Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

In Loco Parentis	By : Phoenixstrike Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16793 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all identifiable characters are copyright of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scolastic and Warner Brothers. This fanfiction is for entertainment only and makes no money. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Harry awoke far too early as far as he was concerned the following morning to his alarm clock, and he was so warm and content it was a huge struggle to move. The memory of the previous night flooded back to him and he smiled, as he leant over the bed and placed a series of kisses on the still-sleeping Draco’s neck.

He crept out of the the bed as quietly as he could, and winced slightly as a stabbing pain shot through him, but grinned wildly at the memory of what caused the pain in the first place. He considered healing himself, but then decided to leave the ache. A reminder that the incredible night before really did happen, and wasn’t just a magnificent dream. He checked on Scorpius, who was still snoring, showered and dressed in his Auror robes quickly, downed a cup of coffee, and Apparated to the office.

Ron was absent today, being on field assignments all day, but Harry didn’t mind. He was looking forward to having a night out with him that evening, something the pair had not done for a very long time indeed. It was only now that Harry realised how much he’d missed it. His day was filled with updating Kingsley on Draco’s case, meetings, paperwork, and a visit to an apothecary in Knockturn Alley which Harry believed had been trading in illegal mind-altering potions. He was delighted to find his suspicions had proven fruitful, although the owner of the apothecary wasn’t too pleased when Harry arrested him.

If any of Harry’s colleagues noticed Harry’s unusually buoyant mood, they didn’t say anything to him. Harry finished up as quickly as he could that evening, ensuring he left on time in order to spend a couple of hours with Scorpius and Draco before heading off to meet Ron. He Apparated home quickly, throwing his Auror robes over the back of the sofa as he arrived.

The sight of two identical blond heads and grins greeting him as he returned home melted Harry’s heart. Yes, he could definitely get used to this, he thought to himself, as he bent down to receive Scorpius’ embrace of welcome.

“I missed you today,” Draco purred into Harry’s ear once Scorpius was out of earshot, as his hand grazed Harry’s arse. The tone of the blond’s voice and the suggestive touch caused Harry to flush delightfully and shiver slightly at the memory of the previous evening. “As soon as you’re done with Weasley tonight it’s going to be your turn to pound me into the mattress.”

Draco’s words had the desired effect on Harry, who stuttered, and wanted to suddenly cancel his plans and just drag Draco upstairs, but what sort of friend does that, and, besides, Harry really was looking forward to drinks with Ron that evening. Still, just the thought of being inside Draco was enough to drive him to wank desperately in the shower whilst Draco put Scorpius to bed that evening, before stealing a toe-curling kiss full of promises as he disappeared out the door to head to the pub.

He pushed open the door to The Slug and Lettuce and immediately spotted Ron’s fiery hair sitting at a table close to the bar. Harry had learnt soon after Voldemort’s defeat that if he was to ever have a fun, uninterrupted night out with friends, then it had to be in the Muggle world. Ron beamed at his friend as Harry approached, and immediately shot up to the bar. He returned with Guinness, which was quickly followed by spirits, as the pair chatted and laughed together as the evening wore on.

“My round. Another vodka?” Harry asked as he stood up to head to the bar. Ron nodded enthusiastically, his freckly cheeks bright red now from the alcohol which clashed violently with his hair. Harry swayed slightly on his way to the bar. Both men were quite tipsy now.

Harry put the double measure of spirits in front of Ron, then yawned loudly, not managing to stifle it in time. He grinned apologetically at his friend.

“Sorry,” he said. “Had a late night last night.”

“Does this ‘late night’ have anything to do with the funny way you’re walking and the fact you’ve winced every time you’ve sat down this evening, mate?” Ron replied, his eyebrow raised and his mouth pulled up in a crooked smile.

Harry felt himself turning scarlet, and tried to offer some words in his defence, but Ron interrupted him, amusement twinkling in his blue eyes.

“You know, Harry, when I told you that you needed to get laid, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Harry looked into Ron’s face for a couple of seconds, before the pair both burst out laughing.

“Did… you really let Malfoy do… that… to you?” Ron asked, once the laughter had subsided. Harry nodded, the usual awkwardness he felt when discussing sex absent. Whether due to the alcohol or the fact that the conversation didn’t involve female parts for once, he didn’t know, but suspected it was probably both.

“And it was incredible,” Harry replied. He downed the rest of his vodka and Coke. “I’ve never felt anything like it during sex. It just felt so, I don’t know. ‘Perfect’ is such a pathetic sappy word for it, but it really was. And the absence of a naked female helped immensely too.”

Ron turned slightly pale then, whether it was because he was imagining Draco with his cock up Harry’s arse, or Harry shagging Ron’s little sister; either was equally likely to be a source of awkwardness for the redhead.

Ron disappeared to the bar once more, returning with another double-measure of spirits for each of them. Harry took his drink gratefully.

“Have you ever had a prostate massage? You know, um, fingering?” he blurted out suddenly, causing Ron to inhale his drink and begin to splutter in a very undignified manner. Once he’d regained some control he looked at Harry with wide eyes.

“What the fuck? Of course not, Harry! I’m straight!” he replied in a high voice unlike his own. Harry chuckled.

“You don’t have to be gay to have your prostate touched, you know. You just have to be male. I didn’t even know it could feel good during sex, but honestly, Ron, you should get Hermione to give you one. It’s amazingly good. It’s so much more intense, and spreads through the whole of your body. I nearly came just from that alone, before Draco even got in me.”

“Who are you and where the fuck is the real Harry Potter? Do I need to check for Polyjuice?” Ron answered, although he couldn’t keep the laughter at bay. “You, talking about coming, and finger fucking, when you used to blush if anyone so much as mentioned sex!”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had somewhat of an epiphany,” Harry quipped in response. “And the ‘epiphany’ just happens to be male, blond and gorgeous, gives unbelievable blowjobs and made me come twice in the space of half an hour last night.”

“You know, Harry, I never thought you might be gay. I mean, you never acted it. I still wasn’t sure, even after you came to see us the other day. But after listening to you talk tonight, there’s no room for doubt, is there?” Ron said rhetorically. Harry looked at his best friend, and saw that he was being serious.

“No. No doubt. As for not acting it- how does a gay person act, exactly? Do you mean poncing around in leather calling everything ‘fabulous’ and wanting to fill their home with sparkly scatter cushions? Because that’s a piss-poor stereotype you know. I acted extremely gay last night, Ron, and it was the best night of my life. I wish I’d worked my sexuality out sooner, but as your lovely wife said to me once, I’m sexually naïve. I got there in the end, though. I hope Draco is my future, but even if it doesn’t work out with us, it’ll be men and not women I’ll be dating.”

“You’re shagging Draco Malfoy, and I’m jealous of you. What is the world coming to?” Ron exclaimed, knocking back nearly a full double vodka and mixer in one. In response to Harry’s raised eyebrows, he added, “I’m not jealous of you together! Merlin, no! I mean-” he lowered his voice so only Harry could hear, ignoring the table of young women dressed in skimpy skirts and far too much make-up who appeared extremely interested in their conversation- “I mean of the sex. Hermione and I have not had sex since Hugo’s birth, and not for the two months before it, either, and I’m getting rather desperate. There’s only so much wanking a man can do!”

“Well, it’s normal after a baby, isn’t it? For couples to have less sex, I mean?” Harry replied. Ron nodded grumpily.

“It was the same after Rose was born, but Hugo’s a much easier baby than she ever was. He only wakes once a night for a feed, so we’re not nearly as tired as we were after Rose’s birth. But Hermione’s terrified of getting pregnant again, I think. After all, the contraceptive potion failed once for us, didn’t it? In addition to that, firstly there was the lochia, then she’s still sensitive from where she tore when Hugo’s head emerged-”

“Oh Ron, please shut up!” Harry said loudly, shoving his fingers in his ears. “Homosexual friend here, remember?” Ron laughed at that.

“If I have to listen about how Malfoy’s fingers up your arse almost brought you off then you can hear about the horror of your godson’s birth. Don’t play the ‘gay man can’t bear to hear anything about the female anatomy’ card with me. And I thought you didn’t fit any gay stereotype,” he said, good-humouredly. He looked at his watch. “Fuck. It’s eleven thirty. Hermione will be wondering where I am, and I don’t want to keep you from banging the ferret any longer than necessary. I’d best call it a night, mate.” He reluctantly stood up to leave. Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

“Just so you know, Ron, I do appreciate the way you’ve accepted Draco. It can’t be easy for you, after what he’s put you and your family through over the years. And for accepting me. It means the world to me, you know.”

Ron smiled sincerely at him. “Harry, you’re my best friend. You have been for fifteen years. That will never change. I can learn to tolerate him if he makes you happy, and he obviously does. Sickeningly-sweetly so. Nor do I think you’d shack up with him if he was the same prick he was at school so he’s obviously changed a lot. I trust your judgement, mate.”

“I’ve had a brilliant time tonight, Ron. Thank you, again. For everything.” Harry said, pulling his friend into a bear hug, before the pair slipped out of the pub and Disapparated to their houses. Due to the alcohol affecting his concentration, Harry misjudged the jump slightly, landing clumsily in the bushes outside Grimmauld Place instead of on his doorstep. Swearing under his breath, he hauled himself out of the hydrangea bush and made his way to the house. Draco laughed at him when he arrived through the front door covered in leaves and mud, apparently having witnessed the entire thing through the drawing room window.

“Time to get you out of those filthy closes, Potter,” he murmured seductively into Harry’s neck as he kissed it tenderly, running a hand over Harry’s inner thigh. Harry fully agreed with him.

****

The following two weeks passed in a sex-filled blur of happiness for Harry. In fact, he thought he and Draco had had more sex in the past fortnight than he and Ginny had in their entire relationship. He had discovered very quickly that he was versatile when it came to sexual positions, enjoying both equally- much to Draco’s delight.

On the eve of his twenty-sixth birthday, after yet another bout of mind-exploding sex, Harry cuddled up to Draco, stroking the sweat-dampened blond hair from his face, waiting for their breathing to return to normal.

“When shall we tell Scorp about us?” he asked Draco. “I don’t want to have you sneaking back to your bedroom every night in case he comes in and finds us cuddled up asleep or something.”

Draco rolled over so he and Harry were face to face, and pressed his lips to Harry’s own affectionately. “In the morning, over breakfast if you like,” he replied. “I agree it’s time.”

Harry was surprisingly nervous the following morning. He poured Scorpius a glass of orange juice and buttered him a couple of slices of toast, which he set down in front of the youngster, before turning to his own.

Draco entered the kitchen and Harry’s heart fluttered. What if Scorpius thought they were disgusting? Or reacted badly in another way? He took a deep breath and a large swig of coffee to calm his nerves.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Draco said warmly. Harry had already had his ‘birthday present’ in the shower that morning, given Draco couldn’t get to a shop to actually buy him anything. He saw Draco whisper in Scorpius’ ear, and the boy laugh, before tearing off out of the room. He returned with a card he’d made for himself, with ‘To Harrie, luf from Scorpius’ written on the front and a drawing of what Harry thought was a goat wearing a crown, but didn’t want to ask in case he hurt Scorpius’ feelings. Inside it said, ‘dear Harrie, your the best, hapie berfday, luf from Scorpius and Daddy’ in Scorpius’ five-year-old writing. Draco had charmed the card to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ in Scorpius’ voice. It was the best card Harry had ever been given.

The trio sat down to breakfast, and once Scorpius had finished eating, Draco cleared his throat.

“So, Scorpius, there’s something Harry and I would like to talk to you about this morning,” he said seriously, and Scorpius’ face fell slightly.

“Am I in trouble, Daddy?” he asked, his voice small. Draco smiled and shook his head.

“No, sweetheart, you’re not,” he replied. “But there is something important we would like you to know. Scorpius, Harry and I are romantically involved with one another.”

Scorpius looked blankly at his father, and Harry rolled his eyes at Draco’s choice of language. “He means, I’m your daddy’s boyfriend,” he amended. He saw Draco’s own roll of the eyes but chose to ignore it.

“Does that mean you love each other?” Scorpius asked, in all his childhood innocence. Harry gaped slightly and uttered a pathetic-sounding “er,” but Draco simply replied, “We enjoy spending time with each other and seeing where it takes us.”

“Oh. So is that why you sometimes sleep in the same bed?” Scorpius continued, and Harry felt his cheeks flush and wondered when Scorpius had seen them, but managed a “yes.”

“How do you feel about that, Scorp?” he added cautiously. Scorpius looked at both Draco and Harry carefully.

“I love you both, and I know you both love me. So if you love each other too, then we can all be a family who love each other, can’t we? Which I think is a good thing. Can I go and play now?”

Draco nodded numbly, and Scorpius climbed down from the table and ran to his room. Harry and Draco looked at each other, both relieved Scorpius was pleased with them together, but neither wanted to bring up the ‘L’ conversation.

“So,” Harry said, somewhat awkwardly, “Scorpius seemed happy, and appeared to take it in his stride. I guess the idea of two men together only seems strange if you’ve been taught it’s wrong. Children aren’t born with prejudice and bigotry, after all.”

“We could all stand to learn a few things from a child,” Draco agreed. “Homophobia is acquired, not congenital. If adults stopped filling children’s heads with nonsense about it being dirty or immoral then maybe there wouldn’t be so many children bullied or driven to depression because they’re gay.”

“I’ve got to get to work,” Harry said suddenly, checking the time and realising he should have been in the office five minutes ago. “I’ll see you here tonight for the ‘surprise party’ I don’t know I’m having.” He kissed Draco quickly on the cheek and headed to the Ministry, Scorpius’ words in his mind. Did he love Draco? He certainly felt very strongly for him, but did that mean love? The thought distracted Harry all morning.

He Apparated home at five and, as expected, his adopted family and friends were crammed inside Grimmauld Place. They all shouted ‘Happy Birthday!’ as he entered, and Harry did a passable job of feigning surprise, which a quick scan of his guests showed only Hermione hadn’t bought. He was pleased to see Draco was downstairs joining in and not hiding in his room; the Weasleys all knew he was living at the property, of course, but Harry had informed his other closest friends a few weeks after the former Slytherin had arrived. This was the first time everyone was together, and, whilst there was some awkwardness, most people were making the effort to chat with him. Indeed, Harry let out a chuckle when he spotted Draco backed into a corner, wide-eyed and trying not to laugh, as Luna mentioned something about a Lesser-striped Humperdingle that she and her fiancé Rolf had apparently discovered in Madagascar the previous April.

“Hey, Harry.” Harry spun round and George thrust a bottle of Butterbeer into his hands. “Happy Birthday. Just thought you’d like to know, Scorpius is over there telling my mum and dad that you and Malfoy are boyfriends and sleep in the same bed.” He burst out laughing at Harry’s obviously horrified expression. “So it’s true, then? I was ready for you to deny it, but you never were a good liar.”

“Fuck,” Harry replied. “Why do five-year-olds feel the need to mouth off everything to anyone who will listen? Yes, it’s true. We’ve been together a couple of weeks, but only Ron and Hermione- and now you, and your parents, know. We told him this morning. Bugger it, I’ll just have to tell everyone this evening, before the rumour spreads round.” He saw George’s sad eyes through his smile. “Are you OK, George?”

“Yeah,” George replied sadly. “It’s just… Fred always said he thought you were gay. I told him you were obviously sweet for our sister and to not be so naïve. We made a bet. I owe him ten Galleons.” Harry swallowed thickly, gave George a supportive touch on his arm and went to find Draco, who had managed to give Luna the slip.

“Your son is blabbermouthing about us again,” he said in an urgent whisper. “He’s already told Molly and Arthur Weasley that you’re my boyfriend and we sleep together, and George overheard.” Draco’s mouth fell open in shock. “Yeah, I was surprised, too. I don’t know why now, in retrospect. So, how would you feel if my birthday party became Harry Potter’s Coming Out Party instead? Are you OK with that? I know it’s a bit sudden, but I’m not ashamed of who I am or who I’m with, and I want people to hear this from me, rather than through hearsay.” Draco’s shock turned to one that Harry could only describe as joy in an instant.

“Of course it’s okay,” he replied, leaning in and capturing Harry in a searing, and very conspicuous, kiss. Harry heard several gasps nearby, which he thought sounded like Neville and Seamus, and grinned against Draco’s mouth. He broke the kiss and turned to his friends, who were wearing equally surprised faces.

“That explains a lot, mate,” Seamus said dryly, as Neville’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink. Harry looked uncertainly at his two friends, receiving smiles in response.

“He makes you happy.” It wasn’t a question. “Therefore this is a good thing, yes? Odd, but good.” Seamus grinned at Harry and Draco, Neville offered a coy, embarrassed smile, and the disappeared into the small crowd, no doubt keen to gossip about what they’d just seen.

After that, the coming-out was rather uneventful. Word spread to all the guests who hadn’t overheard Scorpius or witnessed the kiss, and within ten minutes everyone at the party knew Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were a couple. Harry was surprised no one had anything negative to say (at least not to his or Draco’s faces, anyhow), despite the obvious dislike and distrust many of the guests had for Draco; he figured his friends had been so worried about him that they were just glad to see him finally happy.

It was Molly Weasley’s reaction that had surprised him the most. The slightly-domineering Weasley matriarch, who Harry had once envisioned as his mother-in-law and had been so desperate to see him and Ginny married, had pulled him into a hug and told him firmly that she was glad Harry was finally happy, Harry would always be a part of her family, and that she loved him like a son, as much as she always had. Harry had hugged her back, relieved that she could finally, after more than half a decade, let go of the ridiculous idea that he and Ginny would be getting back together and that they just ‘needed time to get over their silly argument’.

The party wound up around ten, and Harry carried a yawning Scorpius who was still protesting he wasn’t tired up to bed. He read him a quick chapter of George’s Marvellous Medicine, the latest in the Roald Dahl collection, and was just telling Scorpius that in the wizarding world there were real potions that could do things to people with similar effects as George’s medicine had on Grandma and that his daddy could probably brew one, when Draco came up the stairs. He wasn’t smiling.

“Scorpius,” he said firmly, in a tone that left no room for ambiguity as to his mood, “the next time Harry and I tell you something private, you are to keep it to yourself unless we have given you express permission to share it. Am I making myself clear? Your behaviour tonight was embarrassing for Harry and me. Think about what you say before you speak, in future.”

Scorpius’ bottom lip trembled but he nodded his head. Draco returned the nod with a curt jerk then left the room again, without so much as saying goodnight to his son. Harry held the boy as he began to cry.

“I… I’m s…sorry, H…Harry,” he sobbed. “I didn’t kn…know I w…was being b…bad. I was just ex…excited I was g…getting a proper f…family.”

Harry’s heart broke a bit for the kid. He’d not meant anything by his actions, and Draco’s frosty behaviour had surprised him. “It’s okay,” he replied soothingly. “Just next time, ask first, before you tell people things, OK? Although it’s also our fault. We didn’t tell you to keep it a secret, so you weren’t to know that you weren’t supposed to say anything. I’m sorry too, Scorp.”

He stayed with Scorpius stroking his hair away from tear-streaked cheeks until the youngster’s breathing became deep and even in sleep, then he went to find Draco.

“You were a bit harsh, weren’t you?” Harry said sharply, as soon as he entered the drawing room, where Draco had ordered Kreacher to tidy up. “You just broke that boy’s heart.”

“He has to learn not to blab to everyone,” Draco replied. “Honestly, when I was his age-”

“When you were his age, Draco, you were studying from boring ancient texts in extinct languages and being forced to grow up prematurely,” Harry interrupted. “He’s only five. He was excited that he’s finally getting a proper family- his words, not mine, by the way- and wanted to share the news with the people he’s closest with. And you left him crushed.”

A flicker of something Harry thought was guilt crossed Draco’s features. He ran a hand over his face.

“All right,” he conceded, after a moment. “I’ll apologise to him in the morning. I guess I did overreact somewhat.”

Harry suddenly laughed. Draco cocked an eyebrow in response.

“Sorry,” he said through his giggling. “It’s just we have had a disagreement, spoke like civilised human beings to one another to address the issue, reached a mutually-agreeable solution, and neither of us hexed the other, nor reduced to name-calling. We’re growing up finally.”

The corners of Draco’s mouth twitched in amusement, then the mouth was doing something far more useful as far as Harry was concerned, as Draco leant in to kiss him deeply.

“Bed,” he rasped, breaking the kiss. Draco flashed Harry that smile which always turned his knees to jelly, and Apparated them both to Harry’s room.

As he lay in Draco’s arms forty minutes later, satiated and happy, Harry couldn’t help but think that sex was a much better way of working out their differences than fighting ever was.

****

The sweltering heat of July didn’t relent as August arrived, the summer of 2006 being exceptionally hot for Britain. The continuing high temperatures were leaving the inhabitants of Grimmauld place short-tempered and snappy with one another, despite the many cooling charms in place in the property. Draco spent the eleventh of August in a foul mood, leaving Harry feeling bemused and hurt, until he remembered that it was Draco’s and Annalisa’s wedding anniversary. Harry felt ashamed of himself; Draco had been doing so well recently coming to terms with everything that had happened to him that Harry almost forgot at times that the blond was still very vulnerable- a fact that Healer Morgan reminded him of sharply after Draco’s latest check-up and decided not to reduce the dose of potions Draco was prescribed. She also warned that as the anniversary of the kidnapping drew closer, Draco was likely to withdraw into himself and would be prone to emotional outbursts and could possibly say some hurtful things he wouldn’t mean- all his way of coping.

The sixteenth of August- the fifth anniversary of Draco’s kidnapping and Annalisa’s murder- started off normally, although Draco was extremely quiet and withdrawn that day, refusing Harry’s comfort and choosing instead to hole himself in his room. He had warded the door which Harry knew he could break in seconds, but respected Draco’s wish to be alone and left the wards in place.

Draco finally emerged from the room in time for dinner, looking pale and with red-rimmed eyes. He picked at the quiche and salad that Kreacher served him, instead choosing to criticise everything from the quality of the bacon in the quiche, to the fact the cucumber was sliced rather than cut into batons, to the pattern on the tablecloth, to the material of Harry’s t-shirt. Harry took them all, knowing Draco was snapping simply in order to release some tension, and it was helping him. The one person Harry would not allow Draco to take his emotions out on, however, was Scorpius. Anniversary or not, Scorpius was blameless in this and Draco’s acid tongue would hurt the boy. So Harry saw red at the first insult.

“Pigs eat with their mouths open, Scorpius. Unless you’re now a member of the porcine family, and watching you eat like an uncivilised animal I wouldn’t be surprised, I suggest you shut that over-sized mouth of yours whilst you’re chewing,” Draco snapped. Harry took a deep breath.

“What’s a wrong with a simple, ‘please close your mouth whilst you’re eating, Scorp?’ Why do you have to be so venomous?” he replied. Draco rolled his eyes in a sulky, insolent manner which did nothing to calm Harry’s temper. He forced himself to remember the date, to remember that Draco was grieving, but it was not Scorpius’ fault.

“He my son, Harry, not yours, and I shall speak to him however I wish,” Draco said. Harry again reminded himself that Draco was just lashing out and he didn’t mean it, but the remark still felt like a slap in the face. He blinked at Draco.

“Don’t do this,” he said quietly. “You’ll hate yourself for this later. I know today is hard, but-”

“Don’t pretend you understand how I feel,” Draco replied, his voice raised now. “You have no fucking idea.”

“Watch your language around Scorpius!” Harry shouted, his patience snapping completely. Draco scowled at Harry, then stood up and abruptly left the room, leaving his meal relatively untouched. Scorpius looked at Harry with huge, worried eyes. Harry managed a smile.

“Don’t worry, Scorp. Even grown-ups get angry and say hurtful things sometimes. He didn’t mean them,” Harry replied. Scorpius returned the smile and went back to his dinner.

As soon as Scorpius was finished, he went to play, and Harry went to speak with Draco. He knocked on the door, and when he received no answer, he dismantled the wards and entered anyway. Draco glared at him.

“You know something, every second of May I spend the day mourning my lost family and friends,” Harry said, as he entered the room, “but I’ve so far managed to not take my hatred out on those who love me the most. Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know what this feels like.”

Draco acted as if Harry wasn’t in the room, which did nothing to improve Harry’s mood.

“I know you’re hurting, and you can take your emotions out on me as much as you like,” he continued icily, “but leave Scorpius out of it. He’s done nothing to deserve to be spoken to the way you just spoke to him.” Draco sneered, transforming his face, and suddenly he was Malfoy from fifth year at Hogwarts again.

“As I said to you downstairs, Potter, Scorpius is my son. My flesh and blood. This is nothing to do with you,” he spat.

Harry lost it. Forgetting Draco didn’t mean it, forgetting that Healer Morgan had warned Harry that Draco would lash out at those closest to him and to ignore it, his fiery Gryffindor temper overruled his common sense.

“Oh, back to ‘Potter’ now, are we? Well, Malfoy, you may be Scorpius’ biological father but I have in loco parentis! He is my- MY- legal responsibility, not yours, and that hasn’t somehow ended just because you’ve returned from the dead. That responsibility was given to me by the Minister for Magic himself, after Scorpius’ father managed to get himself locked up in some cellar somewhere for four years because of his own fucking selfishness!”

The second the words were out of Harry’s mouth he regretted them and he wished desperately he could take them back. He watched Draco whiten and his eyes filled with tears.

“Draco,” Harry began, his own voice cracking now. “Draco, I’m so…”

But his apology was cut short. Draco pushed past Harry and flew down the stairs to the front door. Harry followed, calling his name repeatedly.

“Please, don’t go! I’m really sorry! Look, stay, and we’ll talk it through, okay?” he said desperately, grabbing Draco by the arm. Draco threw him off.

“Fuck off, Harry,” he said, refusing to look at his boyfriend. He threw the door open, stepped through, and allowed it to slam shut in Harry’s face.

****

He wasn’t clock-watching. He wasn’t. Draco was a twenty-six-year-old adult, Harry told himself; if the git wanted to go for a walk alone then that was just fine with Harry. Except it was now nearing midnight, Harry realised as he checked his watch yet again, and Draco had left just after seven. It was time, Harry thought, to admit to himself that he was extremely worried about Draco, all earlier anger at him long-since abated. And, if he was honest with himself, he was more than a little ashamed of his behaviour.

Half an hour later Harry jumped up from his armchair (where he had been seated pretending to read a book he was unable to concentrate on) when he heard the front door open, and felt relief when he saw Draco standing stoically in the doorway. He crossed straight to the other man and pulled him into a hug which wasn’t returned.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said quietly, before Draco could say anything. Draco just nodded curtly, but Harry continued. “Look, what I said- I was very wrong, OK? I still hate the way you spoke to Scorpius, but blaming you was awful. You needed me today, and I wasn’t there for you. I fucked up.” He paused, assessing Draco’s somewhat frosty reception. “Does this mean you’re speaking to me again now, or did you just get fed up walking around Islington for the best part of the night?” he asked nervously, all-too aware that Draco had refused to return his embrace.

Draco had a somewhat forced smile on his face which didn’t make any attempt to reach his eyes, which left Harry feeling uneasy. A feeling that intensified when he made to kiss the blond, who looked startled and pulled away. Harry paled slightly.

“I’m not angry, er, Harry,” Draco replied stiffly, and Harry noticed his given name was strained on Draco’s lips. He swallowed thickly. “You did hurt me, yes, but I know it was just a stupid argument. I’m tired, and not in the mood to fight. I’m going to bed. I’ll talk to you in the morning, OK?”

“Are you sleeping with me tonight, or do you want to be alone?” Harry asked cautiously. Draco seemed to be thinking this over.

“Oh! Um, with you, I guess. Lead the way.” There was that forced smile again. The unease in Harry’s stomach was growing, but he decided to swallow it down. He knew Draco was a stubborn bugger, and Harry had been harsh. He probably just needed to sleep on it. Everything will be alright in the morning, he said to himself, as Draco returned from the en-suite already dressed in his pyjamas, sank onto the bed next to Harry, extinguished the lights with a flick of his wand and rolled onto his side as far from Harry’s body as he could get without actually falling off the mattress and with only the small, barely audible, “goodnight”. He stared into the dark for a long while before falling asleep, and when sleep did finally arrive it was an uneasy slumber.

A couple of hours later Harry woke so abruptly and completely it was as if a gunshot had been fired next to his head. Harry had no idea what had woken him but he had the strangest sense of dread in his stomach- like something was about to happen. He automatically reached out to Draco, but found his side of the bed empty and cool to the touch. His instincts prickled; this didn’t feel right at all. Harry rose out of bed and grabbed his wand quickly, before dashing to Scorpius’ room. His heart missed a beat when he saw the door was wide open; Harry and Draco always closed it.

“Lumos,” he whispered, shining the wand light in the direction of Scorpius’ bed. It was empty. Panic rose violently through Harry as he dashed down to the ground floor. His heart thundered painfully in his chest when he saw the front door to Grimmauld Place was also wide open.

Harry hurtled himself down the steps and into Grimmauld Place’s square, frantically searching in all directions for a trace of platinum-blond hair shining almost ethereally in the moonlight. After about fifteen seconds of desperate searching he found his target- there was Scorpius, about two hundred feet from him, further down the square and next to a row of cars. The the sight offered Harry no respite from the excruciating, constricting crush in his chest, however; he was rigid and unmoving which led Harry to believe he was being held by a Body-Bind Curse, and holding on to him was a man, dressed in Draco’s blue pyjamas but certainly not Draco, one hand grasping the boy tightly around his waist, and the other clutched around an object that Harry couldn’t immediately identify, but could guess easily enough what it was. His worst fear was confirmed when the object suddenly began to glow blue in the man’s hand, indicating the object was, indeed, a Portkey. Harry had just seconds to get to Scorpius or he’d risk losing the boy. Knowing he’d never make it by running, he Disapparated with a loud crack, not giving a flying fuck if his Muggle neighbours could hear or not, and reappeared not a nanosecond too soon; the bastard who had taken Scorpius barely had time to register his shock at Harry’s sudden arrival let alone prevent the furious ex-Gryffindor from making contact with the Portkey. Harry threw out an arm, got barely a fingertip to the bright azure object, and immediately felt the familiar hook behind his navel before he and Scorpius were harshly whisked away into the unknown.
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In Loco Parentis