Chapter 5 - The World He Left Behind

“Ready?”

Harry had his wand aimed between Draco’s eyes, ready for the go-ahead. Fighting the urge to turn away, Draco swallowed down the lump in his throat.

“Yeah . . . I mean yes.” Even though the change would only be temporary, it still unnerved him. He had never been without his blond hair. It was his security blanket, his only link to the past, the only part of his old life that still remained with him. And to have that taken away, if only for a few hours, made him feel naked.

Potter spoke the words of the spell and instantly Draco felt a tingling sensation spread from the middle of his forehead to behind his eyes. He closed them at the flash of white from the spell and when he opened them it was to find Potter’s perfect face only inches away from his. He brought his palms up to Draco’s cheeks and pulled his face forward until their noses bumped. Harry cracked a smile. “Christ, Malfoy. You look completely different.” He stepped away giving the blond a clear view of the mirror.

Draco took a step forwards and stared at himself. Well, that was certainly different. It changed his whole face.

“Ready for the hair now?” Harry asked from behind him. Draco ran a hand through his hair and nodded. This would definitely be the hard part.

“Uh . . . yeah.” Harry gently grabbed a fistful of hair and cast the spell.

Draco watched as the brown color spread from root to tip, like a river of chocolate devouring the strands. He pulled a lock of hair into his face and gaped at it.

“Well, what do you think?” Harry ran a hand through Draco’s newly dyed locks.

“I’m still bloody hot, aren’t I?” he answered with a grin.

“Yeah, keep dreaming, Malfoy,” Potter said playfully and pinched him lightly on the arm. He followed Harry out of the master bathroom and into his bedroom and grabbed the proffered cloak, slinging it over his arm. They walked out of the apartment and down to the sidewalk where the muggle taxi they had ordered was waiting. Once they were settled in the back and making their way through the London streets, Harry spoke.

“Nervous?”

“No.” The response was so quick, he knew there was no way Potter was going to buy that. One look in his direction proved it. “Okay, a little bit,” he offered when he saw Harry open his mouth to protest.

“It’ll be fine. No one’s even gonna recognize you.” He placed a hand on Draco’s knee and squeezed lightly. “Trust me.”

Draco nodded. “I do.”

The taxi dropped them off a block from the Leaky Cauldron. Harry paid the driver as Draco stepped out onto the busy muggle street. With each step he took, Draco felt the knot in his stomach tighten further. He chanced a glance at Harry and felt a sort of calm come over him at the content look on the other man’s face. The corners of his lips tugged up in a small smile and he walked with the confidence of a man who knew exactly who and what he was. It was odd. Draco had been used to the awkward gait that seemed to follow the boy in his younger days.

“Pole, Malfoy,” Harry said so suddenly that when Draco finally processed the words he was seconds away from walking face first into a lamppost. Harry grabbed his arm at the last second and yanked him out of the way. “It’s not nice to stare, you know,” he said, a tinge of amusement in his voice. He looked over at him and grinned.

Draco scowled. He had almost made a fool of himself. So much for calm, cool and collected, he thought. He straightened his back and tried to still his shaking hands as they approached the pub.

The Leaky Cauldron looked exactly as he had remembered it: dark, shabby and plebeian. True, he had only set foot inside the establishment once, but the impression that one day had left remained with him for years. The only difference now was the person behind the counter. Instead of the bald, toothless Tom, a woman with dark red hair stood cleaning glasses. The second she caught sight of them, she beamed.

“Well, long time, no see, aye, Potter?” She put the glasses down and walked out from behind the counter, grabbing Harry in a fierce hug. He hugged her back, laughing and then pulled away to look at her.

“Well, look at you. You’ve really grown up, Ginny.”

Ginny. The youngest Weasley. Draco clearly remembered her. She was the feisty one. He still hadn’t forgotten those ambushes on the train.

“So where’s that husband of yours?” Harry asked her.

“Ran off with Seamus somewhere. Probably arguing over who’s going to win the World Cup this year.”

“Like old times,” Harry said wistfully. Draco cleared his throat, angry at the fact that they had yet to acknowledge his presence. “Oh sorry. Ginny, I’d like you to meet–”

“Christian,” Draco cut in. He fell into a perfect French accent and saw Harry glance at him strangely. “Nice to meet you.”

Ginny smiled and the two shook hands. “So how do you two know each other?” she asked, curiosity evident in her eyes.

“Church actually. It was pouring that night and I walked in to get out of the rain for a while and there he was.” Draco looked at Harry and smiled. Harry smiled back and for a moment, there was nothing but the two of them. He turned his eyes away, remembering Ginny. She looked between the two of them, a coy smile on her face.

“Wait. Are you two . . . no!” She looked absolutely thrilled. “You are!” She grabbed each of their hands and just grinned. The two men looked at each other, mouths hanging open. She thought they were . . . lovers? An odd sort of thrill came over him at the thought and he felt a streak of recklessness go through him.

“Yes,” Draco said shyly. “It hasn’t been very long but,” here he leaned forward and whispered, “I can see myself falling for him.” When the two pulled apart, Harry looked sulky.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Draco answered. The two giggled as Harry glared.

“We should get going,” he announced, scowl still fixed on his face. He gave Ginny a hug and headed for the entrance to Diagon Alley. Draco said a quick goodbye to Ginny, who wrapped him in a hug, and headed out the back door to find Harry. He was leaning against the wall of the pub, cigarette to his lips.

“So . . . what was that all about?” he drawled.

“It was a joke. Nothing to be upset about. I was just playing along. I’m supposed to be someone else today, right?”

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing. It was just silly.”

He threw the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe. Three long strides and Harry was standing only inches from him. “I don’t like secrets, Malfoy,” he whispered in Draco’s ear.

Harry walked over to the brick wall and tapped out the combination. Draco watched the bricks rearrange themselves until they formed an arch in front of him. Harry stepped forward, ready to step into the alley when Draco grabbed him by the arm. He turned and glared at the man but Draco wasn’t backing down.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Harry. I need you to help me today. Please.” He didn’t like to beg, didn’t like asking for help from anyone but what choice did he have? With no money, no magic and no clue what the exact address of Harry’s apartment was, he was completely lost without the other man. Harry’s eyes softened a bit and Draco let his hand fall from his arm.

“Yeah, sure.” With a reassuring nod from Harry, Draco stepped through the archway and into the streets of Diagon Alley.

It was like a magical street fair. Bright streamers floated in the air above their heads, changing from one color to the next in time with the music that filled the streets. A man juggled blue flames in a harlequin outfit in front of Florean Fortescue’s at the amusement of the crowd. All sorts of tantalizing smells invaded their senses and Draco watched Harry take a deep breath and smile. It was odd how fast his moods seemed to change. Odd and a bit unnerving. Who knew when he would snap?

He followed Harry down the street past the Magical Menagerie and Quality Quidditch Supplies, where the latest racing broom, the Skyrocket 5400, rotated in the window giving the watcher a 360-degree view of the broom. When Olivander’s came into view, Draco found himself stopping to stare in the window.

The store was dark even with the midday sun pouring in from the front windows. Draco could see the white wisps of Olivander’s hair from somewhere in the back and he remembered the day he had first set foot in there.

“What’s wrong?” Harry’s voice interrupted. Draco took one long look at the shop before turning back around.

“Nothing,” he replied as he climbed into step with the ex-Gryffindor.

The closer they got to Madam Malkin’s, the thicker the crowd became until they couldn’t move any further. A man’s magically amplified voice spoke above the din of the crowd, praising Madam Malkin.

“. . . and a wonderful addition to the wizarding community. On behalf of all, I would like to thank you Madam Malkin for eighty-nine years of dedicated service. You will be greatly missed.”

Applause and cheers rose up all around them. Rainbow colored streamers spelled out “Goodbye Madam Malkin” in huge letters above the crowd as multicolored sparklers rained down on them. When the crowd died down, the speaker began again.

“And to add to this wonderful occasion, free butterbeer for all!”Large mugs of warm butterbeer appeared in the air in front of them. Draco grabbed the steaming mug and turned to Harry.

“Cheers,” he said, feeling truly happy for the first time in years. The two clinked glasses and Draco began to guzzle down the warm liquid. He swirled the sweet drink around his tongue, trying to savor every last drop. The second the last honey colored drop disappeared between his lips, the glass vanished with a small pop. A second later Harry’s did too.

“Potter? Harry Potter, is that you?”

The deep booming voice preceded a large bulky man with a heavy beard. He wore a green plaid flannel shirt, jeans and heavy work boots which made him look more like a lumberjack than a wizard. He lumbered up to Potter and placed a massive hand on his shoulder.

“Where you been, mate?”

“Vince? God, you look great!” The two men embraced, both smiling.

Vince? Draco stared at the man. No. It couldn’t be. Then again, without the beard . . .

“Where’s Lav?” Harry asked when they broke apart.

“Here,” came a female voice behind Crabbe. He stepped aside to reveal a petite woman with blond hair. She was grasping two little chubby twin boys by the hand, both spitting images of their father. Harry leaned over and placed a kiss on the woman’s cheek.

“Well, I see you two have been busy.” The three of them laughed. The woman turned to Crabbe and smiled.

“I couldn’t help it.” She ushered the twins forward. “Well, go on boys. Say hello to Harry.”

“Hello, Harry,” the two boys chorused.

“I want you to meet my sons, Gregory and Draco.”

For a moment, Draco felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his body. This pudgy little boy shared his name. Crabbe had named his son after him. Through the blur of tears, he saw Harry place a hand on Vince’s shoulder and whisper something in his ear. Vince nodded and clapped the other man on the back. And then those green eyes were on him and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t look away.

“Well, I don’t want to cut this short mate,” Crabbe started, grabbing the attention of those eyes, “but the boys have a play date with Julie and Sarah, Wood’s kids.” He looked apologetically at Harry. “Sorry, but you know how anal Wood can be.”

“Don’t I remember,” Harry chuckled. The two men exchanged hugs again and Harry gave Lavendar another kiss on the cheek. He ruffled the boys’ hair and then watched the family disappear into the crowd. Draco stayed silent.

“You all right?” He walked over and laid a hand on Draco’s arm. “I know that must have been kind of weird for you.”

“Take me to the Ministry.”

“What?” Harry practically shouted. An elderly couple glared at them before hurrying past. “What do you want to go there for?”

“I want my life back.” He grabbed Harry by the arm and led him into a small alleyway between two of the shops. “I want to be able to walk around and not pretend I’m someone else. I want people to call me Draco. I want out of this stupid brown hair. I want to give Vince a hug and play with his children and get to know his wife. And I want to be able to do magic again, to feel it pumping through my veins. I want to be me again, Harry. Not some shell.” He slumped against the brick wall and slid down until he was resting on his heels. “I just can’t live like this anymore.” Draco buried his head in his hands. He was so tired of running, tired of hiding. This past week with Harry had shown him that.

“You know, Malfoy, I never thought I’d have anything besides quidditch in common with you.”

Draco looked at him sideways, like he didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.

“I went through the same thing after the war.” Harry sat down next to him, legs stretched out in front of him. “For four years I traveled. Australia, the US, Africa. It was amazing. The things I saw . . . it was beautiful, Malfoy.” They each sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

“You must have really liked Africa,” Draco finally said.

“How did you know?” Harry asked, grinning.

Draco thought of the mask he had picked up and all the other souvenirs in Harry’s living room. “Lucky guess. So what was it like?”

“Primal, untamed, magical.”

“Magical?” Of course, he knew there were witches and wizards there, but how could it be anymore magical than Britain?

“Not our kind of magic. Muggle magic.”

“Yeah, but that’s rubbish, Potter. There’s no such thing as muggle magic.”

“That’s what we’re taught, but it’s not true. I experienced it. I felt it and it’s just as real as the magic that we have. That mask I have on the side table in my living room was made with muggle magic. It’s very real.”

Muggle magic was real? And that mask . . . he couldn’t even tell when he had picked it up.

“I never thought . . . wow.”

“Yeah, it’s a little unbelievable at first but it’s true. And one of the most amazing things you’ll ever experience. We’ll go there one day and you can see it first hand.”

Draco sat there, momentarily frozen. We’ll go there one day. He thought of the journal and the pictures and didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t deal with this now.

“So are you going to take me to the Ministry or not, Potter?” He stood up abruptly and dusted himself off, walking toward the street.

“Fine, you don’t have to be a prat, Malfoy.” Harry said defensively as he stood up. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here,” Harry said again. “We’ve got to apparate and I bloody well can’t do it with you standing so far away.”

For a minute, Draco considered walking away and disappearing into the crowd, making his way back out to muggle London and pretending this had all been a dream. And then Harry called him again, called him Draco this time, and he knew he couldn’t just walk away. So he turned back and walked over to him, grabbed his arm and closed his eyes as Potter said “Ministry of Magic” and they disappeared with a small pop.

When he opened his eyes, they were standing in another alley, this one bigger and dirtier than the last. “Um . . . Malfoy? Do you think you could loosen the death grip on my arm? It’s kind of going numb.”

The two stared at each other for a minute before Draco realized what Harry had just said. He looked down and yes, his hand was curled around Potter’s wrists, knuckles white from the sheer force of the grip. He quickly let go of the other man’s arm and noted, embarrassed, that the sleeve beneath was horribly wrinkled.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “So . . . um . . . how do we get into the Ministry?” He was looking around the alley, searching for some kind of entrance. Maybe it’s like Diagon Alley, he thought, as he stared at the brick wall on his right.

“You’ve never been to the Ministry before, Malfoy?”

“No,” he answered, eyes still searching the alleyway for some sign of an entrance. “Father always preferred to take care of business alone. Said I was too young for such matters. Not that I really cared all that much. What?” Harry looked upset.

“Nothing, just remembered what a bastard Lucius was.”

“WHAT?” Draco couldn’t believe his ears. How dare Potter say such things. “Wait! What do you mean ‘was’?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Potter.”

“Malfoy.”

“Look, I want to know what you meant by ‘was’ and I’m not going anywhere until you explain.” Harry’s eyes flashed.

“Listen to me, Malfoy. I’ll tell you everything later. I promise. But first, let’s get this done. You wanted to come here. You still want to go to the Ministry, right?’

“Yes,” Draco ground out through clenched teeth. “Fine, whatever. As long as you tell me everything. Everything, Potter. My father . . . my mother . . . Greg . . . how Vince ended up with the Brown girl . . . everything.”

“Everything, I swear. Now, are you coming or not?”

Draco nodded and followed Harry out of the alley to a dilapidated old telephone booth. He opened the door and indicated for Draco to step in.

“Um . . . Potter? Don’t you think the phone call can wait?” he asked impatiently as he squeezed into the booth beside Harry.

“Turned muggle, have we, Malfoy? Or have you forgotten that in the wizarding world not everything is as it seems?” He picked up the receiver and punched in a combination of numbers. Almost instantly, a female voice sounded in the booth.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy,” Harry spoke into the receiver. “Here to prove that Draco Malfoy is indeed very much alive and not dead as his records show.” Draco’s mouth dropped open.

“What the hell did you say all that for?” he whispered.

“Well, it is why we’re here, isn’t it?” Harry replied. Before Draco could answer, the voice began again.

“Thank you. Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.”

Two badges slid out of the coin return and Harry snatched them up. He handed one to Draco.

Draco Malfoy

proving he’s not dead

Draco looked over Harry’s shoulder to read his badge.

Harry potter

helping to prove Draco Malfoy isn’t dead

Draco laughed. “Not until you leave the wizarding world, do you realize how strange wizards truly are.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” Harry said.

“Visitor to the Ministry, you are to submit your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the atrium.”

“Yeah, well things have changed, Potter. Whether for better or for worse, I still haven’t decided.” Suddenly, the floor beneath them shuddered and they began sinking into the pavement.

“The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day,” came the woman’s voice again as the door of the telephone booth opened in front of him.

Draco stepped out into the brightly lit atrium. Witches and wizards were running back and forth from the floo ports and into the lifts. He had taken only a few steps when he heard a squeak at his feet and looked down to find a bright-eyed house elf in a pink dress staring up at him. “Sorry,” she squeaked then headed off in the other direction.

“After the war, house-elves were granted their freedom. Apparently, Granger wasn’t the only one who thought they should be free.”

They walked down the hall to the security desk and as they passed the elaborate fountain in the center, Draco did a double take and stopped.

“Please tell me that’s not . . . ”

He looked up at the two stone figures. The smaller one had his wand pointed at the larger one, glasses askew, robe hanging off one shoulder while the other figure stared wide-eyed at the boy, hands held up in front of him. The scene was almost comical.

“ . . . you and Voldemort?”

“Yes. And no it didn’t happen that way at all.” He threw a handful of coins into the fountain. “One of two reasons I hate coming here.”

“What’s number two?”

“Him,” He simply said as they approached the guard’s desk. A man with curly brown hair and a wide smile came around to the front of the desk. He ran a hand nervously over the front of his robes in poor attempt to smooth out the wrinkles and then held out his hand.

“Harry, it’s been a long time.” A blush spread across the man’s cheeks and Draco saw Harry shift uncomfortably.

“Justin, how’s it going?” There was a crisp note in Harry’s voice. He ignored the proffered hand.

This man, Justin Finch-Fletchley the name tag read, must have done something in the past to warrant such a reaction from Potter. He stared at the man and could recall him being a mudbl– muggle born but not much else.

“So what are you . . . ” Justin’s voice trailed off as he looked from Harry’s visitor tag to Draco’s own. “What’s this? Some kind of joke or something? Malfoy’s dead.”

“He’s very much alive actually,” Harry said as he brought the tip of his wand up to Draco and ended the spell. There was a slight tingling in his scalp and he had to blink a few times before he could see straight. Justin stood staring slack-jawed at Draco.

“Close your mouth, Finch-Fletchley. It’s unflattering.”

“You didn’t seem to think so when you were pumping your cock in and out of it.”

Now it was Draco’s turn to stare slack-jawed.

“That was a long time ago. Before I knew what real sex was.” Justin looked ready about to punch Harry, but instead grit his teeth and held out his hand.

“Give me your damn wands so I can get this over with.”

Harry handed his over and Justin looked expectantly at Draco. “He doesn’t have one,” Harry said.

Justin looked skeptical for a moment then shrugged and placed Harry’s wand on, what Draco could only assume, was a wand weighing machine. Justin ripped the paper off as soon as it came out of the slot at the front of the machine, read it off in a jumble of words and then practically threw the wand back at Harry and told them they were free to go.

“Nice seeing you, Justin. We must definitely do this again sometime,” Harry spat.

Justin glared, Harry rolled his eyes and then the two men turned their backs to one another and walked in separate directions. Draco took one last look at the sulking Justin, then followed Harry into the lift. A grey-haired witch climbed in behind him, her dark green robes swirling as she turned to face front. As the golden grille slid shut and the lift began to ascend, Draco leaned over to Harry and whispered, “Well that was unexpected, huh?”

“Can’t believe I had anything to do with that prick,” Harry ranted loudly. The old woman shot a dirty look back at them. “And it’s not like his mouth was all that great. I’m sure you could have sucked me off better than him.”

The grey-haired witch let out a little gasp of surprise. “Well, I never . . . ”

“Oh, get over it, lady,” Harry said gruffly as the grille opened and the woman practically ran from the lift. “Men fuck each other all the time!” he yelled at her retreating back. Draco caught a glimpse of witches and wizards leaning out of their cubicles before the grille shut and they began to ascend again.

“You do know that you said that out loud, right?” Draco stared at Harry, incredulous, but he ignored him.

“Level one, Department of Records and Registration, SPEW headquarters.”

As soon as the grille slid back, Harry strode out of the lift. Draco stood for a moment staring down the hallway.

“Are you coming or not?”

This was his last chance to back out, to run away and pretend this was all some strange dream. Then the rational part of his mind took over and reminded him that this was what he had wanted for so long. This was what he had dreamed of every night he spent curled in a ball, stomach cramping from lack of food. His old life was within reach. Now all he needed to do was take that first step.

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