suki_blue | Fic: Parity Transformations - Harry/Draco - 4/?

Title: Parity Transformations

Fandom: HP

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: NC-17 overall

Summary: Eleven years since he ran from Hogwarts and seven years since the end of the war, Draco has moved on. Now in his late twenties, Draco lives a reclusive life in a tiny village in Hampshire. Never in a million years does he expect to cross paths with Harry Potter again. But he does, and there are two, rather small and rather excitable, complications.

Beta done by

amejisuto. Thank you, darling.

A/N: Compliant with all canon up to HBP so there may be spoilers for any of the first six books. As this fic is already planned out in full, it will not be compliant with book 7 and will therefore contain NO SPOILERS.

Previous Chapters: HERE

For three days after lunch with Potter, Draco flailed. He burned eggs, shrank t-shirts, put his door keys in the fridge and forgot to wake Kasen for day care.

On day four, Draco finally decided enough was enough. He wasn’t going to think about Potter or James for a moment longer.

Then he remembered he had promised Potter he would call Otterbourne First School to arrange a meeting with the Headmistress.

Damnation.

The phone call to the school was relatively un-traumatic. The Headmistress, Mrs Appling, was pleased to hear from him and was more than happy to meet with Potter and his son. Now all Draco had to do was telephone Potter and tell him the good news.

So, an hour later, Draco found himself sitting on the edge of Kasen’s bed, biting his bottom lip and watching Kasen feed his new fish with all the care of a surgeon performing a heart bypass.

Izzy and Wizzy surfaced, their mouths suckering up fish flakes like a vacuum cleaner inhaling handkerchiefs.

‘How would you like to telephone James?’ Draco asked.

Kasen gasped and scrambled from the bed. Draco caught the tub of fish flakes before they could hit the floor and spill.

‘Yes, please!’

Draco stood and held out his hand, smiling faintly when Kasen grasped it. ‘Come on, then. You can tell him all about your new friends.’

‘Izzy and Wizzy!’

‘Exactly. And then you could give him a message for me, for his father.’

Excited, Kasen nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘Tell James that I’ve spoken with the school and his father is to contact Mrs Appling at his convenience. She has agreed to meet with them both and it all looks rather hopeful. Got that?’

Kasen nodded again and threw himself down on the sofa. ‘Got it. Can I tell James about when we saw that lady fall over?’

Draco remembered the woman in Paul’s Pets as she slipped on a squeaky hot dog and landed on a pile of Eukanuba. Draco had managed to hide his amusement, but Kasen had roared with laughter, pointing and then telling the sales girl that it was good enough to make You’ve Been Framed. Draco had picked up their bag of fish, grabbed Kasen’s hand, and fled.

‘If you must, but try not to laugh; it wasn’t funny.’ Draco and Kasen smirked at each other.

Draco flipped open his address book and found Potter’s number. He dialled, waited for the ringing tone, shoved the phone at Kasen, and quickly attended to something urgent in the garden.

Actually, there was always something to do in the garden and at first glance, Draco could see a wilting rose and … my goodness, a bramble! Draco hurried over to it, stopping at the shed to collect his secateurs, gloves, spade and kneeler. While he unwrapped the monstrous weed from his precious Marie de Blois, Draco tried not to think about what a coward he was.

Friendship was a wonderful thing, but there were times when it came with a price.

Harry Potter was back in his life – his new life; the one he’d built just for him and Kasen. It was a peaceful existence, if a little lonely, but Draco could honestly say that was happy, certainly much more so than he had been before he’d left the wizarding world behind.

It was all very well latching on to Potter like a familiar, if somewhat threadbare, blanket, but what did it really mean? Was Potter still in touch with his friends? Who knew Potter was here?

How long would it be until they all descended and wrecked Draco’s perfect little life? It scared him much more than he cared to admit.

‘Bugger,’ Draco whispered to himself. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

It was forty minutes later when Draco carefully crept back into his own house. He found Kasen sitting happily on the sofa singing along to an advert for car insurance.

Draco sat down next to him. ‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

Kasen grinned at him. ‘James is starting day care with me on Wednesday.’

‘Hm. Yes. Wonderful,’ Draco said. ‘Did you give him my message?’

‘Yes, Daddy. Mr Potter said thank you very much.’

‘Did he? Oh good.’ Draco drummed his fingers on his knees and tried to decide what he was feeling. Whatever it was, it was complicated. ‘Did you speak with him yourself?’

‘Yep.’

‘And he didn’t ask to speak to me?’

‘Nope.’

‘I see.’ Draco got up and went back to the garden muttering something about ungrateful wizards.

**

On the Wednesday, Draco was up extra early, partly because a thoughtless blackbird was making a Merlin-awful crowing noise directly outside his window, partly because he felt a little bit sick, partly because he still hadn’t decided what to wear, and partly because he wanted to make sure he had time to use the hair straighteners he would never admit to owning.

He roused Kasen at a quarter to eight and got him washed and dressed.

‘I’m going to see James today,’ Kasen reminded him.

‘Are you? I’d completely forgotten.’

‘We might see Mr Potter!’

Draco poured milk onto Kasen’s Rice Krispies, and buttered him a slice of toast. ‘I suppose we might,’ he said casually.

Kasen looked at him with little narrowed eyes. Draco wasn’t sure what was going through his son’s mind at that moment. Kasen had a not-so-funny habit of seeing right through him, even when there was nothing to see, such as now.

‘Hurry up and finish your cereal,’ Draco said as Kasen opened his mouth to say something probably far too insightful for a four-year-old. ‘But not too fast or you’ll get indigestion.’

‘What?’

‘Belly ache. And don’t say “what”.’

Kasen rolled his eyes, sighed: ‘Yes, daddy,’ and, with absolute concentration, went about the exceedingly difficult task of eating Rice Krispies at the perfect speed.

At eight-twenty-five exactly, Draco and Kasen left the house and walked to the nearest bus stop, which was a mere thirty second walk. The bus arrived precisely three minutes late, as it always did.

It wasn’t far from Draco’s house to the day care centre, but Draco liked to take Kasen there on the bus; firstly, because Kasen adored the bus; and secondly, it left Kasen with more energy to enjoy his morning. They always walked home afterwards and that last bit of exercise generally tired Kasen out just in time for a rather convenient nap.

Draco flashed his Megarider ticket to the driver and let Kasen lead the way to the seats near the back, which Kasen preferred as they were higher.

As the bus rounded the corner, the morning sun streamed though all the windows on the left side of bus, blinding anyone stupid enough to sit that side. Sitting on the right, it was just comfortably warm, and Draco let his thoughts drift to how much flour he had left in the pantry and whether it was time to have the Leylandii tree removed from the front garden before it blocked out all the sun or, worse, fell down.

Kasen pointed out three squirrels – one horribly squashed on the other side of the road – and then the usual group of teenaged school children got on and took their place along the very back seats.

The bus passed Old Parsonage Road and Draco deliberately didn’t look. Kasen, however, pressed his face to the glass and watched until the road was out of sight. He was in danger of doing himself a serious mischief with his head squashed up against the window at such a curious angle. He unravelled himself at last and beamed up at Draco.

Five minutes later, Draco nudged his son, and Kasen leaned over to press the bell.

Kasen had been going to Ladybird Day Care Centre for the past year, ever since Draco had realised that keeping Kasen with him all of the time was both selfish and unhealthy for his son. If he hadn’t let go then, he would never have let go.

But still, Kasen was a relatively solitary child. He seemed to enjoy his three days a week at the playgroup, but was always happy when Draco collected him at home-time and never asked to see the other children outside of Ladybird hours. Draco sometimes wondered of he’d done Kasen irreparable damage by not adequately socialising him at an earlier age. Yet Kasen seemed content: he coloured books, read, made jigsaw puzzles, played games, sang to himself and pestered Draco constantly for made-up stories. He was a happy child, and Draco comforted himself with that fact.

They crossed the road to the day centre and, as usual, Draco took Kasen all the way inside, pausing at the door to search his memory for the security code, as he did every time. He nodded politely and said good morning to Janie, who had come to take Kasen’s jacket, and then spotted Potter and his son standing off to the side.

‘Look, Kasen, there’s James. Why don’t you go and say hello, make him feel welcome.’

Kasen dashed over there and Draco followed at a much more leisurely pace.

‘I’ll stay with you, okay? For today. Come on, I know you’ll enjoy yourself,’ Draco heard Potter say.

‘Won’t,’ James replied, wiping angrily at his eyes with the backs of his hands. ‘Don’t like it.’

‘Hello,’ Kasen interrupted with childish obliviousness.

‘Hey, Kasen,’ Potter greeted. ‘Draco.’

‘Potter.’

‘Are you coming to play?’ Kasen asked. ‘I’ll show you where the sparkles are. They’ve got gold ones now.’

James shook his head and burrowed closer to his father. ‘Don’t want to.’

Kasen just blinked at him, not comprehending the problem. ‘But … Mrs Thomas is going to let us play the traffic light game today. She promised!’

James wiped at his eyes again, looking a little bit intrigued. ‘What’s that?’

‘You have to run around and around and around and around and when Mrs Thomas shouts “red” you have to stand really still, and when she shouts “amber” you have to sit down really quickly. And you can only move when she shouts “green”.’

‘That sounds like fun, doesn’t it, James?’ Potter said with the biggest fake smile Draco had ever seen.

‘Mm.’

‘They give you biscuits at eleven if you’re good,’ Draco added. ‘Chocolate ones sometimes.’

‘Come on,’ Kasen whined. ‘It’s fun. My daddy will make you a bird.’

Draco felt huge green, watery eyes turn to him, full of hope and a little bit of anticipation. ‘Of course I will. A special one just for you.’ He held out his hand, surprised when James immediately took it, and led them all over to a table in the corner.

Potter looked bemused until Kasen passed over a huge sheet of green paper and Draco started to fold.

‘You remember my paper birds, don’t you, Potter? I’m sure I made you at least one or two when we were at school.’

A look of sudden recollection shot across Potter’s face. ‘Oh yeah, I remember.’

Draco looked up and cheerfully returned Potter’s dawning grin.

‘It’s called Ori - gami,’ Kasen said slowly and carefully, his gazed fixed on Draco’s hands and the bird taking shape, ‘isn’t it, Daddy?’

‘Absolutely right. Well done.’

Potter raised his eyebrows at Kasen, looking impressed, and Draco felt a whoosh of pride zip through him.

‘Daddy can do other animals, too,’ Kasen bragged, clearly just as proud of his father as his father was of him.

‘There you go. One special bird just for you.’ Draco handed over the paper bird and James took it with careful hands and an awed expression. James thanked him shyly and grinned up at his father.

A little crowd had gathered by this point, some who had seen Draco demonstrate this talent before and some who hadn’t.

‘Can I have a bird, too?’ a little girl with a flowery yellow dress and a face full of freckles asked.

Mrs Thomas dropped a pile of coloured paper in front of Draco. ‘Looks like you’re going to be here for awhile,’ she remarked as she walked away.

Not having anything better to do, Draco took the top sheet of paper and began making another bird, a smaller one with not so many intricacies. All the children watched avidly.

One hour, eighteen paper birds, three paper giraffes and one paper duck-billed platypus later, Draco was done and James was feeling settled enough for Potter to leave him.

They walked outside together and stood at the entrance.

‘You were good with them,’ Potter said, ‘and with James. Thanks. You’ve been …’ Potter flapped his hand, ‘you know.’

Draco nodded, quite sure that he did indeed know. ‘You’re welcome. I can’t stand to see a child upset – usually. Erm, I don’t know if I ever apologised for what happened at Farley Mount, but … I do – apologise, I mean. My temper still gets away with me sometimes.’

Potter nodded at him. ‘Thank you.’

Draco hesitated, afraid of what he might be letting into his life while still yearning for … something. Companionship. ‘Well, I suppose I should be going.’

‘Yeah, me too. I suppose. Unless, do you want to get a drink or something? A coffee?’

Draco’s heart thumped a little harder and he linked his fingers behind his back in case they started shaking. ‘I prefer tea,’ he said coolly, ‘as well you know.’

‘Beg your pardon,’ Potter said cordially and with forward tilt of his head. ‘Then how about tea? My treat.’

‘All right, then. A trip into town?’ he suggested quickly, mostly to avoid any question of Potter asking to come home with him.

‘Into Winchester? Sounds great. I haven’t been yet.’

‘Haven’t been? My goodness, what’s wrong with you?’

Potter shrugged. ‘You know how it is when you move. And, uh, James isn’t very good with crowds.’

There was a story there, Draco was sure of it. He wasn’t so sure if it was one he would get to hear.

**

It was so cold, but blessedly dark. No-one would see him. No-one would know he was here and recognise him.

The house was abandoned; Draco had watched the family leave and then the Death Eaters arrive. The family hadn’t gotten far and the street had lit up with flashes of brilliant green death.

Concealed in a shed just three doors down, Draco had waited the night and the next day, afraid to peek in case they were waiting for him, lined up like a firing squad, their wands drawn and their lips curving up in pleasure.

Now Draco huddled in the back bedroom, squeezed into a corner, his belly finally full but his hands unable to stop shaking. He would stay here just one night and then move on. His mother had told him to keep moving and so he would do just that. His trust for her was implicit, as it always had been.

Now he feared he would never trust another. Or he would never be given the chance.

He shut his eyes and tried not to hear her voice screaming inside his head.

***

Draco was pleasantly surprised to find that Potter could drive. He owned a very spacious, silver Peugeot 307 SW: a fine looking vehicle, sort of like an Estate but a little more snazzy.

Draco had often wondered if he should learn to drive; it certainly would be more convenient, and it would be nice just to get in and drive Kasen to wherever they both wanted to go. The beach would be nice.

They didn’t speak much on the journey into town. Potter had some modern-sounding music playing softly from the stereo and Draco was content to gaze out of the window; there was always something to see, something to observe.

Draco directed them to the Guildhall, a magnificent Victorian building in the centre of the city. It was a beautiful place and one that Draco loved to come to, but didn’t often get the chance. The last time was just before a graduation ceremony set to take place at the cathedral. He’d lounged on the wall opposite and watched the boys and girls, men and women, posing for pictures upon the front staircase, dressed in long black gowns and funny square hats. They could almost have been witches and wizards, if the hats had been pointier. Draco had felt his heart clench painfully. He’d never been given the opportunity to graduate Hogwarts. But perhaps that was just a small regret compared to everything else.

That day he’d taken Kasen for a picnic in the cathedral grounds. They’d sat in the shade of a great oak, with sandwiches, cakes and small cartons of Ribena, making daisy chains and watching the graduates file into the cathedral and then out again, surrounded by friends and family, every face smiling and excited.

The car jolted to a stop.

‘Sorry,’ Potter apologised. ‘Haven’t got used to the brakes yet.’

They parked in a car park at the top of town, and Draco led them back down past King Alfred’s statue and Draco’s favourite bakery, which he thought proper to point out. He was sure James would love their Cherry Bakewells.

As it was a midweek morning and the schools were still in, just, the city centre wasn’t too busy. A few people milled about here and there, but it lacked the sort of bustle one would expect to find in one of the larger cities.

‘Wow, nice,’ Potter said as they approached the Guildhall.

‘I like it.’

‘There’s really a café in there?’

‘There is. A very nice one.’

They walked up the stairs together in companionable silence, Potter looking all around him, every inch the tourist, and Draco pleased that he’d shown him something worth seeing.

The café was a sizable establishment, the inside beautifully ornate with high, stone ceilings. They chose to sit outside, though, as it was a nice day, and managed to find a table which was suitably shady. They ordered tea for two and a pastry each.

‘I think you’ll like it here,’ Draco blurted before the companionable silence turned awkward. ‘James certainly will. There’s so much to keep a curious mind active and interested.’

‘I hope so,’ Potter said quietly. ‘It’s been really hard for him.’

Draco stared at him for a long time, wondering what was going through Potter’s head, wondering if Potter needed to talk just like he had needed to. Draco had opened his heart and spilled his woes to an infant, his only friend. Maybe, if Potter wanted a …

‘You really are running, aren’t you?’ Draco said.

Potter nodded and stared into his tea.

‘May I ask why?’

Potter was silent and for a while Draco thought he wasn’t going to be privy to an answer.

‘It was too much. Too much for too long.’

‘What was? The glory of being Saint Potter? Got boring, did it?’ There was no heat behind the words and not a hint of a joke either.

‘Actually, yes.’

Draco put down his cup in shock. ‘Explain.’

‘Are you going to tell me I’m ungrateful, that I never went through what you did?’ Potter asked.

‘You don’t know what I went though,’ Draco said, his voice turning several degrees colder.

‘I’ve got a pretty good idea. And I’m sorry I didn’t help you.’

‘You don’t change, do you, Potter? Always talking such bollocks.’

‘I mean it.’

‘No you don’t. You didn’t give two hoots about me, the disgraced Death Eater, and that was fair enough. You had your victory parade, which you deserved. I just had my regrets.’

Potter’s expression crumpled into confusion. ‘Did you just have a go at me or say something nice?’

Draco shifted awkwardly, one eye squinting as the breeze picked up, shifted a shrub and exposed the sun. ‘I’m not sure. Knowing me, I was having a go.’

Potter laughed and rubbed wearily at his forehead. ‘There’s the Draco I love to hate.’

‘I never left the building.’

‘You are different, though. Really different. I’m sorry I opened my big trap about your dad in front of Kasen. And I am sorry now that I didn’t help you when you needed it most. I’m sorry that I used –’

‘Let’s not think about any of that. What’s done is done. Why don’t we talk about why you’re running?’

Potter nodded, taking the hint that it was time to shut up. There were some things Draco didn’t want to think about.

‘They wouldn’t leave me alone,’ Potter whispered.

‘Who?’ Draco demanded to know.

‘The Prophet. The public. The Ministry. I was either their saviour and they chased me everywhere I went, their fucking cameras clicking in my face and people constantly touching me, touching James, wanting a piece of us. Or, I was public enemy number one.’

‘Yes, I saw you fall from grace on the Prophet’s front page a few times.’

‘It was so much more than that. And I never did anything to deserve it. I’m just me. I’m just human, a normal human wizard. I make mistakes; I fuck up; I’m just like everyone else. But no-one else seems to get that. They think they own a piece of me, that I’m public property. I couldn’t stand it anymore.’

‘How bad did it get exactly?’

‘People camped out on my front lawn. Photographers and reporters following me wherever I went. My house was broken into. They forced their way into James’s playgroup. He was terrified. We couldn’t go out without someone begging us to help them. And that was when I was liked.’

‘And when you were disliked?’

Potter leaned forward, putting his elbows onto the wooden table. ‘I’m sure you remember what they did to you.’

He did. It had been hell. In the end he’d confined himself to the manor. ‘The Prophet!’ he spat, throwing his hands up into the air. ‘Let’s rile up the public with some cock and bull story! Let’s see whose life we can ruin next with lies and exaggerations!’

‘Exactly!’ Potter snapped. He drained his cup, slammed it back on the saucer and reached for the tea pot.

Draco tried to remember some of the things he’d read about Potter in the Prophet in recent months. He was willing to bet at least half of them weren’t true. He didn’t take the Prophet’s word for anything. The only reason he still subscribed to the grubby excuse for a rag was to keep abreast of what was being said about himself.

‘So … am I right in assuming that James isn’t a squib?’

‘You know, it wouldn’t matter to me if he was,’ Potter said, his top lip curling with distaste.

‘Nor I,’ Draco quickly defended. ‘There’s no shame in it.’

Potter blinked rapidly. ‘Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?’

‘I grew up, Potter. I learned – the hard way.’

‘Don’t you feel bitter? That they forced you out of your world?’

Draco considered that. ‘Sometimes. Mainly, no, but I do have some regrets about leaving.’

‘Like?’

‘Mostly, that Kasen will never be able to attend Hogwarts.’

‘You’re really never going back?’ Potter asked.

Draco smiled faintly. ‘Are you?’

‘I don’t know,’ Potter said. ‘I wish … I wish Ginny was here. She’d know what to do.’

Draco thought about giving Potter his condolences, but it seemed a little late and probably a little fake. He settled on something neutral. ‘I expect you miss her.’

‘Like crazy. She was one of my best friends. James talks about her everyday.’

‘I assume the Prophet lied about all of that, too?’

Potter grinned to himself. ‘No, they got a few bits and pieces right.’

Draco sipped his tea and arched an eyebrow. ‘So, you’re a megalomaniacal, bisexual adulterating attention seeker with a penchant for half-goblins?’

‘Erm, okay, no. But they did get the bisexual bit right. As you know.’

Draco’s cup paused momentarily on the way from his mouth to the saucer.

‘But Ginny and I divorced because we weren’t in love,’ Potter continued. ‘It was mutual. We were friends. The damn Prophet knew that. Then when she died, they jumped on me like I was the cancer that killed her.’

Draco remembered reading about Ginny’s death about two years ago, and he remembered the scandal that had hit just a few months later. He knew it was all probably lies, but the bitter little boy inside him had wanted to believe that Potter had hastened his wife’s death by taking her son away from her. ‘You took James because she was ill? She couldn’t look after him anymore.’

Potter shook his head. ‘No, at the end, she couldn’t look after him, but we always had joint custody, so there was never a point where I took him away. One day he was with me and he was never able to go back.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Draco said.

‘Yeah, so am I. James watched his mother die and then he was forced to watch them rip his father apart. It’s no wonder he’s so withdrawn. I couldn’t let him suffer like that anymore. Enough was enough.’

‘Understandable.’

They fell silent for a while after that. Draco drained his tea and finished his croissant. He listened to the twittering of the birds in the potted tree behind him and the clinking of saucers and plates as the waitress cleared away a table over in the corner. ‘Where are your friends?’ he said.

‘Around. They’ve really stuck by me – Ron and Hermione especially, and Molly has been wonderful; I would have died of starvation if it hadn’t been for her roast chickens.’

Draco nodded. ‘But you still had to get away.’

‘They left me no choice. Just like they didn’t leave you one either.’

No, they hadn’t. The Prophet had ripped him to shreds on a weekly, and sometimes daily, basis. Lie after lie after lie. The Manor became his prison and his body a convict. He’d wished for Azkaban.

‘How much of it was true?’ Potter asked. ‘What they said about you.’

‘Some of it was ludicrously untrue. Obviously. I mean, me, stalking a Hufflepuff? Really.’

Potter laughed, then thought better of it, stifling the last snigger behind his apple turnover.

‘Oh go on, laugh, that one is rather funny, looking back on it,’ Draco responded lightly. ‘But it was awful at the time. You name it, I was accused of it. And the worse thing was that much of it could very well have been the sort of trick my father used to pull.’

‘Tarred with the same brush,’ Potter remarked.

‘Quite. And a lot of it perfectly deserved. But I don’t think I deserved to be hounded, to have my whole life turned into a freak show. It was a lonely and unbearable existence, Potter, I won’t deny it. I did the right thing in leaving. I’ve spent the best years of my life here with Kasen.’

Potter looked thoughtful and Draco just knew Potter wanted to ask about Kasen’s mother.

‘Rita Skeeter should be hung, drawn and quartered,’ Draco said, just to distract Potter from asking any unwelcome questions. ‘And then diced, put in a stew and fed to her minions. How that harpy hasn't been assassinated I'll never know.’

‘You’re asking the wrong person.’

‘Hm.’

That sat a while longer, slowly easing out the serious conversation and bringing in easier topics such as what was showing at the theatre, Otterbourne’s dreadfully noisy bin collections, and the absolute necessity of supporting the local milkman. By the time it came to leave, they had fallen into an easy and light banter, the harshness of the wizarding world left behind in their saucers along with spilled tea and a small black fly.

The wandered around for a little while, Draco showing Potter the top part of the town and the cathedral. His stupidly rash suggestion of a picnic for the boys was met with a pleased smile and a statement that James liked cheese and pickle sandwiches.

Potter’s behaviour was agreeable enough, much more pleasant than he remembered from school or the years that followed it. He had always wondered how Potter’s scrawny bunch of followers had tolerated someone with such a martyr complex.

Maybe Potter had changed. The war had certainly sobered Draco, so maybe it was the same for Potter.

Maybe now it was possible for them to meet somewhere in the middle of their legendary personality clash and actually get along.

Draco chose not to mention it.

TBC …

A/N: Most of the places I am describing in this fic are real. Just in case anyone is interested, this is the Guildhall and this is Winchester Cathedral

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

vinniebatman.livejournal.com

ANother lovely chapter!
I'm getting excited to learn mor about what happened to Draco, who Kasen's mother is.
It's all very intriguing.
And I loved the bit about the origami duck-billed platypus.
I want one.
::Hugs::
I lurved it!

From:

Ding!

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