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A Secondary Education	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 27880 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
It's finally heeeerreeeee! Oh my god, I'm sorry it took me so long to finish. I swear I was writing as much as I could. But I was also moving houses while trying to teach and write and... it was a lot. Plus this chapter is ridiculously long. The biggest installment I've ever posted, I'm almost positive.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this final, hefty chapter. There will be an epilogue to come soon, and then this fic will be officially done! It's hard to believe, since it's been such a journey for me. I couldn't have done it without all of my reviewers, so thank you again for everything. I love you!
Lesson 20: Making Plans
Draco watched the lanky brunet as he sipped his coffee and wondered if he had made a huge mistake coming here. He’d thought he wanted a chance to speak to Kyle again, a chance to make things right and make sure that the man was doing ok after everything that had happened. But he never thought he’d actually get the chance.
But then Harry and Draco had attended another of Pansy’s parties, on the larger side, which included all of Draco’s Slytherin friends, and many of Pansy’s friends from the Ministry. Plus Lindsey and Kyle.
Draco had been surprised, to say the least, to see the Canadian wizard in attendance. He was less surprised to see that Kyle essentially avoided him and Harry all night, which was just as well as far as he was concerned. Harry was able to focus solely on getting to know Pansy and Theo in this new context, as friends, and Draco was able to facilitate the meeting and make sure that Harry was having a good time and being taken care of.
He did, later on in the evening, end up chatting briefly with Lindsey, in which she told him that Kyle was lacking a sense of closure. She thought it would be good if Kyle had the chance to talk with Draco privately at some point, get a few things off his chest. Draco, a few drinks in and feeling generous, said that he was open to the idea of sitting down with him, someplace public and neutral, where they could talk. Maybe it would be good to clear the air.
Lindsey had passed that message along to Kyle and had helped arrange a meeting. And now here they were, sitting across from each other in a Muggle café in London, someplace they could be anonymous and talk freely. And it was just…
Awkward. It was awkward. Draco had no idea what to say. He was rather counting on Kyle to set the tone. But so far Kyle hadn’t said much of anything save for his initial words of greeting and a bit of small talk about how his current Ministry project was progressing. Now they were sitting in silence, and Draco kept wondering if he should wait for the other man to speak or if he should attempt to take some initiative.
He took a sip of his coffee and wondered how best to break the silence. But then Kyle spoke.
“So… Harry Potter, huh?”
Draco sucked in a slow breath. So, this was where they were starting. Interesting, and not what he expected. He let out a soft sigh.
“Harry Potter,” he said in confirmation.
Kyle chuckled drily, his mouth twisting a little. “It certainly explains some things.”
Draco turned that over in his mind for a moment or two, trying to figure out exactly what that meant. Was he talking about that interaction in the wine shop specifically? Or maybe it was broader, just about his and Harry’s long personal history that brought them to this point. He decided he had no idea.
“In what sense?” he asked.
Kyle snorted delicately. “In what sense…” He repeated. “Let’s see… In the sense that it’s Harry fucking Potter, I guess.”
Draco blinked at him, confused.
“It’s Harry Potter,” Kyle said emphatically, as though Draco were dim. “You know, hot, fabulous, great in bed, saved the world more than once, if his various biographies are to be believed. I was never going to be able to compete with that, so…” He shrugged. “Fair enough. Touche. Well-played. Lucky you.”
Draco scratched his bottom lip with his thumb as he decided how to respond to that. He had the distinct feeling he should tread lightly here.
“You really think it’s about all that stuff?” he said quietly, carefully. “You really think I chose to be with him because he’s famous, or, even more crassly, because he’s good in bed? You think that’s what this is about?”
Kyle’s jaw twitched, and he looked away. “I’m sure he’s a wonderful person,” he said.
Draco couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. “He is. But the point is… he’s also a person.”
Kyle’s brow furrowed.
“He’s imperfect,” Draco went on. “He’s complicated. There are a thousand things to love about him, and a thousand things to find frustrating. Just like anyone else.”
Kyle snorted again. “Yeah, sure.”
“His fame was one of the reasons I walked away in the first place. I didn’t want to be in the spotlight. I would prefer we weren’t in the spotlight now. It’s something Harry and I both put up with, because we know we have to. And it’s worth it. But it’s definitely not the reason I’m with him.”
“Then why are you with him?”
“Is this really the conversation you want to have? I mean, honestly. Do you really want me to go into great detail about how we found each other and how we slowly fell in love and how he changed my life? Is that really going to help you?” It seemed to him Kyle was just torturing himself over this. How did this help him move on?
Kyle sighed, eyes rolling to the ceiling a moment. “No,” he said. “It’s not. I guess it just… When I heard who it was, when I heard it was Harry Potter, I felt… I can’t even describe it exactly. I felt relieved and frustrated at the same time. Relieved because, yeah, it’s Harry Potter, and of course you would choose him. Anyone in their right mind would. But at the same time…” He shook his head. “It’s going to sound stupid and childish and I realize that… But at the same time I felt like it wasn’t fair, like I never stood a chance, which I guess you as good as told me when you broke up with me. You said it was always going to be him, and you know… ok… yeah, I get that. And it makes sense. But that’s what frustrates me about it so much, because I’m frustrated with myself as much as I am with you. For thinking I could even compare… For not realizing from the beginning that you were out of my league and I just shouldn’t have even bothered in the first place.”
Draco shook his head, finding this “treading lightly” strategy to be more difficult in this conversation than he thought possible. Because Kyle was so off the mark that Draco didn’t even know how to steer him right, other than by being unflinchingly honest.
“This…” he said, tapping the table hard with a finger, “This… what you just said… the way you think. This is your biggest problem. There are no… leagues. For Merlin’s sake. People aren’t inexplicably divided into groups of greater and lesser dateability or something. I mean, what are you even talking about when you talk about them anyway? Intelligence, attractiveness, kindness, ambition, success? What’s your measure, exactly? And even if it is all those things combined, you have all of that already, in spades. So what is it that makes you think you don’t measure up? I honestly don’t understand. And if you want to talk about what’s frustrating, that… that is frustrating. You don’t see yourself very clearly, and you spend a lot of time and energy thinking about all the ways you fall short, which doesn’t help you at all. So stop. Just… just stop.”
Kyle stared at him wide-eyed a moment. Then he leaned forward on the table, his eyebrow tilting skeptically. “You’re going to sit here and insist I’m on par with Harry Potter?”
“Yes,” said Draco. “Because it’s not about being ‘on par’ or ‘not on par’ or whatever. I’m saying there’s no ‘par’ at all. There’s only… personal preference, and compatibility, and… chemistry. There’s history and good timing and… I mean… I don’t know. I don’t know why people fall in love with each other. But some people do and some people don’t. And sometimes people fall in love with more than one person and have to figure out what to do, and some people don’t fall in love at all, even with the person that it seems like on paper would be best for them. There is no formula, you know? So I guess what I’m saying is that on paper you and Harry are equals, in the sense that you’re both people who are wonderful and flawed and… people… and what it came down to was the fact that Harry and I have a deep and complicated history and have been enemies and friends and lovers and everything in between, and he understands me better than anyone, and I understand him, and we trust each other. And it’s a trust we’ve built for a long time. And yeah, he’s gorgeous and every time I look at him I get a bit dizzy and sort of ache all over and it’s… quite intense, and a bit frightening. And I’ve never felt this way about anyone. And that’s not something you manufacture. It just happens. And you and I… who knows what could have been, in other circumstances? It’s impossible to say. Maybe it would have worked out, maybe not. It came down to timing. That’s all.”
“So if Harry Potter didn’t exist, you would have chosen me? You would be with me?”
Draco stared at the table a moment. “It’s impossible to say. Would we have worked out in the long run? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I don’t know. I couldn’t possible predict such a thing. I was always pants at Divination.” That earned a small smile, at least. “But more than that… if Harry Potter didn’t exist, I don’t even know who I would be. He’s been a presence in my life for so long, both in good ways and in bad… but he helped shape who I am. I’m not sure I can imagine a world without him in it. Which I suppose is part of the point as well. I don’t know what to tell you, Kyle. I honestly don’t. Because I can’t sit here and not defend my relationship with Harry or my choice to be with him, but at the same time it’s important to me that you realize that you’re worthy of love, and that my choice had nothing to do with me being ‘out of your league’ or however you want to characterize it. Because that’s not it at all.”
“So you say.”
“You don’t believe me? You think I’m lying to make you feel better?”
Kyle looked away, shrugging.
Draco leaned forward, over the table, suddenly determined to get to the bottom of this. “What did he say to you? Your boyfriend, back in Canada. What did he say that made you feel like you weren’t worth it, that you didn’t live up? What did he say that has you so convinced that you should be lucky to take whatever some other bloke is willing to give you?”
Kyle picked at his fingernails, not meeting Draco’s eyes. “He didn’t say anything,” he answered softly. “It wasn’t what he said. It was what he did. It was that, two weeks after I’d told him I was moving out, moving to London, and that I was done with the relationship and with the way he had treated me… he met someone else. He started something with someone else. This guy… Marco. A mutual acquaintance of ours who was just… the epitome of hot and smart and… cool… and I just… He moved on so fast it was like he already had Marco waiting for him. And you know… I always suspected… I always thought Marco had an eye on him, you know? And I’d always had this gut feeling like if I wasn’t in the picture he’d go for Marco, because… who wouldn’t? And it was just… confirmation, you know? And I realized I didn’t matter to him. He didn’t even fucking care that I was moving away and leaving him after everything he’d done. It was almost like he was just happy to have me out of the way.”
Draco thought about that for while. He could see why Draco breaking up with Kyle and then starting something with Harry would feel like a repeat of the same thing Kyle had gone through with his ex. He could see why Kyle could find it especially hurtful. At the same time, though, the situations were different. He just didn’t know how to get Kyle to see that. “Are they still together?” he asked the brunet. “Your ex…”
“Evan.”
“Right, Evan. And Marco. Are they still together?”
Kyle shrugged. “I mean, probably. I don’t know.”
“So for all you know, it didn’t last. For all you know, Marco was just a rebound.”
Kyle scoffed. “I doubt it. He’s not the kind of guy you have a rebound with.”
Draco arched a brow skeptically. “I’m not sure there is a particular type of person that is completely immune from the rebound,” he said, and Kyle let out a surprised laugh. “And, frankly, someone who is hot and smart and cool sounds like just the sort of person to have a rebound with if what you’re nursing is a bruised ego… or worse, a broken heart. If you just got dumped by the guy you were in a serious relationship with for three years, who you lived with. A guy who was smart and sexy but also kind, who supported you when things were difficult. Who took care of you. The guy you managed to drive away because of all your own baggage and because you acted like an arsehole when he decided he wanted to change careers and build a life that would satisfy him. And you just couldn’t live with it. And you’re insecure and scared and now he’s gone and you need someone to make you feel better. So you start sleeping with Marco. Because at least he’s hot and cool and he’s into you. And yeah… he’s not Kyle Bergeron. But he’s better than nothing. He’s better than feeling this alone.”
Kyle stared at him blankly.
“You left Evan, you know,” Draco said. “You left him. I’m not saying you didn’t have every right to. It sounds like the relationship was pretty toxic, especially towards the end. And I think it’s good you got out of Toronto for a while, even if you loved it there. I think it was good for you to strike out on your own and discover some new things. You made the right choice for you, and that’s a good thing. But you have to remember that you were the one doing the leaving. Evan didn’t reject you. He didn’t pick Marco over you. You ended it. And yes, he moved on quickly, for whatever reason. To cope or… because he’s just one of those people who doesn’t stay single for long. Or whatever. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t love you. It doesn’t mean he was happy you were leaving.”
“He told me to leave,” Kyle said. “He acted like he wanted me to leave.”
Draco shrugged. “People act all kinds of ways when they’re scared or hurt. But it is often just that: an act.”
Kyle shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“How did he say it, exactly?”
Kyle closed his eyes a moment, one hand scratching along his temple while the other clutched his coffee mug. “He said… He said… ‘If you want to leave, just leave. I don’t even fucking care anymore.’”
“Hmph,” said Draco. “Sounds like a lie to me.”
“You think so?”
“I do. I think it’s exactly the sort of thing someone says when they care a great deal, but they’re hurt and trying to save face.”
Kyle stared into his coffee. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“What did you say to him, when he said that?”
“I didn’t say much of anything. I was hurt, and angry, and just realizing that… I didn’t want to do it anymore. I didn’t want to fight with him anymore, and he was already pushing me out the door. I felt… done. With him, with everything. So I grabbed some essentials and went to Lindsey’s, and sent off my acceptance letter for the job at your Ministry the next day. And then I started planning my move to London. A few days later I went back to the apartment and started packing up my stuff, and that’s when I told him it was done, officially.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said, ‘Fine. Whatever.’ And then he left the apartment, didn’t come back. Even though I was there for hours, sorting through everything, packing it all up. Our entire life together, or my portion of it, anyway. He stayed away until after I’d left, and I haven’t seen him since. I heard through a mutual friend that he was seeing Marco, not long before I left Toronto. We never actually talked about it, and we never even really said goodbye.” He swirled a finger around the edge of his coffee mug and chewed on his lip. “It’s weird to think about how those were the last words he ever said to me: ‘Fine. Whatever.’ I mean… what a shitty way to end something, especially something that lasted three years.”
Draco nodded. “Yes. It’s a shame he couldn’t bring himself to at least say goodbye to you. But I imagine he left because it would be too difficult to watch you pack. He was probably in a lot of pain.”
“Yeah, well, so was I,” said Kyle. “And I know what you’re going to say, that yes, I was the one leaving. But he had a major hand in it. He never even tried to fight for me. For us.”
“I’m not saying it to blame you,” Draco said. “I’m only pointing out why he might have done and said the things he did and said, and why it has everything to do with him, and not with you. He was in pain, and was maybe even aware that he had brought a lot of it on himself, which is almost worse, in a way. There’s nothing so awful as being hurt and having everything go to shit and realizing that it was really your own doing.”
“You don’t even know if that’s how he was feeling,” Kyle said. “You don’t even know him.”
“No, you’re right. I’m making an educated guess.”
“He could very well have left because he was just tired of me and wanted me gone. He could have started something with Marco right away because he’d always wanted to, and he finally was free and… could.”
“It’s possible,” said Draco. “But it seems unlikely to me.”
“Why do you keep insisting that it was because he was hurt and not because he just didn’t care about me?”
“And why do you keep insisting that it was just because he didn’t care about you?” Draco countered in a patient tone he could tell Kyle found a bit irritating. “When it’s impossible to know either way, why do you insist on believing the version of the story that will cause you the most pain? Why not choose to believe the version that could actually make you feel good about yourself?”
“Because…” Kyle said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Because always believing the versions of events you want to, just to… I don’t know, make yourself feel better, or to feed your ego or something, that’s… that’s just delusional.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes. Or, more specifically, why is it more delusional to assume he loved you and was hurt by you leaving and then rebounded with Marco, rather than that he never loved you, even though he was with you for three years and told you that he loved you? If anything, I think the former is more plausible, and therefore less delusional.”
“And I’m saying you weren’t there, and you don’t actually know the situation, and the other version seems more plausible to me. That’s all.”
“And I’m asking why.” Kyle stared at him blankly again. “I’m serious. Why do you think he never loved you? Why does that seem more likely to you?”
Kyle shrugged. “Because of the way he acted during the breakup, and the weeks leading up to it.”
“Most people aren’t at their best during a breakup,” Draco reminded him. “We’ve already established that it could have been an act.” Kyle rolled his eyes. “Did he tell you that he never loved you?”
“No.”
“Well, there you have it. And frankly, even if he had, he probably would have been lying to hurt you anyway.”
“Ok, now you’re just making shit up,” Kyle said, exasperated.
“Yeah, well, so are you.” Kyle crossed his arms and glared. Draco didn’t look away. “The only difference is, the shit you’re making up is the most hurtful version of events, most hurtful to you. And I’m trying to figure out why.”
“I’m sure you already know,” Kyle said under his breath. “Since you know everything else.”
“I have a theory,” Draco admitted, after a moment.
Kyle snorted. “Of course you fucking do.”
“Because I’ve been there. I did the exact same thing to myself for a long time.”
That, Kyle obviously wasn’t expecting, because he eyed Draco sharply for a moment before shaking his head.
“I never told you what happened with my ex-wife, other than that she was unfaithful to me many times. The truth is, she was sleeping with my best friend from the beginning. She was in love with him, in fact, when she married me. I didn’t know that part though, not when the truth first came out. All I knew was that she was sleeping with Blaise and it had been happening for a long time, and quite frequently. Frequently enough that while Astoria and I were trying to get pregnant, Blaise was the one to impregnate her instead. She gave birth to his child, and I had no idea it was going to be his child until the day the child was born. It was quite a shock, as you can imagine.”
Kyle crossed his arms over his chest, but his eyes sparked with interest. “You didn’t know about the two of them, until then?”
“I had no idea,” Draco said. “Not a clue. You can imagine how stupid I felt. How utterly… foolish. That’s not even a strong enough word for it. You want to talk about delusional… I thought myself delusional for ever believing she loved me. And then it made me start wondering why, why she didn’t, why I couldn’t be enough for her. I thought I had given her everything she could possibly want and I couldn’t figure out what I missed. But I was convinced I had missed something. I blamed myself. I felt like a failure. It really fucked me up, you know?” He leaned forward over the table, and Kyle leaned forward too, automatically, to catch Draco’s lowered voice. “There is only one other person in the world who knows this, so I’m saying this to you in strictest confidence, understand?” Kyle nodded, looking confused, but also intrigued. “For months afterward… months… I was essentially impotent. I could barely get it up. I couldn’t perform. I couldn’t even imagine performing. I was totally humiliated, emasculated. I thought things, crazy, awful things, about myself, about my prowess as a lover, about my virility. I told myself a lot of cruel, hurtful things, things you wouldn’t believe…” He shook his head. He didn’t even really like thinking about how hard he had been on himself, those first few months. “It took me a long time to stop, and I didn’t get through it alone.”
Kyle thought that over. “Potter? He helped you?”
“Yes, quite a bit. Although there were others too. Pansy, Francesca, my other colleagues at Hogwarts, my students. And not even because they knew all the circumstances, but because they were kind to me and made me feel like I mattered, that I had something good to give to the world.”
“So you started listening to them, and stopped saying cruel things to yourself, and you got over it, eventually.”
“Yes…” Draco said, realizing that didn’t fully characterize the situation. “All of that was a big help. And there was also… It’s weird, but my father keeps popping into my head. Which shouldn’t make any sense, really, because he was being almost as cruel to me about my divorce as I was being to myself. But there was something about that, after a while, that sort of… lit a fire in me. Instead of believing him, I started to feel indignant. Like what right did he have to go blaming me for what Astoria had done to me? And that’s when things really started to shift. That’s when I started to see that I had done the best that I could in my marriage and that what had happened wasn’t my fault. And, more importantly than that, I started to believe that I deserved better. I had deserved better from Astoria and Blaise, and I deserved better from my father too.” He leaned back, and Kyle did the same. “I know you didn’t come here for a mind healing session from me or to hear my life story, but I do want… I’m sharing all this because what I want most is to see you believe that you deserved better. You deserved better than what Evan could give you.”
“You sound like Lindsey,” Kyle said. “I mean, she doesn’t say it the exact same way, but it’s pretty close.”
“What does she say?”
“That I did the right thing, leaving Evan, but that I have to know I did. That he wasn’t any good for me and that I was unhappy with him, and that I’m much happier now. Or at least, I could be, if I stopped letting Evan dictate what I think about myself or about relationships. She’s like… ‘You chose to leave him and now you have to move on. You can’t let him keep doing this to you.’” He chewed on his lip. “And I guess she’s right. I just don’t know how.”
“Well, Lindsey’s always been a smart woman,” Draco said. “As we both know. Someone worth listening to. And I would agree with what she says, obviously. Except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s not about you letting Evan do this to you. Because Evan isn’t doing this to you. How can he be? He’s not here. He’s thousands of miles away.”
“Well, in the strictest sense yes. But it’s the memory of him that’s doing it. That’s her point.”
“Fair enough, except that your memory of Evan exists only in your own mind. So it’s not really him.”
Kyle blinked at him.
“It’s you. You’re doing this to yourself. Evan isn’t actually doing anything.”
Kyle let out a dry laugh, his mouth twisting. “Great.”
“No, it is, actually,” said Draco. “Because it means you’re in complete control over whether or not you stop.”
Kyle huffed, sitting back a moment, arms crossed over his chest again. But he was quiet, and Draco could tell he was thinking about it. “All right, maybe,” he said after a minute. “But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Draco. “And I actually do. That’s the point I’m trying to make, I suppose. I know how hard it is. But I also know it’s possible. Because I did it.”
“But I’m not you,” said Kyle. “I don’t have… what you have.”
“And what do I have? What makes us so different?”
“I don’t know,” Kyle said, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t really explain it. Just… the way you think about things. The way you look at things. I don’t know how to be that way.”
“I don’t think you have to be just like me to start believing you deserve happiness. You just…” Draco paused, trying to put what he thought into words without it sounding stupid. “… have to be like yourself, while also believing that that’s enough. That that’s a good thing. I know, I know,” he said as Kyle gave him a look. “It’s easier said than done. But not impossible. Especially if you surround yourself with people who remind you that you’re worth it, who don’t put you down. That helps a lot. But, in the end… it doesn’t matter if you have a thousand people telling you you’re great. You have to stop telling yourself you’re not. You have to – to recognize those moments when what you’re saying to yourself is so cruel that you would never actually dare say it aloud to someone else. Those are the things that are holding you back. And if you can recognize that, even just pay attention to it when it happens, that does change things. And it also helps to remember that deep down, you do know you deserve happiness, because you have already made good choices that will help get you there. By moving to London, by taking a job where you could pursue your passions rather than be boxed in by a corporate agenda, by leaving a relationship that wasn’t good for you… You’ve done a lot of good things for yourself already. You knew you deserved better when you left Evan. That’s why you left, isn’t it?”
Kyle stared at him, then cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes.”
“So, in truth, you already know it. It’s just that, sometimes, you need help remembering. You need to let yourself believe it all the time.”
They were quiet for a bit while Kyle absorbed all that. Draco did his best to relax and exude patience, while inside he hoped he’d actually had an impact this time. Kyle sighed, finally, and spoke.
“I’ve never thought about it that way before,” he said quietly. Draco simply nodded and waited. “And it makes sense, you know. I mean it all sounds good, reasonable. I guess it’s just that it’s scary too. I’m pretty terrified of failure.”
“Me too,” said Draco.
“I’m scared of a lot of things. It’s something that’s always annoyed me about myself. That I’m not more brave. But… I don’t know. Recently… I mean, leaving Toronto, leaving Evan… that was pretty brave, wasn’t it?”
“It was incredibly brave,” said Draco.
“So, that’s something.” He let out a slow breath. “That’s something, at least.”
“It’s more than just something, I think.”
Kyle looked at him. “You’re right that I didn’t come here for a mind healing session. I came here to tell you that… I don’t know. I guess to tell you that I understood why you chose Harry Potter and maybe to hear an explanation of why you were bothering with me in the first place. But I guess I don’t really need that anymore. I don’t know.” He looked at Draco expectantly, and Draco thought maybe he wanted the question answered anyway.
“I ‘bothered’ because I liked you. I was incredibly attracted to you, and I was at a point in my life when I was looking for something more serious than what I had before with other men,” Draco said. “At the time, it felt like perfect timing. It felt like the universe dropped you into my life at just the right moment. Which I realize, looking back on it now, is a lot of pressure to put on you and very selfish on my part. Self-absorbed, at least. Not to mention that what I wasn’t letting myself realize at the time was that I didn’t have closure from Harry. In fact, I was still in love with him. But that truth was so painful I couldn’t let myself see it. I was healing and growing in a lot of ways, but I still had more growing to do. And so I made a choice to start something with you that I wasn’t actually ready for. And that’s my biggest regret, because while what you and I had was really good, and I was happy, I couldn’t fully… be in it, if that makes any sense. I was holding myself back, and that wasn’t fair to you. The whole thing wasn’t fair to you. You deserved better from me as well. You deserved more than what I could give you, and for that, I’m very sorry. That I couldn’t give you what you deserve. I’m sorrier than I can really express. Because I hurt you, and I had no right to.”
Kyle nodded along, staring into his coffee mug. After it was clear Draco was finished, he answered. “Thank you for saying that. It… helps me understand. And I believe you now. And I guess… what I’ve been thinking about is how much time we spent talking about me, and how much I liked that.” He gave Draco a small smile that was both wry and sheepish. “So I guess I was being pretty self-absorbed too, because I wasn’t really paying attention to the fact that you were holding yourself back. I was enjoying being able to vent and be validated for everything that’s happened to me recently. I haven’t had a boyfriend I felt like I could be that honest with in… a long time. But it wasn’t really equal, was it? And I didn’t even know it. Maybe I was treating you more like my mind healer than my boyfriend.”
“Hmm,” Draco said, thinking that over. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s true. If it is, I think we both had a hand in making that so. It takes two, after all, right?”
Kyle huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I guess.” He toyed with his coffee mug a little longer, then set it aside, meeting Draco’s eyes. “I’d rather that you didn’t regret it. Us, I mean. Because I don’t regret it, honestly. I’d rather think about it as a thing that happened that was mostly good, even if it didn’t last. Maybe it was something we needed, and we both learned a thing or two, and it can just be…” He shrugged. “… something that happened, you know? I think it would help me to think about it that way, and it would help me if I knew you didn’t have regrets.”
“Even if I hurt you?”
Kyle swallowed. “Yeah. Even then. That’s what I want. I get that you’re sorry you hurt me and that you didn’t mean to. But I don’t want to be someone else’s regret. I don’t like the way that feels.”
Draco watched him a moment. “Fair enough. Then I won’t regret it. I’ll let myself be glad it happened.”
“That’s what I want.”
“All right then.”
“And maybe, at some point, I can start to think of my relationship with Evan that way too. As something that happened, that was mostly good, especially at the beginning. I do have some good memories from those first couple of years. And even though it all went to shit, in the end…” He waved a hand.
“You still learned a lot?” Draco supplied. “So maybe you can be glad it happened, despite everything that went wrong?”
“Yeah, something like that,” said Kyle. “Maybe someday I’ll be able to say that, and it will actually be true.”
“I bet you will, sooner than you think.”
“We’ll see.”
That seemed a natural place to end things, and Kyle seemed to agree. They embraced quickly and said their goodbyes, and Kyle really did look calmer than when he had arrived. Draco was glad of that. There while there weren’t any promises exchanged of getting together again or of a future friendship, Draco couldn’t help but feel that they had settled things, and that maybe, some day, they could be friends. Time would tell.
***
Draco Apparated directly to Harry’s after he left the coffee shop. They didn’t have any specific plans in place, but Harry was aware that Draco was going to have coffee with Kyle that morning, and Draco felt like it was the right thing that he should spend some time with Harry afterwards. The brunet had been very understanding about the fact that Draco wanted to talk to Kyle and get closure, but it couldn’t hurt for Draco to still reassure Harry that all was well, to reaffirm that he was very happy with the choices he had made.
He arrived in the sitting room and found it empty. Figuring that Harry was in the kitchen making himself some lunch, as it was about that hour, he made his way down the hall.
When he heard voices, he paused, confused. Because he recognized both of them.
“…could knock out one of the walls and just expand that bedroom.”
“That would make it even bigger than the master, though. Do you think that’s odd, or does it not matter?”
“I suppose it depends on what you want to do with it.”
Draco entered the kitchen and found his partner and his best friend standing around the kitchen island, looking at some papers spread out between them. It was a jarring sight to say the least. Especially when they both turned to look at him as he entered, identical smiles of greeting lighting up their faces.
“Draco, love,” said Pansy. “I didn’t know you would be here today.”
“And I could say the same to you,” he said, unable to fully keep the suspicion out of his voice. “What are you two up to in here?”
“Nothing nefarious, I assure you,” Pansy said with a roll of her eyes. “Honestly. Can’t I visit my new friend Harry here and give him some advice on his next renovation project? That’s hardly offensive is it?”
Draco looked between the two of them. “No, it’s not offensive. Just weird.” Pansy had taken quite a shine to Harry, true. And while Draco was glad of that, he also found it disconcerting, in that “worlds colliding” kind of way.
Harry laughed. “I asked her to come over. We got to talking the other night about the dreaded study, how I had finally finished cleaning it and have no idea what I’m going to do with it. She had some ideas, and I last night I had this thought that it might be nice to actually have a sit-down and discuss it, so I could take notes. Luckily, Pansy was free this morning.”
“You know I live for this sort of thing, Draco,” Pansy said. “I couldn’t resist putting in my two knuts worth.”
Now that, Draco believed. Pansy happened to be very passionate about interior design, when she wasn’t busy meddling in people’s personal lives or planning lavish dinner parties of course. And there was nothing she loved more than sharing her opinion and having people listen to her.
“Very well, then,” Draco said, deciding to accept it for what it was. If Harry and Pansy were comfortable enough with each other already to meet up without him, that could only be a good thing, right? He sidled up next to Harry at the island, and the brunet put an arm around his waist. “What are your ideas, then?”
“Well, the study’s too small to be a proper guest room,” said Pansy. “Though it is a shame, because Harry lost those extra bedrooms on the third floor when he cleared it out.”
Harry shrugged. “Yes, but I knew that’s what I was doing. I honestly never have anyone here to stay the night. Well, hardly anyone,” he said, his hand squeezing Draco’s hip, almost unconsciously. “Teddy stays a lot, but he’s had a designated room since he was small.”
“The study could be a kid’s room,” said Pansy. “If Teddy wanted to move rooms. You can fit a smaller bed in there and a small wardrobe. It would be cozy, certainly. But with a fresh coat of paint, something to brighten it up, it could be nice. And it would give you another guest room where Teddy’s room is now, since I assume that one’s larger.”
“Yeah…” Harry said lightly, and Draco could tell by his tone alone that he wasn’t too keen on that idea. “I’m not sure how Teddy would feel about that though. He likes the space he’s made for himself. He feels at home there.”
“Well,” Pansy said nonchalantly, taking a sip of water, “even if you think it’s no good for Teddy there’s always the possibility of it being a bedroom for a future child. It could start out as a nursery and be converted later.”
Draco’s eyes widened, aghast at Pansy’s boldness.
“You know, to a proper bedroom, as the child grows up,” she went on, taking another sip of her drink.
Draco gave her the most threatening look he could muster. He couldn’t believe she was bringing this up now, especially after she had chastised him for wanting to rush into a conversation about children so early. He and Harry hadn’t talked about this at all yet, and he hated to think that Pansy’s question would put pressure on Harry in some way.
She was unaffected by his glare, however, ignoring Draco completely as she watched Harry, waiting for a response.
“True,” said Harry. “Though I have to wonder if it’s a bit too far away from the master. I’d want a nursery to be closer than that, within easy reach.” Harry turned his head to look at Draco, and their eyes met. “Don’t you think?”
Draco, momentarily floored, took a few seconds to respond. “Good point,” he managed finally. “That would be a concern, with a baby. But with an older child, less so.”
Harry nodded, then turned back to Pansy, who was hiding a smug smile behind her water glass. “So, it could be a bedroom later,” he said. “But that doesn’t solve the problem of what to do with it now.”
Draco barely heard Pansy’s response, still reeling from the turn the conversation had taken, at least temporarily. And with the way Harry hadn’t even blinked before replying, before implying, that he was quite open to the possibility to having a child. Of course, Draco had hoped as much, had thought as much, but it made him realize how he was still carrying around some anxiety about this particular topic. He wanted to know if he and Harry wanted the same things, but he had been putting off the conversation, on Pansy’s advice. And also because he was quite enjoying the bubble of newness and happiness that he and Harry had created together. But maybe it was time for some more serious conversations. They were returning to Hogwarts soon, getting ready for another transition, for the next chapter. This might be just the right time.
A light kiss to the side of his head brought Draco back to the present and the conversation at hand.
“And you definitely want to keep it intact, not knock down any walls,” Pansy was saying.
“Yes, I think so,” replied Harry, his hand now running soothingly up and down the small of Draco’s back.
“Then I really think keeping it as a study is the way to go, for now,” the witch said. “But there’s a lot you could do with the space to make it really nice to work in, for one or both of you. If you’ve got some blank parchment I can do a few quick sketches.”
“Great.” Harry looked at Draco, and Draco nodded. “I’ll grab some. And then whip us up some lunch, as promised.”
“That would be lovely.”
The three of them chatted away while Harry cooked and Pansy sketched. They talked a little bit about Harry’s third floor renovation project, but mostly about other things: how Theo and Gideon were getting on, Harry and Draco’s impending return to Hogwarts, and the fact that they finally had a dinner plan scheduled with Harry’s two best friends the following evening.
“I see Hermione all the time when I’m at the Ministry,” Pansy remarked, and Draco was thrown a little by her use of the witch’s first name. “We never chat for long, but she seems quite content to me.”
“She is,” said Harry. “Although it’s been an adjustment recently, being home with Rose. I think she misses working.”
“That’s right,” said Pansy. “I’d forgotten. She gave birth in… June, was it?”
“May.”
“Right. I’d remembered she was pregnant, of course. A bit hard to miss. She was walking around the office practically up to her due date, it seemed.”
“That’s Hermione for you,” said Harry. “She was never one to take it easy.”
“True,” Pansy agreed. “I see Weasley – Ron – much less. He’s out in the field a lot, I suppose.”
“Yeah, they keep him pretty busy,” said Harry. He was whipping up some sort of white sauce quickly with a spoon, then tasting it for seasoning. “The salmon’s almost done,” he said. “Draco, would you set the table for us?”
“Happily,” said Draco.
“Well, do send them my regards when you see them tomorrow,” said Pansy. “And tell Hermione I’d be happy to talk mothering anytime. I have a few tips and tricks learned the hard way that she might find useful.”
“I’m sure she’d really appreciate that,” said Harry, removing the perfectly poached salmon filets from the pan and arranging them on a platter. “All right, I think we’re ready.”
“This looks absolutely divine, Harry,” Pansy said, sitting down at the table and admiring the plate in front of her. “I love a man who can cook.”
“So does Draco,” Harry said, tossing the blond a wink as he poured everyone a little white wine.
Draco rolled his eyes but accepted a kiss when Harry leaned down to give him one.
“It’s not like I can argue the point,” he said, making Harry’s grin widen.
They ate for a bit, conversation mostly centered around how much they were enjoying it. Then Pansy spread out her drawings for Harry and talked him through her thoughts, and Harry nodded and commented on what he liked most. Draco mostly remained silent, enjoying simply being a witness to this new friendship that was developing between his two favorite people.
Finally, lunch was done and Harry had all of Pansy’s ideas in hand. He told the witch he would think them over and talk to his contractor to see what seemed most feasible.
“And I’ll cook you and Theo dinner sometime soon. It’s the least I can for your hard work,” he told her as he gave her a hug goodbye. “Three courses, at least.”
“You’re too sweet, Harry,” the woman replied, giving him a kiss. “But given what I just had for lunch today, we will be happy to take you up on that, I’m sure.”
“I’ll walk you out, shall I?” Draco offered when Pansy made her way over to him for a goodbye hug.
“Thank you, Draco. That would be lovely.”
After exchanging brief smiles Harry set to the task of washing up and Draco followed his friend down the hall to the front door. When they arrived, they paused, and Pansy grabbed his arm.
“I love him, Draco,” she said. “And I’m not just saying that. I absolutely love him. He’s perfect for you.”
Draco couldn’t help a grin. He wasn’t exactly surprised, but he was happy all the same.
“It’s just too bad he isn’t bisexual, like you. Then we could share him.”
Draco swatted her arm. “I’m not sharing, no matter what. So don’t even go getting any ideas.”
“Ah, very well,” said Pansy. “I suppose he wouldn’t be nearly so fabulous if he wasn’t so gay.”
That made Draco snort, calling him back to Kyle’s description of Harry that morning. Hot and fabulous. Indeed.
“I’m very happy you two are getting on,” he told her truthfully. “But do leave off all the talk of nurseries and babies, would you? Those are things for Harry and I to decide amongst ourselves.”
Pansy arched a brow. “I was merely testing the waters for myself, wondering Harry’s thoughts. I’d had no clue you two hadn’t discussed it yet.”
“It’s only been a few weeks,” said Draco. “And you were the one who said I should wait to have that conversation.”
“I said you should wait until after you’d gotten back together. I didn’t say you had to wait indefinitely.”
Draco glanced away. “You don’t think it seems early?”
“If you were any other couple, perhaps. But you’re head over heels for him, Draco, and he for you. Honestly, you should have heard the things he said before you arrived. ‘Do you think Draco would like that?’ ‘Maybe Draco will want his own study in the house, or maybe a Potions lab.’ ‘When Draco and I figure out our living situation, that will tell us a lot.’ Word for word, darling, I kid you not. And let’s not forget that when I did mention the nursery, he already had an opinion and looked at you for confirmation. The man is already considering these things. So why not go ahead and talk about it?”
Draco ducked his head, his cheeks warm. “All right. Fair point. I had a similar thought. Maybe it is time. I just want to bring it up in a way that doesn’t sound pushy or… or desperate.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “And I’m saying you don’t have to worry about those things. Not with him. Didn’t you tell me yourself that one of the best things about being with Harry is that you could be completely honest?”
Draco sighed. “Yes.”
“So… be honest then.”
He opened his mouth to retort, but with what he had no idea. Because of course, Pansy was right, which she knew already. The tilt of her smile told him as much.
“I’m very happy for you, Draco. Truly. So let yourself be happy as well and stop worrying over every little thing.”
He sighed again. “Very well.”
“I must be off. But do get in touch soon. My boys and I want to see you – both of you – before you leave for Hogwarts.”
“I will,” Draco said, bending to give her a kiss. “Harry will be happy to as well. He likes you.”
“He’d better,” said Pansy with a grin. “Because he’s stuck with me.”
Draco laughed. “Indeed.”
She left with a small wave goodbye, and Draco made his way down the hall toward the kitchen. He found Harry at the sink, just finishing up the dishes.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No, I’m done,” Harry replied, spelling the last water glass dry and levitating it into an open cabinet. He turned then and approached Draco, wrapping his arms around the blond’s waist. Draco leaned in for a kiss and Harry hummed happily, his hands sneaking down to the curve of Draco’s arse. “How was coffee?” he asked once he’d pulled away.
Draco thought a moment. “Productive,” he said.
Harry laughed, surprised. “I suppose that’s a good thing?”
“It is. Kyle and I aren’t going to be best friends anytime soon. But I think I helped him get closure. About us, but also about his previous relationship as well. At least, I hope I helped.”
“I’m sure you did,” said Harry, giving him another kiss. “And did you get what you needed out of it?”
“Well, considering that mostly I wanted to apologize… and… I don’t know, feel like I had a positive effect on his life rather than a negative one… yes. I think I got what I needed.”
“Good.”
“Thank you for being so understanding. I know it’s not… pleasant, the idea of your partner having coffee with an ex.”
“It’s not a problem,” said Harry. “I trust you. I figure, if you wanted to be with him, you still would be, wouldn’t you?”
“That’s true,” said Draco smirking. “I did go to rather a lot of trouble to get you back. I’d hardly want to waste it.”
Harry pulled away, giving him a look that was half amused, half incredulous. “A lot of trouble? I don’t know about that. I was the one who cornered you in the wine shop even though I saw you happily dating another man and declared my feelings for you once and for all.”
Draco scoffed, grinning. “I wouldn’t say you declared your feelings, you know. Rather you argued with me about something trivial and talked around your feelings until finally admitting you had them. In the most roundabout way possible.”
Harry pretended to scowl, but his eyes were amused. “It was enough, wasn’t it? You knew what I meant.”
“Yes. I figured out what you meant, enough at least to give us consideration. I’m only pointing out that while you said something convoluted about how you chose not to be with other people because they weren’t me, I actually came to your house and gave you sweets and told you flat out that I love you. So, comparatively-”
The brunet interrupted him with a growl, gripping him tight around the waist and pulling him flush against Harry’s solid body. A nip to Draco’s earlobe had him gasping, “You need me to be more obvious, do you?” a voice said dangerously in his ear. “You need me to tell you how I longed for you when you were gone? How I lay awake at night wishing you were with me, wondering what I had done to drive you away, what I could do to get you back? How when I saw you with someone else I nearly lost my mind?” Lips descended to Draco’s neck, and he arched automatically, welcoming the touch. “Do you need to hear just how desperately in love with you I am? Is that what you want?”
Instead of answering, Draco found Harry’s mouth and snogged the living daylights out of him, until their lips were raw and their breaths ragged.
“I always want to hear it,” he answered when they finally pulled apart to catch their breath. “Always. But do I need to? No. Because I know. I know because it’s exactly how I feel.”
Harry cradled his face, eyes soft and warm. “I never want you to doubt again. That’s the most important thing to me. Whatever happens, whatever fights we have or obstacles we face, I need you to always remember that I love you. I always will. If you ever…” He paused, swallowing. “If you ever decide to walk away from me, I never want it to be because you believe I don’t love you. That can never be why.”
“I won’t walk away, Harry,” Draco said emphatically, knowing this wasn’t a game anymore. Harry needed to hear this. “Ever. I’m not going anywhere. I need you to trust me on that.”
“I do,” said Harry. “I trust you.”
Draco kissed an eyelid tenderly, knowing what a big step that was for Harry. Bigger than giving his love, his body, his heart. Draco had fought hard to earn that trust and he wasn’t about to waste it.
“I want everything with you,” he told the brunet. “Absolutely everything.”
“Me too,” whispered Harry. “Me too.”
A life. A home. A family. Draco almost said the words aloud, but something stopped him. He wanted to talk about this, about their vision for a life together, but it didn’t feel like the right time. The details and logistics could and would be hammered out. But it was just as important that Harry know that, no matter what life they created, Draco would be there for it. For all of it.
They stayed pressed together for a little while, Harry resting his forehead on Draco’s shoulder. They didn’t speak, only breathed and sighed, and Draco found himself relishing how such a simple thing could feel so good.
Finally Harry looked up, his smile soft. Draco was about to ask him what he felt like doing next when the brunet said, “Want to help me bake a cake?”
Draco choked on his own words a little, surprised at the question. “A cake?”
“For tomorrow,” said Harry. “It’s tradition. Whoever isn’t hosting brings wine and dessert, while the host makes dinner.”
Draco nodded. He understood the idea. “And you always bake a cake when it’s the Weasley-Grangers’ turn to host?”
Harry laughed. “No. I never bake a cake. Usually I’m lazy and just bring ice cream or treacle fudge or packaged biscuits or something. Ron and Hermione do the same. They’re not exactly skilled bakers, so they don’t mind. But tomorrow night is special, so I thought we’d mark the occasion properly. And I make a pretty good cake, I have to say.”
Draco arched a brow. “So you’re going to bribe them to be nice to me with cake. A sound strategy, to be sure.”
“Oi, I don’t have to bribe them,” said Harry, swatting him lightly on the arse. “They’re actually quite nice people, you know.”
“I have no doubt that they are,” said Draco. “The problem is that I wasn’t remotely nice to them for about seven years. Their dislike of me is well-deserved, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they needed some extra buttering up.”
“They know you’re a different person now. They are willing to keep an open mind and give you a chance,” Harry said. They’d had this conversation already, in some form, multiple times, but Draco had yet to feel fully convinced. “Don’t be nervous,” Harry said, kissing him on the cheek.
“I can’t help it,” Draco murmured.
“I know,” Harry said with a chuckle. “It’s how I felt meeting Pansy.”
Draco knew that was true, but he also knew it wasn’t quite the same. While Harry and Pansy had had a few unpleasant run-ins during their school days, it was nothing a little friendly conversation couldn’t repair, now that they were adults. But when it came to the way Draco had harassed Ron Weasley or thrown offensive slurs at Hermione Granger, he hardly thought one dinner together was going to make it right. No matter how good Harry’s cake happened to be.
“One step at a time,” Harry said, and Draco smiled. Harry still had that uncanny ability to guess what he was thinking. “Now come on, let’s bake. You’ll like this even better than cooking, I wager. It requires much more precision, more like potions.”
Draco was still skeptical, but he went along with it. After all, what could it hurt to learn how to bake a cake?
Of course, like with the Bolognese the first time around, Draco was mostly set the simplest of tasks, supervised closely by Harry. It was Draco’s job to sift the dry ingredients and line the cake tins, while Harry took on the much trickier bits, like whipping the eggs and obsessively checking their consistency. As Harry folded the flour mixture in, finally, Draco looked on avidly, the academic part of him interested in the way the whipped eggs naturally leavened the batter.
The not-so-academic part of him was just enjoying the way Harry’s biceps flexed as he carefully stirred and folded.
All the while they chatted, Draco mostly asking questions, some about the chemistry behind the process and some just about how Harry had come to know so much about it. Harry answered them all, including how it was Molly Weasley who’d helped him bake his first cake when Harry decided he wanted to bake his own for Teddy’s birthday one year.
“Molly always baked one as well,” Harry said. “She does it for all the children and grandchildren. But I was having my own celebration with Teddy and Andromeda that year, and I wanted to contribute.”
Apparently the experience had been a positive one, because Harry continued to go back to Molly for lessons every now and then, learning more difficult recipes like the genoise they were making now.
“Cooking and baking are a stress-relieving thing, I realized,” Harry said as he poured the batter into the waiting tins. “Cooking for when I just want to escape and forget things and go with my intuition, and baking for when I when I feel a need for control and want to concentrate on something that will take my full attention. It’s great, because it relieves stress but I also have something delicious to eat at the end of it.”
“As long as everything goes according to plan,” Draco pointed out. “Brewing potions is my stress relief, but when I make a mistake and melt a cauldron, that only adds to my stress.”
“True,” said Harry with a laugh. “I have baked a few disasters in my day. But I guess in the end, so long as I haven’t burned the kitchen down, I figure that at least I tried. And hopefully I learned something. Enough to do better next time, at any rate.”
“Mm,” said Draco, thinking that over. He had learned just as much, if not more, from his failures than from his successes.
“For frosting I was going to whip up a buttercream. Raspberry, I think. Something light,” Harry said, regaining Draco’s attention.
“Sounds lovely.”
“We’ll have to keep decoration simple, I’m afraid. Unless you have some exceptional piping skills I don’t know about. Molly always makes the most elaborate designs for her cakes: flowers and animals and things. My birthday cake has been a perfectly rendered giant Snitch more than once. But I’ve never got the hang of it. I’m just not very artistic, I suppose,” he finished with a heavy sigh.
Draco gasped in feigned shock. “Something Harry James Potter isn’t good at? What is the world coming to? Is it the first sign of the apocalypse? Is the ground about to drop out from under my feet?”
He received only a darkly amused narrowing of the eyes in response.
“Really,” Draco went on. “It’s a good thing Voldemort never found out about your lack of frosting artistry, or we might have lost the war.”
“You’re hilarious,” Harry said drily. “The wittiest man I’ve ever met. Now hand me the raspberry preserves from the fridge, would you?”
Still chuckling, Draco complied with the request. Then he sat, mostly in silence, as Harry whipped up a quick frosting with practiced competence. The brunet’s hair was a mess, his apron was splattered with small bits of cake batter, and there was a white smudge of flour on his cheek, but Draco wasn’t sure he’d ever found Harry more perfect.
This was it, the thing he had been trying to explain to Kyle earlier that day but couldn’t quite get there. He almost wished the Canadian were here to witness it, the beautiful normalcy of the way Harry lived his life, the way he treated other people, the way he thought of himself. It would never be Harry’s fame or popularity, never his Order of Merlin or his title of Savior, that would keep Draco loving him. It would always be this, the unbearable joy of watching him bake a cake, of listening to him tell stories about the people he loved, of seeing him with his students, of making him smile.
He knew he was lucky. He knew there were plenty out there who would kill to have the same front row seat to Harry’s life that Draco did. But he also knew that none of them wanted that front row seat for the same reasons as Draco, and that made all the difference.
“What are you grinning about over there?” Harry asked him before tasting the frosting for salt.
Draco watched him as the brunet tilted his head, eyes unfocused and lips smacking as he considered the flavor of his current project. Then he turned to look at Draco, expecting answer. Draco’s smile widened.
“You’re a mess, Potter,” he said, aware that his voice was rich with affection.
Harry shrugged with his hands. “Well baking, much like life, is a messy business, I suppose.”
Draco laughed. “Indeed.”
A beautiful, messy business.
***
The following evening, Harry Apparated them to the front gate of a little cottage in the country. It was a sweet house with flowers under the windows and vines growing up the side. The brick was aged and worn, but otherwise the place seemed well-kempt.
“How very quaint,” Draco remarked, earning a snort from Harry. He felt his cheeks redden, realizing in that moment he could still sound like a bit of a snob sometimes.
“They wanted something cozy,” Harry explained. “And away from the bustle of London. It’s also not far from where Ron grew up, which suits them as well.”
“It’s quite charming, is what I meant,” said Draco sheepishly, quietly. “That’s all.’
Harry balanced the cake on one hand so he could reach for Draco’s free hand and give it a squeeze. “It’s all right. Deep breaths, yeah? They’re going to love you.”
“So long as I avoid sounding like a condescending prat?” he clarified with a raise of an eyebrow.
“Yes, that,” replied Harry, amused. “In other words, be yourself. Your true self.”
Draco sighed. “I’ll do my best.”
“Come on then,” said Harry, dropping Draco’s hand so he could carry the cake properly again. They went through the gate and up the rough stone walkway. Draco looked around at the slightly overgrown front garden, taking it all in. Something unexpected caught his eye.
“Are those… dirigible plums?” Draco asked.
Harry followed the direction of his pointed finger and laughed. “Yeah, actually. Well-spotted. It’s uh… sort of a private joke, from the war. A bit hard to explain, really.”
“Hm,” said Draco. He’d always suspected Weasley and Granger were a strange lot. But it wouldn’t do any good to go spouting about it now. “There are going to be a lot of those, aren’t there?” he said.
“Dirigible plums?”
“Private jokes.”
Harry snorted again. “Right. Obviously. We’ll try to keep them to a minimum, I promise.”
They made it to the door and Harry knocked soundly. Draco got one more good deep breath in before the door was answered by a smiling Hermione Granger-Weasley.
She looked exactly how Draco would have expected her to look, given it had been eight years since he’d last seen her. Her face was the same: clear and youthful, with deeply intelligent brown eyes. But her curls were sleeker and tighter as they fell loose around her shoulders, as though she had finally learned how to properly care for them, and her posture was straight and poised, not the overburdened slouch of yesteryear when she was constantly lugging around heavy books or bending over a cauldron in Potions class.
Adulthood – and motherhood as well, it seemed – suited her nicely.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here. Please, come in.”
They did, and she immediately turned to look at her blond guest. “Hello, Draco. It’s good to see you again.”
“Hello… Hermione,” Draco said, tripping over the name just a little. “You as well. It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, it has.”
“I really appreciate you having me tonight. I – or, I should say, we – brought some wine, as per tradition.” He held the bottle out to her and she took it, noting the label and casting a knowing glance Harry’s way.
“My favorite,” she said. “And cake. My, my. You’re spoiling us tonight.”
“Just a little something Draco and I baked yesterday.”
“By which he means he did all the work and I snuck bits of frosting while he wasn’t looking,” Draco said.
That earned him a laugh from the brunette, much to his relief, and she nodded her head in the direction of the hall. “Come on, then. We can set these down and say hello to Ron. He’s cooking.”
Draco hoped the relieved breath he let out wasn’t too loud. So far, so good. Granger – although really, he probably should be calling her Hermione now, even in his own head – seemed genuinely friendly. Perhaps winning her over wouldn’t be such a task after all.
Of course, there was still her husband to contend with, and he had no idea what to expect from him.
“Harry and Draco are here, love,” Hermione said as the three of them entered the kitchen.
Draco didn’t properly hear the man’s reply; he was too busy trying to figure out exactly who it was standing at the range. Because whoever the man was, it couldn’t possibly be Ron Weasley. Ron Weasley was noodley and awkward, with bad skin and worse hair. Ron Weasley was wound tight as a drum, ready to snap at the first hint of an insult.
The man at the range, however, was lean but broad-shouldered, with a handsome profile and long red hair that he’d thrown up in a messy bun that suited him. He seemed relaxed, comfortable in his own skin, and when he turned to look in their direction, he was smiling broadly.
The man couldn’t possibly be Ron Weasley. And yet… he was. The lines of his face were familiar, his deep blue eyes knowing. His brow arched in a way Draco recognized as his mouth tilted into a smirk.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “Draco fucking Malfoy. It really is you.”
Draco heard Hermione sigh next to him. “Ronald…” she said, under her breath.
The man glanced at his wife briefly, his smirk never wavering, before he made his way over.
“It’s just that I really thought Harry might be having us on, is all, telling us it was you he was head over heels in love with. You never know, with this one.” The redhead stuck a thumb in Harry’s direction. “But it really is you.”
“It really is me,” Draco replied.
Ron stuck his hand out, and Draco shook it. A number of possibilities ran through his head for what to say next, from “It’s good to see you; you’re looking well” to “I’m very glad to be here,” all of which would have been mostly true. But he was worried they would sound disingenuous coming out of his mouth, so he settled on, “Thanks for inviting me tonight.”
“Happy to have you,” replied Ron, and it did sound sincere.
The man’s hand was rough with callouses, not unlike Harry’s, and there was a long scar above his right eyebrow that Draco thought must be from a curse. He was probably scarred all over, come to think of it. If the war and only two years as an Auror had marred Harry’s skin the way it had, then Ron Weasley’s extra six years with the Corps on top of that had probably left him with more marks than skin.
The theory was further confirmed when Ron turned to give Harry a hug in greeting, his shirt riding up enough to reveal a patch of mottled flesh just above his hip.
Draco shook himself, accepting Hermione’s offer of a drink and deciding that while he could recognize objectively that Weasley had grown up to be a rather attractive bloke, in the end, it didn’t mean he was interested in dwelling on what he looked like naked. That was just too strange to contemplate.
Luckily Hermione had engaged him in conversation as she took to opening the bottle of wine they had brought, while Weasley – or rather… Ron, he supposed – had returned to the stove to finish the meal. Draco told her about his summer and a research project he was thinking of starting back up, happily accepting a glass when the brunette handed it to him.
“That sounds fascinating,” Hermione said, now pouring a glass for Harry. “Transfiguration by potion is a very limited field right now, as I understand it. Other than polyjuice, I can’t think of a single other potion that actually accomplishes it.”
“There are some that allow very superficial physical changes, but nothing as complex as polyjuice. I was looking into developing potions to assist with Animagus transfiguration, back when I was studying for my mastery. But I only got so far with it. I thought I’d pick it up again, now that I’m back in academics full time.”
“Well, I’d love to read your research,” said Hermione. “I’ve dabbled a little in potions since I graduated, but my legal work has kept me well busy for the most part.” She summoned another wine glass. “Some wine for you, love?” she called to her husband.
“I’ll probably wait until dinner, but go on and pour me a glass.”
“And for yourself, of course,” said Draco, noticing that she was currently only sipping on water. “It is your favorite, isn’t it?”
“It is,” said Hermione. “I love a good malbec. Harry found this one for me last year. But I’ll be feeding Rose in another hour or so, so I’ve got to hold off.”
Right, Draco realized. Breastfeeding.
“But I’ll have a glass after dinner, if there’s any left.”
“We’ll be sure to save you some,” said Harry.
Hermione grinned. “Honestly, I’m most looking forward to the cake.”
Ron’s ears perked up at that. “Cake? You brought cake?”
“Harry baked a cake,” Hermione clarified pointedly.
“Draco and I baked it,” Harry said, throwing an arm around Draco’s waist.
Draco shook his head and mouthed “No” at Ron, to indicate that this was patently false, and Ron snorted.
“So, you baked us a cake, Harry?” Ron said teasingly. “Just on a whim, I suppose. Has nothing to do with your guest tonight or trying to get on our good side, I’m sure.”
“That’s essentially what I said,” added Draco, and Harry threw him a look of mock betrayal. Draco shrugged in response. “It’s true.”
“Well, I think it’s sweet,” said Hermione, that knowing smile back again.
“Yes, it’s absolutely adorable.” Ron tossed his friend a wink.
“Sweet Merlin,” Harry said with a sigh, his cheeks pink. “If I’d known you were going to be this way about it, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
“Oh, don’t be that way, Harry. We’re only teasing. We know tonight is… different. Special.” Hermione cast a fleeting glance at Draco.
Draco was torn, emotionally, between enjoyment at seeing Harry get a ribbing from his friends and mortification that they were talking about this so openly. Bloody Gryffindors. Of course they have to address the Erumpent in the room. He was glad when Harry changed the subject, asking after his goddaughter.
“I was hoping to get some quality time with my favorite Weasley,” he said pointedly.
“She’s sleeping,” said Hermione. “I thought we’d try to get as much of dinner in as we could before she wakes. But you’ll get lots of time with her after, I’m sure. She only sleeps about three hours at a time, Merlin help us.”
“Oi, don’t encourage him,” Ron said, waving a set of tongs in his wife’s direction from the range. “I’m not so keen on this ‘favorite Weasley’ business he’s started up.”
“Oh, but it doesn’t bother me in the slightest,” said Hermione airily. “I’m a Granger-Weasley, after all.”
“What does that have to do with it?” the redhead asked.
“It’s entirely different. I’m in a category all my own, so I’ll always be one of Harry’s favorites.” She smirked in a self-satisfied way at her husband, who scowled, though there was some amusement dancing in his blue eyes. Harry chuckled.
“Thrown over for a three-month-old,” Ron grumbled, returning his attention to the food. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Well, she is about a hundred times cuter than you,” said Harry. “So I’m not sure why you’re surprised.”
Ron leveled a stare at his friend, then shrugged, as if conceding the point. And he sort of had to, after all. It was his very own daughter they were discussing.
“Well, that may be true,” he said. “But she didn’t help you win a war.”
“No, that was Hermione,” said Harry, clearly enjoying his friend’s indignation.
Ron glared.
“And you too,” Harry said, with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t pout.”
“And at least I’m potty trained,” Ron went on, making Hermione giggle. “And can feed and clothe myself.”
“Yes, you have a lot going for you, darling,” said the brunette affectionately.
“And I don’t cry at an excruciating volume every time I need something,” he added.
“No, only when the Cannons lose a match,” said Harry, grinning.
“Which is every time they play,” Hermione chimed in.
“Dinner is ready,” Ron declared. “You probably ought to go ahead and get your share Draco, before I add a healthy dose of U-No-Poo to each of theirs.” He indicated his fellow Golden trio members with his tongs.
“You wouldn’t dare,” said Harry. “Not to your very best mate in the whole world.”
“Nor to the mother of your child,” said Hermione.
“Oh, I would,” said Ron darkly, looking between them. Their grins hadn’t faltered at the threat. Ron smiled, suddenly, as though this was amusing.
“Sweet Circe,” Draco found himself saying aloud. “Are you three like this all the time?”
There was a loud round of laughter at that, though Hermione did give Draco a look of apology afterwards.
“Forgive us, Draco,” she said. “It’s the result of knowing each other for far too long.”
“It’s just how we show our love,” said Harry, giving Draco a kiss on the temple. “You’ll get used to it.”
The strange thing was, he could actually see how that was possible. There was something very natural and unguarded about the three of them together that Draco found to be a rare experience in his own life. But he quite liked it. It was the same thing he had managed to achieve with Pansy, at least during the times in their friendship when they were closest and at their most honest. And it was what he had with Harry now.
As they sat down to dinner and platters of food were passed around, Draco was remembering a conversation with Harry many months ago, the night they had left David’s party.
How many people do you think really know you? Harry had asked him then.
Not many, had been Draco’s reply. And it was true.
It was a gift, the freedom to be yourself. A person didn’t find it with just anyone. Draco had it with Harry, Pansy, and perhaps still with Greg, to some extent. Harry had it with Ron and Hermione, and now he was letting Draco into it too.
Draco had always wanted to be on this side of things, back in school. He remembered the way he used to glance over at the Gryffindor table at meals, watching the Golden Trio talk and laugh, or huddle closely with their heads together, making whispered conversation. He remembered the way he would catch one of them looking at the other two, silent communication happening between them, as if they didn’t need words.
His longing for that, that intimacy, had made him angry in his youth, resentful. Harry’s initial rejection had been a blow, back when they were eleven, but it was the boy hero’s continuous embracing of Ron and Hermione that had made the rejection stick, like it was happening over and over again. Draco hadn’t even realized until now how painful that had been, how he’d carried it with him for such a long time.
And now he was here, and it was surreal. Mostly because he realized he actually didn’t know Hermione or Ron really at all. Essentially all of his assumptions about them appeared to be false. Hermione was warm and inclusive, intellectual but not overbearingly so; Ron was sharp and sure of himself, with a dry wit that helped Draco understand why he appealed to both Harry and Hermione.
Had he missed this all along, he wondered. Had he just been unwilling to see it before, or was it because they’d grown up, and grown into themselves?
After a couple of glasses of wine, he decided it didn’t matter. Conversation flowed easily, and it was the lighthearted kind. In such circumstances, it was not a trial to participate, and the three others were always happy to provide Draco with ample context when it delved into something related to the Golden Trio’s history. Hermione especially was good with keeping them on topic, making sure Draco was never left out for long. They deftly skirted anything that would bring up painful memories, which Draco was grateful for.
It was tentative, this peace. But it was peace, and that was something.
There was a lull in conversation when Ron got up to open another bottle of wine, and Draco took the opportunity to relay to Hermione Pansy’s message from the day before.
“She told me she’d be happy to talk mothering with you anytime, if you were so inclined.”
“Oh, how sweet,” said Hermione, looking genuinely pleased. “I always enjoyed running into her at the Ministry. She’s been quite friendly since school.”
“She has a way with people,” said Draco. “She won Harry over quickly.”
“She’s hard not to like,” Harry agreed, a hand coming to rest on the back of Draco’s neck and kneading gently. “Of course, I was more worried that she wasn’t going to like me.”
“Which is ridiculous,” said Draco, looking at him. “As if there was any doubt.” He turned back to Hermione to say something else, only to find her looking between the two of them with an unmistakable smirk on her lips.
“Stop smiling at us like that,” Harry murmured, turning pink again. “It’s annoying.”
Hermione’s expression only grew more smug. Luckily Ron returned with a fresh bottle and started refilling wine glasses, turning conversation back to the latest Quidditch league standings.
More wine was consumed, the table was cleared, and eventually it was decided that it was time for cake. Hermione sprang from her chair immediately, practically bouncing her way over to the counter.
“Hermione has developed a real sweet tooth since the pregnancy,” Ron informed them as he stood to get some plates for them.
“Well, I am eating for two,” she said. “Even now. No harm in a few extra calories every now and then.”
“Hey, I’ve got no complaints, love,” said Ron, giving her arse a pinch as he passed her by on the way to the cabinet.
Looking half scandalized, half amused, Hermione turned and gave his arse a resounding smack in return, which he tried unsuccessfully to dodge. Wincing and laughing simultaneously, he opened the cabinet to retrieve the dishes.
A baby’s cry filled the room, startling Draco before he realized it was just a baby monitoring charm from one of their wands.
“I’ll get her,” said Ron, seeing that Hermione was in the middle of cutting the cake. “Just in time for dessert. She already has excellent timing, doesn’t she?”
He vanished for a few minutes while Hermione cut everyone ample slices of the vanilla genoise, remarking on how delicious it looked.
“When are you going bake me a birthday cake, Harry?” she asked.
“And dethrone Molly Weasley? I don’t think that would go over well.”
Hermione took a big bite, licking her lips of the raspberry buttercream and humming happily. “Two different birthday cakes wouldn’t be the end of the world,” she said casually, making both men laugh.
They were halfway through their slices when Ron reemerged, a sleep baby wrapped around his hip.
“Here she is,” he said softly to the room, looking down at his daughter, whose little head was resting in the crook of his shoulder. Her eyes were half-lidded and looking around with only a mild interest. “Still a tired girl, huh?” he remarked. “Always takes a little while to perk up.”
“But it’s only a matter of time,” said Hermione. “Especially once she realizes how hungry she is.”
Ron remained standing for a bit, encouraging the others to keep eating while he bounced and rocked her. Draco had to admit the man looked like a natural with a baby in his arms. It helped that Rose sported a little tuft of hair almost the exact shade of red as his, making it look like they belonged together.
Definitely a Weasley, he thought with a smirk.
Eventually she started lifting her head and having a proper look at their guests, including Harry, who she seemed to recognize. She smiled at him when Harry gave her a wave.
“There’s my girl,” he said, face lighting up in a way Draco had to look away from, lest he start to feel all gooey inside. Harry reached his arms up. “Let me take her for a bit, so you can eat.”
“Thanks, mate,” said Ron, passing her over.
Harry took her easily and rested her on his lap, and dessert was resumed. Conversation didn’t stray far from Rose, though, as Draco asked the new parents about how the transition had been.
“Harry’s told me a little about it,” he said. “But I was curious what you thought had changed the most since she was born, besides the obvious.”
“Sleep,” Hermione said immediately. “Although that one is obvious, I suppose. But it’s the biggest one.”
“You sleep when she does,” Draco said. He remembered Pansy saying the same.
“Pretty much. Which means, not a lot. Though she’s better than she was that first month.”
“Sex,” said Ron, adding his thoughts to the conversation. “That’s the other big one. Not a lot of time or energy to have any, you know, due to the lack of sleep.”
“Ron…” Hermione said, blushing, though the redhead merely shrugged.
“It’s true. How some people conceive another child right after the first is born is beyond me.”
“Your mum had you and Ginny just about back to back, you know,” Harry remarked as he bounced Rose on his knee. “Don’t forget that.”
“Yes, thank you for pointing that out,” Ron said drily. “Because my parents’ sex life is something I want to spend a lot of time thinking about, obviously.”
“You’re very welcome,” Harry replied with a grin.
“As far as what surprised me…” Hermione said, steering the topic away from sex altogether. “I would say I never realized just how well I would know her, and so quickly too. I mean, obviously I’m her mum, and I pay attention to her unlike I have any other child. But I feel like I know every little thing about her. And I notice new things every day that weren’t there the day before. She’s always surprising me. Part of it is that she’s growing and changing so fast.”
Draco nodded. “This first year especially, I imagine.”
“I’m amazed at how distracted at work I am,” said Ron. “I have a hard time focusing and thinking about things other than her when I’m there. I used to be able to compartmentalize, you know? Work was work, and while I was there it had all my focus. And then when I was at home I was just focused on Hermione and the house. But when Rose was born it was like… my entire frame of reference shifted or something. Every case that has come across my desk in the past three months has made me think of her in one way or another. My priorities feel different.”
“How’s the job hunt going?” Harry asked. “Are they going to be able to find you a position out of the field?”
“We’ll see,” Ron said with a sigh, watching his daughter in Harry’s lap. “Promotions season is nearly upon us. We’ve got the newest batch of recruits coming in, and once they make the transition into our work force, that’s when everything shifts and administrators get promoted and retirements go into effect, for the most part. That’s when they’ll know if they have a post for me.”
“So, a few more months?”
Ron nodded. “If I can wait that long. I don’t know. There’s been talk…” He glanced at his wife, who tilted her head at him and indicated he should keep going with a small wave of her hand. “We’re talking about Hermione going back to work earlier than she had planned and me leaving the Corps to stay home with Rose.”
“Really,” said Harry, and he did sound genuinely surprised. “That’s new.”
Ron shrugged. “Honestly, I think it’s a solution that would suit us. I’m burnt out on Auror work completely at this point, and Hermione’s department is really hurting without her.”
“It would be hard to leave Rose,” Hermione chimed in. “And I don’t think I’ll be able to work the long hours I used to. I just wouldn’t want to. But I’d like to get back to work. And Ron likes the idea of being home.”
“We’ll just have to see,” Ron went on calmly. “It means we’d be down to one income for a while, which is something we’ll have to talk about. We have some savings and the house is paid off, so it’s doable.” He looked at his wife again, who nodded.
Draco listened in silence, feeling strangely… humbled. Having never had to worry about money, even after the war and losing a large portion of the Malfoy fortune to make reparations, Draco had always had the freedom to do what he wanted, whether it was work or leisure. It gave him a sense of security that he knew now he was lucky to have.
He hadn’t always been so aware of it. In his youth he had believed, thanks to his parents’ influence, that his wealth made him better than other people. “Better” in what way was never really explained to him, it was just… the way it was. He cringed internally, remembering the way he used to taunt Ron Weasley for his poverty, and wondered if the same memories had crossed the redhead’s mind, even for a moment. If they did, he didn’t show it.
He shifted in his chair. It was uncomfortable, recalling all those cruel words he had said. He even remembered trying to think them up, trying to formulate the most cutting insult, whatever would hurt the most. It was made all the more shameful by the way Ron and Hermione were talking now, the way they were practical, responsible with their money, the money they had earned themselves. The way they still had to worry, make sure they had enough to give their daughter the best life they could. Even with both of them working as hard as they did, contributing to the world in the way that they did, they still had to worry. It wasn’t right.
“The Ministry doesn’t pay its employees nearly enough,” Draco said, after Ron mentioned the cutbacks in Auror benefits that had happened in the last few years. “Something needs to be done.”
“No argument there,” said Ron. “But, sadly, it’s been a problem for decades now. It was an issue for our parents’ generation, and it hasn’t gotten any better. I’m not even sure how we would make it better.”
“The Wizengamot would have to raise salary standards across all departments, to affect real change,” said Hermione. “But that’s not going to happen anytime soon. If anything, they’re making cuts, to accommodate the development of new departments.”
“And our beloved Minister isn’t doing anything about it,” said Draco.
This led to the inevitable round of complaints about the current leadership, in which the four found themselves politically aligned. By that point the little one in Harry’s lap was starting to fuss, however, and Hermione declared it was time to feed her.
“Can we get you all anything else?” she asked as she took the baby from her friend and gave the girl a kiss on the cheek. “More wine, coffee?”
Both assured her they were fine, and Harry offered to help Ron with cleaning the kitchen. Draco offered to help as well, but Harry suggested he keep Hermione company in the sitting room instead while she fed Rose.
“So long as you don’t mind being in the company of a nursing mum,” Hermione said. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Oh no, that’s fine,” Draco said, though on the inside he was panicking a little. He was just getting reacquainted with the woman. The last thing he wanted was to make things awkward by accidentally staring at her chest too much.
Just keep your eyes on her face, he told himself resolutely. You’ll be fine.
Fortunately, she was wearing a special shirt that made nursing both easy and discreet, and he rather forgot about what she was doing after a few minutes, getting lost in the conversation when she asked him more about his research. This led, as it always inevitably did, to Draco talking about his students and their research as well.
“I have a rising 5^thyear who reminds me a lot of you,” he told her.
“Really,” she replied. “In what way?”
“Gryffindor, Muggleborn, brilliant, lives to study and research…” Draco started ticking off with his fingers, making Hermione laugh. “Strong moral compass, strong sense of purpose… she’s even dating a Quidditch star, come to think of it. You did that too, didn’t you?” he teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Only for a few months. But Victor and I didn’t end up having that much in common, so it didn’t last.”
“Yeah, I worry about that with Raisie. She seems to really like this boyfriend of hers, but I can’t see why. He only distracts her, really.”
“Ah well, girls and boys both need some distraction at that age. So long as her work isn’t falling off, there probably isn’t much harm.”
“True,” said Draco. “She still seems quite committed to her work, if the owls she’s sent me this summer are any indication.”
Hermione stared at him a moment, and – if he didn’t know any better – Draco would have thought her expression seemed almost… fond. “Harry said you were different,” she said softly. “I just hadn’t realized how much that was true.”
Draco looked down at his hands, somewhere between pleased and embarrassed. “I’d certainly like to think I’ve come a long way since we were in school,” he said finally. “I’m not perfect by any stretch, but I have grown up, as have we all.”
“The mere fact that you can admit you’re not perfect shows how much you’ve changed,” she said.
Draco laughed sardonically. “I suppose I was just that much of a prat back then, wasn’t I?” When she didn’t argue, he chuckled some more. “Yes,” he said. “It’s actually… rather horrifying to think about, sometimes.”
“I wouldn’t dwell on it, Draco. It’s no use giving yourself pain over it.”
“Except when the pain reminds you to be better,” he answered. She furrowed her brow. “Like how I treated you, for example, when we were younger. How can I not feel pain, guilt, shame, over that? I hope to never treat someone that way ever again, even accidentally. And I hope you know…” He swallowed, realizing, suddenly, what an important moment this was. He wasn’t sure if he would get the chance this night, to say these things. But it seemed like the right time, with it being just the two of them. So he took a deep breath and continued on. “I hope you know how sorry I am, for all that I said and did. I’m afraid it’s too much to be able to name it all, but especially for the name-calling, the bullying, anything I did that made you feel like you didn’t belong at Hogwarts or in our world. Thankfully you proved me wrong at every turn. You proved a hundred times over what a brilliant witch you are, and I’m glad for that, that my stupid actions and words didn’t hold you back. You were always much stronger than I, in that way.”
Hermione took that in, her expression soft. “They did affect me, you know,” she said, and Draco closed his eyes, nodding. “How could they not? You hear something enough… Not that it was just you. It was a whole culture, which you were a product of.”
“It’s no excuse, though,” he replied. “Yes, my father raised me to be a blood purist, and that influenced me as a child, but I didn’t aim my attentions on just any Muggleborn. I aimed them on you, because I was jealous of you, threatened by you, your talent… And that’s on me. I can’t blame my father for that. Same with – with Ron. I was jealous of him.”
“For his friendship with Harry?”
Draco nodded. “Yes. Essentially. I think it was… complicated, the way I felt. There was a lot that he had that I didn’t. He had a richness in his life that was lacking in mine, in terms of a supportive family, loyal friends… I wasn’t totally deprived of them. I did have Pansy. But I felt very alone a lot of the time, if you can believe that. And it seemed like Ron was never alone. He always had people who loved him. And yes, one of those people was Harry, and I was jealous of that. So I…” He shook his head. “I made a point of constantly bringing up the one thing I could lord over him, the one thing I had that he didn’t: wealth. Which is… awful, and cruel. I hate that I did that. I really do.” He stared at the floor, his hands clasped together. There was a thoughtful silence.
“I think Ron would be very interested to hear you say it that way,” Hermione said finally. Draco looked up to see that she had finished feeding Rose and was now burping her with soft pats to her small back. “Mostly for the apology, but also because… he’s just never seen his own adolescence that way. He’s always had a lot of family and friends in his life, true, but he struggled for a long time with feeling inferior to them, Harry included. He’s come to terms with that now, of course. But it can be very lonely, to have all these people who say they love you and yet you don’t believe you live up to their expectations.”
“Hm,” said Draco, thinking that over. “I suppose it only further proves that you can’t fully know or understand a situation unless you’re inside of it.”
“True,” she replied. “Which goes for you as well, and your pureblood upbringing. I didn’t think about it much at the time, of course, but now it’s not hard to imagine how that would have been a lonely life as well.”
“In some ways, yes,” Draco agreed. “Especially later on, when – when Voldemort returned. Lonely… and frightening.”
She looked at him like she knew exactly what he was talking about, and he supposed she must. “You and Harry have that in common.”
“Harry and I have a lot in common, it turns out,” Draco said, giving her a small smile.
She returned it. “Yes, I can see that now. I must say that I was… shocked, when he told us it was you. We knew there was someone, of course. He started showing up at our house a couple of times a week, before the school year had even ended, looking mopey and downtrodden. We finally got it out of him, that he had been seeing a wizard for months, exclusively, but that it hadn’t worked out. We knew this one was different immediately. He’d never acted like that before. Heartbroken, confused, lost. He didn’t use the word ‘love,’ but he didn’t have to. We knew whoever it was, Harry had fallen in love with him.”
Draco closed his eyes as she spoke, feeling the pain of having hurt Harry all over again. “Yet another strike against me,” he said. “I never wanted him to feel like that. It wasn’t my intention-“
“No, you misunderstand me,” Hermione interrupted him. “It wasn’t… I’m not saying it to… It was actually rather… refreshing, believe it or not. I was sort of relieved, actually. I was sad that he was sad, of course, don’t get me wrong. I would have rather that he had fallen in love and not gotten hurt in the process. But the mere fact that he had… that he had allowed himself to feel something so strongly…” She sighed. “For a long time I worried that he would never fall in love, because he wouldn’t let himself. I knew he wanted a partner, something substantial, eventually. He talked about it. But it was always ‘someday.’ Never ‘soon.’ Never ‘now.’ I’ll admit I nagged him a bit – a bad habit of mine – and he always told me very good-naturedly to leave him alone about it, that he would find someone when he was ready. I just didn’t understand what was holding him back. I thought he was stopping himself from feeling real feelings, keeping the men he dated at arm’s length to avoid getting hurt, after everything he’s been through. He told me time and again it wasn’t the case, but I didn’t listen. So when he started showing up, heartbroken, realizing there was a man out there that he wanted for more than just a few months, someone he wanted a future with… Well, what can I say? I was thrilled. Ron and I both were, though for him it was mixed with concern about how sad Harry was. I wasn’t concerned, though, because I knew that Harry wouldn’t lounge around moping forever. He would go out and get what he wanted, now that he knew what that was. He would find a way to have it, whether with you or with someone else in the future. But he’d let himself have feelings and he’d seen for himself that a person can survive real heartbreak, and for that I was immensely glad. That it turned out you loved him in return and wanted to get back together with him was another level of delightful of course. To see him so happy, so vibrant, so… sure, when he spoke about you, about your relationship. It was such a gift, I couldn’t very well resent that it was someone we’d happened to have a difficult history with. It was a long time ago, Ron and I both decided, and if you were willing to move forward, and if you could make Harry happy, then, well… we would embrace it.”
Draco found himself smiling shyly by the end of her speech, a torrent of emotions running through him, most of them good. “It means a lot that you were willing to give me a chance and put Harry first. That’s what I want to do too. It was my main intention when I came here tonight, which is why I’m glad I got the chance to apologize. And I’ll apologize to Ron as well, of course. And I will continue to do everything I can to make Harry happy. But now, I’ll admit that it’s more than that for me. I’d be very glad to know you properly, to call you my friends. I hope I can earn the same feelings from you someday.”
“You already have, Draco, of course. This evening has been truly lovely, much better than I ever could have expected. I can only speak for me, of course, and I do think it would be good for you to have a proper talk with Ron at some point. Probably not tonight, but in the future. In a way, he has more baggage from your… past antagonism than I do. But he’s willing to look past it, especially if you apologize from your heart as you did with me. And if you continue to show your devotion to Harry, that will help a lot as well. That’s the most important thing to him.”
Draco nodded. “Thank you for the advice.”
“We are genuinely happy that you’re here, and that Harry has found someone who obviously loves him as well. We’re very excited about that.”
Draco laughed. “I could tell that much at least. I assume that was what all the teasing was about regarding the cake? That seemed of particular interest to you.”
Hermione laughed freely. “Yes,” she said. “It’s just too adorable, how smitten he is. The fact that he went to the trouble to bake a cake for what is usually a fairly mundane and casual dinner is only one of many symptoms of just how happy he is with you. It’s simply impossible not to tease him about it.”
“Well, by all means, continue to tease. I’ve always found Harry exceptionally cute when he’s embarrassed.”
Hermione’s grin turned sly. “Always?” she asked. “Even when we were in school? Perhaps that’s why you taunted him so much, hm?”
He felt his cheeks go red, and he looked away a moment. “I see,” he said, unable to help a smile. “The tables have turned now, haven’t they?”
“You must have seen it coming,” Hermione replied, sounding amusingly reasonable. “After all, if you are going to be one of us, then you are going to have to tolerate a really rather excessive amount of teasing yourself.”
“It’s how you show your love, after all,” Draco said, echoing Harry from earlier in the evening.
She tilted her head, looking at him warmly. “Precisely.”
Draco could still feel some heat in his cheeks at her words, but he knew it was more because he was pleased than embarrassed. His eyes drifted to the little redhead in Hermione’s lap, who had been rather quiet for their conversation, only inserting the occasional coo of delight at being well-fed and in her mother’s arms. Now, though, she was looking at Draco and smiling, her blue eyes wide and curious, and Draco smiled right back.
“Would you like to hold her?” Hermione asked him.
“I…” Perhaps it was silly, after the conversation they’d just had, but Draco couldn’t help a small frisson of surprise that Hermione would trust him with something so precious. But he was also very happy to have earned that trust. “I would like that very much.”
Hermione handed her over, and then sat down next to Draco on the sofa, so they could both look at Rose’s face as she bounced on Draco’s knee.
“You really are a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” he said to the girl, who only smiled some more. “Your godfather insisted that you were, you know. And he was right.”
“Harry and Rose already adore each other,” said Hermione, her eyes never leaving her daughter. “We couldn’t imagine a better godfather for her, of course. It was really nice to have him around more right when she was born, actually. It was more than we expected.”
“I think Harry wishes he could be around more in general,” said Draco. “For Teddy and for Rose. Being at Hogwarts most of the year makes it hard.”
“Yes,” said Hermione calmly, holding out a finger for Rose to grab in her little fist. “But teaching is what he loves to do, and I think it’s made him into the person he is now, in a lot of ways. So we work with it. I’m glad he has you there with him, at least.”
“Me too,” Draco said softly.
They continued to fawn over the baby, chatting about parenting, about how fast she was growing, about how much she looked like Ron, until the men arrived from the kitchen. Ron had brought a small glass of wine for his wife, who grinned and thanked him when she saw it. She got up from the sofa and insisted Harry take her place next to Draco, while she curled up on the loveseat with her husband.
“She’s got you enchanted already, I see,” said Harry as he sat down. “She has that way about her, doesn’t she?”
“A very nice disposition,” Draco agreed. “Alert, but not too fussy.”
“Teddy was like that,” said Harry. “Then he started to crawl, and once he was mobile he got into everything. A real troublemaker. Remember that?” he asked his friends.
“Oh yes. Andromeda’s carpet still has stains from when he got into her set of paints,” said Hermione. “Which she kept under lock and key on a high cabinet shelf. I’m convinced he must have done some accidental magic to get to them.”
“Toddlers have been known to do that,” Draco said. “Parents learn quickly that a simple lock is never enough.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Ron said drily. “I’m not particularly looking forward to the ‘terrible twos.’”
“Well, she’s perfectly lovely now, at least,” said Draco. “So you can enjoy it while it lasts.”
As if she knew they were talking about her, Rose let out a little giggle, which made all the adults smile in delight.
“She’s just so cute,” Harry said. “I want to eat her up.” He grabbed one of her tiny bare feet and pretended to munch on it, making the baby giggle some more.
“Oi,” said Ron, “Save some for the rest of us. Or get your own.”
“Not a bad idea,” quipped Harry. “I wouldn't mind having myself one of these.”
Draco felt himself go still, briefly, managing his reaction. It was the second time in as many days that Harry had talked about the possibility of children, and it made Draco’s heart stutter. Had they been alone, he might have turned to Harry and asked him exactly how serious he was, exactly how sure. But it was not a conversation to have in a social setting. And he was also afraid to latch onto something said so casually, and always in response to someone else’s prompting. He was still afraid to read too much into it, even now.
Conversation shifted away from the baby and toward the next few months and what it was going to bring for all of them. Harry made his friends promise to keep him apprised of what they decided to do about Ron’s work situation, and the two other Gryffindors made both Harry and Draco promise to come for a visit in the fall.
“The winter hols is far too long to go without seeing you,” said Hermione. “We need to be better about staying in touch during the year.”
“I agree,” said Harry. “We’ll schedule a weekend when we’re all free, yeah?” He looked at Draco, who nodded his consent.
The evening wound to a close, and hugs and kisses were exchanged all around. Draco was glad he could thank Harry’s friends for their hospitality with complete sincerity, and he was even happier to hear the genuine warmth in the farewells from both of them.
“That went well, I thought,” said Harry as they made their way down the stone path toward the gate.
“Very well,” said Draco. “Couldn’t have been better, honestly.”
“You and Hermione seemed to get on.”
“She’s incredibly kind,” said Draco. “I like her quite a bit.”
Harry smiled. “She likes you too. I could tell.”
“It helped that I got a chance to apologize, I think. We were able to have a very genuine and candid conversation while you and Ron were in the kitchen.”
“That’s great, Draco,” Harry said, opening the gate and gesturing him through. “I hope you know I wasn’t… you know, expecting you to do that. It could have been something that happened later on, when you know them a little better.”
“I think it was better I did it now. Started the process at least,” said Draco. “I have some things to say to Ron, too. But at least Hermione knows where I stand, what I regret from that time in our lives, and they can be sure I’m a different person now. I think that will make a difference, in the end.”
Harry took his hand. “I love you.”
Draco laughed. “I love you too. That’s mostly why I did it. Although I do genuinely like your friends, even Ron. I’m looking forward to getting to know them better.”
He felt Harry squeeze his hand, pulling him closer. “This is such a good beginning. It makes me so… I’m just so happy.”
“Me too,” Draco said, meeting his eyes. “I can’t wait to see what happens next.”
Harry laughed. “Speaking of which, I hope… well… I’d like to spend more time with you tonight, if that’s possible. Would you be willing to come back to mine for a bit?”
“More than willing,” said Draco. “Of course.”
Harry Apparated them directly back to Grimmauld, right into the foyer. They got their bearings a moment, then Harry bent down to give Draco a heartfelt kiss. It was chaste, though, and over a bit too soon for Draco’s liking. But before he knew it, Harry was taking his hand and leading him down the hall.
“How about a drink?”
“Great.”
“What would you like?” Harry asked him as they entered the kitchen. “Tea, or something stronger?”
“Whatever you’re having,” said Draco.
“I was thinking about another glass of wine.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“Red?”
“Perfect.”
He watched as Harry moved about the kitchen, his lithe body stretching upwards to reach two glasses for them, his jean-clad arse very nicely on display as he bent to pull a bottle out of his wine cabinet. Draco realized how much he enjoyed watching Harry do the most mundane things. He had an easy grace about him that had been present in their school days (especially on a broom) but was even more pronounced now in manhood, now that he had grown into himself.
It was impossible not to admire him, and Draco knew he would probably be drooling and thinking of ways to maneuver Harry into bed that night if… well, if they had decided to take that next step. He wasn’t sure if they were there yet or not, though they were getting closer and closer.
There was also the fact that he was a bit distracted by the brunet’s offhand comment earlier in the evening.
I wouldn’t mind having myself one of these.
He didn’t know if Harry was dropping him little hints or if he really was just being nonchalant about having children, but Draco decided it didn’t matter. He needed to know. And now he had Harry alone, and could ask, if he was brave enough.
“Did you mean what you said, before?” he blurted, before he could overthink it.
Harry paused only briefly in his uncorking of the wine, looking at Draco before resuming his task. “About what?” he asked.
“About…” Draco hesitated. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. Harry pulled the cork out of the bottle with a pop and the blond decided he didn’t care. He could say anything to Harry, ask him anything. He knew that. “About how you wouldn’t mind having a child.”
Harry placed the bottle on the counter, his eyes never leaving Draco as he tilted his head. A soft smile played on his lips. “Yes,” he said simply, after a moment. “I meant it.”
“Oh. Um… good.” Draco wasn’t really sure where to go from there, but Harry saved him from having to try.
“What would make you…? Did you think that I…?” Harry seemed to be having a hard time deciding on a question. “Why did you feel you needed to ask me that?”
Draco shrugged, feeling strange and awkward, like he was suddenly on display. “I don’t know. I guess because I’ve been wondering how you felt about it. About children, I mean. And we hadn’t talked…”
Harry started pouring wine into each of their glasses, nodding. “No, that’s true.”
“But it’s come up a couple of times. When Pansy so casually mentioned it yesterday.” That made Harry laugh, and Draco smiled, feeling slightly more relaxed. “And you brought it up again tonight, sort of, and I…”
Harry handed him a glass, and Draco murmured a “thank you.”
“We can talk about it, if you want to,” the brunet said.
Draco took a sip of wine to fortify himself. “I’m not trying to make a big deal out of the whole thing,” he said. “But maybe…” Pansy’s advice to be honest was ringing in his head, and so he pressed on. “Maybe it is a big deal, in a sense, for me. I want to be a father someday. It’s… um… it’s really important to me, actually.”
Harry smiled at Draco, the edges of his eyes crinkling. “I know.”
Draco stared at him.
“I listen to you as much as you listen to me,” Harry replied, seeming almost amused. “I’ve picked up on a few things, one of which is that you want a family. You talked about it every now and then when we were together the first time. And the loss you felt when Astoria’s son was born… I could tell how hard that was for you, just from the way you talked about it. I know you really wanted to be a dad. I know you still want that. It’s all right. I knew it already, when we restarted this.”
Draco let out a sigh. He knew Harry was watching him, but he kept staring into his wine glass, feeling bewilderingly unable to speak.
“Were you worried about bringing it up?” Harry asked gently. “Were you afraid I didn’t feel the same?”
Draco breathed some more, finally finding his voice. “I wasn’t so much worried about that. I just didn’t want to put pressure on you, make you feel like things were moving too fast or… I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Like I was planning our whole life together without consulting you. What you want matters to me too, you know?”
Harry put his glass down and approached Draco, placing a hand gently on his waist. Draco set down his glass as well and made himself meet Harry’s eyes.
“I know that,” Harry said. “But I don’t feel pressured. I told you before, I like thinking about a future with you. I like the idea of planning a future. That includes children. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking to become a dad tomorrow. I rather like the idea of getting a few years with you all to myself. Rumor has it kids can really put a damper on your sex life.” That made both men chuckle sardonically, remembering Ron’s words at dinner. “But down the road, once we’re married, once we’re ready? Yeah, I want a family. I’ve always wanted one, probably more than you realize. Because in a way I’ve never had one I could really call my own. I mean, you know full well the Dursleys don’t count, not really. And the Weasleys are wonderful, as close as I’ve been able to get so far. But it’s not the same as if I had married into the family like everyone thought I would, before I came out. There will always be a small gap there, whether the Weasleys are willing to acknowledge it or not. And I want something more than that, something that’s mine. Something I made, with someone I love and trust.” His hand tightened on Draco’s waist. “We’ve already hashed and rehashed my trust issues,” he went on wryly, “and you know how hard it is for me to trust someone completely. But I…” He rested his forehead against Draco’s and closed his eyes. “I did find what I was looking for, in the end. For a while there I wasn’t sure I ever would. But I found you. I found someone to build a life with. And for me, that includes a family. That’s what I want. I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear before.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Harry,” Draco said, leaning to give the corner of his mouth the softest of kisses. “There’s no need to be sorry. I guess I just wanted to know… I didn’t want to come into this with me assuming one thing and you assuming another. I just want us to be on the same page about things, I suppose. While at the same time being open to whatever comes, obviously. But the issue of children specifically had come up a couple of times and I suppose I just wanted to make my feelings clear, in case there was any question. And I wanted to know where you stand.”
“And do you, now?” Harry asked, opening his eyes.
“Yes,” said Draco. “You want a family. A child. Someday.” He wasn’t sure if it was relief or elation filling his chest with lightness. Probably a bit of both.
“More than one child, if you’re up for it,” answered Harry with a tilted smile. “A boy and a girl, at least.”
Draco found himself grinning. “And if we end up with two of the same?”
“Then I don’t see the harm in seeing what happens with a third,” Harry replied, his smile stretching just as wide.
“Three children, hm?” said Draco, pretending to think that over. “I could be open to that.” He paused, wondering what else he wanted to know. “Adoption or surrogacy?”
Harry shrugged. “I’m not fussed either way. Wherever our children come from, I’ll love them. I know better than anyone that parent-child relationships don’t have to be defined by blood. Although I’ll admit that the idea of a mini-Draco or two running around would be pretty cute.”
“Or a mini-Harry.”
The brunet shrugged again. “Maybe one of each. We can discuss it when the time comes.”
“Sure. And we should be married first.”
“I think so. Mostly because I want to marry you someday.” Draco’s heart did an embarrassing little fluttering thing at that, but he supposed it couldn’t be helped. “But also just because it will make things easier on the legal end of things. Especially if we use a surrogate.”
“But mostly because you want to be married to me,” Draco teased, giving him a kiss.
Harry cheeks turned pink. “Yes, mostly that. But that’s something I don’t want to over-plan. I want it to be a surprise when I propose to you.”
Draco scoffed. “Who said it’s you that will be doing the proposing?”
Harry laughed, looking so incandescently happy for a moment that it made Draco ache. “We’ll just have to see who gets to it first, won’t we?”
Draco narrowed his eyes at the brunet. “Hmmm.”
“Uh-oh, I can already see that clever brain working away,” said Harry. “I think I need to distract you with something else.”
“Oh, and what would that be?” Draco asked, his hands drifting unconsciously to Harry’s perfect arse.
“Next year,” said Harry. “Our living situation at Hogwarts. Minerva wants to know if we’ll be sharing or separate.”
Draco raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting, but it was still a welcome topic, nonetheless.
“Come on, have a sit-down,” Harry suggested. “I’ll grab her letter to me with our options and we can discuss what we want.”
They got comfortable on the sofa in Harry’s sitting room, glasses of wine in hand, and looked at the headmistress’ suggestions.
“First of all,” said Harry. “Is the question of whether or not we want to share quarters. I suppose I’ll just come right out and say that it would be my preference for us to share. I’m going to want to spend every night with you anyway. It seems silly to me for us to be always going back and forth from each other’s rooms like last year.”
“I agree,” said Draco, glad neither of them felt a need to demure about this. “Now that we’re… committed, it’s the next logical step.” Maybe it would seem fast to some people, them essentially moving in together after only a month. But it hadn’t been only a month, not really. It had been a long time coming. And they had been discussing marriage and children only moment’s ago. Sharing a bed every night was hardly as serious as that.
“Good then,” replied Harry, looking over the parchment in his hand. Draco scooted closer to him on the sofa, so he could follow along with what Harry was reading. “After that it’s a matter of location, size, layout…”
“How much leeway do we have?”
“The castle can create whatever we need, within reason,” said Harry. “It’s a very flexible wizardspace, as you may remember, especially when it comes to the residential wings.”
“So whatever we design now, we can change later, as our needs change.” Like if they needed to add a nursery, or a second bedroom later on.
“Exactly. We can figure out what we want for this coming year and go from there. Minerva has to approve it, of course. It won’t work without her say-so. But I have a feeling that so long as we ask for something reasonable, she will happily go with it. She has her own opinions and thoughts, of course.”
“And what are those?”
Harry read aloud to Draco some of the things she was suggesting, like how it might be better if the shared quarters still remained near enough to Gryffindor tower for Harry’s head of house duties to not be affected. Draco was fine with that. Harry’s rooms from the year before had not been far from his Potions classroom.
Harry wrote down everything they discussed on a separate sheet of parchment, ready to send to McGonagall so she could make the arrangements accordingly.
“What will we tell the students about us, if they ask?” It was something Draco hadn’t considered before now.
“Well, they’ll have seen it in the papers,” Harry pointed out. “So they’ll already know.”
“True,” said Draco. “But they’re teenagers, so some of them are bound to ask, like the nosey little blighters they are.”
Harry laughed. “I suppose we tell them it’s none of their business. Keep an air of mystery about the whole thing.”
“And make sure we’re not caught snogging in one of our classrooms in between periods, or in the corridors after hours.”
Harry pouted, rather seductively, actually. “That’s a shame, because I was looking forward to finally getting to kiss you anytime I felt like it.” He set his empty wine glass down and moved closer to Draco on the sofa. “It was torture for me, being around you so much last year without being able to touch you.”
Draco hummed. “Torture you say? A bit of an exaggeration.”
Harry leaned in closer. “Not for me.”
Draco felt his lips twitch in a smile. “Well, then. I suppose we’ll have to sneak a little something in during the day, every now and then. I wouldn’t want you to be in pain, after all.”
“That really would be best,” Harry replied solemnly, his green eyes wide behind his glasses.
“And then, of course, there will be the nights,” Draco said, reaching up to trace Harry’s bottom lip with his thumb. “Together, to do whatever we want.”
Harry released a shaky breath. “Everything we want.”
“Yes.”
Harry kissed Draco’s thumb, and the blond’s hand drifted to Harry’s cheek. The brunet leaned into the touch, closing his eyes.
“I suppose you… still want to wait, though?” he said tentatively. “Until then?”
Draco swallowed as he watched Harry open his eyes once more, pinning Draco with that look that always got his blood sizzling. The man was damn seductive, and it was getting harder and harder to resist. They’d only fooled around once more after the day of the hospital visit, one night curled up on Harry’s sofa watching a film. It was dark, they’d had a couple glasses of firewhiskey, and Harry was just so warm beside him. One thing had led to another and suddenly they were frotting on the sofa again.
But that was the only other time. They had yet to spend the night together. They had yet to get fully naked or use more than their hands. It was a step they both seemed cautious to take. And yet as time went on the more charged these moments felt, the more Draco started wondering if it was pointless to wait any longer. His mind drifted to it unconsciously all the time.
He wants to marry me. He wants a future with me. We’ll be living together at Hogwarts.
What was he waiting for?
“Not especially,” he found himself saying softly, enjoying the small gasp it elicited from Harry. “I’d rather not wait another second, actually.”
“Oh, thank Merlin,” Harry said, pulling Draco to him. Their mouths collided with the clacking of teeth and a flurry of tongues, but neither seemed to care. They were enjoying the release too much, the finally giving in, the knowing where it was going to go.
Hands tangled in Draco’s hair and in Harry’s shirt. Bodies swayed towards each other, Harry’s slightly larger frame winning out, sending Draco tumbling back onto the sofa cushions. A quick removal of his glasses and Harry was on him, snogging him furiously, making for the buttons of his shirt with eager hands. Draco arched into it, encouraging him. When the shirt was open and Draco’s bare chest exposed, Harry growled with delight.
“So beautiful,” he whispered. “Fuck.”
His mouth descended to one of Draco’s nipples, sucking it and then nipping it with just enough sharpness to make Draco’s cock twitch. Draco moaned unabashedly, just enjoying the sensations of Harry’s mouth on him this way. It really had been too long.
Wanting to feel Harry’s bare skin as well, Draco made to reach for his shirt. But Harry pulled away suddenly, leaving Draco completely bereft of his touch. Confused, Draco stared up at him, watching the man lick his lips and regard Draco with hungry eyes.
“Harry?”
“I want you in my bed,” he said, his voice rough with want. “Let’s do this properly, yeah?”
Draco could only nod vigorously in agreement. A bed would be great, with freedom to move, freedom to roam. They could take their time. They could rediscover each other.
After re-donning his glasses, Harry helped Draco off the sofa and led him through the house, his hand never leaving Draco’s own. They made their way up the stairs in silence, but Harry kept glancing at him, the warmest smile gracing his lips, and Draco found his anticipation mounting with every step.
They reached Harry’s room, with that familiar bed, a bed Draco had spent some incredible nights in already. The bed where they’d shared more than a few firsts together. He turned around to face Harry, almost expecting to be mauled immediately. But Harry just stood there, looking at him.
“You all right?” Draco asked him. “Getting cold feet?”
“Not even remotely,” said Harry. “I’m just… really enjoying the sight of you. So much I don’t even know where I want to start.”
Draco smiled, stepping closer. “How about with these?” he suggested, pulling Harry’s glasses off. “Then you won’t be overwhelmed by the sight of me anymore.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m near-sighted, you prat. I can still see you.” He eyes descended to Draco’s open shirt, then back up to his lips, as if to prove the point.
“Well,” Draco said cheekily. “I tried. I guess you’re on your own.”
“Mm,” said Harry, biting his lip. “Not a problem, actually. I know what I want now.”
“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” Draco asked. He had a feeling it involved getting him naked and on the bed. That’s where this was going, wasn’t it?
To his surprise though, Harry went for a kiss first, and what a kiss it was. Harry devoured him, seeking out every crevice with his tongue, working the lips with his teeth until they felt swollen and oh-so sensitive. His hands tangled in Draco’s hair again, making it an absolute mess. Draco went with it happily, enjoying every sensation. He actually let a small whine escape him when Harry finally pulled away.
There was a ghost of a smirk on the brunet’s kiss-red lips. “I want to see you looking totally wrecked,” he said. “Before I even get you naked.”
Draco swallowed loudly, not really knowing what that meant. But then Harry dropped to his knees and Draco’s mind went blank. He realized he’d never had Harry in this exact position before, despite all the things they had done together. His cock stiffened at the sight, as Harry stared up at him with lust-clouded eyes and parted lips, as if eager to serve him.
“Are you hard for me, Draco?” he asked.
Draco didn’t even get a chance to answer, because suddenly Harry’s face was nuzzling him, feeling for himself the erection straining Draco’s trousers.
“You are,” Harry said, as if in awe. He mouthed at Draco’s cock through the fabric, making the blond moan. “I can smell it too, how much you want it. Gods. I can’t get enough.” He gripped Draco’s arse with kneading hands, absolutely burying himself, his mouth working all the while.
Knees weak, Draco searched almost blindly for anything to hold him upright. Harry’s head was the only thing within reach, and he gripped the hair harder than he intended. But Harry seemed to like it, if the groan that reverberated through Draco’s groin was any indication.
“Harry,” Draco said, loving the stimulation but needing more. “Please.”
Harry paused long enough to look up at him again. “Hmm… I don’t know if you’re quite wrecked enough yet. Doesn’t seem like it.”
To Draco’s dismay (and pleasure), Harry returned to his task, getting his hands much more involved now. One ventured down his arse to tease his sac while the other rubbed expertly at his erection. It was enough to keep Draco hard and wanting but not nearly enough to satisfy. The barrier of fabric dulled the sensations, and Draco was craving the sense of completeness that only skin-on-skin contact could achieve.
“Harry,” Draco gasped, knowing he was about to beg and not caring in the slightest. “I can’t… I’m already wrecked. I’m already so gone for you. Please. I can’t… I need more. I need you. Please.”
Harry stood so quickly Draco nearly fell over in surprise. But Harry caught him by the arms and kept him standing, pulling him into another incredible kiss.
“How can I resist you when you sound like that?” the brunet asked.
Draco didn’t bother answering, because Harry’s hands were going for his belt and the fly of his trousers and that was exactly what he had been waiting for. The relief of feeling his erection finally spring free was so good he moaned, and Harry, spurred on, dropped to his knees once more.
With Draco’s trousers and pants now pooled around his ankles, Harry had an unobstructed view, and he seemed to be quite enjoying it. For a moment he simply admired Draco’s hard cock as it stood to attention in front of him. Then he leaned forward, and Draco was so ready for him that even the light puff of Harry’s breath made him twitch in pleasure. Harry gently, lovingly, kissed the tip, then let his tongue flit out, dancing along the slit, which was leaking plenty of precum for him. Harry hummed and met Draco’s eyes.
“You taste so good,” he said, his voice soft. “Even better than I remember. I don’t know how I went so long without tasting you.”
Draco swallowed thickly, hoping these words meant Harry was about to take him fully into his mouth. He didn’t, though, but instead dipped underneath, tonguing Draco’s bollocks and kissing the underside of his cock. They were all teasing touches, pleasurable but still not satisfying his needs.
He’s still trying to get me wrecked, the minx, Draco thought, watching him from above. He knows just how to have me completely at his mercy. He could hardly bring himself to mind, though, not with the way Harry looked on his knees, how clearly he was enjoying this. Harry knew pleasure, and he knew Draco; he understood both thoroughly.
So Draco gave in, letting Harry have his way, and that surrender was almost as sweet as the fire building in his gut with every touch. He found he couldn’t stay standing anymore, his legs shaking, his head dizzy.
“The bed, Harry,” he suggested breathlessly. “Then you can do whatever you want to me.”
Harry seemed quite happy with that idea, since he quickly removed Draco’s shoes and socks. Draco stepped out of his trousers and pants and let his open shirt fall down his arms. Now he was completely naked, exposed to Harry’s perusal.
“Lie down on the bed, love,” Harry said. “Let me look at you.”
Draco did, and it was a relief to not have to keep himself upright. He sighed, closing his eyes, enjoying this, as well as the anticipation of everything that would come after.
“Beautiful,” he heard Harry whisper, and he opened his eyes to see the brunet staring at him, still fully clothed. He stood there, his eyes roaming, taking his time, and Draco had the thought that they might be content to just stay there forever, looking at each other, except for one small detail.
“What about you?’ he said. “Don’t I get to see you too?”
Harry gave him the smallest of smirks. “All of me?”
“All of you. I always want to see all of you, remember?”
Those were the magic words, as he knew they would be. Harry pulled his jumper over his head, exposing his deliciously tan chest, before starting on the fly of his jeans. It wasn’t long until he too was completely bare, and Draco let his eyes feast on all that skin, those toned muscles, his hard cock, and the intricate pattern of scars. Draco smiled. He knew them all; every last one.
“It’s exactly how I remember,” he said. “I haven’t forgotten a single inch of you, you know.”
Harry climbed onto the bed. “No? Not a single inch? Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Draco insisted as Harry came to hover above him.
“You’re absolutely certain you don’t need your memory refreshed?”
Laughing, Draco moved quickly, flipping their positions. Harry allowed it, bouncing a little as he flopped onto the bed.
“Well, I suppose it never hurts to check,” he said. He dipped his head so his lips traced a gentle path down the center of Harry’s sternum. The brunet gasped, then moaned as Draco’s mouth found one of his nipples. Draco teased it with the tip of his tongue, using tiny flicks, and Harry arched into it. “I remember how much you like that,” he said.
“What else do you remember?” he asked.
Draco gave him a carnal grin. “Hmmm, let’s see. I remember these…” His fingers traced the outline of ribs along Harry’s right side, always a hotspot when stroked gently. Harry shivered under his touch, biting his lip as he watched Draco work. “And, of course, the skin right… here.” He bent down and licked along the soft flesh of Harry’s hips, right above the crease of his pelvis. “And here.” Hands teased the back of Harry’s thighs, directly below his arse. Harry sighed happily. “And then there are, naturally, the most obvious places.” He moved one hand to gently cup Harry’s bollocks, while at the same time pressing into Harry’s perineum with one knuckle. Harry moaned wantonly and writhed some more. Draco kept up the movement, massaging in small circles just to watch Harry enjoy it.
“Draco,” he whispered. “More, please.”
“You want me to hit the most obvious spot of all, I suppose,” said Draco, and maintained eye contact with Harry as he took the head of Harry’s cock into his mouth and sucked lightly. Harry cried out but didn’t break the gaze. “More?” Draco asked, already knowing the answer.
Harry nodded so vigorously his neck popped. Smiling, Draco took more into his mouth, getting about halfway down the shaft, appreciating the sounds of desperation being ripped from Harry’s throat.
He hasn’t had a mouth on him since the last time we did this together, Draco realized, and the thought was heady. He waited for me. It brought up feelings so tender in him that he had to close his eyes a moment, savoring them, savoring this, getting to bring Harry pleasure again after all this time.
“Draco,” Harry said, spreading his legs a little wider. “Will you prepare me?”
Pulled from his thoughts, Draco opened his eyes and released the cock from his mouth. Harry’s didn’t complain, only waited for him to do something more. But Draco was hesitating.
He had a decision to make, and, even though he was quite enjoying having Harry like this, he realized he wanted something entirely different to happen. He shook his head.
“No,” he said, while Harry gave him a bewildered expression. “I want you to prepare me.”
Harry blinked. “You do?”
“Yes. If… if that’s all right.”
“But I thought… after that night. I thought maybe it was too much for you, bottoming. I thought maybe you didn’t like it. I thought that was part of the reason-”
“I loved it,” Draco said. “It was brilliant. Perfect. Because it was with you. That was what frightened me away, how right it felt with you, how deep my feelings were becoming. It wasn’t the sex; it was the fact that it was… so much more. I couldn’t handle it at the time. I wasn’t ready. But I’m ready now. And this is what I want, so long as it’s what you want as well.”
Harry propped himself up on his elbows. “I loved being inside you. It was much more than sex for me too, that night.”
“I know,” Draco said, yet still glad to hear the words. “We didn’t just fuck. We… made love. You made love to me.”
“Yes,” Harry said simply. “I did.”
“I want that again, tonight. I want to feel everything I felt that night, only better, because now I can let myself have it without being afraid. I can be free to feel it all and not hold anything back. Later, we can do other things. We can have each other in any and every way we can imagine. But tonight…”
Harry sat up. “This is what you want.”
“Yes.”
“It’s what I want too.”
Draco smiled brightly. “Yeah?”
Harry’s only response was to pull Draco into a fierce kiss. Draco clutched Harry to him, letting himself fall as Harry twisted them over. Harry’s weight on top of him was welcome and warm, and when Harry pulled back a little and bent his head, Draco closed his eyes. The sensations were all possessive, exploring hands and a wet, sharp mouth, and it was so easy to get lost in it that Draco nearly forgot the purpose of it all. At least, until Harry’s tongue was dancing along the skin below his navel, then going lower still. Then Draco remembered exactly where this was going.
“Harry,” Draco gasped as the brunet’s mouth bypassed his cock and went lower still, as that gentle cleansing charm was cast inside him. “Harry.”
Harry simply hummed onto his skin in acknowledgment, then rolled his hips back to access his entrance. Draco felt his hole pulse with need and anticipation. It was an area he had not allowed a lot of other men near; he had not trusted them enough. But that had never been an issue with Harry.
All his lover had to do was breathe on him and he was already moaning. When that powerful tongue flicked out and delivered its first lick, Draco spread his legs and moaned some more. Gods, he had missed this too. Not just the sensation of Harry’s mouth there, on him, in him, but the freedom to completely give in, to not have to think about how he looked or what his lover thought of him. The freedom to be himself. It made him want to scream with joy.
So scream he did, and moan, and sob, and laugh. Harry tongue-fucked him with sure, slow thrusts, groaning in enjoyment as Draco ran the bottom of a foot across Harry’s back and then loosely wrapped his legs around him.
“Gods, I could almost come from this,” he told Harry. “I want to touch my cock so badly it’s driving me mad.”
Harry pulled away, replacing his tongue with two fingers. “I know. But not yet, love,” he said, kissing Draco’s inner thigh. “The more I build, the better it will be.”
“Seeing if I can come untouched again?” Draco asked with a smirk.
Harry smirked back. “However you end up coming, I’m going to make sure it’s incredible.”
Draco laughed, cradling the top of Harry’s head a moment. “As if I would ever doubt you.”
Harry grinned with a glistening mouth and then dipped his head again to continue his work, alternating between eating Draco out and scissoring his fingers to stretch him. It was so pleasurable that Draco barely noticed he was being stretched at all, though when Harry finally pulled away and declared him ready, Draco did feel looser, relaxed.
“Want to try riding me?” the brunet asked him. “I’d really love to watch you take my cock.”
“Sure,” said Draco, game for trying something new, even if it was their first time in months. “So long as we finish with me on my back. I want to feel you fucking me until you come, like last time.”
Harry moaned, licked his lips, and said, “Deal.”
The got into position, Harry lying down on his back and Draco straddling him. Though he’d never done anything like this before, he figured intuition would be his best guide. Together they lubed up Harry’s cock, and Draco scooted forward to align himself with it.
Harry gripped it, guiding it towards Draco’s entrance as the blond sank down. He felt the head push against his hole before gravity helped it breach the tight space. Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath to relax, knowing that even though Harry had been inside him before, it would be important to go slow. He lowered himself even more, and the cock went in further, already making him feel full, just halfway inside.
“Merlin,” he gasped, unable to help it.
“You’re doing great, love. Take your time,” Harry encouraged, running his hands gently up and down Draco’s thighs.
Draco followed the advice, continuing to breathe deeply and evenly as he went lower and lower, as he became fuller and fuller, until he had finally taken in all he could and his arse was nestled against Harry’s pelvis.
Both men groaned at the sensation, and Draco opened his eyes, finally, to look down at Harry. The brunet was watching him with what might have been awe, though perhaps it was simply overwhelming pleasure.
“Still so tight for me, baby,” Harry whispered. “You feel so good.”
“I’ve never had this with anyone else,” Draco found himself saying. “No one else has ever had me like this. Only you. This is ours. Just ours.”
Harry sat up, gripping Draco about the waist to steady both of them. He placed his lips on Draco’s neck, giving him a few slow, gentle kisses, before meeting his eyes.
“I’ve never loved anyone but you,” he said. “And I never will. That’s ours too.”
Heart flying, Draco bent and kissed him consumingly. Then he pulled away, pushed against Harry’s chest to get him to lie back down, and said, “Let me ride you. Let me show you how much I love you.”
Harry did, watching with parted lips as Draco lifted himself up a few inches, slowly, cautiously, and then sank back down. Harry gasped the first time, then groaned the second, and Draco felt bolder. He had adjusted well, and the slide of the cock inside him like this, with him in control, was unexpectedly satisfying. He lifted himself higher and dropped again, harder this time, and Harry’s hands automatically went to Draco’s hips. With their steadying guidance Draco could up the pace, and so he did, bouncing on Harrys cock with new confidence, breathing ragged as he felt it brush his prostate once, then again, then again.
“Harry,” he moaned.
“Yeah, baby, like that,” Harry answered, his grip tightening on Draco’s hips and his own hips starting to thrust upwards. “So good, Draco.”
Draco bounced faster and Harry thrust harder, hard enough that his sweet spot was hit dead on. He cried out, head tossed back. “Harry. Gods, right there. Oh, fuck. Don’t stop.”
Harry hammered his prostate few more times, Draco, lost in pleasure, merely along for the ride. But then Harry sat up, stopping their movements altogether, and the pleasure in Draco’s gut faded to a thrumming ache.
“What-“
“I’m sorry,” Harry said, bending to kiss his neck again. “I have to. I’m so close to coming, and I want this to last a bit longer.”
There was something so hot about that, about knowing that Harry was teetering right on the edge. It made Draco want to squeeze around him, send him falling, milk him of cum, just to watch Harry’s face as it happened. But he also wanted this to last a bit longer as well, so he hummed his assent.
“Take me, then,” he said. “Do what you need to do.”
Harry rolled them over, still inside, hitching up Draco’s hips to penetrate more deeply. Draco sighed, loving the intrusion.
Harry licked and kissed his neck, then pulled out slowly. Pushing back in caused both men to moan, and Harry did it again, still achingly slow.
“My body was made for yours, Draco,” Harry said. “This is where I belong.”
“Yes. Yes,” said Draco, responding both to the words and the way Harry’s erection brushed over his sweet spot again and again. It was so slow, the way it dragged over it, the way the pleasure lasted so long each time, that it was almost like a continuous orgasm, but without the satisfaction of release. A delicious torture that Draco decided to embrace. He was painfully hard, his cock so far completely ignored by either of their hands, but he was not to the point of begging, not yet. He could go a bit longer like this. “I love you, Harry. Fuck, I love you so much.”
Harry thrust a little harder, a little faster, his hands tightening on Draco like he was terrified of letting go. “Draco,” he whispered. “You are everything to me.”
“Everything,” Draco echoed.
And then the dam broke, and Harry was fucking him hard and fast, and Draco was clawing at his back and arching into him, crying, “Yes, yes, yes! Harry, oh Harry!”
“You gonna come for me, baby?” Harry asked, sounding desperate and breathless. Draco could tell, by the way he was shaking, that Harry was doing everything he could to hold himself back, a second away from giving in.
“So close,” Draco told his lover. “So close, just a little… just something…” He was reaching and reaching, but couldn’t quite get there. But then a hand found his cock, giving it one gentle stroke, and suddenly he was consumed, pure sensation as his cock pulsed between their two bodies.
It didn’t stop, not even as Harry went still inside him and came with a deep, intense cry of ecstasy. He thrust a few more times, filling Draco completely before dropping his head into Draco’s neck once more. They shuddered together for what felt like a long time, breathing hard, letting little moans escape them with each aftershock of pleasure. Harry didn’t pull out until both of their cocks were soft and spent, and he never removed his arms from around Draco. They lay there, in their stickiness, sweat, and joy, perfectly content to never move again.
Finally, though, Draco could feel himself getting sleepy, and he knew some cleaning would have to happen. He shifted, making to reach for his wand. But Harry murmured, “Here, let me,” and got to it first.
He felt Harry’s magic wash over him, which was its own kind of pleasure, and he relaxed further into the mattress. When he realized Harry hadn’t rejoined him completely, however, he opened his eyes to find the brunet propped on one elbow, looking at him. He smiled.
“Worth waiting a few months for?” he asked.
Harry ran a hand through Draco’s hair, his thumb lingering lovingly at the temple. “Worth waiting twenty-six years for, in fact,” he said.
Draco’s smile widened. “Yes, it was.” Harry continued to stare at him, and Draco could feel himself drifting. He wanted Harry’s warmth again. “Come here, love,” he said. “Be with me. Stay with me.”
Harry nestled into him with a contented sigh, holding him close. “Always,” he whispered, just as Draco slipped into sleep.
***
Draco awoke to a tapping on the window and turned over in bed. He felt the familiar weight of Harry’s arm around him, and he clutched it to him a moment. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the warmth of Harry’s embrace. But the tapping was persistent. He groaned, annoyed.
He slipped out of bed, fully naked, and groped around for his summer robe, a fine silk one that wrapped at the waist. Putting it on, he glanced back at Harry, still asleep in his bed, and couldn’t suppress a surge of joy. It had been only a few days since the night of the Weasley-Granger dinner, but he and Harry had already slipped into a nice routine. They spent most of their days together, preparing for their departure to Hogwarts (which was happening the very next day in fact), getting in some last-minute socializing with friends, and, at night, pleasuring each other in bed, in all the ways they already knew how, and some new ways too. It was like they had never stopped. It was like what they had before, only better.
The tapping interrupted his musings and, grumbling, he went to the window. He stopped cold, freezing at the sight of his mother’s tawny owl. Mouth dry, heart suddenly hammering, he opened the window and let the owl inside.
“It’s been a while,” he said to her as he made to untie the letter from her leg. It was not a Howler, much to his relief, not that he actually expected his mother to send one. She had never been one for shouting. Cold, quiet dismissiveness was more her style, when she wanted to be disapproving.
The owl flew off as soon as the letter was retrieved, not even pausing to ask for a treat. Mentally shrugging, Draco closed the window and went to sit on the edge of his bed, the letter clutched in his trembling hand. He knew it must be from his mother. The owl was indication enough, but it was further confirmed by the handwriting of the address.
What did she have to say to him now, after weeks of not saying anything at all? He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know. After a few deep breaths, though, he made himself open it and read.

My Dearest Draco,
Your father and I arrived home yesterday after a quite lengthy and altogether enjoyable stay in Cassis. Antony’s villa was more than comfortable and quite tastefully furnished. I didn’t particularly want to leave. But there is plenty of business to attend to here and I will admit that my fair skin was getting quite a bit more sun than perhaps it ought.
The holiday was made all the more… interesting, shall we say, by your letters. I rather enjoyed reading of your adventures, surprising as they were, while I looked out on the ocean and tried to imagine you in London and at the manor, socializing with Mr. Potter, my sister, and the young Master Lupin. It was a strange picture, to be sure. But not altogether unwelcome, in some respects.
I am struggling to come to terms with everything that has changed for you in the past year, Draco. And, as well as you know me, you will also know how difficult that is for me to admit. At the heart of this struggle is the reality that before your letter told us so, I had no idea that any of this was going on in your life. There was no hint of it at Christmas, though I could see easily that there was plenty bothering you. I thought it about the divorce and your father’s behavior. But you disguise yourself well, my son, and I will admit that the nature of your own internal struggle was completely shrouded to my notice, until you explained it outright. What kind of mother am I, I have continually asked myself, to have not seen it before? It seems I have failed you in more ways than one.
This is one reason it has taken me so long to return your letters. My complete and utter shock is another. But, most of all, I have found it very difficult to even know what to say. I cannot simply smile, open my arms, and welcome Mr. Potter as a new and future son. I have no understanding of his motives nor trust that he is the best partner for you. The very notion of what he may have to offer you that you could not get elsewhere is, frankly, lost on me. I do not think ill of him, nor do I doubt your judgment. But I don’t really know him. And as your mother, who is so very far from you, that is most disconcerting. I want to lay eyes on you myself. I need to see this happiness you claim to have for myself. But at the moment, such a thing is impossible. I can only hope it will be possible soon.
While I cannot blindly condone your choice of partner, I can no sooner turn away from you either. You are my child, my legacy, my greatest joy. Your happiness is everything to me. For you to say you have found it, after all that you have been through, does give me hope. It heartens me and gives me fortitude against your father’s attitude and the distance that has grown between you and us.
So I am choosing to hope. I am choosing to believe that you are building a life of happiness for yourself. I am choosing to believe that time will heal this void and will soften your father’s convictions. I am choosing to believe that Mr. Potter is a good man who will protect your heart rather than break it. And I am choosing to believe that if any of the aforementioned proves to be false, that we are all strong enough to weather it, if we must.
In writing this letter I hope to convey all this, as well as urge you to be cautious, to think some with your head as well as your heart. And to beg you to never, never stop writing to me. News of my son is the most nourishing sustenance of my life. I cannot lose it.
With all possible love,
Your Mother

Draco wiped his eyes and wondered at the amount of ambivalence his mother had managed to pack into a few paragraphs. She was pleased to hear accounts of him and what he was up to, and yet worried that they were not the best thing for him. She claimed to not doubt his judgment, yet questioned his choice of partner. She spoke eloquently of her love, of how much she wanted to see him, yet was still making the choice to keep her distance for now, no doubt due to her husband’s wishes.
He didn’t know what to make of it.
He barely noticed the stirring behind him, was not fully conscious of it until he felt the presence of a warm body at his back and an arm snaking around his waist.
“An early morning letter?” Harry asked, his voice still rough from sleep. He kissed Draco behind the ear, and the blond found himself already feeling better at the touch.
“From my mother,” he replied.
Harry went still against him, an indication that he too understood the gravity of the moment. “What did she say? That is… only if you want to share, obviously.”
Draco turned to look at his lover, holding the letter out to him. “Feel free to read it, if you like.”
With some caution, Harry took it. At Draco’s urging he backed up, making room for both of them to sit in bed comfortably, propped up by their pillows. Draco watched Harry as he put on his glasses and began to read, hunching over as he always did when absorbed. His face was impassive, though, as he took in the words, and he was utterly silent. Draco had no way of knowing what the brunet would think of Narcissa’s doubts and concerns, at least not yet.
Harry sighed heavily when he finished, folding the letter loosely and handing it back to Draco. “Well,” he said. “I suppose it’s better than we expected.”
“Yeah?” Draco asked, unfolding the letter and looking over it again.
“She wants to stay in contact. She wants to hear how your life is going, even as it relates to me,” said Harry. “And she didn’t really mention your sexuality, which I think is interesting. But probably good. It must mean she approves. Or at least doesn’t disapprove.”
“I suppose,” said Draco. “But she doesn’t trust you as my choice. She worries that you’ll hurt me.”
“Yeah, but don’t all mums worry about that? Especially since she hasn’t seen me in years. She has no idea what I’m like, which is essentially the point she makes in the letter. She doesn’t dislike me. She just doesn’t know me.”
Draco stared at the parchment in his hand, his brow furrowed.
“And at the end she has that bit where she basically says she’s willing to be optimistic, which makes me think that when she does finally meet me, as your partner, then she will keep an open mind. And then we can show her how great we are together,” Harry continued.
“But she gives no indication of when that will be,” Draco countered. “She claims it to be impossible to see us at the moment, which I take to mean not actually impossible, but simply inconvenient. Because of my father.”
Harry considered that. “It must be… difficult to want to do something that your spouse absolutely does not want you to do. She’s pulled in two directions. I’m not saying it’s right, but she might be trying to keep things… cordial, with your father, keep her marriage intact. Seems to me she believes he’ll come around eventually.”
“That likely is her thinking,” agreed Draco. “But it doesn’t mean I respect the choice. Between my husband and my son, I would choose my son. I mean, no offense. I love you and everything, but if we had a child…”
“If we had a child, there is not a thing in the world that would make me keep you from him or her,” Harry said. “I would never ask you to turn your back on them, for my sake. I would never want that.”
“Then you are a better man than my father. Which, of course, we already knew. It’s not the highest bar to clear, after all.”
Harry chuckled. “True. I just meant… well, far be it for me to pretend to know your mother better than you know her, but what I remember of Narcissa was that she would risk her life for you, force your godfather to make an unbreakable vow for you, do just about everything in her power to protect you. Except when it came to Lucius. If she had been willing to stand up to him in the first place, stop him from allying with Voldemort, your entire family would have been so much safer. But she didn’t do that. She went along with what he wanted. I don’t know why; because she loves him, maybe, and she trusted him to know what was best for the family. Or maybe she’s just never been able to stand up to him.”
“She hasn’t,” Draco said, realizing truly for the first time. “She’s a strong woman in many ways, but she has always deferred to him. I think… I think it was ingrained in her to do that. I don’t know if she knows another way.”
“She can still learn; it’s not too late. But maybe she needs time to figure out how.”
“Or she intends to do what she’s always done when it comes to getting my father to do what she wants: needle him mercilessly until he gives in. It takes longer, but it is often effective.”
“Maybe,” said Harry. “Maybe she believes she can convince him to accept you. She is essentially asking for time to do just that.”
Draco sighed. “Yes. It seems that way. I just wish… But it’s stupid to wish for things you’re sure to never have,” he said, cutting himself off. “So what’s the point?”
“You wish she and your father would just accept you as you are? Accept us? You wish it were simple?” Harry supplied gently.
“Yes,” Draco answered, after some hesitation.
“I don’t think it’s stupid to wish for that. You just have to be willing to accept that it might take a while.”
“It might take years,” Draco said, looking at his partner.
Harry nodded soberly. “It might. But this,” he pointed at the letter, “is at least a step in the right direction. It’s a start, which is better than what you had before.”
Draco’s eyes dropped to the letter once more, reading the final paragraphs again. I am choosing to hope, his mother had written. He’d never heard her express anything like that before. Her pragmatism was only ever trumped by her love for her family, and he’d only seen it happen a few times in his life.
She’s choosing to hope, because she loves me.
And no, it was not simple. It would not be easy, and it would probably not be altogether free of pain. But most things worth having were not.
“You’re right,” Draco agreed, taking Harry’s hand in his. “It’s a start.”
goddess-of_dragons: Haha yes, well, it felt weird to leave smut out of this fic for too long :) But this chapter gives you a lot more, plus pretty much everything else you requested!
Glad Unstoppable is still on your mind. It’s on mine too. I’m just trying to finish this one so my focus isn’t split.
And now I can return to your story, which I’ve been neglecting :/ I’m very happy to have this chapter done so I can go and read instead of being stuck in “writing mode” all the time! <3
Callidus-Anguis: Thanks! I wanted to write that chapter for the very reasons you mentioned: to bring Harry and Draco closer, but also to show that their support of each other is not one-sided. Draco is capable of being there for Harry and Harry is capable of being vulnerable in front of Draco, which is an important turning point.
Haha glad you liked the little scene with Snape! This is the first story in which I’ve written him (even if it’s just his portrait) and I wanted to do him justice. And I was very excited to get to throw in that tidbit about Lily. I’m not sure Harry will ever tell Draco himself, because he might feel like it’s not his secret to tell. It is interesting to think about how Draco would react though…
You know Portrait Dumbledore is getting such a big kick out of this relationship. So is McGonagall :)
There is a lot of baggage between Draco, Ron, and Hermione, but as you can see from this chapter I decided to have them take the calm, mature approach. They’ve all grown up, and it just didn’t fit with the tone of the fic for there to be a lot of antagonism. But I do think it was important for Draco to apologize and understand that he has some work to do if they are going to become great friends, as he wants them to. Also, thanks for the suggestion about Draco mentioning McNeal to Hermione! I really liked it, so I included it :) I think it helped win Hermione over a little bit more.
You will get to see Neville again, but in the epilogue. I just couldn’t fit in a return to Hogwarts this chapter. I had too much else to cover! I do hope you liked this final installment, including the smut haha! Thanks for all your great feedback <3
Shaymarsh640: I’m not surprised that chapter sparked some personal feelings in you, because it was very personal for me too. I have experienced similar losses and I brought a lot of my own feelings to this chapter.
I’ve brought a lot of my own feelings to this whole story, to be honest. That’s one reason it’s so gratifying to hear that it’s meant a lot to you. I think I’ve mentioned before how intense and therapeutic writing this story was for me, and to know that my efforts have moved you and lingered with you means so much. I hope this chapter (and the epilogue) when it comes, do this story justice for you. I want to finish strong!
Thanks so much for all of your amazing comments! They have kept me writing <3
Teddy-Potter95: Thank you so much! I’m so glad you liked the emotional elements.
It’s finally here! Sorry it took me so long! But I hope the fact that I included Ron, Hermione, and Pansy will make up for it, as well as the rest of it. Enjoy! <3
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A Secondary Education