco's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? It's not like the bugger's dead," Draco said, and then laughed maniacally, banging his head against the wall.

"Nein. I'm sorry that I'm going to have to do this," Alexei explained, moving his hand to the back of Draco's neck and wrenching him upwards, knotting one hand in Draco's shirt and dragging him back to where he had left Lucius.

"I don't care why - or how - you've done this, Lucius, but you better fucking have a good explanation," Alexei snarled, pushing Draco forwards and remaining in the doorway.

"It was not my decision," Lucius replied flatly. "I promise you that I was perfectly happy where I was."

Draco stumbled forwards, closing his eyes before looking up slightly to Lucius and opening them. He dropped his gaze a tiny bit.

"You've shrunk," he said ungraciously.

"Going through hell and back will do that to a man," Lucius replied levelly. His hair had now grown to his shoulders, and was pulled back in an alarming likeness to his son. "You've grown."

"I had to," Draco said softly. "It wouldn't do to be the head of the family and be the same height as my mother. I suppose that doesn't matter any more. Gracious me, just about everyone seems to be back from the dead this season. Is it the 'in' thing?"

He turned, leaning against the wall and staring fixedly away from Lucius.

Alexei folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe. "Lucius, it's great to see you alive and all that, but you probably couldn't have come at a worse time, actually."

"Oh he could, trust me," Draco put in. "Fathers can always find a worse time."

Lucius ignored that. "I'm here for a good reason," he started.

"It better well had be," Alexei replied coolly, glancing over at Draco who was staring at the wall.

They waited.

"The good reason being?" Draco prompted quietly. "It's going to have to be bloody good, you know."

"I need to take you back to Hogwarts," Lucius sighed.

Draco laughed. "Fuck off."

"Draco's basically expelled," Alexei smirked slightly. "Told the old fart to fuck off."

"I'm glad to hear it," Lucius said, though he didn't sound it. He rarely did. Draco thought of pointing this out, but it would have been a fruitless repeat of something he had done when Lucius was alive... the first time around. Somehow, recognising that fact and saying something he had said before would seem like some kind of reconciliation attempt. Draco always avoided those.

"I'm not taking him back for lessons," Lucius said. "Not necessarily."

Draco's cackling laughter echoed through the building as he drifted halfway down the hall, pacing, laughing insanely as his mind tried to place what was happening. He accepted it simply because he didn't know what else to do.

"Oh and what are you taking him to school for?" Alexei scorned, following Draco's progress down the hall with his eyes.

"Potter."

Draco froze.

"What?" He turned, hunched, like an animal stalked, defensive.

"Fucking hell no," Alexei said suddenly, striding over to Draco and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You've missed a lot Lucius, Draco just can't go walking back into his life like this."

Alexei gripped Draco's shoulder in a sort of comfort. "There's more to it than that. Him - Draco, he needs to understand first. That much, is obvious."

"I can't explain yet, so it's either both of us or just me, but I am going to talk to Potter."

Draco's eyes narrowed and he laughed mirthlessly. He shook his head. "Fuck you. Just fuck off before I kill you again, and this time, no fucker's going to raise you. I'll bury you so fucking deep that they'll find you in Australia before they find you here." He stepped towards Lucius, pulling against Alexei's gripping hand. "You go and tell Potter what the hell you want, but keep him away from me."

"Draco," Alexei said sternly, pulling Draco back slightly. "Perhaps... perhaps it is better for Lucius to stay here for a while, until you at least have your thoughts in order."

"How am I meant to get them in order," Draco demanded through clenched teeth, "when everyone keeps whisking them up, grabbing hold of me and shaking me?" He gripped Alexei's wrist and started throwing himself back and forth, shaking his head rapidly from side to side. He looked like he was having a fit or something, snarling, teeth clenched and eyes screwed shut.

"Shaking - everything - up - so - I - can't - even - see for - all the - blood - running - down - the inside - of - my eyes. Just get out!" he shouted, throwing Alexei backwards and turning to his father. His eyes were filled with a manic gleam.

"Draco?" Lucius whispered, eyes filled with concern and fear. "Draco, are you alright?"

Draco roared with laughter again, then blinked, looking at his father shrewdly. His eyes were glazed with sick amusement. "Am I alright? Am I alright?" He laughed again.

Alexei went stumbling down the corridor only to fall flat on his arse while he stared on in shock as Draco began to laugh manically. "Shit," he breathed, standing up again and shooting a dark look at Lucius. "Out. Now," he hissed. "Get the fucking hell out of my House before you kill him."

Lucius took a deep breath through his nose, flaring his nostrils in distaste.

"I'll leave, but I'll be back for him," Lucius said.

Draco was spinning around, dancing madly on his feet, heels, toes, heels, toes, twisting, a light dizziness. He bumped against the walls, rolling down the corridor, laughing, twirling madly.

"Daddy's home, daddy's home, daddy's home," he sang, between bouts of screaming, coughing, laughing, singing, screaming, laughing, choking, sobbing, screaming, yelling, laughing, singing, sobbing, sobbing, sobbing.

He fell to his knees down the hall, fingers twisting together in his lap and head hanging down.

Alexei strode forward, wrapping his arms around Draco in a brotherly hug. "I suggest you return when Draco is not already crushed inside by one thing he can't understand."

"I will come back," Lucius swore, then Disapparated with one last pain-filled look at his son.

Alexei closed his eyes, holding Draco tighter to him as he rocked him back and forth slightly.

Draco stared at his hands, tears misting his vision. Whoever was fucking him up like this was doing a bloody good job. He buried his head in Alexei's shoulder, clinging to him like a child. He felt like a child, he felt lost, confused, hurt. Suddenly he'd been thrown out into a world he didn't - couldn't - understand. Everything was looming over him, and all he wanted was someone to look after him. Somewhere safe to hide.

Alexei forcefully kept his eyes closed tightly, resting his chin on Draco's shoulder whilst rubbing comforting circles on Draco's back to try and calm him down.

"Maybe... maybe I'm not the one you need right now," he said slowly, cautiously. "Maybe you need Potter. Perhaps he's the only one who can help you right now, and look after you."

He would not cry. Alexei did not cry.

Draco started to talk several times, but did not know what to say. He held onto Alexei.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "I don't want to be some kind of fucking nutter. I just want him back."

"I know you do," Alexei said softly, moving his head slightly, to dislodge the few tear drops caught in his eyelashes. "Look, you've got me crying now," he said fondly, now looking Draco in the eyes. "Can we get up now?"

Draco leaned back, wiping his thumbs under Alexei's eyes.

"Sorry," he smiled slightly. He rose stiffly to his feet and pulled Alexei up after him. "Will you come back with me, to get him?" he asked, still feeling like a lost child and not a seventeen year old.

"I think you should take Lucius," Alexei said calmly, as if he was talking to a frightened child.

"Fuck Lucius."

Alexei smirked. "Fine, I'll come."

"I knew you'd see it my way," Draco smiled indulgently.

Alexei smiled, wrapping an arm around Draco's shoulder. "Now, what we need is someway for an extreme entrance. And some 'special' clothes. How does leather work for you?"

"Hasn't it always?"

***

'Harry

Lots of things have happened, and I know that lots of them are my responsibility. I've come to realise that running from you isn't like rubbing salt into a wound. It doesn't help me. It won't heal me. I need you.

I'm not welcome at the school right now. I have yet to discover the length of my suspension. However, there is a seventh year ball at the end of the term - in just over four week's time. If you want to put this aside, to sort things out, I will be there, waiting for you.

Bis Dann

Draco Malfoy.'

Harry read through the note for what felt like the hundredth time. He had dragged the Quidditch team up early and had given them a grueling workout in the mud. After which they had traipsed for showers and Harry, having his own room and bathroom, had been the first to return to the empty Great Hall.

Harry, although he was tempted not to admit it, looked worse than he had in his First Year. He had hardly eaten or slept, and had managed to lose a lot of weight as the result. Purple shadows seemed to be permanent underneath his dull green eyes, and his hair had grown a lot since Draco had cut it so that now it always seemed to be in the way.

He'd been sat down little over ten minutes when a small tawny owl hand landed with a letter attached to its leg addressed to no-one. Taped to the note was a silver key that was painfully familiar.

"Harry, I swear you're trying to kill us," Ron said, traipsing in. He still had a spot of mud on the side of his nose that appeared to have escaped his ablutions.

"Maybe working off your excess libido does you good, but the rest of us could probably find more entertaining ways to deal with it," Dean added, following Ron. He had recently joined the team, and wasn't doing too badly. He often shouted football slogans and recommended red cards frequently, and tried fervently to explain the offside rule to Madam Hooch, but otherwise he was fine.

Harry looked up from the letter to smile at them both. "How did you guess, Ron?" he asked innocently.

Ron frowned. "Maybe you need some space."

"I wouldn't say that was the case," Dean said, taking out his wand. "Accio letter."

"Hell no!" Harry yelled suddenly, jumping out of his seat to grab the letter back off Dean.

Dean jumped, moving the hand holding the letter away.

"What's this, Harry?" he teased, grinning.

"It's... an important note from one of the teachers," Harry said, making things up as he went along. "Now give it back."

"Which teacher?" Dean asked, turning to unfold it.

"Uh, Dumbledore, it's not important," Harry said, reaching around Dean to grab hold of the note.

Dean relinquished it reluctantly. "You just said it was important," he pointed out.

Harry blinked, taking the note out of Dean's grasp slowly so it didn't get ripped. "Uh... yeah."

"I think you're lying," Dean stated.

Ron only had to glance at Harry's face to see who had sent him the note. He smirked slightly. If Harry was still here and looking fairly happy, it clearly had favourable contents.

"Drop it, Dean," Ron suggested.

Dean scowled. "You're meant to be on my side. You find out who it's from."

Harry held the note out of Dean's reach. "Not really, if you're on my side you find out, as I have the letter."

He stuck his tongue out at Dean and dropped back into his seat at the table as the first few students wandered into the hall.

Dean sat next to Harry promptly and shifted his chair right up next to him. He smiled winningly.

"You know Harry, I always thought you were a really great guy," he began.

There was a startled gasp from behind them and Harry turned around to see Seamus with his hands on his hips. "Dean!" he cried melodramatically. "I didn't know you were gay!"

Dean grinned, then assumed a look of shame before turning to face his friend. "I couldn't bring myself to tell you Seamus!" He rose to his feet, hands clasped before him. "The truth is, I love you!" he exclaimed, placing the back of his hand to his forehead.

Ron backed away from them all.

"Oh, Dean!" Seamus exclaimed, placing a hand to his forehead and looking like he was going to faint. "I love you too!"

Harry started laughing loudly at the two's display and reached for a piece of toast.

Dean threw his arms around Seamus' neck and kissed him soundly on the lips. He paused to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand.

"You two sometimes take a good thing too far," Ron suggested, looking slightly green

Seamus looked slightly startled but held it well, taking Dean's hand as he turned around and bowed to Ron and Harry before flouncing into a seat. "Good Morning, Harry. You look particularly..." he searched for a word.

"Shitty?" Harry offered, buttering his piece of toast.

"I was going to go with 'Happy' but, each to his own."

Ron laughed.

"He got a letter from a secret admirer," Dean advised Seamus. "Or maybe not so secret."

"You did?" Seamus asked, his eyes widening. "Who?"

Harry ducked his head and bit into his toast so he didn't have to speak.

Ron looked uncomfortable.

"He won't tell us," Dean complained. "I tried to steal it but he told me it was from a teacher."

Harry kept firm hold of the letter as he placed it in his jeans pocket, taking his time as he chewed his toast so he didn't have to speak.

Seamus looked thoughtful. "Does our ickle Ronnikins know anything?" he asked in a disturbingly good imitation of the Twins.

Ron opened and closed his mouth like a disgruntled fish.

"If I knew, I couldn't say," he said eventually, ears flaming red.

"Come on, Ron, we'll pay you," Dean offered, grinning.

Ron shook his head fervently, fixing his eyes on his plate.

Seamus looked at Ron suspiciously, then at Harry, then back to Ron. He looked at Dean pointedly. 'You think Ron sent it to Harry?' he wondered, hoping Dean would catch the drift of his thoughts.

Dean's eyes widened as he caught Seamus' glances.

"No way, he's not gay, is he?" he asked out loud, then slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Piss off," Ron snapped, blushing. "Of course I'm not."

"It's not Ron," Harry said finally, running a hand through his hair. "You'll find out four weeks from now, at the ball. And that's all you're getting out of me."

Seamus frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. "Four weeks is too long."

"Yeah, who are you going with?" Dean asked Seamus, obviously giving up on the topic of Harry's date until he could surprise him into answering... Or at least that was the theory.

"No clue," Seamus replied brightly, pouring himself some cornflakes.

"I'm going to ask Zabini's cousin," Dean decided.

"Zabini has a cousin?" Seamus asked suddenly, blinking. "Where is Zabini anyway? Didn't he like, disappear last year and hasn't been seen since?"

"Yeah," Harry replied unhelpfully, knowing that Blaise had been in the Dungeons of Malfoy Manor, and had either been killed or taken with the Death Eaters when they left.

"Yeah, girl called Morgana," Dean said dreamily. "At least he won't be here to beat me up over her," he added. "Though I do wonder where he went. Even Malfoy came back, but Zabini didn't. I guess he's dead too."

"Yeah, but everyone knew Malfoy was dead; no one knows jack shit about Zabini," Seamus added, eating his cornflakes.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Why so interested anyway? He might have just been transferred or something like that."

"They'd tell us, wouldn't they?" Dean frowned. "I'm not bothered, really. I just fancy his cousin."

Ron shook his head. "I don't think she's that good looking," he said. "A bit too freckly for me." He grinned, scratching his heavily freckled cheek.

Harry laughed. "Nah, freckles aren't good. Neither's tanned, really." He stopped suddenly, realising his slip and ducked his head as if he was in thought.

"You like 'em pale, do you?" Dean asked neutrally. Ron scowled at Harry.

Harry shrugged. "That fake tan spell is awful," he said coolly, looking at Dean thoughtfully.

Seamus pouted, as he had thought they were onto something then. "I might ask Padma, what about you Ronnikins?"

"I don't know," Ron admitted. "I'll see closer to the time. What about you Harry?" he put in, giving Seamus a sly wink.

Harry scowled at Ron. "I'm willing to bet you can guess. Everyone else can wait."

"Yeah, I already know," Ron admitted. "Depends how much they pay me, though."

Harry glared. "Don't."

Ron grinned. "How much is it worth to you?"

"Tell us!" Seamus burst suddenly, waving his spoon in the air at Ron. "I'll give you whatever you want!"

Harry ducked his head, murmuring something that sounded like "everything" but was too muffled to make out properly. He studied his hands.

"Seamus, all I want is you," Ron said earnestly.

Seamus wiggled his eyebrows. "That can be arranged."

"You'll have to fight me for him," Dean said, standing up.

"But I'll tell you both if I can have you both without any trouble," Ron bargained.

Seamus glanced at Dean, then to Ron, then to Harry who was still looking at his hands.

"Deal."

"Yeah, why not?" Dean said, grabbing hold of Ron and planting a sloppy kiss on his lips.

Ron yelped, pushing him away.

"I was kidding!" he shrilled, wiping his mouth and spitting. "I want cash for this beauty."

Seamus pouted for a second and then turned to Dean. "What's with you?" he asked suspiciously. "Six years and no kisses or hugs, and then now, you've kissed two guys and it's only eight in the morning!"

"I'm getting horny," Dean explained.

Seamus smirked. "Fun."

Dean grinned at him. "Just so you know, I'm not gay," he assured him. "I like you, mate, but not like that. It's just fun sometimes."

Seamus laughed. "I'd be scared if you hadn't said what you just did," he admitted, before turning to poke Harry with his spoon. "Harry, are you OK?"

"Oh? Um... yeah. Sure."

"Want us to take the burden of that letter off your weary shoulders?" Dean asked, slipping his hand into Harry's pocket with - suspiciously enough - practiced skill.

"HEY!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, grabbing Dean's wrist. "My letter. Be patient."

"I don't want to!" Dean whined.

Seamus snickered. "Just let it go."

"Make me."

Seamus grinned, bouncing around the table and pulling Dean's head around. He kissed him firmly, diving his hand into Dean's pocket at the same time.

"I've got your wand," he grinned, darting off and waving Dean's wand behind his back but keeping firm hold.

Dean chased after him, snarling.

Ron turned to Harry. "Is it from Draco?" he murmured.

"Yes," Harry replied once Seamus and Dean were out of hearing range. He pulled the note out from his pocket and handed it to Ron to read.

Ron scanned it quickly.

"Do you think it's definitely from him?" he asked. "I mean, isn't that German at the bottom?"

"He can speak more than one language," Harry replied, reading the letter again himself. "Mainly French, though he knows German, Italian and some others I think. His friend Alexei is German, though."

"Wonder why he put that at the end," Ron shrugged.

"Why not?" Harry asked, folding the letter carefully.

Ron shrugged again. "Fair enough. So no date to the ball for you? You'll have to turn down so many offers."

Harry snorted as he returned the letter to his pocket. "Me? Ha. He's the one who would be getting asked."

"Yeah, but he's not here," Ron grinned.

"Sadly," Harry murmured. "So that means I'll be asked? Right."

"He will be here," Ron said, but he looked doubtful.

"He will," Harry replied, his tone firmer. He idly dotted his fingers on the wooden table. "You just don't see him how I do, Ron. Once he stops being the cold Slytherin Bastard he's actually a nice guy."

Ron was about to say that, though he believed Draco would come if he said he would, he wasn't sure that Draco had said he would. How was Harry to know that it was indeed Draco who had sent that letter? What if it was another plot?

But then, he wouldn't think that if it was anyone else. Harry was right. He should just loosen up and trust Draco, even if the boy was insane.