(HP Đồng nhân Eng) Seven Years Too Late

Plologue

Seven Years Too Late by lyiint
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Words: 57,439
Tags: Post-War, Auror, Angst, Unusual job, Living as a Muggle
Summary: After the defeat of Voldemort, after being shunned and vilified by the wizarding world and more importantly, after a short, intense and doomed affair with Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy leaves the wizarding world forever. Can Draco pick up the pieces of his life and start over anew? And when he does and a certain someone returns, upsetting his now peaceful and boring existence, will it be love all over again or is seven years really too late.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Prologue

He had finally thought things were looking up, he should have known better.

Draco had been on the run since that tragic day atop the Astronomy tower in his sixth year. Finally caught a year later, he faced a trial and, he assumed, a sure death. He had not even been able to give a proper burial to his parents. His father died in Azkaban, which he thought for sure would be his fate, while his mother had been killed by Voldemort because he had been unable to complete the task the Dark Lord had set for him.

Miraculously, he had been cleared of all wrong doing. He had been rescued from years in prison and/or the Dementor's kiss by none other than Harry Potter, who it seemed, had been on the tower that fateful day. The dark haired Gryffindor had testified on his behalf, and because he was Harry Potter and was the great hero who had defeated You-Know-Who, Draco had been found innocent on the word of his childhood nemesis.

Only no one in the wizarding world would talk to him any longer. They all viewed him with suspicion and stores would no longer even serve him. Even when it came out that he had been forced to do the things he had by the threat of his own and his parent's death. Even when the letters that his Aunt Bellatrix had sent that told of the torture his mother had to endure was splashed on the front of the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler, still other wizards and witches would shun him.

The only bright spot at that time was that he and Harry had put their past behind them and had become 'friends'. Draco wanted to laugh over that one, and might have if he hadn't felt so horrible.

Laughing might also have drawn attention to himself and attention was the last thing he wanted, considering he was practically hiding in the thick of Wild Privet that was at least four meters tall.
The now eighteen year old blond boy brushed at the strongly scented, white blossoms tickling his arm, shifting his position. The bride was handing off her spray of deep red roses to her attendant and Draco nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice spoke behind him.

"I love weddings."

He turned and looked at the small, wizened witch who'd toddled up behind him. If the old woman had noticed anything odd about Draco's position, virtually hiding in a shrub, she said nothing.

"Don't you dear?" the witch questioned with a smile.

Feeling stupid - nothing new there, either - Draco managed a shrug and a noncommittal smile.

Again, the woman didn't seem to take any notice. She just peered around the leaves of the Privet into the garden along whose edge they stood, looking toward the bridal couple standing about fifty yards away.

"They make a lovely pair, don't they?"

"Mmm-hmm," Draco replied scowling at the dark haired youth and the red headed female that was smiling adoringly up at him.

"Of course, in my day...," the woman's voice dropped confidentially, "...choosing to get married out of doors usually meant the bride was going to be having an early baby," she finished with a wink.

Her face wrinkled even more as she gazed at the loving couple. "Times are different nowadays. And the bride obviously has already had her baby. Looks like a tiny mite, being held like that against the daddy's shoulder. Wonder if it's a boy or a girl?"

Draco couldn't manage even a shrug. "Boy," the blond said softly. The reality of that baby boy had felt raw in his soul since he'd learned of the child's existence a few weeks earlier. "And he's not so tiny. He's nearly nine months old already."

"Really? You know the couple? Why aren't you sitting with the rest of the guests?"

Draco wished he'd kept quiet. "I didn't expect to make the wedding," he murmured.

"Are you a friend of the bride or the groom?"

"Groom," Draco stated.

"Acquaintances." Which was a lie; one didn't have sex with acquaintances, neither did they fool themselves into thinking they were in love an acquaintance.

The explanation was good enough for the old witch, though. "Ahh. Well, that baby will probably grow up as handsome as his daddy there," the woman mused.

"My husband was tall and dark like that, although his hair wasn't as messy. Italian." Her wrinkles deepened again with a surprisingly impish grin. "Passionate."

Draco forced his lips to curve in a semblance of a smile.

"Bride's gown is pretty, too. Nothing I'd want to see my granddaughter wearing, mind you, but still pretty."

The gown was pretty. Sophisticated, sleeveless and reaching just past her knees. It wasn't white, but a sort of pinkish oyster-like hue that seemed to reflect the glow of the sun as it hung on the horizon.

"So do you have anyone special?" the old woman asked curiously.

"No." 'At least not any longer' Draco thought to himself.

"I'm sure someday you'll have your own beautiful wedding. You'd be such a handsome groom with that lovely blond hair."

Draco's throat tightened. The memory of strong hands tangling in his hair taunted him. "Thank you, but I don't have any plans to get married."

The woman smiled and waved her hand. "Forgive me, but you're just young. You wait. You'll want a wife and children at some point. I can tell. Oh, look," she nodded toward the wedding party again. "They're doing the rings now. Such a beautiful couple," she said again, her voice a satisfied sigh.

The bride did look beautiful. The groom did look handsome. And the baby...well, the baby was a baby. Draco couldn't blame a baby. He couldn't blame that lovely bride, either, though he wanted to; but the groom? Oh, he could certainly blame him, all right. The truth of the matter was that the person Draco blamed the most was himself.

Draco turned away, pushing the Privet branches out of his way, being careful not to let them snap back and hit the old woman.

"Don't you want to watch the rest of the wedding?"

Draco shook his head gently. "No, I've seen enough." 'More than enough' he thought as he apparated out of the wizarding world, forever.