Been busy so now Iām playing major catch up š¤£
TW- F slur used in context of cigarettes
Harry wasn't exactly pleased when Ron dragged him to the fair.
"Mate - how do muggles even come up with this stuff?" Ron said, absolutely enamoured with the ferris wheel.
"Yeah," Harry grumbled, fidgeting with the paper wristband that was cutting off the circulation to his hand.
Hermione had managed to get out of coming, as pregnancy and bumper cars didn't exactly mix well. Harry, however, had no excuses to give. Well, none that Ron would've believed.
He couldn't say he was stuck at work, because they worked together. He couldn't say he was sick, because Ron would check on him. He couldn't say he had a family thing, because the Weasley's were his family. He couldn't claim to be on a date, because Ron knew better than anyone that Harry didn't do those anymore. Not since Rachel had gone sprinting to the Prophet the moment they had any kind of an argument.
"Come on, Harry. Let's go on the ghost train!"
Ron seemed to be enjoying himself at least; gallivanting about with an armful of candy floss. It's not that Harry had gotten so old and boring he'd forgotten how to have fun. He could have fun! But why did it have to be the fair, of all places? Bright and loud and sticky. What a nightmare.
The ghost ride looked painfully dull - Harry stood watching the people getting off as he waited, and even the kids looked half asleep.
Finally it was their turn, and the pair clambered into the cart. It was just as tiresome as Harry expected: the cart leading them through dark rooms with plastic spiders (Ron nearly cried) and paper ghosts.
The last room snapped him right awake, however. It was dimmer than the rest, and difficult to see past smoke that was inevitably pouring out of a machine somewhere. There was the muffled sound of an organ from a previous room, but besides that, all was silent.
"Beware, the end is near. Beware, the end is near!" drawled a voice in the dark.
There was something about the voice. It unsettled Harry.
"Leave and never return, for danger awaits those who remain..."
Ron sat there giggling, while Harry tightened his grip on the freezing safety bar. The smoke machine stung his eyes and made the room smell burnt. Logically, Harry knew that this was a stupid ride in a stupid fair and he was being stupid. But every one of his senses was screaming run.
There was a flash, and then another, and soon the train was vibrating and rumbling like they'd been thrust into a lightning storm. As the train moved forward, the smoke cleared, and Harry could see a figure up ahead.
"Danger awaits those who remain!" the voice said again, "LEAVE!"
It then became apparent that the figure ahead was the owner of the voice. Harry braced as they neared the end.
Another flash, a second, a third, until all Harry could look at was white-blonde.
He was laughing manically, voice echoing through unseen speakers around the room. Black paint masked his face and dripped down porcelain cheeks, disappearing down his neck. He wore a black cloak covered in glimmering silver chains. A ghost? No.
Draco Malfoy was a fallen angel.
Ron had stopped laughing, and instead joined Harry in his gawping.
"Malfoy?" Ron said. Harry didn't think he could speak if he wanted to.
Malfoy stopped laughing immediately, and as soon as recognition dawned, so did the fear in his gaze. The train started moving again, Malfoy seemingly having missed his final line.
Just as Malfoy began to disappear from view, Harry came back to his senses.
"When do you get off work?" he called over, as the doors opened.
"Wha - erm, I have a half hour break in ten minutes?"
"Meet me at the hook-a-duck!"
The doors slammed shut behind them, and the ride ended.
"What did you do that for, mate?" Ron said, as the cart circled back to the beginning. "You really wanna speak to him?"
"You aren't curious why he's here?" Harry certainly was. Malfoy at a muggle fair? Malfoy at a fair?
"He basically disappeared after the trials. The last time I really spoke to him was in the Room of Requirement. It's been years.
I just want to see what he's like now." After putting his blood sweat and tears into reducing his Azkaban sentence, he wanted to see what Malfoy was doing with his freedom. And so far? He was confused.
"Right. Well, I'm going on the helter-skelter. Meet me after?"
"You're not coming with me?" He wanted to speak to him, but not by himself. Ron was much better at breaking the ice than he was.
"Ha. Fuck no. Enjoy catching up with Malfoy."
They clambered out of the cart and Harry made his way to the hook-a-duck. He paced around for a while, and had a little panic.
What exactly did he plan on saying? Hi, Malfoy. Fancy seeing you here! How's your mum? You know it's funny, the last time we saw each other you were also in chains! The trial, remember that? Good times.
Before he had time to run far away, Malfoy appeared at his side.
"Hello, Potter," he said, almost pleasantly. He was wearing a coat over his costume but the dark makeup still covered his cheekbones and streaked down to his collar. Somehow he still managed to look composed, despite it all. How wasn't he freaking the fuck out?
"Er- hi," he realised he wasn't blinking, and so had to begin the chore of doing so manually.
"Eloquent as ever," Malfoy pulled out a packet of fags and offered one to Harry. He took one, and allowed Malfoy to light it.
"So uh, how'd you start doing this?"
Malfoy took a long drag. "Well, after my house arrest ended I thought, fuck it." He shrugged.
Harry had forgotten about that. After the trial they gave Malfoy two years in Azkaban and three under house arrest. It pissed him off at the time, but with them originally planning on giving him The Kiss, Harry had successfully talked them down quite a bit.
"Yeah, makes sense. Do you like it?"
"Nope," Malfoy said, without hesitation.
He was quiet for a moment, before turning to Harry. "It's a fun job. Makes you feel good, you know. Making the muggles laugh. Then I got put on that fucking ghost train and it's shit. I know they're having fun, but all the screaming - it reminds me of. Well. It's like when." He blinked, "yeah. I'm only here for another week anyway. Azkaban made me want to live a bit. Try new things, and all that."
Harry nodded, looking off at all the muggle children running around in the dark, waving around ridiculously expensive lightsabers (Ron bought four) "So what you doing afterwards?"
He put out the fag in his hand and crossed his arms, leaning against the stand behind them. "Not sure yet. Every few months I find something different to do. Before this it was cafĆ© serving. People go there to nurture social bonds. You get to be part of the foundation. Invisible, but helpful. Before that, I did clock and watch repair. I liked that one. Itās precise work, quiet. It was mostly old family heirloomās Iād fix. Giving it back to them - that was the best part."
Harry couldn't seem to imagine Malfoy of all people selling jam doughnuts, or hunched over dusty old clocks, but he seemed to like making people happy. Harry certainly couldnāt fault him for that. "I think you'd make a good curse breaker." he said, without really thinking about it.
"Oh. Erm. Well, they work closely with the Auror department on a lot of cases. I've watched them do it and it's intricate work. Like fixing clocks. I remember you being good at that sort of thing in potions, too" Not that Harry had ever paid that much attention to Malfoy's potion making in school. That would be really weird.
"It's a nice thought, Potter. Honestly, Iāve always been fascinated with that kind of thing. The cabinet... Anyway, it wouldn't be a good idea for me to go anywhere near the wizarding world. Much less the ministry."
"It's fine, I like being around all the muggles."
Harry nodded along, beginning to understand. "Yeah. So you can make things right. Atone."
It immediately became apparent to Harry that he had said the wrong thing.
"Atone?" Malfoy repeated, slowly.
"You think I'm trying to atone? To who?"
"Well, I don't know. I just thought all the working with muggles was to show you've changed, or something." It came out sounding nothing like how Harry had intended it, leaving him digging himself a deeper hole.
"What, you think I'm doing all this so people will think I'm reformed, or some other bullshit? If I wanted forgiveness I'd ask for it, but I'm not stupid enough to think I deserve it."
Six years post-war, it hurt to see Malfoy still so affected. It took four years for the nightmares to stop, and Harry still got misty-eyed every now and again, when he'd had a few too many drinks. But he was doing better. The wizarding world was doing better. It was as though Malfoy had been left behind. With Azkaban and house arrest, he supposed he had been, in a sense.
"I didn't mean it like that, Malfoy. I just mean you seem different. A person people would forgive."
"You've been speaking to me for ten minutes," he said, flatly.
"And I knew you enough then to see the difference now."
"Don't be ridiculous, Potter. You didn't know me then and you don't know me now." Draco looked at him pleadingly, grey eyes big and shining. "The fact you would even say that to me after everything, it's - it's cruel."
Harry stepped closer, lifting an arm to rest on Malfoyās shoulder before thinking better of it. "I'm sorry-"
"Don't fucking apologise to me! You're Harry Potter, you should never fucking apologise and least of all to me."
Harry could see that Malfoy was wound up, twitching like someone was trying to restrain him. His eyes were glossy, reflecting the colourful lights surrounding them. The air was rich with the scent of something sugary, the sky dusted with stars. Harry stood in a place he thought he hated with a person he thought he hated and realised he didn't want to leave.
"Do you want to come for tea?"
"Tea. At my house. I don't know when. Anytime, really. I'm not busy. Only if you want to, of course - I'm not forcing you to come or anything. I live at Grimmauld Place, the house Sirius left to me-"
"I know it, Potter. My mother's a Black. Walburga was my great aunt."
"Right, yeah. I knew that. Tea?"
Malfoy returned to the ghost train and Harry went and found Ron. But that was okay because the following week, Wednesday at 2 o'clock, they were going to have tea in Harry's kitchen.
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