Samsara's Curse (Drarry Slowburn)

FACE THE MUSIC

A/N: I need to be admitted into Italics Anonymous. Please don't take a shot everytime I've italicized something; you WILL die of alchohol poisoning.

The next morning was serene compared to the day before. Harry and Draco ate breakfast without interruption, and Draco enjoyed a Sanguist without being bulldozed by another one of Harry's vampire puns—they caught him off guard every time.

While Harry finished rinsing the dishes, his cellphone rang from his pocket. He hurriedly towel-dried his hands before answering; it was an unknown number. "Hello?"

Draco expected the call to be news from Hermione, so he listened patiently, waiting for Harry to divulge the details, but he couldn't hear the person on the other line.

"That's wonderful! I'll see you Sunday, then," Harry cheered before hanging up. He was ecstatic despite suppressing the sudden urge to go find Laverne and laugh in his face. "I got the job at Shelf-Esteem!"

Draco grinned, standing up to accept the hug he knew Harry was dying to dish out, "That's amazing! I'm happy for you."

But it was so much more than just a job. To Harry, it meant getting to see his kids again. It meant the chance to apply for full custody. It meant the safety of James and Albus.

Harry tapped away on his phone, probably texting Hermione as he headed to the study. He had letters to write—ones with a tone of confident certainty that his kids would be at 12 Grimmauld Place for the holidays. With Hermione to vouch for his case, he had no doubt in his mind that the Wizengamot would grant him custody, especially with all the piling evidence of Ginny's abuse.

Harry recalled taking photos, before Ginny evicted him, of Albus and James whenever they exhibited bruises or cuts because of her—it was heart-wrenching to do but necessary to secure a fair ruling in his favor. Since living on his own (minus Draco), Ron and Hermione took on the work of documentation on his behalf, and he trusted them with his entire being.

-x-

Before leaving Grimmauld Place for lunch at Malfoy Manor, Draco brought up the subject of the Grave Key, much to Harry's condemnation. 

"We're not switching keys," he stated firmly.

"That's not what I meant," Draco disputed. "I was going to suggest sending it to Granger; if she Floos to your place in the next couple hours, we won't be there."

Harry considered this and decided to text her first, just to let her know before showing up unannounced, potentially creating an awkward situation where there wouldn't have been one.

"I can take it to her," Draco said.

Harry half-smirked, "Seriously?"

Draco nodded nonchalantly, holding out his palm.

Handing him both the Grave Key and the Spear Key, Harry smiled, "Play nice, now."

"If I must," sighed Draco, affecting that he intended on being vile as if it were a favorite pastime.

He disappeared into the Spear Key portal, jade green coattails trailing after him. He returned just as quickly as he left, though he had even less to say, afterward.

"So?" Harry prompted.

"So . . . what?"

Harry let it go, figuring it was better not to expect Draco and Hermione to claw one another to death. He was satisfied with the fact that they could exist peacefully in the same space, at all. Even if they associated only for the sake of Harry, at the end of the day, they were civil. That was all that mattered.