An End And A Beginning

10: Amongst Marble Statues

'You've changed,' Draco said as he sat at the kitchen island watching Harry spread caramelised red onions into the blind-baked pastry base he'd prepared the previous evening when they'd got back from London.

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn't respond as he poured the egg mix over the onions.

'I mean,' Draco said as he raised his glass, waving it around slightly as he pointed his finger accusingly, 'at school, you always wore your heart on your sleeve. I always knew what emotions you were battling with. Now... now I can't read you.'

'There's nothing to read.' He was slicing thin circles of goat's cheese and carefully placing them around the quiche.

'I don't believe you. That would suggest you've become incredibly boring or numb to life or something. I won't believe it so that means you've developed Malfoy-like skills in disguising what's happening beneath the surface.'

'You were never that good at disguising your unhappiness or your anger—'

'Don't deflect the conversation away from yourself. We're talking about you, not my miserable past.'

'You're talking about me. I'm cooking and ignoring anything to do with my miserable past.' He had moved to thinly slicing the two figs he'd set to one side before placing them carefully on top of the tart in a fan spreading out from the centre.

'I can't believe you're not married, not when you can cook like this.'

Harry snorted softly. 'Not met anyone out there I want to marry.' He carefully carried the dish to the oven and slide it onto the middle shelf before setting a Tempus Timer for twenty-five minutes.

Draco bit his lip to hold back his automatic reply. He also put his glass down, afraid that the wine was already going to his head.

'When are the others arriving?' Harry said, cleaning up before turning to making a salad.

'Luna's due any minute, so is Etienne. I'm not sure where mother is. You never told me how you broke your nose.'

'No,' said Harry as he halved a load of cherry tomatoes and threw them in a bowl with a baby-leaf salad mix.

'Why didn't you get it straightened again?' Draco couldn't help wondering aloud, thinking that yes, the broken nose made him look rather rugged.

Potter snorted softly and there was a surprising sneer to his voice when he said, 'to remind him, every time he looked at me, that he did that.'

Draco's eyebrows shot up, 'you saw the man who did it regularly?'

'Yes. And, on a personal level I wanted to remind him he was an abusive bastard. To keep shaming him.'

'Potter?' Draco faltered, wanting to doubt the full implication behind the words.

'Fortunately, I'm not here to mull over my disastrous personal life and poor choices in partners. Though you may rest assured that I take great pleasure in sending him every magazine shoot one is published with the same message: "do you remember the shape of my nose from before you broke it?". You know,' Potter said casually, 'I heard on the grapevine that sex offenders and domestic abusers tend to get a rather rough time in Azkaban...'

Draco said quietly, 'is he a sex offender too...?'

'No. He was just heavy handed, liked to use his fists and then apologise profusely afterwards. Always promised he'd never do it again. Stupid of me really. I know the M.O. from dealing with domestic violence from the side of the law and trying to protect the victims. I just didn't want to believe I'd got myself into the same situation. Especially after my past too. Breaking my nose was the final straw. Well, it was a bit of a case of wild magic to defend myself, I think it triggered something from my childhood with the Dursleys. I went through a lot of counselling afterwards.'