When Darkness Threatens - Moment by Moment Book #5 (Harry Potter, Drarry)

Relief from Pretending

Harry sat in Arthur's rocking chair, a twin under each arm and a book of fairy stories on his lap. Molly was bustling away in the kitchen and the smells of her baking were making Harry's stomach rumble, but he wasn't about to mention that, he didn't have much appetite anyway. Harry read the story slowly to his attentive charges, slow enough that his mind could wander somewhat, and it was in fact wandering over the reason he wasn't eating enough. It had been four days since the whole base had found out that Harry Potter was a lunatic. He hadn't been out in public much since, a couple of dinners in the mess and a visit to the gym, but even those and simple trips around the base had taken their toll.

Harry hated it when Gerald was right, but he had come to realise that he was risking his sanity by playing crazy: the thoughts that bubbled to the surface when he wanted to convince the world that all was not right were nasty, and in the last couple of nights he hadn't even managed the few hours' sleep that he had managed since finding comfort with Draco. Harry was tired and grumpy, which meant Draco was tired and grumpy, and coupled with the fact he was acting like Harry might break at any second, which sometimes felt to Harry like he was being patronised, their relationship was a little strained. Still, Draco was nearly always there to add his strength when Harry's ran out, and if he wasn't there, it was one of his other friends or family. After the initial shock, for which he hadn't been completely forgiven, everyone had rallied round and was doing their stints as Harry's companion. Never being alone was also wearing thin, but Harry was trying to remember that it was better than being in the infirmary, which would have been the only other alternative for someone whom the base had decided was having paranoid delusions.

If it hadn't been for the fact that Aithne kept wriggling every time he paused, Harry would probably have dozed off in front of the warm fire. As it was, he wasn't sure he was following the story of dragons and princesses and daring do, but he was managing to read it. It felt safe and comfortable in the close company of the innocents: they were completely unaware that Uncle Harry was supposed to be nuts, and his thoughts mused around his plan without being too heavy.

Things were going well. Dumbledore had informed him the day after their first incident that Richard had made some loud comments in a public bar which, given their negative tone, had gained him some drinking partners, and information had begun to flow. Rumours had made it outside of the base as well and had backed up their mole's story of being beaten up by a madman. Harry had been through the whole 'crazy' thing before, during his dreadful fifth year at Hogwarts, and he recognised the looks people were giving him now, sympathy tinged with wariness, but this time, they were a positive sign.

Harry had nearly nodded off again, because Aithne, in response, started to move, but it was not the child that brought him out of his stupor, but a knock on the door. Molly had made the sacrifice of actually closing her front door when her adoptive son was in residence for the sake of his privacy, and opening it meant the act had to go in place, just in case there were curious eyes watching.

"Just a minute," Molly called, sharing a glance with Harry, and, reluctantly, he encouraged the girls to get down.

They complained, but Molly beckoned with biscuits, and so Harry was alone by the fire in a couple of seconds. He pulled up a blanket over his legs that had been left lying on the ground and took up flame-staring.

"Come in," Molly invited.

Draco opened the door and made way for Hermione, much to her children's delight. Harry saw them out of the corner of his eye, but he did not look up until he heard the door close once more, then he turned to the visitors properly. He instantly smirked at what he saw: they both had soot marks on their faces, and their clothes were a mess.

"What happened to you?" he asked with a laugh in his voice.

"Potion blew up," Draco scowled at him.