Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

WONKY CROSS	By : JanisJ Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 59358 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 29
- 30
- 31
A/N: Thanks for all the reads, rates and reviews. I love them all!
BAFan: You are truly an author’s sweetest dream come true! I always love hearing from you-- and appreciate knowing whatever particularly tickles your fancy. I’m happy I gave you a smile. (You certainly gave me one when you told me that!).
Staar: I’m glad you like the story and took the time to drop a note! It is so heartening and encouraging to learn that the story made you feel for the characters…. And turned you onto Harry/Charlie? Even better! :)

~O~
BRILLIANT
Charlie and Harry were poised outside the Hogwarts gates with Draco on the morning of Christmas Eve. There was a bit of anxiety (for various individual reasons) but mostly excited anticipation. Their quick breaths’ vapor combined in a cumulative, blended cloud between them all.
The brunet had bundled up in his warmest clothes— mismatched and homespun for sure, as had their Head of House-- but both donned their nicest button-down shirts underneath their careworn parkas and scarves. The blond on the other hand, was layered head to toe in his best finery. The state of his hair and nails was impeccable, expensive boots polished to perfection. It would look odd to the Preserve employees to see such frippery (or impracticality), but Charlie gave his boyfriend a warning look and subtle shake of his head.
Harry just went with it and figured this was some Pureblood custom of meeting Nick Ericksen, his distant kin, and strangers for the first time.
Besides, what did he know? He never had to worry about it. He never had specific outfits designated for different social occasions. (Except for the Yule Ball-- but to fair, he hadn’t had a hand or clue in that fashion issue or been in any way involved with Molly’s subsequent, snazzy bottle-green solution to that dilemma anyway.)
They all held on tight to the Ministry-issued punch-card.
Harry was a little bolstered that their “magic word” which activated their mode of travel couldn’t truly be traced back to anything incriminating. No one could guess what that made up term really meant, right? Charlie uttered the passcode ‘smeck’ with a surreptitious tender expression passing between the two but had little time they would have to conceal such feelings.
The three were transported in an uncomfortable whirlwind (hook-behind-navel style) over several countries, directly to the center square of The Preserve in the span of the next four seconds.
Harry had a sense of de-je-vu when it was SerenaRose that came running at them with a screech to rival a banshee.
It was so familiar, yet not, since she was swaddled up like a puffy marshmallow in leather and fleece. And there was nothing moving around the usually verdant environment— it was just covered in snowdrifts that had been cleared to the edges and tree branches that were heavily-laden with icicles. The area was monochrome shades of gray and undeniably drab.
“My boys!” she squealed, jumping up and engulfing both Charlie and Harry in a bear hug— and somehow wrapping her wide-open thighs around both their midsections that were now pressed together in a vice-grip due to her leg-lock. “How is my favorite couple?” Tiger babbled, among other sappy sentiments among sloppy, smacky kisses as she slipped to the ground yet giving a full-bodied rubbing down their fronts as she did. Making her words gust-hot into their ears, she cooed, “Oh, I just love you…. I’ve missed you!”
(She didn’t notice that the two former Gryffindors fidgeted nervously in front of their companion at the mention of their relationship status as she petted their hair and caressed their cheeks. Draco just smirked while awaiting an introduction.)
“And YOU!” she turned her exuberance on the newcomer. “Hello!”
Once she got a better look, she purred, (as sultry and entirely-too-reminiscent of her feline nickname), “Hellooooo.” She extended a welcoming, suggestive hand, shaking her hood and multi-colored mane back from her round forest-green eyes. After a second, the captivated woman seemed to snap out of her momentary stupor and remember her manners. “Come! Let’s get you all out of the cold.”
She all but dragged their guest by linked elbows towards the Mess Hall (assuming Charlie and Harry would automatically follow) and burst through the double doors, yelling, “MaryAnne! Look who’s here!”
“Calm down, Tiger,” came the warm and nostalgic tones of Titsy. They turned as one and Harry grinned, launching himself into the strong and comforting arms of the buxom blonde witch. He wrote to her here and there when he scraped up some free time, but there was nothing like the feel of her all-consuming loving embrace! (He felt a few vertebrae pop as she spun him around.)
The tall woman successfully hushed everyone as she turned her appraisal onto the new arrivals.
“Boys,” she greeted briefly, dryly indicating— and fairly dismissing-- those she knew already. Her stormy-blue eyes were raking up and down over the Slytherclaw’s perfectly postured form.
She took his hands and pulled off his gloves, stuffing them in the pockets of his heavy outer-cloak (while leaning her ample chest into his personal space and right under eye-range); Draco was momentarily stunned by the view, during which she quickly divested him of his cold weather-gear from over his shoulders and put it on a peg by the door. The slight (unnecessary) bending to give her magnificent rump its best view and angle did not go unnoticed by her present company— except for Harry who missed it all-together.
“Welcome,” she said, turning slow and seductive, making her stance sure to corroborate her provocative tone in no uncertain terms. “I’m making a feast for the occasion.” She ran a languid, seemingly subconscious, pink-painted nail along her cleavage while maintaining eye-contact. “Forgive me if I have to run off to tend to it in the middle of…. getting to know each other.”
Harry blushed as he noted that she then did that ‘middle-finger-palm’ brushing thing that Charlie told him was an unspoken invitation for wanting to indulge in sexy-stuff. He was relieved when she sashayed off back to the kitchen but it was short-lived.
SerenaRose then took up the pale digits as she gently gripped them in her own and rubbed hers over the tops of Malfoy’s in a superficial act of warming them; Harry immediately reddened when he caught on to what she was doing.
(And God help him, it made him look at his ex-rival’s fingers and now apply her “theory” to what the general character of his member was like!) (Fuck, they were kind of like the man himself— long, thin, hard, pointy, tapered at the tip….) (*groan* He REALLY didn’t want to know that!)
Vlad curtly stepped into the kitchen and sent his ethereal peacock to let Nick know their special company had arrived. (It didn’t have far to go since the Norseman was just at the apiary with Neil.) Charlie suppressed a snort— he was ninety-nine percent certain Ericksen’s absence was only to affect a dramatic entrance rather than simply be present and waiting in the common areas when they all knew their company was due to arrive.
The gruff Romanian caregiver also briefly explained to his Preserve-mates that supervisor Mr. Yakinov allowed them to call Jason and Josh in from the field when dinner was ready. “‘But only for von hour!’” (He did a pretty bad impression of their boss, complete with shaking a fist, making them laugh), “‘Each two boyz need covering the others’ half hour absence!’”
The girls and Charlie whooped and slathered their ‘Little Man’ with juicy kisses, jubilant affection and hair-ruffling. The brunet was a little shocked by the onslaught— and a brief glance at the blond revealed the other eighth year student was just as disconcerted by the touchy-feely reaction that seemed over the top (and perhaps the nickname).
When they calmed somewhat, the dragon caregivers explained:
Apparently, in the whole history of the institution, (from what they gathered from their garbled gabbing, often talking over one another) was that whoever was doing ‘ground duty’ on any given holiday had never before been able to leave their post; if their names had landed on the rota, they were slated to miss out on the holiday celebration.
Until Harry had taught them the Patronus way of communication, that is.
There always had to be two pairs of eyes as a team on the status ready to call for help and watch each other’s backs. But this way, the crew would be able to (more-or-less) instant message for additional assistance if it was needed.
(They had all had this debate before. The caregivers couldn’t leave their camp for one measly hour-- even if the reptiles they monitored were essentially in hibernation during this season? How Winter holidays were spent with the field workers stuck out there having absolutely zero to report— except for the temperature?) (But rules were rules.)
Vlad issued a polite greeting to Malfoy but then turned to his former housemate with a clearly unamused scowl. “Vy do you never bringk us vimen?”
SerenaRose teased that ‘homesick newbie Charlie-Swarley had his mommy and little sister visit his first Christmas away from Britain.’ If Harry didn’t love the witch so much— and known that she hadn’t a clue of his past horrors-- he would have hexed her into next week for that horrible baby-voice taunting his lover. It sounded too much like Bellatrix LeStrange for his liking.
“A happily married voman, mother of a friend vith seven children and a ten-year-old girl in tow do not an eligible date make!” the Romanian employee growled. Vlad gave a curt fur-lined nod of his cap to the guest in apology— and got a slow, sympathetic nod in return. “However, fresh people with unique perspectives and stories are always velcome here.”
The two shook hands with the utmost civility despite the harsh words of disappointment over Malfoy’s gender.
Harry blinked at their instant understanding and tentative camaraderie. Hmm. It seemed that it must be a universal thing for straight males to prefer to be introduced and in the company of attractive girls rather than just another bloke. The Gryffinin shook his head and huddled closer to his beau (now that he didn’t have to hide what they really were to each other from their school-mate.)
The brunet looked nervously to their Blended House member for his reaction. The cat was among the pixies now-- now that Tiger had inadvertently outed them with her casual comments about their relationship status.
Draco caught the wary expression, leaned close and lowly muttered while all the old friends were temporarily ignoring the ‘outsiders’, reacquainting themselves. He murmured in the shorter man’s ear, “Don’t worry Potter. I already knew. And I would never say a word.”
At the brunet’s still-high level of panic clearly indicated by those statements, the ex-rival crooned under the din of the rest of the pack’s animated chatter, “I am more observant than most.” The blond smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from his lapel. “I’ve been aware for some time now.”
Harry had to smile.
There was still a hint of smugness at pointing out Malfoy’s superior intellect which was comforting in its predictability-- though the mild teasing was tempered with good humour. There was none of his previous childish vindictive taunting or caustic supremacy that lent itself easily to public humiliation, a fight or blackmail.
(If nothing else, there would have been some proof of some serious fall-out had the ex-nemesis decided to use that information for slander or leverage purposes. But there had been absolutely none.)
The Gryfinin’s surprise was endearing to the Slytherclaw; Harry’s relief and gratitude was palpable. “You have your own reasons for remaining discreet and I can respect that,” the blond whispered in his ear over the ambient verbal noise. “It’s nobody’s business. The public reaction and unwelcome scrutiny alone is an excellent reason for keeping secret.”
Covering the brunet’s flustered reaction he continued, “But just for the record, I don’t think that this could have happened for two more deserving, genuinely good people.” His carefully-chosen kind words soothed his tortured Soul as he saw the reluctant hero relax and slide into a pure state of contented happiness.
Suddenly it felt like they were closer friends than ever before.
The blond didn’t have the heart to break it to his classmate that he had been privy to the couple’s extremely private and profound conversation that he’d overheard on Halloween. He preferred to leave it ambiguous and that he was just THAT clever to figure it out from their scant clues— and NOT the solid proof that they unknowingly gave him that Hallowed night.
Draco had come home early from the party in the Great Hall, not wanting to partake in the juvenile and uncomfortable social gathering. He didn’t want to socialize with any of the girls who flitted around him-- or were dared to approach an older student that held his own personal history. They were all so young and superficial! He had no room for extraneous diversions from anyone who hadn’t lived a fraction of what he’d gone through while growing up.
He’d fallen asleep before the Blended House’s hearth reading but had awoken when the two returned home.
The young Pureblood was about to reveal his presence when Charlie and Harry came into Common Room, back from their mysterious venture-- but then they’d got into such serious topics right away that it would have been awkward to interrupt, especially the longer it went on.
There was no good time for it.
(The fact that he was ravenously curious wasn’t part of his silence. No. It was simply altruistic. It was goodwill for his fellows and comrades that gave him and his mother such a great opportunity and second chance that kept him from causing them undue embarrassment. The simple fact that had those particular two former Gryffindors been less accepting of them, the remaining Malfoys would NEVER have gotten this precious chance to flourish. He owed them EVERYTHING!).
And, beyond reeling from the obvious surprise at the nature of the two’s special bond and— FINALLY-- the answer to the nebulously-explained split of the marriage from the youngest Weasley, he’d learned a lot about the deep bonds of friendship, romantic relationships and open communication that day. It threw everything he’d been taught as a child out the window.
He’d never thought such a delicate, vulnerable and all-encompassing trust was possible-- what with how he was raised to think such a thing was worthless at best, a liability at most. But in that moment, he wanted THAT in his life. To experience such a connected, safe haven with another person seemed nothing short of breathtakingly beautiful and miraculous. He’d been envious, sure, but even more filled with hope and inspired. He wanted--
Draco never finished that wistful thought.
As Charlie was half-joking with his cabin-mate over promising to invite their friend Luna to the Preserve on the first part of her World Tour as she headed East next Summer, he was shocked back to the present.
His Head of House’s voice trailed off over how the lovely young witch would provide that huge, dark hulking mass of a man with a most pleasant diversion-- even going so far as to say that Lovegood made ‘the girls’ look like Victorian-age prudes— when all conversation stilled:
Nicholas the dragon caregiver strode into the gathering with resounding boot-heels against the floor-boards like he owned the place; the ineffable, intense presence of authority and self-assuredness swept around him and had the onlookers suddenly struck dumb. None of them had experienced their coworker in such a charged, serious interaction-- or witnessed the imperious dramatic swirling of robes around his ankles, for that matter (that reminded all the Hogwart’s alumni of Snape.)
They knew their friend to be charming but he was also known to be inappropriately brusque at times. The man could be utterly captivating yet insulting at the same time. Not everyone tolerated his brand of blunt communication well or understood his underlying motives-- but those who knew him well were used to his caustic delivery.
(The employees silently prayed the Viking-descendant wouldn’t scare off their chance at some fresh company they so sorely lacked being holed up on a huge property day in and day out with the same few people.)
Everyone was holding their breath (for many different reasons).
The dragon caregivers all immediately quieted waiting to see what would unfold. They fervently hoped Nick wasn’t unduly rude. Draco was excited yet anxious. He knew the first move was granted to the elder family member. He just hoped he wasn’t found lacking.
The Norseman ignored everyone else and came to an abrupt stop before Draco with hands on his hips and chest puffed up. The critical, flinty eyes roved and calculated. It was silent for long moments that seemed to stretch until he broke into a wide grin and declared to all gathered there, “It’s like looking in a mirror!”
(MaryAnne snorted and interjected, “More like a DE-AGING mirror!” under her breath and pretended to be vigorously stirring one of the many bubbling pots while monitoring the unusual situation out of the corner of a concerned eye.)
Draco conducted himself very formally— and made the witches swoon with his impeccable manners. The men in attendance stood straighter and silent in respect to something they rarely (if ever) encountered.
The young wizard stood up to the appraisal and proudly held out both his bare upturned palms, obviously no wand in sight. Draco’s (decidedly less-pointy as an adult) chin was raised in confidence, yet his head-tilt held a certain air of deference. Accepting the warm invitation, Nick clasped hands with his distant family member.
Each made some sort of weird, synchronized seemingly-choreographed bow and pulled close, bussing each cheek and then raised their combined clenched fists, tapping once over the older man’s heart and then over the younger’s breastbone before they dropped hands and adopted much more less-strained stances. Yet the two men remained silently smiling, unsure of what to say next.
After too many seconds of tense formalized interaction, it was broken when MaryAnne declared with a huge smirk on her face, “I’d almost forgot what a true gentleman acts like, being surrounded by these louts all these years,” And then the situation turned even more casual when the shorter witch murmured under her breath, ‘That’s hot,’ and fanned herself.
(Harry almost giggled nervously while he was too relieved that Titsy had forgone any mention of the tall dragon handler’s nickname ‘The Dick’ in the face of such an important moment.)
The blonde witch excused herself and went back to focusing on her multiple cooking projects at the stove and oven, but with promises she would have more time to socialize with their esteemed guest later.
More cloaks and scarves were hung by the door and drink requests were taken by SerenaRose. Everyone was relieved things became more relaxed. The feisty little woman fondly groused that bartending and setting the table were the only tasks allowed to her in the preparation of the festive dinner; laughing, she claimed her best friend would run her out of the kitchen with threats to smack her with a wooden spoon if she attempted to help cook.
During an undercurrent of conversation— all quiet— Harry heard SerenaRose offer to take the newcomer back to her room and show Draco pictures of Nick when he was closer to his age.
“Oh, Tiger! Nooooo!” he breathed in terror. All he could think of was the porno mag she coveted and shown him last Summer.
Draco was confused but amused by Harry’s combustible blush and the group’s snickering and sniggering over something that had to be an inside joke. At least by the context, it seemed as if he wasn’t the butt of said joke here, so he just enjoyed the levity and looked around expectantly to see if anyone would explain.
No one did but it didn’t matter.
Draco marveled at the ease in which this group interacted so openly and lovingly; it reminded him of how things were now for him as a member in the Blended House— but so much deeper (with years of history). He had been learning the appeal of this kind of friendship the more he was exposed to it.
“Not THOSE, silly,” SerenaRose turned to the brunet, lightly slapping the Gryffinin’s bicep playfully. “I thought he might like the photos taken through the years of us all working here together.”
Charlie cleared his throat purposefully and reminded her that they needed to do their aerial dragon tour while there was still sunlight—and also, they would never get the brooms off the ground after eating the feast. He chuckled at her thwarted grimace but gathered Harry and Draco for their flight over the grounds. “When we get back, Nick will be wanting to show him ancestral photo albums,” he warned the witch.
She pouted towards the redhead, yet was smiling as she gathered the recently shed scarves and coats for the Hogwart’s trio while they downed their first cocktails of the night. “Be safe and get back here at dusk for the meal, boys!” (She took extra care to caress the blond as she sweetly wrapped him up in his warm garments to go out flying in the cold, petting him more than was strictly necessary as she smoothed his clothes.)
Nick gracefully bowed out of going along, citing that he’d just gotten back from a shift one week prior and didn’t care to be out there in the frozen elements again so soon.
(Charlie snorted but accepted it. That may well have been true but he felt it may have more to do with keeping his best put-together appearance and not getting wind-blown, chapped and chafed by flying in the Winter weather. He knew his ‘brother’ would have gone if he wasn’t concerned about appearances.)
The tour went well overall.
The flying over the great open expanse was a great tension-breaker and got them relaxed and exhilarated.
There wasn’t all that much to see since the fantastical beasts were slow and mostly hiding in their lairs. But it was easier on the non-employees this way. The dragon’s lethargic nature didn’t give way to great viewing, just a few glimpses here and there but it also made it so the crew could zoom in closer than usual without too much threat of harm.
(Harry DID have to remind the seasoned employee several times that his lover’s idea of ‘close up’ wasn’t necessarily what novices would be comfortable with. More than once, Harry could feel the stretched-taut rubber band feel of the Tether Charm that bound them all together telling him that the Disillusioned Draco was hesitant and trying to stay further back.)
All in all, it was a success. They caught glimpses of most of the breeds, sleeping and taking daring peeks into their cold weather shelters.
They had a semi-close call with the Peruvian Vipertooth though; the monstrous reptile was less dormant than expected at the moment but since they couldn’t be seen (only sensed by their body-heat), he had no clear target and they’d got away unscathed.
(On the upside, the jets of fire shot randomly once they were aloft warmed the air around them temporarily.) (Harry had to make sure that Draco was all right afterwards, knowing there had to be a Fiend-Fyre flashback after that. He was assured that it was utterly different and the adrenaline rush was just fine-- much to the brunet’s relief.)
They DID get one good encounter with the young Norrie (ex-Norbert) that ventured out onto her ledge and sniffed around in their general direction, detecting moving, organic heat but was frustrated when she couldn’t pinpoint the source.
(Unsurprisingly, the more Northern breeds were more acclimated to chilling temperatures, and therefore, more active even when the degrees dipped low. They didn’t even see some of the others that were from tropical climates.)
When they were nearly done, Charlie threw down an Engorgioed, shrunken half-pig that he’d brought along just in case the Norwegian Ridgeback became roused. She instantly smelled it and then charred the carcass to a crisp in a blast of flame that even they could feel at their present elevation.
The men stayed long enough to watch the carnage as the reptile devoured it in a great snapping, clacking of jaws and crunching bones. The younger men cringed through some of the grisly gristly chewing. They were glad to have left before the dragon felt it necessary to pursue the other hot-blooded bodies she sensed that had dared to come so near her home.
Harry had to roll his eyes at his beau’s endearments over the fantastical beast while the devouring ensued: Yes, he could concede ‘awesome’, ‘majestic’…. Perhaps even ‘beautiful’…. But the sappily fond, “There’s my Pretty Girl”? Eh. He just didn’t see the ‘pretty’….
When they finally sat down to dinner, Tiger and Titsy edged out everyone else and planted themselves on either side of the blond guest. The two were practically clinging to the newcomer— bordering on aggressive— like vines of Devil’s Snare.
The (not-so-subtle) dance of seduction that commenced was much like Harry’s first night on the Preserve, although it was just the witches this time. The brunet was finding it much more amusing now that he was not on the receiving end of such focused attention.
Somehow, the Norseman was respecting the blood connection, no matter that it was multiple generations removed. The rest of the men in attendance were just interested in the stranger for the new topics of conversation he provided. And of course, Neil was there with his wife and children, so his attention was almost entirely diverted to his family.
Nick, Charlie and Harry sat across the table to observe-- and possibly referee if the women got out of hand and their guest looked like he needed intervention. The others gathered around the outskirts and kept up with the conversation amongst themselves yet everyone was keeping half an eye on the novel element to their dinner.
But it seemed Draco didn’t mind the attention.
In fact, he seemed to quietly preen under the interest and it was intriguing to see it unfold. It was actually funny when it was someone else, Harry thought— and someone else who might like it. And since he cared about and wished the best for all those involved, he had to smile.
The girls were really laying it on thick….
It made Harry think of early on in the school year-- when their relationship had progressed enough-- to when he was able to light-heartedly tease his ex-nemesis over not dating any of the myriad of girls that were gossiping and swooning over him, wanting (almost dying in rapture) to capture Draco’s eye.
The wizard’s explanation of keeping his distance made complete sense though, once it was simply stated:
His entire future hinged on keeping anything negative from being associated with him.
One vindictive or malicious (whether it be true or fabricated) word from any of his classmates could spell his—and his mother’s, by extension--downfall in a heartbeat. Harry could see how a witch scorned, even if it wasn’t real, could ruin Malfoy’s whole life. In fact, such a thing could happen without any true incident or entanglement and had Harry vowing he’d vouch for his new friend’s self-imposed solitary status if that occurred.
But it appeared that his ex-rival was thriving under the relative anonymity among the Preserve people that held no preconceived notions about him and his family name; the freedom from his past had Draco flourishing and flirting— and it amused Harry and Charlie to no end.
(‘When in Romania, do as Romanians do’ ….. and ‘What happens in Romania stays in Romania’ came to mind…. And the couple smirked at how well the dinner was going for their housemate.)
It was downright artful how Draco was able to effortlessly entertain everyone with his presence. The young wizard was clearly in his element at conducting himself in this new situation.
(And, as loathe as he was to admit it, Harry found himself a bit envious at the ease of which Malfoy was able to deftly handle himself with a close-knit group he’d never met before.) (But he related to the sense of freedom from being among these incredible people untainted by the UK’s War. These people had provided such a release from the past for HIM since last Summer, and now, for his new friend. He knew him and Draco were both grateful and connected in that moment of realization.)
It was about the time that the turkey came out of the oven and appetizers were over that SerenaRose traced a gentle hand across the Slyherclaw’s forehead. She drew his fringe out of the way and lingered over fingering his finely-groomed arched brow. And then he remembered her tutorial last Summer about how you could tell what exact shade a person’s pubes were according to the color of their eyebrows.
(GAH!! He REALLY didn’t want to know that information either!!) (But he couldn’t help but look. They were a slightly darker hue than the hair on his head— that was currently being stroked and toyed with by MaryAnne.)
Inwardly he groaned. He could have gone his whole life without knowing that information!
Nick imperiously carved the bird at the head of the table, valiantly ignoring the girls’ ministrations. Sides were starting to be served, everyone passing the heavily-laden bowls and platters around the table, family-style. So far, over the sumptuous aromas of the feast and eating the meal, everyone was engaging their visitor with questions and topics of conversation about the places in the World he’d traveled, his hobbies and interests, his future plans for a career.
Harry was grateful that they stayed away from sensitive and volatile topics of the recent past and War. (It made him wonder if Charlie warned them ahead of time to leave it alone, like he suspected his lover had when he’d first arrived.)
Any which way, it made for a lovely social interaction that made them feel like their lives had progressed as typically as anyone else. Harry was glad his dragon friends were giving that sense of normalcy to Malfoy, just like they had for him, who was obviously thriving on an unbiased conversation for once. There was none of the snotty judgmental superiority of his eleven year-old self-- and none of the hesitant, wary and closed off student he was now. Currently, he was flourishing, genuinely friendly and completely open in the company that held no preconceived notions about him due to his past behaviour, his family reputation and recent history.
Draco, clearly able hold his own in a civilized gathering, was proving adept at debating the various merits of different techniques of mead and wine-making with the J-Boys (while he was made to sample many of them), the differing conventions of noblemen according to location and historical era with Nick and inquiring Neil about beekeeping and including his wife when he artfully drew out her story about experiencing motherhood with twins.
He did this all the while complimenting MaryAnne on her culinary expertise with every bite he took. And dispersed among all of this, he was adept at asking SerenaRose about her experiences with the dragons as the witches’ attentions kept drawing his focus onto them.
At one point, the girls mentioned that the photos they’d been sent of Draco didn’t do him justice:
(Harry and Charlie had to concur— the only ones they had— and sent copies-- were the Blended House portrait when it was all new and the ex-Slytherin was stiff among the group. The second was a recent bad candid at Charlie’s surprise thirtieth birthday party earlier that month at the Three Broomsticks that Draco was practically hiding behind everyone to escape or lessen detection from Madam Rosmerta’s attention.)
At MaryAnne’s murmuring over dessert that ‘there must be something in the water at Hogwarts that grows all these boys up so gorgeous,’ as she boldly petted his hair, shoulder and arm had Harry shaking his head.
The hand feeding of tidbits from their forks to the newcomer seemed over the top, but the rest of the men were chuckling knowingly as they made their way towards the sitting area after such a resplendent supper.
Charlie and Harry left the main flurry of action as the ‘feast-coma’ began to set in.
They happily unburdened Neil and his wife Dee of the twin infants so the harried couple could finally-- at long last-- have an adult conversation that didn’t revolve around child rearing, sleep schedules and the exact state and nature of dirty nappies.
Sitting by the fire and entertaining the tots, Harry didn’t realize how much time had passed until he belatedly noticed Draco and the girls were missing from the table and kitchen area. He’d been too wrapped up with caring for the little ones (and watching his man be all too utterly adorable with the babies).
Last the brunet had seen was Nick and Draco were going over old family photo albums and charts that they had specifically dredged up and brought along for exactly this purpose. But Nick was now chatting with the other Preserve employees with the Slytherclaw nowhere in sight!
When he exclaimed his concern, Charlie shrugged and waved it off.
Nick overheard the outburst and dismissed it as well. “The girls finally were able to lure the ‘White Dragon’ back to their cabin when they saw we were reaching the end of our sharing of combined history.” He gave a heavy-- but good-humoured sigh-- “I never could completely compete with the allure of multiple tits and cunts!”
Charlie chuckled and rubbed Harry’s shoulder through his horror.
“Give it another hour or two,” the redhead soothed. “We still have plenty of time to get back in the evening due to the zone difference. And that buttoned-up ‘White Dragon’ deserves to cut loose a bit.” At his lover’s skeptical expression, he added, “Plus, if we left right now the ‘spinning’ over several countries would make us puke all over each other upon arrival!”
Charlie bobbed and poked a rattle at the little boy’s tummy, making him squeal and grab with pudgy fists. After making some strange sound-effects the toy might emit, he grinned. “Don’t worry, Draco’s in good hands!”
Harry blushed at the thought of his uptight housemate all disheveled and debauched in the ravenous clutches of the two lovely ladies so open with their appetites; he truly hoped they were ALL excited to help his ex-rival over his self-imposed celibate drought.
“Should we have warned him? Should we help him?” Harry queried.
“Naw….” Charlie answered easily. “He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself— decide what he wants and all that. Probably good for him to cut loose in a safe way just this once….”
Then the brunet realized the relative ‘no-strings’ anonymity would be appealing to the young man all in itself. He KNEW the girls were enthralled and fascinated with ‘fresh meat’ (as Nick would say) and it was a win-win for all those involved. No one from his old circles would EVER know about this night!
He laughed and then bounced the tiny girl on his knee just to listen to her gurgle and giggle. Despite the kinda-gross gummy drool which he wiped off with a cloth from the overly-prepared baby-bag, there was something very comforting and serene about caring for the kiddies alongside the man he loved. His heart swelled when he saw that Charlie was a natural with children.
Eventually, they had to leave, reluctantly, Portkeying to Hogwarts.
Draco couldn’t completely meet their eyes when he skulked back into the Mess Hall (and they all had multiple packages of leftovers thrust into their hands), trying to play it off as if he’d just had an after dinner walk about the grounds. But it didn’t matter. He was looking happier and more relaxed than either of them had ever seen.
Each Hogwarts man expressed their gratitude for the excellent dinner and party, happy times to have met and welcomed the extended invitations to ‘come’ by any time in the future.
They landed back in Scotland with a few thick swallows that could easily be blamed on the feast and drinks. Draco gulped in a few deep breaths and said, grasping a palm to his chest. “Thank you. That was incredible.”
“Oh, I think it was a pleasure for all for us!” Charlie winked.
Draco blanched, his boot-heels stumbling in the gravel. “Please don’t tell my mother!”
Charlie threw back his head and laughed heartily as they made their way up the main road to the Entrance Hall, quickly traversing the road. “Believe me, that is NEVER a conversation I will ever have with Narcissa Malfoy!” He chuckled some more at the mere thought.
“I mean, don’t let her know I conducted myself in any other way than decorous and polite! I didn’t--! I don’t--!” the blond spluttered. “For goodness sake, I-I took off my banquet outer-robe before dessert-- in the presence of WOMEN, no less!”
That made Charlie’s good-natured guffaws burst out all the harder, sending a mirthful steam from his lungs out into the frosty atmosphere. Harry had to join in; it was infectious and hilarious. Of all things, THAT was what he had to be worried about? A ROBE?
But they both concurred whole-heartedly that they never would have divulged anything unseemly that happened with the girls to his formidable matriarch!
First of all, it wasn’t their business; second of all, who in their right mind would just blurt something like that out to an adult’s parent? He was a close friend and did nothing wrong. (And there was the bro-code to consider after all…. That trumped everything.)
“That would never happen, Malfoy….” Harry chirruped himself into coherence, shaking his head in mirth. He clapped a fraternal slap to his housemate’s shoulder. “I’m just glad you had a nice time with our friends.”
“I did,” Draco admitted as they entered the Blended House. And then the self-satisfied smile was back in full force, obviously its owner recalling all the indescribably wonderful day he’d had.
“You should take a sober-up potion, mate,” Charlie advised, thinking the shrewd Narcissa would too easily piece things together otherwise during their standing date for the evening of this Holiday. Draco nodded in acquiescence but blanched a bit at the redhead’s next (gauche) statement:
“Might also help with that shit-eating ‘I-just-got-spectacularly-laid’ grin you’ve got going on!”
Draco gave them heartfelt thanks again-- not refuting that statement at all. As he left them, the two lovers Summoned their presents and overnight bags, prepared before the Floo to join everyone at The Burrow.
(Harry wasn’t sure, but he could’ve sworn he saw the giddy blond subtly inhale deeply, sniffing his long pale fingers while dragging his palm down his upper lip in a casual gesture of trying to wipe the smile of satisfaction off his face.)
(However, he failed in making a more serious expression— one that would be more suitable to meet Mrs. Malfoy for a formal dinner.)
With a nod to his friends and happy smirk, Draco strutted off, completely chuffed. He disappeared into his room to clean up, change clothes and regroup before a dinner engagement with his prim and proper mother.
~O~
Ginny wasn’t to be there.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had assured both Harry and their over-protective son of that fact when they insisted that this holiday celebration would be free and clear of that unpleasantness. The parents practically begged, pleaded, cajoled and bribed all the other children and their significant others with this information as well so they would show up and participate.
The wayward daughter would NOT be intruding upon the gathering and turn it sour.
(Well, she was and she wasn’t— and she did and she didn’t.)
Harry had been coming back from the loo. He’d been returning to the party comprised of the whole clan and extended family members (and none that he didn’t want to see), when he ran into the youngest Weasley of that generation.
They ended up alone in the downstairs hall. The witch had been hurried and rushed, like she’d been skulking around but was aiming to leave undetected. And she probably WOULD have if Harry had more control of his vocal chords at the moment.
“Ginny!” he called loudly in (buzzed) surprise when he’d caught the shock of long auburn waves in the shadows. He smirked at the way her back stiffened and she slowly turned to face him. “What are you doing here?” he exclaimed before he could censor his liquor-loosened tongue.
He felt a small measure of satisfaction at the subconscious bristling that he dared call her out on being out of place in her own, ancestral home; she was obviously bitter in her thinking he should be considered the “outsider”.
That’s how easy he could read her now…. (and he was glad for it).
She flicked her tresses over her shoulders and jutted her chin up in a haughty way. Harry knew that this was her way to affect confidence and control over a situation where she knew that she was at the disadvantage and clinging to the “bottom rung” in the social dynamics.
Old habits die hard, he supposed; her taking the assumed upper-hand tactic used to immediately cow him. Even when she was in the wrong, she couldn’t resist falling back on passing out the blame and making others think they were at fault, no matter how ‘off’ that logic was.
But not now. And no more….
Gone were the days that he wanted to immediately soothe and appease her just to avoid a row that escalated into epic proportions. Harry almost wanted to laugh at how transparent it all was to him with enough time and distance.
Breaking the awkward too-lengthy silence, she whispered, “I’m just picking up my clothes that Mum had to mend for me.”
Harry then noticed that she was clutching a maid’s uniform to her chest like a shield. He shrugged wordlessly, intent on to going to find Charlie. It didn’t matter to him why she was there, just as long as she was leaving straight away. “Ok. Bye.” He turned to go rejoin the raucous revelers in the sitting room when he heard the softened screech behind him:
“That’s it? You have nothing to say to me?” Harry spun slowly on the spot, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall. His eyes widened while his dark brows rose into his fringe.
This oughta be good!
He wasn’t wrong.
“Didn’t they tell you? Because you left me, Demel and I have to work all the time?” In the wake of the Gryffinin’s determined indifference, the shrill indignant shrieking (though thankfully still at a low enough volume so as not call attention to anyone else about her unwanted presence in the house) went on:
“WE have to work as the night maids and cover all holidays in order to keep a permanent room at The Leaky! In addition to our other work! You made it so we have to take on shit jobs just to get by!” she hissed with most vehemence she should muster while trying to stay quiet.
Green eyes just blinked in silent disbelief that she was really going to do this old song and dance.
She shuddered in disgust, “Ugh! It’s all your fault and you just stand there with a blank look on your face?! You have absolutely NO response? You should CARE!”
Harry’s subdued and detached demeanor seemed to escalate and incense her ire all the more (which actually amused him and made him want her to continue with it all the more).
Without an immediate attempt at placation from the boy she used to command into groveling apologies with just a mere suggestion or well-placed scowl seemed to blow the lid off of her temper-- and all rational thought apparently:
Her lips curled cruelly.
“The least you could do for your WIFE— seems the decent thing to do-- is make sure I had part of your vaults so Demi and I don’t have to just scrape by and work our fingers to the bone every day! You don’t do fuck-all with your coffers! A ruddy fortune is just sitting there under your lame lazy ASS while you laze around, pathetically trying to recapture your youth by being a mere schoolboy!”
His nose wrinkled in disgust at such baseless accusations, but her next barb hit too close to home and struck an icy chill into his heart. It made him gulp and try really hard to hold onto his composure. Suddenly this confrontation wasn’t remotely fun anymore.
The petite witch stabbed, verbally twisting the knife and going in for the kill. “I wonder what the adoring public would think of their so-called ‘compassionate hero’ now— NOW that they could see how you are so selfish and heartless…. and DEAD INSIDE!”
Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
He was already tipsy from their feast at the Preserve and the pre-dinner drinks at The Burrow in anticipation of Molly’s contribution to the celebration but he was grateful that he still had enough coherence and a Charlie-inspired inner-peace to withstand her scolding. (And resist the urge to shoot her with a mild hex.)
But, that last slung shit that would have cut him to the core just a year ago, especially so specifically throwing his fears of dying and coming back might have irreparably changed or damaged him!
It was a deep-seated insecurity and anxiety that he’d confided in her when they were attempting a “reconnecting” while being sequestered at The Burrow.
He’d told her of this fright when he had been retreating into feeling numb and distant while battling a crippling depression, survivor guilt and unwilling to let any more pain in after The Battle and all the funerals and trials…. Not to mention lost, confused and detached from the new reality of having to face a post-Voldemort future.
He feared his Soul had been irreparably polluted and corrupt.
They had never really seen eye to eye on that theory-- mainly because she dismissed anything he might say about the subject of The War.
Mostly, he had sensed that she was treating his trepidation as ‘trivial’ and ‘unsubstantiated’ (actually, both those terms had come out of her mouth at various times) and shot down any general, generic remarks that he admitted to about having trouble with being open about his emotional responses due to his stunted upbringing.
She had incredulously proclaimed (as if he were hopelessly dim or mentally deficient), many times, that he ‘SHOULD be just fine— you WON!’ It was a favourite of hers to stop any dialogue she didn’t want to deal with.
And he just closed up. The crazy, disjointed pace of Life at that time never gave him the chance to work through so much…. It was just easier that way.
(But really?! She would throw THAT in his face now? No. Just, no.   Even a friendship would never work if she was pulling that out from her arsenal.   Not now that he was secure in a GOOD relationship and knew now how people who loved each other cared for one another.
And while she’d always had problems about living in poverty-- and he certainly had no qualms out about leaving her in that state after how she’d regarded the marriage-- her viciously piercing him with his own terror of inadequacy in his character was a deal-breaker.
They could never reconcile into being civil around one another if she was able to so callously cut him to the core. That was clear. He was presently secure in the knowledge that he had more integrity than she ever would, knowing that he wouldn’t yell and rub her perceived weaknesses in her face just to be spiteful like she was currently doing.)
Harry felt pride at being able to hold onto the restraint of not wanting to go off on her and wouldn’t allow his self-worth be slammed in the most outrageous way. He knew that defending himself wasn’t even worth any energy whatsoever and buoyed his resolve to just let her get on with it and dig her own grave.
The emerald-eyed young man was able to actually smile to himself at his indifference to her predicament and hurtful words.
Hearing her expectations-- that were so self-involved and skewed-- of how the World was ‘supposed’ to work for and revolve around HER was amazing (in a sick, sad way). She had this whole delusional and unrealistic scenario of how things ‘should be’ built up in her own imagination— and couldn’t even comprehend that Life might unfold in an entirely different way.
The whole thing was ridiculous, really.
During his internal ruminations on how the teen witch was so transparent in projecting all her own issues on him, he almost missed Ginny’s mouth opening and closing with no sound escaping, wanting to say more in that vein but unable.
She huffed and stamped her foot.
“Damn your stupid know-it-all Hermione’s curse! It makes me look like a bloody idiot when people ask why I have been reduced to a mere pauper after living the good life! They stare at me and wonder why it seems I have peanut butter sticking my tongue to the roof of my mouth like some mangy, flea-bitten dog! For SOME reason, they never even think that it is possibly their ‘Sainted Saviour’ who is at fault,” she spat and then sarcastically seethed, “Noooooo, of COURSE not! It couldn’t be. Not HIIIIM!”
There was too much vitriol spewed at him in such a short, unexpected span to even try to counter any of the irrational points made. Again, the personal, verbally-abusive direction she was headed in made her magically mute once more. (And even more frustrated and furious-- if her balled, shaking fists crumpling her dress and silently, violently moving lips were anything to go by.)
While it was obvious that she could say some true words of her opinions to him-- no matter the noxious inflection-- she was still curse-bound by Moody’s invention and wasn’t allowed how far she wanted to go into deeply unforgivable, poisonous remarks. Harry silently blessed Hermione’s intelligence (yet again) on how to successfully harness a filter on the immature girl’s mouth.
He was just about to leave without a word, only a pitying headshake, when his special man came looking for him:
“Harry! Cuteness? What, did you fall in?” Charlie questioned with laughter in his voice. His usual joviality suddenly cut off as he rounded the doorjamb from the kitchen and surveyed the scene outside the bathroom. Fiercely frowning at the rancid interaction-- and who exactly was involved— had him putting a protective hand on the brunet’s bicep and a distinct iciness filled the space.
Harry felt a swell of delight over Ginny’s blanching at the presence of the intimidating dragon-handler; his boyfriend certainly exuded a barely contained hostility in that moment. The brunet glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. “I think she is trying to blame me about how her choices made her life turn out. THAT-- and possibly guilt me into giving her and her sex-woman some money.”
“You don’t even care about what I need!” she accused. “Demi and I are struggling.” She clutched a pained melodramatic fist to her chest, crumpling the freshly-pressed black with white trimmed dress in her grip; her hopes were dashed when she noted the doubled cold reception to her pleas.
Ginny shrunk back from her brother’s unyielding, domineering posture. She sensed that she was on the losing end of this encounter so she scolded, (falling back on her usual, all-too-typical modus operandi of ‘blame everyone else’ and her overblown sense of entitlement), “Harry! You should be ashamed!”
Harry felt even better when Charlie slid up closer and wrapped him in his comforting arms. He melted at having the support by the Love-of-his-Life sturdy and solid at his back on this harpy’s own home turf. The non-verbal confirmation that provided was pure Heaven. He turned his head and engulfed his man in a kiss that quickly heated, heedless of their present audience.
The redhead reluctantly broke the snog. Speaking in a low growl with narrowed eyes-- worthy of his bear Patronus-- he stared down his gob-smacked sister and grumbled, “And what, exactly, should MY man be ashamed of according to his cheating EX?” (He spat the last as if it was some foul disease.)
Ginny flinched badly at hearing that menacing tone-- and then seeing firsthand evidence that someone else powerful was taking her former husband’s side in this altercation. The irrefutable implication of the romantic affection between the two also threw her off.
She flailed and quailed in fear over her own flesh and blood displaying such an opposing front against her. (Sure, Charlie had never been around much while she was growing up, so he didn’t have the same loyalty she thought she could wring out of the others. But she still thought that blood had to be thicker than water every time!)
(Ginny was also repulsed that her old, promiscuous brother was showcasing his male gayness in front of her! Her pale lips curled in disgust. At the BOTH of them! That was just GROSS!)
“I—I— Because of HIM and Hermione’s evil spell-casting WE have to work holidays….” (Yeah, it sounded lame to all of those in the hallway.) Then, the misguided witch managed a slight head of steam and jutted her chin despite being thrown off by this strange turn of events. “My husband could help if he wanted to!”
“HE is not your spouse or shackled to you anymore,” the muscled man asserted forcefully. “And he doesn’t wish to aid you in your tawdry affairs anymore,” Charlie purred. He gently rocked Harry in his arms; his tenderness towards his lover was in direct counterpoint to the hostility radiated at his sibling.
After a charged pause he bared his teeth, snarling again:
“It would be different for you if you hadn’t emotionally abused him! Gone so far as to manipulate his good nature? OR sexually betrayed him and your vows during your short sham of a marriage! Any one of those reasons are good enough-- but all together? You doubt that he wouldn’t be more sympathetic if you hadn’t spent so much of his money on yourself and your girlfriend behind his back?”
His voice took on an even sharper edge and his beefy arms tightened around Harry. “If you were working towards taking your NEWTS— whether in the school OR through independent study-- you’d be better off and have more options for making it on your own. But you refused that too, didn’t you?”
Ginny’s freckled face turned several unbecoming blotches of red and pale. The witch’s mouth repeatedly gaped open and then gulped closed like a bulgy-eyed goldfish.
Her sixth year had been scary! No one understood how much she’d had to endure! The thought of Hogwarts was horrible! She’d been a VICTIM! And the less fortunate who had SUFFERED should be helped, not shunned and left to fend for themselves!
(She conveniently disregarded the option of learning and revising at home to take her final Ministry-sanctioned tests. That never factored in to any of her plans, even after she’d lost her key to the Potter vaults. She should just have her all-access back no matter what!)
Her thin vindictive lips opened and closed soundlessly again. Harry was grateful that Mad-Eye’s curse was still in effect and his Love didn’t have to hear anything worse than he had already.
Charlie sneered.
“It is entirely on your head that you had Mum and Dad cast you out by your own reprehensible behaviour that they could never abide by,” he gesticulated forcefully, shoving a damning index finger pointing at her. “You are fucking lucky that they still speak to you. Why Mother even bothers, after how horridly you played her, is beyond me!”
The burly tattooed man then easily dismissed his sibling by turning a cold shoulder. He seemed satisfied after he’d said his piece, and ready to be done with all this nonsense; he stage-whispered in his precious lover’s ear, more than ready to leave this unpleasantness behind, “C’mon, Sweetness. This hall has been befouled. Let’s get away from this sl-- (*cough-Hag!-cough*)”.
Harry was steadily being reduced to a knee-knocking puddle of mush with the hot gusts of breath on his neck; the words and intent were letting him know without a doubt that he was cherished.
Charlie raised his voice yet again, “And you, sister!” He lunged forward and made a pointed look at the Leaky maid’s uniform she held. He flicked a finger under the newly-fixed, starched hem. “You made your bed and now you have to lie in it…. LITERALLY!!”
That last spat word galvanized her into backing away in an angry, defeated retreat, muttering under her breath, “You’re sickening! You both SUCK!” The almost simultaneous, soft calling from the kitchen of a female’s voice spurred her into quicker action as well:
“Ginny-love,” they all heard, faintly drifting up into the rafters in weak dissipating in wisps, “you said you’d just sneak in and sneak out…. What took you so long? I— EEEK!” The head of long dark curls whipped back from peeking around the corner. (Seeing her ‘Life-line’ in a tense stand-off with ‘The Vanquisher of Voldemort’ and the dragon-handler ‘Big Brother’ always filled Demelza with dread every time.)
Harry gave an amused gaze at how his former-wife turned on her heel and flounced away. He watched that pin-straight limp, wilted hair (and dress-uniform) flag behind her as her boots pounded on the floor-boards towards the back door, chasing after her mousy girlfriend. When it slammed, he waved away the encounter without another thought and turned to show his man his appreciation non-verbally with lips, tongue and teeth.
(Loving Charlie— and showing him that it could be “making love” during the simple act of thorough snogging-- was always the best thing that was ever invented in the entire Universe!)
“Hey!” Bill interrupted several minutes later, ducking in from the living room. He was manically grinning when he saw his little brother all entwined with his lover. “Oi! Can’t you randy buggers wait until the little ones are asleep? You’ll scar them for life!”
The eldest Weasley son winked when they reluctantly parted and peered at him— temples touching-- panting.
“Little help here, guys? Save us here! Hermione and Ron have conveniently disappeared. Percy and Neville are practically catatonic but Lady Augusta, Andromeda AND Fleur are all fingering their wands contemplating minor jinxes and hexes. Luna, Xeno and Hannah are doing all right ignoring the rant and dancing, but George is threatening to slip Mum a ‘Ton-tongue-Toffee’ or ‘Flatulence Fudge’ just to get her to shut up! Dad and I need crowd control! Help!”
The curse-breaker quickly disappeared back into the party, preparing to plaster on a ‘smile-and-nod’ mentality once again.
Bravely, the Were-scarred man returned to Molly’s typical, tipsy rhapsodic recitation (that had somehow become louder and louder) of how Celestina got her start singing on street corners with only an upturned hat on the cobblestones for passers-by to toss knuts in. In between singing the praises of her idol’s gumption, talent and ultimately successful recording career, they could hear their mother trying to warble and croon along with the wireless’ annual music-marathon of the soulful artist.
Charlie snorted.
Bill’s child was the only kid so far in the next generation of the Weasley brood, but as a tiny infant, Victoire would not know what she was looking at if she saw. Teddy was only a mite older, yet again though, would have no clue of what snogging in the corridor really meant. (Besides, last he’d seen, the little Lupin boy was completely focused on their old colourful building blocks Dad had pulled out of the attic specifically for the occasion).
But his brother had a valid point.
Until their Matriarch was done and had blown all the wind out of her sails, they needed to weather her happy drunken ramblings as a team.
Actually, their mum’s effusive bubbliness was welcomed and no real hardship at all. It was well worth every second of “torture”. They were glad to listen indulgently since everyone was so relieved that she was clearly enjoying herself like the old days, despite the glaring, obvious absence of Ginny and Fred (and all the other fallen heroes that couldn’t be there).
Harry blushed at Bill’s teasing, though conceded that this was the right thing to do. The camaraderie forged by spending time among loved ones was best, even if they sometimes got on each other’s nerves. That just made the bonds stronger via fond memories and unconditional acceptance.
He owed this family and extended network of friends everything for his current happiness.
He had ostracized himself from all the ‘togetherness’ last year for the Christmas holiday (due to his erroneously-perceived rejection); it was precious to be right in the middle of it now, and feel so wonderfully included. He chuckled fondly as they made their way back to the audience being regaled by Warbeck records by the Christmas tree….
(Plus, there was plenty of time to get amorous later on.)
The brunet was actually looking forward to fooling around in his lover’s childhood bedroom when those staying over retired for the night. Sure, they would have plenty of silencing and privacy charms set up so no one would be the wiser about what they got up to, but there was something fun and naughty about having sex with him at The Burrow with all manner of relatives crammed into the usually-vacated kids’ rooms….
(In the very bed his man used to experiment with self-love as a teen…. Mmmm, yummy. He had to laugh internally, imagining the image of Charlie at his age from the photos they’d shown him earlier that evening, with his short-cropped hair and fresh, clean-shaven face.
He also wondered if they would whisper and try to be quiet, pretending that they were getting away with doing sexy-naughty-stuff that they ought not to, doing mischief…. Would it be like when his schoolmates were trying to be covert in the dorms?)
Harry was filled with warmth and good cheer. His soul felt light. Just truly and utterly right. Helped by the alcohol, the great day he’d just had with friends and the festive atmosphere of The Burrow had him downright giddy. He was beyond thankful at the contrast of how wonderful this Christmas was enfolding as compared to last year’s.
(It was black and white, really….)
‘Yeah,’ he thought as he nuzzled his head gratefully into Charlie’s broad chest. He couldn’t help but be eternally grateful that he chose to ‘come back’ and experience this miraculous roller-coaster rather than ‘go on’ at the Cosmic King’s Cross and forego such a fundamental experience of human, Earth-bound Life, missing out on it all together.
But NOTHING changed the fact that after everything— the good, the bad and all the stuff in between-- he could now be enthusiastic about how things turned out despite all he’d suffered in the past. And optimistic for the future….
Yes, life was good!
And he could face a rendition of “A Cauldron of Hot Bubbling Love,” right now. And forever….

~O~
A/N: Just the epilogue now-- and will be up a helluva lot sooner! I’ve had it written in rough form for a while now, but with a little polishing, it will be ready. Thanks so much for sticking with me this far!
Everyone that has followed along is precious to me. You all have racked up great Karma points in making another Soul happy.
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WONKY CROSS