Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Say My Name	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 30143 -:- Recommendations : 10 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
A/N: As always, I love my reviewers. You guys rock my world!
Whoo! This was an intense chapter for me to write. Emotions are running high. But there's still some good Drarry sweetness to temper it for you.
Also, for anyone who was wondering in the back of their mind where the hell Hagrid has been, he finally makes an appearance, albeit a brief one. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 10: Broken-Hearted Girl
“You’re sure you won’t join us at the Burrow tonight, Harry?” Hermione asked as she, Harry, Ron, and Draco made their way off of Hogwarts grounds to Hogsmeade, where they could Apparate to their respective homes.
“I have things to take care of at Grimmauld,” Harry said. He had already explained this to Ron and Hermione twice, but they didn’t seem to get it. “I’ve got gifts to wrap-“
“You could easily do that at the Burrow, mate,” Ron interjected.
“With half of the Weasley clan sneaking in on me to see what I got them? Hardly.” Harry replied with a smile. “Besides, I want to check on how the renovations are coming along, and make sure that Kreacher is doing all right.”
His friends had been strange about him deciding to stay one night at Number 12 Grimmauld Place all alone before joining them at the Burrow for Christmas. He couldn’t be sure why, exactly, but they seemed to think it would upset him. Harry had no idea how to explain that it would be the opposite. Since he decided to turn Grimmauld into a permanent home for himself, he had felt at peace. He had the means of turning the dark and dingy house into something nice, something Sirius would have appreciated. He liked that idea, and he wanted to see it through.
They made it into Hogsmeade with no further nagging from Ron or Hermione, and they pulled their wands out, all preparing to Disapparate.
“We’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Ron said.
“Yeah, see you then,” said Harry, and with a pop his two friends disappeared. Harry turned to Draco, who had been very quiet for most of the walk. “Are you all right?”
Draco shrugged. “I used to look forward to the holidays. We went to all sorts of parties and had lavish meals and hosted lots of visitors. We’ll still have the meals, no doubt, but with it just being Mother and I…” He sighed, and then looked at Harry, his expression melancholy but his eyes filled with warmth. “It will be better when you’re there.”
“I’ll be there before you know it,” Harry said, taking his hand.
“I hardly think that’s true,” Draco said. “But I’ll live with it.”
It hadn’t been the original plan for Harry to spend part of the holidays at Malfoy Manor. But earlier in the month Draco had finally plucked up the courage to ask, citing a desire on the part of Narcissa Malfoy to meet Harry “officially.” Draco had been so adorably demure about the whole thing that Harry had jumped him on the spot, accepting the invitation only after he had ravished Draco quite thoroughly.
It had not taken much to rearrange the plans. He would stay at the Burrow for the first week, spending both Christmas Eve and Christmas morning there before heading to the Manor that afternoon. Then he would have the rest of the holidays to spend with Draco. He was quite looking forward to it, and for more than just the obvious reasons. He had a feeling that the Weasley Christmas was going to be both very busy, with all the Weasley siblings and guests that would be joining them, and also very sad, since it was their first Christmas without Fred. Harry imagined that after a week he would be quite ready to whisk away to a quiet manor to enjoy copious amounts of snogging. It would be the perfect reprieve.
“If you get bored, write to me,” said Harry. “I’d like to hear from you anyway.”
“We’re a bit pathetic, aren’t we?” said Draco with a laugh. “We’ll only be apart a week.”
This was not the first time in the past few weeks that Harry was reminded of Draco’s limited experience with relationships and what it felt like to be in one. He never knew, in those moments, if it would be best to explain to Draco that attachment wasn’t weakness, that the craving he was feeling was natural at the beginning of a relationship, and would temper itself over time. But the last thing he wanted to do was come across as condescending.
“Not pathetic,” he said mildly. “Just… invested. I happen to think it’s a good thing.”
Draco sighed. “All right, fair enough. Whatever you want to call it, it’s happening.”
Harry smiled. “Yes, it is.” He leaned in and captured Draco’s lips in a soft kiss. “I should get going.”
Draco nodded. “I’ll write to you.”
“Good. I’ll reply.”
“I…” Draco looked suddenly irritated with himself. “I’ll miss you.”
Harry smiled wider, feeling renewed warmth spreading through him. “I’ll miss you, too, as you well know. No need to be embarrassed about it.”
Draco huffed. “I’m not good at this part.”
“I think you’re doing great,” replied Harry. He kissed Draco again. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Soon,” Draco said with another kiss.
Reluctantly, Harry pulled away, knowing he would linger there all day if he let himself. With a final soft smile at Draco he Disapparated, popping into existence again onto the stoop of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
He smiled at the sight before him. Even the door itself looked better, more inviting, than it had when he had left for Hogwarts. He opened the door eagerly, ready to see what his hired team of renovators had done so far with the interior.
Harry stopped immediately in the silent foyer and looked around, already amazed at the difference a few months could make. The renovations to this part of the house had gone smoothly; the walls were lighter, the ceilings higher, and the hallways wider, making the space feel more open and far less dingy. The removal of some of the darker objects, like the troll leg umbrella stand and the elf heads on the wall, had also made a big difference. He walked down the hallway to the kitchen, where clean granite countertops and sleek new Muggle appliances had been installed. Harry wondered how Kreacher was taking these particular changes. Some things, like the oven and the gas stove above it, would be similar enough to what wizards used that it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Items like the refrigerator and the dishwasher, however, would be completely foreign, and he could see his pureblood friends and his house elf being confused as to why he would even want them in the first place. Only the half-bloods and Muggleborns would understand how dead useful such things could be. And he had already decided to wire the house for electricity anyway. Why not go all out and have the best of both worlds?
Harry was quite pleased with the progress so far, though the work was far from done. He knew parts of the upper floors still had not been touched, and there were a number of Black family heirlooms and other objects he would have to sort through himself, though he’d made sure a certified curse-breaker had gone over everything first.
What would be really telling, though, about how the renovations were going, Harry knew, would be the family tree, and he immediately left the kitchen in search of it.
The mural had been there since the construction of the house, and it showed all of the Black descendants, with the exception of those who had been blasted off the wall by angry matriarchs and patriarchs over the years. The images of Sirius and Andromeda were the most notable of those to Harry, and he had explored the option of trying to restore the images, or else cover the mural altogether.
But the family tree was ancient magic, and it wasn’t a simple task for the magical renovators. It was tied deeply to the magic of the house, they said, and it could not be removed or changed without the house’s consent. They recommended he bring in a magical theorist and Harry, not knowing what else to do, followed their advice.
He had hired Thelonia Prewett, who came highly recommended, for a consultation at the end of the summer. She reminded him a lot of Luna Lovegood, not so much in looks but in demeanor. She had a serene and dreamy way about her that made her seem a bit flaky. But Harry, knowing Luna as he did, knew that such appearances could be deceiving.
“Oh, yes,” she had said immediately upon entering the house. “I see the problem.”
Harry was surprised. He hadn’t even shown her the mural yet. “What do you mean?” he asked her.
“This house has absorbed a great deal of malevolent magic. Can’t you feel it?”
Harry looked around, as if expecting to see darkness seeping from the very walls. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “It’s always been like this, for as long as I can remember. Granted, I’ve only owned it for a couple of years.”
She nodded. “You’ve grown accustomed to it, perhaps. Or you didn’t know what you were feeling. That is more and more common these days.”
“It belonged to the Black family for centuries. They were dark wizards, for the most part, I think,” Harry said. “Is that why the house has… malevolent magic?”
She looked at him in what he thought might be surprise. She still had that soft smile on her face, but her eyebrows had raised just a fraction. “No, that is not relevant. For the most part, distinctions between light and dark magic are purely semantic, and often misleading. That dichotomy distinguishes in very crude terms the origins of many spells and rituals, but it says nothing about intention. After all, a so-called ‘light’ spell can be used with hateful or vulgar intent, and a ‘dark’ one with loving or righteous intent, just as much as the reverse is true.”
“So what is malevolent magic, then?” Harry asked, thoroughly confused.
“Hatred,” she said simply. “I believe there have been a number of heads of the family living in this house over the centuries that have had hatred in their hearts, and undoubtedly committed hateful acts towards members of their family, people they were supposed to love. Such acts corrupt the sacred family landscape, distorting what should be a space of peace, acceptance, loyalty, and love. This desecration creates a toxic energy that permeates everything.”
“Would a mother disowning her son and blasting his portrait off of the family tree count as a hateful act?” Harry asked.
She smiled warmly at him. “That is a prime example.”
Harry nodded. “Would you… like to see?” he asked, unsure if it would be useful or not.
“Lead the way.”
She stared for a long time at the mural, her face impassive. “Yes,” she said finally. “There is a lot of hatred here. It cuts me deeply to even think of it. It’s hard to understand how a family could do this to itself.”
“There are plenty of Black descendants who are wonderful, loving people,” Harry said, thinking of Andromeda.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Thelonia replied with a sigh, brushing a hand over her graying chestnut hair. “But the head of the house is also its heart, and has most of the power. The house responds to that energy more than any other.”
“Is it fixable?” This was what Harry was really worried about. He’d already invested a good chunk of money in renovating the house, and he had grown rather attached to the idea of living in the space that Sirius had given him. It would be a real shame if he had to let it sit there without use.
“Oh, yes, certainly,” she said. “It can be reversed, although it will take some time. But the cure is quite simple. Those that inhabit this house, particularly the head of the house, must have love in their hearts, and act lovingly towards the people in their lives. The more powerful the benevolent magic, the faster the malevolent magic will recede.”
“So I just have to… live here?”
She looked at him with an amused glint in her eyes. “Do you have love in your heart?”
Harry blushed. This was a strange conversation. “Um, I suppose so.”
“Then yes. You simply have to live here. Over time you will begin to feel a shift in the energy. And certain aspects of the house, like this family tree, will begin to heal themselves. The house will sense your desire for it and restore the images.”
Harry raised his eyebrows, amazed, but also skeptical. He had never assigned a house that much agency before. Then again, Hogwarts castle had always seemed to have a mind of its own. Why should an ancient family home be any different?
“It also wouldn’t hurt to remove any artifacts that are associated with former owners of the house, anything that makes you uncomfortable,” Thelonia went on. “And if there are portraits of family members that might be releasing malevolent energy, those ought to be removed as well.”
“Yeah, we’re working on that,” Harry said, thinking of the portrait of Walburga Black that was still stuck to the wall in the hallway. But he was determined to get rid of it, one way or another. “I should also mention that I’m going back to Hogwarts, and won’t be staying here much for the next nine months or so. Will that be a problem for the… healing of the house?”
“It would be most effective if you were here frequently,” she said. “But I can create some surrogate artifacts to exist in your place until you finish school. They will channel your energy wherever you are and release it into the house. It shouldn’t be too much of a drain on your magic.”
“Great,” said Harry.
“I should warn you, such artifacts require blood magic and are therefore considered by most to be dark objects, though they are not illegal. But again, that is just semantics. It is the intention of the magic that matters.”
Harry considered that a moment, but really didn’t see the harm. After all, he had used the Imperius Curse in the war against Voldemort, because he had no other choice. He couldn’t regret that dark magic, when it saved so many lives.
“That’s fine,” he said. “Just tell me what you need from me.”
That had been four months ago, and now Harry was standing in front of the mural again, hoping to see a difference. And there did seem to be. He might have been imagining it, but he thought that the colors looked more vibrant, the gold and silver connections between the members more defined. The black marks across many of the faces were still present, but upon closer inspection Harry saw that the blackness looked a bit flaky. He reached up to where Sirius’ portrait should have been and ran a hand across it, finding that some charred pieces came away with his fingers.
“Will you look at that,” Harry said to himself quietly, as he continued to brush the flaky blackness away and saw a faded image of his godfather start to come into view. Some charred remains still clung to the wall, but Harry could easily make out Sirius’ face and part of his neck. He smiled.
It wasn’t a complete restoration, but it was a start.
***
Harry passed the night in Grimmauld pleasantly enough. Kreacher was pleased to have someone to cook for, and had already familiarized himself with the new range in the kitchen (the microwave, no surprise, remained untouched). After a delicious steak and kidney pie and treacle tart for dessert, Harry took inventory of his Christmas presents and wrapped them, carefully packing Draco’s and Narcissa’s away from the rest. He figured it might be a little awkward to get them mixed up.
He had thought he’d call it an early night, since the last few weeks had been tiring, full of work and exams, but he found he had trouble falling asleep. Compared to the past few months at Hogwarts, with the sounds of 8^th years coming and going in the dormitory late into the night, Grimmauld was almost oppressively quiet.
And Harry missed Draco. He hadn’t been spending every night with the Slytherin for the final weeks of the term, but he had spent enough time sleeping next to him that he was starting to get accustomed to it. More than accustomed. It was quite comforting, in fact. Draco’s body was warm and solid, wrapping him in a cocoon that made him feel safe in a way he never had with Ginny. He couldn’t explain why. It was just a mystery of human chemistry, he supposed. Draco’s smell, the feel of his skin, the soft rhythm of his breathing, all made Harry relax, let go, feel… at home.
Home. Just one of the many things his childhood deprived him of truly understanding. He had never felt at home at the Dursleys, of course, though he hadn’t known any different until he came to Hogwarts. That had felt like a home to him, or as close as he could get, but he found he wasn’t as attached to the school that way anymore. Perhaps too much had happened there, or it belonged to too many others in the same way. He needed something that was his, that he could create for himself, hence the extensive renovation project.
Although, he thought, as he breathed deeply and wished for sleep to take him, home doesn’t have to be a place at all.
He had learned this, being with Ginny. She had been more than a girlfriend. She had represented the promise of a future, of a whole life. And for a long time, that’s what he thought he wanted. What he couldn’t see at the time was that it wasn’t Ginny herself that was that promise, it was her whole family. Perhaps, as cruel and unfair as it was to think it, Ginny was really just his ticket in to becoming a true member of the Weasley clan. She was his chance to really belong somewhere.
But that was not a good enough reason to be with someone. He knew that now more than ever, because he had something quite different to compare it to. Draco didn’t promise a big family, a community, surrogate parents and siblings. Draco’s family world was nearly as small as Harry’s own. Yet when he was with Draco, he found that the two of them were enough. Neither of them had to be more than what they were or promise more than they could give.
And isn’t that what belonging really is? Being enough, just as you are?
He did eventually drift off, but morning came all too soon. Harry dragged his way through it, trying to muster the energy that he knew would be required for the chaos of a week-long stay at the Burrow. He hadn’t always felt that way about visiting the Weasleys, and he felt a bit guilty for feeling it now. But he couldn’t do anything about it. It was just one of the many things that had changed in the past few months.
He Disapparated off of the stoop of Grimmauld with his shrunk trunk in one pocket and his shrunk bag of presents in the other, landing on the solid, frozen ground a dozen yards from the gates of the Burrow. He immediately heard the sounds of laughter and triumphant whoops coming from the back garden, where he was sure some members of the family were enjoying a game of Quidditch before lunch. He smiled, reminded that there were some quite nice things about staying at the Burrow after all.
When he approached the front door he could hear both Molly and Hermione’s voices coming from the kitchen. From the sounds of it, they were talking about Hermione and Ron’s post-Hogwarts plans. Harry let himself in, and both women stopped talking abruptly to look at him.
“Harry,” said Hermione brightly.
“Hey Hermione, Molly.” It had taken a while to get used to calling Molly Weasley by her first name, but she had drilled it into him unrelentingly after the war, and he was finally in the habit of it.
“Hello, Harry dear,” Molly said, coming over to give him a kiss on the cheek, which he returned. “You’re just in time. I was preparing lunch for everyone.”
“Can I help?” Harry asked, knowing it would immediately win him points.
They set him the task of cooking the bacon while Hermione and Molly continued their conversation.
“I suppose we’ll have to go flat-hunting come summer,” Hermione was saying, obviously picking up from wherever she had left off. “We haven’t talked much about what we want exactly, but I imagine that size and cost matters more than location, since we can both floo into work from home.”
“You know you’re always welcome to stay here for the first couple of years,” Molly replied. “It would help keep your expenses down.”
“That’s very generous, Molly,” Hermione said. “But I think Ron wants to strike out on his own, and so do I, for that matter. I think we both want to do things like… like proper adults, you know?”
“Of course,” Molly said, with understanding. But then her tone shifted, and she pursed her lips. “Although, if Ronald really wants to do the thing properly, he’ll get you a ring before the year is up.”
Hermione blushed but said nothing, and Harry grinned to himself as he turned the bacon over. He knew that while Hermione and Ron were very committed to each other, neither of them was ready for marriage quite yet. They both wanted to get their careers off the ground first. Of course, Hermione was not about to say as much to Molly Weasley, who had married Arthur right out of Hogwarts.
Fortunately, Hermione was spared the burden of replying when the group that had been playing Quidditch entered the kitchen through the back door, talking animatedly. Ron and George both greeted Harry with a clap on the back, while Ginny gave him a small wave and Charlie shook his hand.
“How was Quidditch?” Harry asked them.
“I’m getting old, that’s all I know,” said Charlie, giving his stiff back a stretch. “These three can fly circles around me.”
“You held your own just fine,” Ron told him. “It’s not your fault Ginny is better with the Quaffle than all of us.”
Lunch was ready, and they settled around the table together, as always. Conversation revolved around reports from Hogwarts, Charlie’s work in Romania, and the new products George was launching at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Harry told everyone about the renovations at Grimmauld, and Molly looked especially excited.
“I always wondered how it would look as a proper home,” she said. “I can’t wait to see it.”
By the time lunch was over and Harry was trudging up the stairs to Ron’s room to put away his things, Harry was feeling much better about the prospect of a week with the Weasleys. He realized that he had been unconsciously quite nervous about how Molly, and even Charlie, George, and the other brothers, would act towards him now that he and Ginny were no longer together. But little had changed. Harry couldn’t help but wonder what Ginny had told them about the breakup.
“Sorry you’re stuck with me, mate,” Ron said as Harry unshrunk his luggage and put it at the foot of his bed. “Only so many rooms, you know.”
Harry gave him a bewildered look. “No need to be sorry,” he said. “This is how it always is.”
Ron shrugged. “I sometimes wondered if things would be different, with us being adults and all. But Mum’s still making Hermione stay with Ginny. Keeping us separate.”
Harry grinned. “It sounds like you’re the one who’s sorry to be stuck with me.”
“Oi, it’s not like that,” said Ron. “I just… a man gets used to certain things, after a while.”
“No need to explain. You know, I can stay with George instead if you want Hermione to stay with you.”
“Yeah, right.” Ron relaxed onto his bed, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Mum would notice right away. We didn’t even risk it last night, when I had this room all to myself. Can you imagine what she would do if she caught us…?”
“She has to know you two are… you know.”
“She knows, but she doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to know, really. She turns a blind eye because Hermione and I have made it clear that we intend to get married, but even so she’s not going to tolerate it under her own roof. She’s old-fashioned like that.”
“Well, then I suppose you’ll just have to go two whole weeks without a shag, then,” said Harry.
Ron scowled. “It’s more difficult than it sounds, you know. I mean, isn’t that why you’re going to visit Malfoy after Christmas? You can’t go two whole weeks either.”
Harry didn’t have a good argument for that. While he did experience a bit of a dry spell between his breakup with Ginny and that first encounter with Draco, that was different. Now that he had tasted even just a fraction of what Draco had to offer, he couldn’t get enough. This week at the Burrow alone was going to be hard enough to endure.
There was a tapping at the window, and Harry glanced up to see Draco’s eagle owl, Archimedes, hovering outside, a roll of parchment tied to his leg. Smiling, Harry stood and opened the window. The bird flew in, very patiently lifting its leg to allow Harry to untie the parchment.
“It’s from him, isn’t it?” said Ron, eyeing the owl with a strange look on his face.
“Yeah,” said Harry. To his surprise, the owl was lingering. “I suppose he wants a treat?”
“Of course a Malfoy owl would expect a treat,” Ron said archly.
Harry glared at him before digging around in his trunk for the bag of owl treats he still kept on hand. Archimedes accepted the snack happily, then hooted and flew up to one of Ron’s bookshelves, finding a place to perch.
“Well, that’s odd,” said Ron.
“He knows I don’t have an owl,” Harry said, realizing. “He must have made sure Archimedes waited to bring my reply back with him.”
“That’s awfully presumptuous,” Ron grumbled.
But Harry disagreed. He thought it was quite considerate. He unrolled the parchment to see what Draco had written to him.

Dear Harry,
You told me to write to you if I got bored, so here I am doing just that. It’s astounding that it hasn’t even been a whole day yet, but perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised.
The manor is painfully quiet. Mother and I went half an hour into dinner last night talking in hushed voices until we realized that there was no need, that we could be as loud as we wanted. But there’s not enough shouting, singing, or laughing that could fill in the profound emptiness of this house, so it didn’t make much difference.
I realize I spent most of the term complaining about how I never get any peace and quiet at Hogwarts. But now that I’m here, I miss all the company and all the noise. Why is that, that I cannot simply be satisfied with whatever my present circumstances happen to be? Human nature, or is it unique to me?
Of course, I know the real reason I feel unsettled. You’re not here.
Yes, go ahead and call me a romantic sap. I’m not there to glare at you, so you can get away with it.
I hope your holiday so far has been more enjoyable than mine. I will certainly enjoy it more with a reply from you. Send it with Archimedes when you can. He’ll wait.
Yours,
Draco

Harry smiled, letting the warmth of Draco’s confession seep into him. And yet, Harry thought, chuckling, Draco still managed to be his usually snarky, amusing self throughout the entire thing.
“What, did he send you dirty poetry, or something?” Ron asked, making Harry remember that he was there.
“It’s just a normal letter, Ron,” Harry said with a mildly exasperated sigh, rolling the parchment up again and slipping it into his pocket.
“I suppose you’d better reply then, so that bloody bird can go home.” Ron glanced up at Archimedes, who was watching both of them imperiously from his perch in the corner.
Harry intended to do just that, but he only got so far as “Dear Draco” before both he and Ron were called downstairs by Molly and put to work with the first round of many chores leading up to the Christmas Eve party. By the time they were finished dinner was nearly ready, Arthur was home from the Ministry, and the table needed to be set.
It wasn’t until well after dinner, as most members of the family were either heading to their own rooms or else finding a quiet place by the fire to read, that Harry had an opportunity to pen a response to his boyfriend. He curled up in an armchair in the quiet sitting room with parchment and quill and began to write.

Dear Draco,
I know exactly what you mean. Grimmauld was far too quiet last night with just me and Kreacher and it made me miss Hogwarts, and you, of course.
Now I’m at the Burrow, and it’s the complete opposite problem. I’m not sure this house has ever known the meaning of the word “quiet.” This is the first minute I’ve had to myself all day, and I’m not even really alone. Arthur and Charlie are playing chess on the other side of the room, Hermione is by the fire reading an Ancient Runes text, and I can hear Molly in the kitchen baking a pie for tomorrow’s dinner. I could just go up to my room, I suppose, but Ron’s already up there, probably still lamenting about the fact that he can’t share a room with Hermione now that he’s home. He’s been complaining about it all day to me and Hermione both.
Not that I can say I blame him. I know life would be a lot more enjoyable for me if I had you to crawl into bed with tonight, and even more so if we could really be alone. I’m craving quiet again, but peace even more so, which I’m realizing is much harder to come by. Being in the company of the right person makes a big difference.
Maybe I’ll convince you to stay with me at Grimmauld for Easter break. We’d get plenty of quiet and peace both there. Do you think you could be persuaded?
And by all means, continue to be a romantic sap. You know full well I enjoy it. Speaking of which, I miss you. Write to me soon.
Yours,
Harry

Harry rolled up the letter and tied it securely, then went in search of Archimedes, who was in the kitchen feasting on a plate of bacon rinds that Harry had set out for him.
“Thanks for waiting,” he told the owl as he tied the letter to its leg. “You’re a patient one.”
Archimedes preened and then snapped a quick goodbye with his beak before taking off out of the open kitchen window. Harry watched the bird fly off into the night, glad that Draco would at least receive his reply by the morning.
“Was that Draco Malfoy’s owl?” Molly asked from the kitchen island, where she was flattening and shaping pie crusts.
Harry started and turned to her. “I… um, yes, it was.”
Molly gave him a small smile. “You’re afraid I don’t approve?”
Harry had no answer for that. It was exactly what he was afraid of, but he was worried about offending her by saying so.
“I’m certainly surprised,” Molly went on. “The way you three always talked about him, I thought you quite disliked him.”
“We did,” Harry said, finding his voice. “But that was before… before everything. He’s changed a lot, and so have I.”
“So have we all,” Molly agreed.
“I…” Harry took a deep breath. “I am sorry. About Ginny, I mean.”
Molly sighed. “Ginny is like me in so many ways that I thought she would make many of my same choices that I made when I was her age. But it has been clear to me for a long time that she wants more from her life than I wanted. I was young, and a bit naïve, I suppose, when I married Arthur, but I was also clear about what I wanted. I wanted to be a mother, and I wanted to have many children. I do not believe for a moment that I made the wrong choice, but I also don’t believe for a moment that Ginny would be nearly as happy in the same circumstance.”
Harry wasn’t sure how to answer, since none of what Molly was saying had anything to do with why he had broken up with Ginny.
“She has a great deal more exploring to do before she settles on anything, I think. We don’t all find our soul mates at age fifteen.”
Harry nodded. “That’s true.” He smiled suddenly. “Of course, turns out Ron found his at age eleven, he just didn’t know it.”
Molly smiled. “Yes, I hardly expected that. She is quite good for him, isn’t she?”
“They’re good together,” Harry said. “She keeps him grounded, and he reminds her to lighten up sometimes.”
“Mm,” Molly agreed. “She will be a wonderful daughter.” She looked at Harry, her gaze suddenly piercing, and Harry swallowed. “Of course, I would feel that way about her whether she married my son or not.”
Harry stood frozen, staring at Molly and wondering if she was saying what he thought she was saying.
“That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it, Harry? That I won’t love you anymore because you’re not going to marry my daughter?”
Harry felt a sting in his eyes and swallowed against it. Taking a shaky breath, he managed a nod.
“Oh, dear, no,” Molly said, coming to him. “Come here.” She pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him. “You will always be my son,” she said softly, rubbing a hand up and down his back the same way Harry did to soothe Teddy. “No matter who you love. Ginny will heal, and she’ll find happiness. Don’t be afraid. It will all turn out all right.”
Harry knew he should probably be embarrassed to break down like this, but Molly’s words were like a balm on his aching conscience. He hadn’t realized how tightly he had been carrying around the fear of the Weasleys rejecting him until he could finally let it go. What a release it was.
“You’ll have to bring that Draco around some time after school is finished,” Molly said into his ear. “So I can make sure he’s treating you right.”
Harry managed a watery laugh. “That would certainly be an interesting visit.”
She pulled away and looked at him, rubbing some of the moisture off of his cheeks. “I think it’s time for bed, young man,” she said. “You’ll sleep better tonight than you have been, don’t you think?”
Harry smiled. Leave it to Molly Weasley to be the one to notice the subtle bags under his eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
***
The conversation with Molly did a great deal for his mood and his ability to sleep over the next few days leading up to Christmas. He was able to be more relaxed in the presence of the Weasley family, which kept growing as Percy showed up mid-week and Bill and Fleur arrived only a day later. The house was starting to feel full to the brim, but even so Harry was able to handle the noise and chaos better, knowing now that even without Ginny, he did belong there.
The daily correspondence with Draco helped as well. They had cultivated a reliable routine already, in which Draco would reply to Harry’s letter in the morning, so that it reached Harry by the late afternoon, and then Harry would write back in the evenings, so that Draco would have a letter when he woke up.
“Honestly, Harry, you think you could manage a whole day without hearing from him,” George teased him one afternoon, as he readily picked up on Harry’s frequent glances towards the open window and the hope in his eyes that Archimedes would come flying through any moment. “With him being a pale, ferrety git, and all. I’m not sure I see the appeal.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't retort right away. George joked around much less frequently since Fred’s death, and Harry wanted to encourage the behavior, even if it was at his and Draco’s expense. He smiled, deciding to give as good as he got.
“You’re one to talk. Rumor has it you and Angelina are joined at the hip these days. Are those wedding bells I hear?”
George shook his head. “We’re both too sad,” he said simply.
Harry sighed and resisted the urge to apologize for bringing it up. This was just the way George was sometimes: teasing and smiling one minute and then grave and serious the next.
Draco’s owl swooped in suddenly and perched himself on the armrest of Harry’s chair.
“Hello, Archimedes,” Harry greeted him as usual, removing the owl treat from his pocket that he’d been saving and giving it to the owl as he removed the letter.
He heard George heave a sigh. “Like clockwork,” he said. “I could set my watch by it.”
Harry ignored him and unrolled the letter.

Dear Harry,
Have you had a single moment alone since you arrived there? Every letter’s description makes me envision you surrounded by people. I suppose you must be alone when you bathe (or at least, I hope so, for your sake). Is it not exhausting? It would be for me.
Of course, I’ve had the opposite problem. For a time I really believed I would be doomed to have no company at all until you came, but that finally changed yesterday when Blaise and his mother Marianna came for a visit. How refreshing it was to see another living soul besides my mother! The novelty didn’t last long, though. Blaise is currently fixated on a particular witch and he talks about her constantly. It’s tiresome, and I tell him so, but he doesn’t care. We’ve been friends for far too long for him to be concerned that he might be annoying me.
It was very nice for Mother to spend time with a friend, however. Her social circle has shrunk considerably since the end of the war. The pureblood world is a fickle place. But Marianna has always stayed loyal, just as her son has to me, so I suppose I should be grateful. I know Mother is.
She asked me this morning if you like quail. I suppose she’s thinking of serving it for Christmas dinner. I told her you’ll eat just about anything, barbarian that you are.
Only two more days until I see you. I hope the Weasleys haven’t worn you out too much. You’ll need your strength for the things I have in mind.
Yours,
Draco

Harry flushed red at the final lines of Draco’s letter and tried very hard not to get too aroused in front of George. That would only incite teasing on the level of merciless.
“He must have written something quite sweet for you to blush like that,” George said with a grin. “Sweet, or very raunchy. Might I have a read?”
“No, I don’t think so,” said Harry, making to stuff the parchment inside his pocket, but George was too fast and summoned it to him. “Oi!” Harry said angrily, grabbing for the letter as George danced out of his reach.
A scuffle ensued that ended with both men on the floor, laughing hysterically from ricocheting Tickling Jinxes, and Molly had to intervene, yelling as she loomed over them.
“What in Merlin’s name is going on in here?” She ended the jinxes with a quick wave of her wand and the two men relaxed against the carpet, breathing heavily.
“He took…” Harry breathed, “my letter… from Draco.”
“Honestly George. One would think you were still ten years old. Give Harry back his letter. And then wash up, the both of you. It’s nearly time for dinner.”
“Tattle-tale,” said George, but he handed over the parchment nonetheless.
Harry took it gratefully. He was even more grateful, however, looking at George. He hadn’t seen the man smile that brightly in a long time, and it was nice to see.
***
December the 24^th finally came, and it was a full day from start to finish. Molly was already cooking furiously by first light, assisted throughout the day by anyone she could rope into a task.
“We’re expecting a large crowd tonight,” she said. “We need to make sure there’s plenty for everyone.”
The Weasleys had never thrown a Christmas party this large, Harry was fairly certain. Not only was all of the Weasley clan going to be in attendance, along with many of their significant others, but they were also expecting most of the surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as a number of Arthur’s friends from the Ministry and a few neighbors, including the Diggorys and the Lovegoods. It was to be a celebration, not just of the season, but of the advent of peacetime after a hard war.
Harry suspected, though, that Molly and Arthur were also trying to fill the inescapable void that Fred had left behind. His absence was felt at every meal, but it was rarely acknowledged. The family didn’t seem quite ready yet. Either way, big party or no, Harry knew Christmas morning would still be hard on all of them.
Guests began arriving just as dusk was falling. Harry had helped the Weasley brothers erect a large tent for the party, complete with powerful heating charms, fairy lights, and plenty of tables and chairs for all the guests. Harry was reminded a bit of Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Times were certainly better now than they were then, less frightening anyway. On the other hand, they had all been together, Fred too.
Harry put this from his mind, though, determined to enjoy himself. He found it much easier to do so with the arrival of someone he had been missing a great deal.
“Harry!” cried a gruff, familiar voice, and Harry was pulled into a bone-crushing hug that he knew only one half-giant was really capable of.
“Hullo, Hagrid,” he said cheerfully. He pulled back to look at his old friend. “How’s the breeding business treating you?”
“Business is good, Harry. Real good.”
“Glad to hear it.”
After the Battle Hagrid had elected not to return to Hogwarts. Instead, he and Madame Maxime established a beautiful estate in France, with plenty of land for Hagrid to breed magical creatures (legally, of course) for profit, and Madame Maxime could commute easily to and from Beauxbatons, where she was still Headmistress, as needed. Harry had missed seeing Hagrid on the grounds, had missed their regular visits for tea and conversation. But he was glad that Hagrid had finally found something to make him happy.
Harry greeted Madame Maxime as well, having to lift himself on his toes to reach her cheek for a kiss, and then the two moved inside to greet their other hosts.
“All right, Hagrid’s here,” said Ron happily, coming up next to Harry.
“Where’s Hermione? I’m sure she’ll want to say ‘hello’ to him, too.”
“Keeping an eye on Ginny,” Ron replied in an undertone. “Apparently she’s consuming the elven wine a little too fast.” Harry frowned. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Ron continued. “She’s probably exaggerating anyway. You know how Hermione can be about these things.”
Harry did know, and chose to let it go. He had to remind himself that Ginny was not his responsibility anymore. It had been months since their breakup and the last thing he wanted was to feel guilty on Christmas.
“Let’s get some food, then,” Ron said. “I’m starving.”
The food was delicious and the drink flowed freely, and soon the tent was full of happy guests who had consumed their fill and were more than a little tipsy. Ron and Harry were both among them, although Harry was starting to realize how lightheaded he was getting from the wine and switched to butterbeer after a time.
He made the rounds of the guests, taking time to chat with Luna and her father Xenophilius, as well as having a nice long conversation with Kingsley, who was eager to hear how Harry and Draco were faring after the cursed letter incident. He finally made his way back around to Hagrid, who was sitting at a table with a large tankard of mulled mead, talking to Charlie about his work.
“Not allowed ter breed dragons o’ course,” he was saying. “That’s the on’y thing that’s a real shame abou’ the job.”
“Dragons need their own space, as you well know, Hagrid,” Charlie replied. “They’d kill any other creatures you were keeping there.”
Hagrid nodded his agreement. “Even so, I’ve got a nice pair o’ unicorns just had themselves a foal. And Buckbeak’s chits are growin’ up nicely.”
“You bred Buckbeak?” Harry asked. The hippogriff had remained in Hagrid’s care after the war was over, and was even allowed to go by his original name now that he was no longer a fugitive.
“That I did, Harry. He’s quite happy on the estate, ‘s far as I can tell.”
Harry had no doubt that he was. It had probably been hard, being on the run with Sirius for a while.
“We miss you at school, Hagrid,” Harry told him. “You should come for a visit sometime.”
“Maybe I will, at tha’,” Hagrid said. “Didn’ want ter go back at first, you see. Too many painful memories. I’m surprised you decided ter return, if I’m honest, Harry.”
“It was hard at first,” Harry admitted. “But there are more good memories than painful ones, so I was glad, in the end.”
“Good man. Always lookin’ on the bright side.” Hagrid took a large swig from his tankard. “All in all I jus’ knew I had ter get on with my life. I couldn’ stay at Hogwarts forever, and I wanted to be with Olympe. But perhaps I shoulda stayed one more year, ter see you three off fer good.”
“It’s all right, Hagrid. You’ll come to our graduation, right?”
“Wouldn’ miss it.”
All in all the party was a success, and Harry was glad to get a chance to catch up with those he hadn’t seen since he had left for Hogwarts in the fall. Still, he was glad when it started to wind down and guests slowly dwindled away. It had been a long week, and Harry was knackered.
I get to see Draco tomorrow, he realized, and the thought perked him up a bit. He was looking forward to that even more than he was looking forward to Christmas morning, and giving Teddy all the gifts he had gotten him.
Harry and Ron were finally both able to excuse themselves and make for Ron’s room.
“Ugh, maybe we should Apparate,” said Ron as they both trudged up the stairs. “My room feels so far away.”
“No drinking and Apparating,” Harry reminded him.
“I’m not drunk,” said Ron.
“You’re tipsy, at least. Come on, only a bit farther.”
A door to their right opened suddenly and Hermione poked her head out of what Harry knew to be Ginny’s room.
“There you are!” she said, looking at Ron. Harry couldn’t help noticing that her face looked a bit flushed. “Ginny’s out, she’s chatting with Luna, says she won’t be back for a while.”
Ron immediately cottoned on. “Is that so? Well, well, well…” He looked around surreptitiously.
“Oh, come on, hurry up.”
“I’ll be in eventually, Harry,” Ron said, throwing his friend a lascivious wink. “But don’t wait up.”
Hermione giggled and pulled him inside, and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that she had been drinking a bit as well. With a smile and a shake of his head Harry resumed climbing the stairs to Ron’s room. He had been giving Ron a hard time all week about not being able to hold out. It appeared Hermione was just as impatient as her boyfriend.
Trying very hard not to think of what those two would be getting up to together, Harry prepared for bed. He climbed in and extinguished the lamps, relishing the fact that he was finally alone for more than a few minutes for the first time all week. He took a few deep breaths, savoring the silence, already beginning to feel himself drift off.
The bedroom door opened suddenly and Harry sat up, shielding his eyes against the flood of light from the hallway.
“Back already?” he said, assuming it was Ron before realizing it was far too soon, and the silhouette he could finally make out in the doorway was most definitely a woman.
Ginny.
Harry reached for his wand and lit the lamps, and Ginny was illuminated, leaning against the door frame, still wearing her glittery gold Christmas dress.
“We thought you were still outside, talking to Luna,” Harry said, for want of something better to say.
“She went home,” Ginny said, her voice lazy and soft. She drifted farther into the room, closing the door behind her.
She was drunk. Harry knew it immediately, though he had never really seen her drunk before. Though she was fairly sure on her feet, the eyes were a giveaway. Usually clear and piercing, her hazel depths were clouded over, slightly unfocused, her eyelids drooping slightly. It made Harry very nervous.
“I guess you’ve been shut out of your room temporarily,” said Harry. “I can send them a Patronus, tell Ron to clear out so you can go to bed.”
“Oh, let them have their fun,” Ginny said. “It’s Christmas, after all.”
“Well… I really need to-“
Ginny giggled, essentially ignoring him. “I heard them, you know. I guess they forgot the Silencing Charm. They’re really going at it.”
“I don’t really-“
“Just like we used to. Remember, Harry?”
Harry swallowed. The tone of Ginny’s voice turned his blood cold. He gathered the covers around himself more tightly, aware that he was only wearing underwear and no shirt.
“You were quite good with your tongue, as I recall,” she said, walking towards the bed with an exaggerated sway of her hips. “I would go so far as to say you were an expert in that regard.” She was reaching behind her to unzip her dress.
Harry couldn’t believe it. She was actually trying to seduce him, after everything? “Ginny-“
“I was quite good, too. Don’t deny it. The sounds I could get you to make.” Her dress slid to the floor, and she was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of black knickers.
“Ginny, this really isn’t a good idea.”
She climbed onto the bed, placing one knee at a time until she was kneeling in front of him. Though he tried, Harry couldn’t back away any farther; he was flat against the wall.
“Don't worry, I won’t forget the Silencing Charm. You can be as loud as you want.”
“Stop, Ginny.”
She reached for him, trying to caress his face, and he grabbed her wrist.
“Stop. You have to stop.”
The first flash of doubt crossed her features, but smoothed over. “You can’t tell me you don’t remember how good it was. You can’t tell me you don’t want it.”
“I don’t want it,” Harry said, unsure how to be any clearer.
“I… I could make you-“
“No, you can’t.”
“I could-“
“I love Draco.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “You don’t, not really.”
“I do, Ginny. You know I do. You said so yourself. You saw it.”
For a moment Ginny was frozen, and then her whole face crumpled, and she buried it in her hands. Her whole body started to shake with quiet sobs.
“Ginny…”
“Oh, Gods,” she said. “Oh, Gods.”
“Ginny, I’m sorry.” Harry couldn’t be sure what he was apologizing for, exactly. It wasn’t as if he had led her on in any way. Yet what else could he say? He had no way to make it right. He summoned a blanket from the foot of Ron’s bed and wrapped it around her mostly naked form, shielding her from the cold. She took it readily, wrapping it around herself.
“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered. “I don’t… this isn’t… why do I feel like this?”
Harry wasn’t sure how to answer that. He had a hunch, but he wasn’t about to presume to tell Ginny what it was she was feeling, or why.
Ginny wrapped the blanket tighter around her, tears falling freely down her cheeks as she stared, unfocused. “I…” She took a shuddering breath. “I miss F-F-Fred, and I miss y-you, and I… miss… myself.”
Harry wrapped his arms around her blanketed body and she came willingly, resting her head against his chest.
“This is not me. I’m not this. I don’t know who this is, but it’s not me.”
“It’s all right,” Harry said, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “Grief has done things to all of us.”
“I never wanted to be this person. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I know. I know you are.”
He rocked her a little, and rubbed her back, letting her sobs subside naturally. In the back of his mind he knew Ron could be coming back at any moment, and might possibly make a scene when he found them like this. But that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was that Ginny was calming down.
After what felt like a long time Ginny lifted her head and looked at Harry. Her eyes locked onto his, and Harry was glad to see that some clarity had returned to them.
“You don’t love me anymore, do you?” she said.
Harry hesitated. “I care about you a lot, Ginny-“
“Yes, but you’re never coming back to me. We’ll never be together.”
Harry sighed, but kept his eyes on hers. ”No, probably not.”
Ginny dropped her gaze and nodded. “Well, all right then.”
She stood, turning away from Harry as the blanket fell off her shoulders. Still, Harry averted his eyes from her naked back and bare legs as she stepped back into the dress and pulled it up around her. When she was fully clothed she turned to him.
“Don’t tell anyone about this, please. It will only upset them.”
Harry nodded. “I won’t. I promise.”
“Goodnight, Harry.” The way she said it, it sounded more like "goodbye.”
“Goodnight, Ginny.”
And she was gone.
A.R. Fleets: Lol not sure who exactly you are referring to that you’re in love with, but at this point I myself have to admit that I’m a little bit in love with Harry and Draco both :)
djaddict: Thanks! Yeah, Harry needs someone to give him a little perspective sometimes.
Dedicated_Reader: Thank you! I’m glad the wait is over for you… for at least one more week anyway :) I hope to give you more fangirl moments in chapters to come!
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