Fanfic: Haven by bluefay (Free to read, 564,411Clicks)


“Malfoy needs to stay here, Harry. He needs to be kept safe.”


No Archive Warnings ApplyDraco Malfoy/Harry Potter Hermione Granger/Ron WeasleyHarry Potter Draco Malfoy Hermione Granger Ron Weasley Teddy Lupin Andromeda Black TonksChristmas 25 Days of Harry and Draco The Ministry of Magic is Corrupt (Harry Potter) Ex-Auror Harry Potter Auror Ron Weasley Broom Maker Draco Malfoy Healer Hermione Granger Recluse Harry Potter Cabin Fic Enemies to Friends to Lovers Forced Proximity Feelings Realization Denial of Feelings Texting Slow Burn Implied/Referenced Homophobia Implied/Referenced Child Abuse Childhood Memories Missing Persons Background Case Miscommunication Mistletoe Christmas Movies Christmas Fluff Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley Bad Parent Narcissa Black Malfoy Bad Parent Lucius Malfoy sad masturbation Mutual Pining Anal Sex Anal Fingering Hand Jobs Safehouses



“Malfoy needs to stay here, Harry. He needs to be kept safe.”“Safe? Why safe? Last I heard, he was running a broom shop in Diagon.”“Yeah, well.” Ron let out a shaky breath. “Things have changed, apparently.”


For gnarf.

I told myself I wouldn’t write a big Christmas fic this year, yet here I am. Gnarf, thank you so much for prompting the story that sparked this idea in the drarry discord. Without you, this fic wouldn’t exist. I did deviate slightly, so apologies for that, and I hope you enjoy it Thank you so much DevilRising and crazybutgood for your brilliant beta and britpicking! Again, without you two, this fic wouldn’t be possible. Lastly, thank you to my wife, Emma, for supporting me in this and always making sure I have enough time to write This fic is mostly written, and a new chapter will go up every day until December 25th. To anyone who reads this, thank you and happy holidays✨

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

The drive leading up to 20 Almond Lane was nothing short of exquisite, with tall pine trees stretching into the morning mist and bright corn marigolds lining the damp road. Off to the left, through the thicket of trees, Harry could see the faintest hint of rolling hills covered in long, soft grasses and dotted with cows. Behind the hills stood a backdrop of birch trees, their bright amber leaves popping against the dullness of the foggy, pewter-coloured sky.Harry pressed his hand up against the cool passenger’s window, his eyes tracing the fat raindrops that were rolling down the glass as Hermione absently tapped along to Coldplay’s Yellow crackling through the car’s stereo. While they still had yet to find 20 Almond Lane, Harry didn’t particularly mind; it wasn’t often that he found himself outside of London, able to take in scenery that didn’t involve cityscape, although he supposed that would be changing soon enough.He’d tried to adjust after the war—truly, he had. But there’d been something about the long hours at the Ministry, and the charity galas, and the worryingly aggressive fans, and the constant fighting with Ginny, that had left him craving something better, something more. He’d wanted out of London, out of their stuffy flat, out of the role that he’d diligently played for so long. And so, after a night out with Ron, Harry had come stumbling drunkenly through the Floo and promptly announced to Ginny that he’d wanted to break up. Now, looking back, he wished he’d done it with a little more finesse, although it had gotten the job done. After the initial shock had worn off and Harry had taken a sobering potion, he and Ginny had stayed up on the couch long into the early hours of the morning, trying desperately to sort through the memories, lies, and companionship that had filled the last seven years. Eventually, as the sun had risen, Ginny had conceded that perhaps Harry had a point; after all, they’d never quite gotten along when together.After agreeing that the best thing to do was end their relationship, give themselves room, and slowly become friends again, Harry had wasted no time in looking for a new place to call home.Which is how he found himself here, two months later, staring longingly out the window in the hopes of spotting 20 Almond Lane. Tearing his eyes away from the surrounding hills and canopy of trees, he glanced down at his wristwatch, which read twenty-five past ten.“Hey, ‘Mione?”“Hmm?”“Our appointment with Heather is in five minutes.”Hermione let out a weary sigh and pressed down on the accelerator, lurching the silver Ford Fiesta forward. “Well, fuck.”Taking a sharp turn around a bend, they continued on the road for another few minutes in silence. Harry occasionally glanced down at the map in his lap, which Hermione had thrown at him earlier this morning when leaving their hotel room above the Rose and Boar Pub in Kielder Village, although it wasn’t of much help.Just as Harry was about to break the car’s tense silence by suggesting that they might be lost, his eyes caught the white glare of a road sign up ahead. Squinting until he could make out thick black letters reading Almond Lane, he breathed out a sigh of relief and relaxed back into his seat.“I see it,” Hermione said, nodding towards the road sign. After coming to a rolling stop, she coaxed the car to the right, turning onto a long, dusty path that seemed to take them further into Kielder Forest. The trees’ shadows grew longer, the sky darker, and the rain heavier, and after several more minutes of driving, Harry spotted the silhouette of a large house up ahead.The car slowed as they approached, eventually coming to a stop next to a cherry red Vauxhall Astra. Despite the rain coming down in heavy bouts, the house was now visible through the mist. It was large—certainly larger than what it had looked like in pictures Harry had found on the internet—with tall stairs that led up to the white front door. Several glistening windows sat facing outwards from the second story. Dark ivy vines crawled up the front of the house, covering most of the faded brick exterior, and a matching chimney sat atop the charcoal-coloured tile roof.20 Almond Lane. It seemed spacious, and homey, and quite the opposite of London.A petite woman with bleach blonde hair, a grey pantsuit, and a blue umbrella stepped out of the Vauxhall Astra, and Harry recognised her as Heather White, the Muggle realtor he’d been in contact with over the past month.Hermione unbuckled her seatbelt and turned towards him, squeezing his hand. “Ready?”He sucked in a deep breath. “Ready.”Opening the door, Harry climbed out of the car and stepped onto the dirt driveway, walking towards the woman. “Hi. You must be Heather.”Heather grinned, sticking out her hand, which Harry shook. “Yes! Lovely to meet you. Mr Harry Potter, I presume?”“Yes.” Harry gestured to Hermione, who was rounding the other side of the car. “And this is my friend, Hermione Granger.”“Ah. Lovely to meet you, Ms Granger,” Heather said, and they exchanged brief smiles. “Let’s get out of the rain, shall we? And then I can get to showing you around.”Harry and Hermione followed Heather up the front steps, where she quickly fished out a set of keys from her trouser pocket before unlocking the door. “Harry, Hermione,” she began as they stepped inside, “welcome to 20 Almond Lane.”Harry’s eyes widened as he glanced around. The entryway led directly into what seemed to be the living room. With high ceilings, a stone fireplace, a brick-red camelback sofa, two matching armchairs on either side, and a dark walnut coffee table, the space was roomy enough to not feel cramped while, at the same time, giving off a certain level of cosiness. Oil paintings depicting fields of golden wheat, rough seas, and endless blue skies lined the walls, and fixed to the middle of the ceiling was a low hanging pendant light glowing a hazy gold.“Here’s the living room; the heart of the house, if you will,” Heather said, winking. “Beautiful, isn’t it? This structure has been around since the late nineteenth century, although the current owners did a large remodelling when they bought it in the eighties.”“Has it been updated since then?” Hermione asked. “I’m thinking of kitchen appliances, for instance.”“Oh! Well, why don’t I just show you?” Heather asked, and Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement. Crossing the living room, they were led through a door and into the kitchen.Harry’s eyes immediately went to the large glass double doors that sat opposite the round dining table, leading to a sweeping porch that looked out onto the thousands of surrounding trees. The sight was surreal, so unlike the flat’s view of a back alley that separated the building from a Chinese restaurant. Here, when stepping outside, he wouldn’t have to brace himself for the loud rush of traffic or the overwhelming business of the paths. Everything was calm and still, as though the world was at the tail-end of a long exhale.Heather smiled warmly as she walked over to where Harry was standing, peering out of the glass. “Ah, interested in the French doors, are we?”“Yeah,” Harry said, letting out a small laugh of disbelief. “The view is stunning.”“Quite. I can’t tell you how tempted I was to quit my job and sell everything I owned when I first saw this listing,” Heather joked. “It’s been on the market for quite some time. I suppose secluded life isn’t what it used to be.”“Well, secluded is what I want,” Harry said, turning from the doors to face the rest of the kitchen. “So far, it seems to fit exactly what I’m looking for.”On the far side of the kitchen was a marble island, accompanied by a stainless steel stove, oven, microwave, and washing machine. The sink’s basin was deep—perfect for the nights where Harry was bound to neglect putting dishes into the dishwasher, leaving them until morning—and above it sat a small window with a white linen curtain. The kitchen’s walls were a pale orange, and while Harry typically wasn’t someone who gravitated towards such bold colours, it worked with the softness of the room. It wasn’t difficult to envision lazy mornings at the stovetop, cooking scrambled eggs and bacon and sipping a cup of hot tea as he looked out at the forest.After viewing the bathroom, the study, and one of the spare bedrooms, the three of them proceeded upstairs. The two additional spare bedrooms looked just as the first one had, with tall ceilings, warm colours, and comfy-looking beds, and the hall bathroom similarly matched the one downstairs.“Now for the master bedroom, then!” Heather beamed, clapping her hands together as she led them to the end of the hall and opened the door. “I’ve got a feeling you’re going to like this, Harry.”Stepping inside, Harry knew she was right. The king-sized four-poster bed sat against the far left wall, and on either side were matching circular nightstands. A thick, crimson carpet lay against the dark wooden floors, tying in with the painting of poppies that hung above the bed. On the wall opposite the door sat a wide bay window with a dark wood trim. The trees outside seemed to carry on for miles, coupled with the view of a small creek that ran not too far from the house, its rippling surface distorted with waves of raindrops.The room was light and airy, and Harry wanted nothing more than to send Hermione and Heather off and collapse onto the plush bed.“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said softly. “This is what you’ve been looking for.”He grinned. “Yeah, it is.” 
 Harry took a long sip of beer as he watched Hermione fiddle with a paper straw wrapper across the booth’s table. “Missing Ron?”Hermione glanced up, startled, before offering him a sad smile. “Yes, terribly. He’s been gone for two weeks now. Seven years, and I’m still not used to the long Auror trips.”“He hates them too, if it makes you feel any better.” Harry popped a chip dipped in tartar sauce into his mouth. “Always used to say that you were the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing he thought of before he went to sleep when we were on missions.”“Oh, God.” Hermione quickly wiped away a tear that had spilled down her cheek and sucked in a deep breath. “I refuse to cry in a pub over fish and chips. Let’s talk about something else.”“Okay. Well, what did you think of the house?”“Brilliant, Harry,” Hermione said, her eyes lighting up. “It was perfect for you, although I hate that you’ll be so far away.”“Come on,” Harry said, smiling softly at her as he gave her ankle a light kick underneath the table. “I’ll only be a Floo away.”She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I suppose.”“Besides, you and Ron will come over all the time, won’t you?”“Of course, we will.”“Good.”They ate in comfortable silence for a moment before Hermione spoke again. “So, are you going to put down an offer?”Harry looked up from his plate, finished chewing, and shrugged. “Yeah, I think so… ‘Mione, am I making the right decision?”“To buy a house?”“Yeah,” Harry said, nodding, “and all the rest: breaking up with Ginny, leaving London, quitting the Aurors. Sometimes I feel like I’m just fucking things up further.”“Oh, Harry.” Hermione reached across the table, grabbing his hand. “You’re not fucking things up, and you’re certainly not making the wrong decision. You were miserable in London. You needed to get away, and Ron and I fully support you in that.”“Promise?”She squeezed his hand. “Promise.”

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