A Mother's Love • [Drarry]

Harry - Harry Recieves a Letter

August 1999

The owl is waiting when he comes home late one night after auror training. It takes him a moment to notice it, glasses pushed into his still-unruly hair (shouldn't saving the wizarding world afford him some sort of boon for that?) as he massages between his brows. He has coffee brewing with a spell he's had plentiful opportunities to perfect over the past few months–he doesn't even need the words anymore.

It's not until he's holding a steaming cup between both palms that he becomes aware of the grey owl perched patiently at his sill. He can't help his jump (thankful none of his instructors are around to see it) nor his instant wave of guilt. He ushers the owl in, out of the rain. He only remembers after he's fed it a few treats that he should likely be cautious of it, lest it be from any leftover enemies or overzealous admirers. Still, the owl takes the treats from his palm delicately, beak barely brushing against his hand and beady eyes never leaving his face.

"A proper lady, aren't you?" He coos, smiling. He slowly reaches towards her and, when she doesn't move, brushes a finger against her head. "Pretty girl. You aren't interested in other lady-birds, are you? If so, I have the perfect one for you. Hedwig, her name is. Just as beautiful as you and very loyal. She's out now, though, hunting–"

A soft hoot cuts him off and the owl sticks her leg out, reminding Harry why she's here.
He sighs. "Right. Sorry." He casts a few spells, checking for anything that could harm him. When they come up clean, he takes the rolled parchment (much better quality than what he buys, he notes). The seal draws him up short. He's never seen it up close, never received a letter with it, but he recognizes it all the same.

The Malfoy seal.

He breathes deeply.

Another soft hoot.

Harry nods, smiling wryly at the owl. "Yes, I know. I'll get on with it." He breaks the seal.

Harry Potter,

I suspect you are confused, and perhaps concerned, as you read this–if you're reading this. I do not blame you if you've disposed of it the moment you saw the seal. I know my family has never given you any reasons to show the goodwill it takes to open such a missive. Yet, I still write with the suspicion that you will read these words. The goodwill you have already shown my son and I makes it difficult for me to imagine you would do so. It is also why I am writing this letter.
There are few people who would do what you did for the family of a death eater. There are fewer still who would do it with no ulterior motive. Despite my confidence that you do not expect something in return, I would be remiss to not show my gratitude somehow. Therefore, I would like to extend an invitation to tea at whatever time may suit you. Please allow me to attempt to repay you in this small way–though I know it is not nearly enough.
If you accept, please send Asteria back with a date and time that is most convenient for you.

Narcissa Malfoy

Harry rereads it twice before his tired–and disbelieving–mind can fully comprehend it. Tea. With Narcissa Malfoy. Malfoy's mum and the wife of a death eater he helped send to Azkaban. She asked him to tea.

Harry is not unused to gratitude. His entrance to the wizarding world was met with fame he didn't know he had for something he didn't remember doing. Since then, he's fought in a war and defeated the same dark lord that earned him his celebrity status. He has been forced to become familiar with the uncomfortable and excessive gratitude of strangers. He didn't kill Voldemort for some thanks. He's never done anything in his life expecting someone to thank him for it. He's always just done things because they needed to be done.