We Were Strangers

“Ron, stop being rude!” Mrs. Weasley chided, glaring at her son. “You know perfectly well that this is hard on everyone, but blaming people isn’t going to make anything better.”

Ron didn’t respond to this statement but slowly turned his chair away from the table so that the rest of the family was looking at his back, and Mrs. Weasley sighed in frustration. “Well then,” she continued, “I assume that you no longer wish to be a part of this conversation, so you can leave until you find a way to make some serious attitude adjustments.”

Ron snorted sarcastically. “Brilliant observation, mum,” he said darkly and jumped up from his chair to slam into the other room, where Harry heard him collide with something and then swear loudly.

Mrs. Weasley looked away tearfully, and Harry shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to say in the awkward silence, but Mr. Weasley saved him the trouble.

“Harry…why don’t you go talk to him,” he suggested quietly. “He won’t listen to us, and you’re his best friend. You know this kind of behavior really isn’t like him, but he’s probably just dealing with the shock of what’s happened…”

Mr. Weasley was referring to the events that had occurred earlier that morning, which undoubtedly had the potential to leave anyone in shock, but Harry knew guiltily that there was another reason for Ron’s feelings…

After reuniting with the rest of the family, Mr. Weasley had immediately investigated any possible harm from the threat that Harry had reported, and what he had discovered was far worse than any of them could have imagined…

Healer Brinkworth, whose portrait hung majestically on the wall of The Leaky Cauldron, was asked to visit his other portrait, which was conveniently located in the Weasley’s kitchen, and he returned with the heart-breaking news that the Burrow was in ruins.

“I couldn’t stay for long,” he reported sadly. “My picture was nearly shattered on the floor…but what I did see…is enough to tell you that the Burrow…isn’t the Burrow anymore…”

The Weasley’s were devastated, but none more than Ron, who seemed quite willing to use the disaster as a tool to relentlessly make Harry feel guilty about the entire ordeal without even saying a single word.

“I…I, er…yes, of course I’ll go talk to him…” Harry now stammered to Mr. Weasley, unsure of how to get out of the situation without making himself appear guiltier than he already seemed. “I’ll just…I’ll just head in there now, and, see what I can do.” He slowly rose from his seat and headed towards the other room, aware of Mr. Weasley’s eyes on the back of his neck, and when he entered the sitting room he saw Ron sitting in an armchair by the window, moodily staring out at the busy street below.

He cleared his throat, and Ron looked up in annoyance.

“Go away,” he snapped. “I have no interest in talking to you, or haven’t you noticed?”

“How could I not?” Harry replied. “The word glacial comes to mind…”

“Then take the bloody hint, why don’t you?” Ron spat, turning away again, but Harry closed the door and walked over to his friend, taking the seat next to him.

“Ron…he saved your life. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Malfoy. He really went out on a limb for you, you know…”

“You’ve told me this already,” Ron interjected. “I don’t know how to make it any clearer that I don’t give a damn.”

Harry sighed, mentally forcing himself to remain calm.

“You’re sitting here right now because of Draco Malfoy, and you know that’s true. He could be killed for what he did. The Death-Eaters already suspect him.”

Ron smirked unpleasantly and stared at Harry with an expression of grim irony.

“Oh, excuse me while a shed a tear,” he said sarcastically. “I mean, come ON Harry. This is Malfoy we’re talking out, MALFOY.”

Harry kept his tone as even as he could.

“He’s different now, Ron. I mean…I know better than anyone how he used to be, so shouldn’t I know better than anyone what he is now?”

Ron pursed his lips together tightly and shook his head in incredulousness.

“What happened to your parents, Harry? To Sirius? Almost to me? NONE of them can be trusted. I thought you knew that…but then again…I thought I knew a lot of things.”

His expression was so full of disappointment that Harry almost felt stung by it, and an immense feeling of sadness rose in the pit of his stomach.

“I understand why you feel like this,” he said patiently. “Believe me, I understand, but please just try to hear me out, ok? I’d do the same for you.”

Ron grunted in a non-committal way, and Harry took that as permission for him to continue speaking.

“I’ve learned things about Malfoy that I…well, that I never thought I would ever learn, things that I never would have believed to even be possible. He’s…he’s…well he’s been through a lot, a lot more than we ever gave him credit for, and…everything in his life, everything you hate him for, was planned out for him since, well, since birth I guess, but in the past few months, he’s SHOWN me how much he wants to change, and you wouldn’t believe how far he’s come…he’s not the same person, or maybe his is, maybe he’s exactly who he’s always been, only now he’s finally letting himself see who that really is. I mean…Ron, you KNOW me. You know I wouldn’t put everything on the line for someone I didn’t trust, and I DO trust him…and, well, he’s a part of my life now…but I want YOU to be a part of it too. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose my best friend…”

He broke off, and Ron shifted in his chair, looking unsure of what to do or say in response. Finally he turned to Harry, and his face looked slightly softer in the afternoon light.

“He’s a Death Eater, Harry,” he said. “It’s in his blood. That’s what he’s always going to be. I know that’s not who you are…so just…just tell me you’ll never see him again and I will TRY to move past this…”

“No, Ron, do you understand what you’re saying? If he can’t call Hermione a mud-blood, then you can’t say being a Death-Eater is in his blood. You are who you choose to be. That’s something that I thought you would know.”

There was an awkward silence, and Ron couldn’t seem to find a retort. He looked down at his trainers and cleared his throat, avoiding Harry’s eyes.

“Ron…I’m not asking for a miracle, I mean I’m not asking you to be his friend. I’m just asking you to accept him…you know, from a distance. Can you try to do that? Can you just try?”

Ron sighed deeply and pressed his hand to his head.

“Harry…I can’t. I can’t trust him. I just…can’t.”

Harry felt something shatter inside of him, and he rose from his seat, knowing that he had said everything he could to change his friend’s mind.

“Then…that’s it then, I guess,” he said dejectedly. “But keep this is mind, Ron. Make sure that you’re seeing the difference between what you want to be true and what actually is true…”

He glanced once more at Ron’s face and saw that it was twisted into an expression of confusion, as if he were fighting a battle in his mind.

Harry opened his mouth, but then closed it again, realizing that the ball wasn’t in his park anymore, and there was nothing more he could do. He started walking towards the door…

“Harry, wait…” Ron said quietly, and Harry turned. “I…no…I’ve lost enough without losing you too.” He looked as if he was using every ounce of strength to say those words. “I…well I guess I can…I guess I can try.”

Harry felt his heart beat speed up, and he watched Ron in amazement.

“I thought you said you couldn’t believe him…couldn’t trust him.”

Ron looked up and met Harry’s eyes.

“I thought you said I could.”

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“I am…disappointed, Draco,” Lucius said icily, glaring down at his son. “Your loyalty is faulty. I always knew you were an incompetent little fool.”

Draco hung his head in humiliation.

“I will not have you ruin the reputation of this family, do you hear me? You don’t deserve this, but you’re getting a second chance.”

Draco felt his breath catch in his throat, and fear started to creep through his body. In his world, a second chance usually ended up being less of an opportunity and more of a sentence...

“You will come with me,” Lucius continued, “and will be under training until you learn to control your ridiculous fancies. You will not see anyone, and you will not communicate with anyone, unless you have my explicit permission. You will be under constant supervision. Is that clear?”

Draco suddenly found himself having difficulty breathing. Every rational thought in his mind commanded him to nod his head obediently, but every emotion, every instinct, told him not to.

“I said, is that CLEAR, Draco,” Lucius spat. “Answer me, you ungrateful, worthless, little brat.”

But something curious was happening to Malfoy. He felt something inside of him snap, and then connect to something different…and he slowly shook his head.

“No…” he whispered, his legs shaking slightly. “No…”

“What was that, boy?” Lucius demanded, and Draco took a step away from his father.

“I said…no,” he spoke more clearly, raising his head. “For once, you listen to me. Ever since I was little, ever since you started telling me I wasn’t good enough, I wanted to please you. I wanted to make you proud. I wanted to be half the man I thought you were. Most of all, I wanted to be accepted, to find out where I belong, and now…finally, I’ve found it. The strange thing is that it isn’t here. It isn’t with you. I’m never going to BE you Father. I’m never going to do the things that you’ve done, and saying that makes me TWICE the man that you will EVER be.”

“You insolent little…” Lucius raised a hand to strike his son, but Malfoy was quicker. He whipped his hand beneath his robes and pulled out his wand, aiming it at his father.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Lucius sneered, but Malfoy held his gaze.

“Try me.”

“You have no where to go, you stupid boy. You won’t last five minutes before the Death Eaters find you.”

Malfoy shrugged.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“What are you going to do, just deny who you really are?”

Malfoy smiled a little sadly.

“No, Father, I’m going to stay who I really am.”

Without another word, Draco turned and sprinted towards the door, knowing that he had just had his last conversation with Lucius. Once outside, he continued to run, unsure of where he was going or what he was going to do. He simply…ran, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

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“How’s the pea soup, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asked, smiling at him over her cup of tea.

“Oh…er, really delicious,” Harry lied, forcing himself to take another bite and wishing that the waitress hadn’t convinced him it was the best thing on the menu.

“How’s yours, Ron?” he asked, and Ron shrugged his shoulders with a smile, his mood infinitely more pleasant than it had been earlier in the afternoon.

“Nice to see that you left behind your doom and gloom attitude, Ron,” Mrs. Weasley said, turning to her son, and Harry chuckled, glancing at the red-head in a knowing way.

“Yea, well, I figured since we have no home now, I’d better be nice to you lot or you’ll send me packing, and then where would I go?”

Mr. Weasley smiled, but it was a tired smile, and he exchanged a glance with his wife that told Harry the conversation they had all been avoiding had finally found an opportunity to squeeze itself into the small talk.

He was right.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. “Speaking of which…” he begin in a falsely cheery tone, “We do need to start brainstorming about what we’ll do now that…well…now that we’re…in the market for somewhere to stay. I mean we certainly can’t live in The Leaky Cauldron for the rest of our lives, now can we? I was thinking that tomorrow morning we can go to-”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He had suddenly had an idea, a potentially wonderful and genius idea. “How could I not have thought about this earlier?” he marveled to himself. Dumbledore had ensured that it did, indeed, belong to Harry, and it currently wasn’t being put to any use except for the occasional meeting…It would be safe too, protected and secure, which is exactly what the Weasley’s needed given their present situation. It was…the perfect solution.

“Grimwauld Place,” he said out loud, and the entire family looked at him.

“What was that, Harry?” Mr. Weasley questioned curiously.

“Grimwauld Place,” he repeated with a smile. “I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before! We can all stay there. I’ll be of age soon, so I’ll need some place new to live other than the bloody Dursley’s. It’s exactly what you need, and no one’s living there, so I don’t see why we shouldn’t put it to use, right?”

The Weasley family looked shocked at this pronouncement.

“But…Harry, we couldn’t. It belongs to you now…” Mrs. Weasley said, but Harry shook his head forcefully.

“No, no, it may belong to me in name, but it’s all of ours. We all used it, we all fixed it up, and besides, if I’m the only one there, it’ll just slowly become ruined again. It’s the perfect situation! You all live there, help keep it in order, and we all prophet!”

Mr. Weasley nodded slowly and looked around the table at his wife and son.

“It does seem ideal,” he admitted, “and it is a fairly large place, so we could all comfortably live together, if…well, if you’re sure Harry. I don’t want you to think you have some sort of an obligation…”

Harry laughed.

“Please! It’s you who’ll be doing ME the favor. My choices are pretty limited, you know. I could stay with the Dursley’s, I could live in Grimwauld place by myself, or I could live there with all of you. I’m leaning towards choice number three, myself.”

Mrs. Weasley laughed.

“Well, when you put it that way, dear...”

“We’d love to take you up on that offer, Harry,” Mr. Weasley finished, clapping Harry on the shoulder, “and we’ll be eternally grateful for this, I want you to know.”

“Ron?” Harry asked cheerfully, “Is that ok with you?”

Ron grinned with actual sincerity, and Harry suddenly felt very light and carefree, as though somehow everything would work out. Somehow, everything would come together again…

“Oh and before I forget, an owl came for you today,” Mrs. Weasley said, handing Harry a piece of parchment across the table. “Big, tawny thing. Didn’t look familiar.”

Harry swallowed quickly and grabbed the letter, feeling nervously as though he already knew who had sent it. After all…who else would be writing to him right now?

He saw Ron looking at him warily, and slowly he unrolled the paper, reading the message hurriedly as he did.

He felt his insides flutter and dance in a most unpleasant yet gratifying way, and he politely excused himself, giving Ron a significant stare that said, “Follow me.”

“What the hell?” Ron whispered when they were alone in the adjoining room. “What’s going on?”

Harry swallowed again, nervously looking into his friend’s eyes.

“I…er, you know when I said…when I asked you to, uh, accept Malfoy, from a distance?”

“Yes,” said Ron suspiciously, “What of it?”

Harry shifted anxiously.

“Well…er…that distance might not be as far away as you thought…”

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“God, this place is psychologically damaging,” Malfoy said, staring at the portrait of Mrs. Black that still hung in all its glory on the wall of Grimwauld Place.

“Shh!” Harry hissed, “The Weasley’s are all asleep, and they CANNOT know that you’re here, well, except for Ron of course, but I’m not keen on reminding him, so keep it down, ok?”

Malfoy grinned.

“Ok, ok. I’ll keep it down. I still can’t believe that he knows, though…how humiliating.”

“Shut it,” Harry said, giving Malfoy a playful shove. “You’re lucky I convinced him not to murder you in your sleep. I’m not even sure I DID convince him, actually.”

“Well, I’ll be on my guard,” Malfoy said with a smirk, “and where AM I sleeping, anyway?”

“There’s a room I picked out upstairs. No one ever goes in there, because it’s one of the few places that we couldn’t clean, so it’s filthy. We pretty much just keep the door locked at all times.”

Malfoy groaned.

“Oh goody. I can hardly contain my excitement.”

“Hey,” Harry retorted, “Be grateful that you’re here at all. Do you know what I had to go through to convince Dumbledore to write you directions? He’s the Secret Keeper, so I had to assure him that we could trust you, and believe me, it wasn’t easy.”

“I thought you were Dumbledore’s golden boy?” Malfoy teased. “He was probably tripping over himself to write the directions so he could make his prize student happy.”

“Stop being such a wise ass,” Harry said severely, pushing Malfoy towards the stairs. “And for your information, he apparated here to talk with me for FIVE straight hours before he agreed.”

Malfoy laughed quietly.

“Well, I’m here now,” he said, “and all kidding aside, Harry…I’m really grateful for this. It’s been a rough one…I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for you.”

Harry tenderly rested his hand on Malfoy’s shoulder and smiled.

“Ladies and gents, we have a moment of humility from Draco Malfoy.”

Malfoy laughed again and leaned in to lightly kiss Harry’s neck.

“Don’t let it get around. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and savored the moment for a brief second before starting for the stairs again.

“Come on Casanova,” he teased, “bed time.”

“Casa-who?”

“Yea…never mind. Let’s get a move on, shall we?”

Malfoy grinned and followed Harry up the stairs, feeling a sense of freedom swell in his chest that had been dormant for far too long.

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“Well, it’s not exactly paradise, but it’ll have to do,” Malfoy said, eyeing the layers of dirt and grime that coated the walls of what was now his bedroom. “At least I’ll have something to occupy myself with when the Weasley’s are home.”

“Good luck cleaning any of THIS,” Harry said darkly, and Malfoy groaned again, flopping down on the old bed and lying back with a sigh.

“It sure beats the alternative though,” he said, and Harry smiled into the darkness, suddenly feeling a wonderful swooping sensation in his stomach that Draco was here…in his house…to stay, at least for a while anyway. He wondered if it had quite sunk in yet for the other boy that THIS was home now, at least more than his father’s house would ever be again…

“Draco…” he said quietly. “Are you sure that you’re…I mean…you’re ok? You’re ok with what’s…happened? With your father?”

Draco didn’t speak for a few moments, and Harry wondered if he had stepped out of place by bringing up the sensitive topic…

“I’ll say this,” Malfoy began, “and then I have to ask you to never talk about my father with me again, Harry, ok? I feel cleaner and safer as I’m shut up in this disgusting room than I EVER felt in that Manor with him.”

Harry nodded conclusively, and felt momentarily amazed by Malfoy’s courage and strength. “Not many people could do what he’s done…”

“Well…I’m proud of you,” Harry said gently, trying not to sound patronizing. “What I mean is…I’m…I guess that is what I mean…I’m just proud.”

Malfoy stood up and walked slowly over to Harry, looking beautiful in the moonlight. When they were standing face to face, he reached up to touch Harry’s cheek, delicately, as though he were touching glass.

“You know, Harry…” he said with a half-smile, “you could possibly be the only one in the wizarding world who believes in me…who has faith in me…and…that’s enough, that’s more than enough.”

Harry leaned in to kiss Draco lightly on the lips, cupping his face in one hand and running his fingers through Draco’s hair gently.

“Get some sleep, ok?”

Malfoy let his fingers drift down Harry’s chest suggestively.

“Aren’t you staying?” he asked in a husky whisper, and Harry groaned.

“Draco…I can’t…the Weasleys…”

Malfoy was now slipping his hands beneath Harry’s belt, sensually brushing the tender skin with the tips of his nails and causing Harry to shiver and lean back against the wall for support.

“I…I…can-”

But Malfoy cut him off by leaning in and pressing his lips furiously against Harry’s, crushing him against the wall with an intensity that took Harry’s breath away.

“You can,” he finally said after a few seconds, and Harry nodded weakly, unable to do anything other than what Draco wanted him to do, what HE wanted to do.

Malfoy brushed his lips against Harry’s ear, whispering words that made Harry feel light-headed and giddy, nearly collapsing as his knees started to buckle, but Draco’s body kept him in place.

“I…oh God, Draco…”

“Shhh…”

Harry suddenly felt something cool against his chest, and he looked down to see Draco’s wand slowly moving down the length of his torso, unbuttoning his shirt as it went.

“Nifty little spell I picked up,” Draco said in explanation, grinning at Harry, and Harry grinned back.

“I don’t even want to KNOW where you picked that one up.”

Draco moved in again and pressed his bare chest against Harry’s, making Harry gasp again in beautiful agony.

Slowly sliding down the length of the wall, he finally let himself rest on the cold floor, pulling Draco down on-top of him and feeling a sense of uncontrollable desire ripple through his muscles like fire. There was nothing except now. There was no need except his need to be as close to Draco as possible. There was no other existence in the world except for two boys passionately creating something magical in an old, dark, and abandoned room…

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Sorry it took so long people!!