Chapter Text
Harry had been to a lot of funerals in his lifetime.
He’d learned not to cry too much.
So, at Andromeda’s, he didn’t at all.
He kept his arm firm around Teddy, letting him lean into his side, pressing his head against Harry’s ribcage. If Harry leant back, neither one of them mentioned it. Snape’s occlumency lessons had been shit, but he’d had plenty of time to practice, and it paid off now.
He didn’t say anything to Ron, or Hermione, stood to his right, hands clasped around each other’s, knuckles pulled so taught the skin was almost a translucent white. And they didn’t say anything to him, their faces grim, mouths responseless lines.
In all actuality, he didn’t know how fast it went by, how the cold seeped in and crept over their black robes and settled somewhere deep in their chests when the sun went down, how the stars never came out in the sky, faded back behind clouds obscuring them firmly from view. The entire time, he barely moved so much as an inch, the gentle stroking of his thumb pressing against Teddy’s shoulder the only sign of life he gave.
The turnout had been good, and it made Harry sick to think about. Narcissa, Malfoy, the Weasleys, nearly everyone she’d ever known– as if that had been the culmination of her life’s achievements. He kept to the back, kept to his whisky, not even drinking enough to take the edge off, simply appreciating the burn as it cut through his throat.
He didn’t register it when they went back to the Manor. He still didn’t speak.
Not to Ron, not to Hermione, not even to tell them the whole Malfoy-situation. He felt a bit shit about that, actually, but it wasn’t as though he could really, actually feel it. Occlumency. Blessing and a curse.
The only person he did really act normal for was Teddy. He’d be going through enough shit as it was. He didn’t need Harry dumping himself on top of that list, too.
‘Come on. It’s way past your bedtime.’ He smiled slightly, even as Teddy frowned at him. ‘Yes, I know, and past mine.’
Teddy didn’t protest too much as Harry ushered him towards his room, directly across from where Harry himself was staying. He’d wondered, briefly, if Malfoy had realised what he was doing when he’d shown Harry to his guest room- wondered even more if he’d done it on purpose, done it so that Harry would be close by, that he’d be there if Teddy needed him- if they needed each other.
Then he’d remembered Malfoy was a twat, and that had been the end of his ponderings.
Harry followed into Teddy’s room behind him, not saying so much as a word to Malfoy when they’d left, but at least giving Narcissa a fast thank-you. He’d like to stay on good terms with her, if not her son. Neither of them had tried to follow him upstairs, and yet neither seemed glad to watch them leave, either.
Teddy clambered into bed with a slightly unnerving lack of complaint, his eyes seeming distant, far-off. Harry chose not to say anything, brushing the hair from Teddy’s face the way he’d wished someone would’ve done for him when he was a kid, letting his hand rest briefly against his skin with a gentle smile. A wordless nox and the lights in the room blinked out, leaving the shining, gentle glimmering of night light cutting through the too-thin curtains, the only thing catching silver on his brow.
‘Are you alright?’
Harry didn’t even know he was going to say it, until he had. Teddy watched him for a moment, eyes wide, and he couldn’t be sure how many minutes passed in that endless ticking of darkness. He’d sit there until Teddy answered him, or fell asleep- or both. He wasn’t leaving him. Not now. And whether it was to his or Teddy’s benefit, well, that seemed rather… irrelevant.
Teddy let out a breath, words cracked and voice quiet. ‘Stay?’
Harry’s mouth twitched into a saddened smile, and he nodded. It had been a while since he’d asked for Harry to be there at night. The invitation had always been there, of course, but he’d stopped taking it.
‘Of course.’
Slowly, kicking off his trainers and letting them tumble, lopsided, onto the carpet, he clambered in beside Teddy, lifting his arm to allow him to clamber beside Harry and rest his head against him. He did exactly that, eyes closing and hands clenching around his shirt. Teddy didn’t say anything more. Neither did Harry, watching him until his breathing evened out, and he fell heavy against him. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Teddy’s hairline.
‘Always.’
___
‘Potter, Jesus fuc- fudging- Merlin Christ, fix this da- bad… stupid wardrobe!’
Harry snorted, glancing across at Teddy. He’d been itching to leave London, as soon as he could. Sure, the Manor wasn’t really in London, but it was close enough, and the damned hallways and looming rooms reminded him too much of the war, of… everything. Malfoy had complained at the abrupt leaving, at first, until Harry had informed him he’d leave anyway, no matter whether he came or not.
He ruffled Teddy’s hair, grinning when he wrinkled his nose, batting away his hand.
‘I’ll be back in a minute, kid. I forgot that the wardrobe still plays up.’
Teddy frowned. ‘Don’t call me kid. I thought you got that fixed?’
Harry rolled his eyes fondly, sticking his tongue out at him. ‘Well. I was going to. But, ah, I didn’t?’
The corners of Teddy’s mouth quirked into a fleeting smile, and Harry waved at him as he swung himself round the stair banister, sprinting up and shoving open the door to the guest bedroom. Sure enough, there Malfoy stood, summoned clothes folded in neat, colour-coordinated piles at the end of the bed, currently appearing to be engaged in a rather violent and fruitless game of tug-of-war that involved him, a suit, and the wooden furniture.
He shot Harry a glare, teeth bared. ‘When you oh-so-graciously offered up your house, I was not under the impression that I would have to duel with furniture to do something as basic as putting away clothes! No wonder you’re such a disgrace to the name of fashion, if this is how you have to get your clothes everyday!’
Harry groaned, pulling out his wand and walking over far more leisurely than Malfoy appeared happy with, relishing in the ferret’s disgruntled yelp as he went tumbling to the ground, and the wardrobe yanked the suit back inside. Trying (and failing) to suppress something of a grin, he prodded it on the side, and the wardrobe straightened, freezing in motion and settling to a perfectly average cupboard. One of the doors swung open with a final disdainful creak, revealing the rather wrinkled, but otherwise unharmed, suit.
Malfoy clambered to his feet, folding his arms and raising his chin, sneering down at Harry. There was a long moment of silence, a sort of unspoken stand-off as Harry straightened, perfectly happy to glare back.
Malfoy’s mouth twisted, and Harry knew he’d break first before he even spoke. ‘Does this happen every time?’
‘Do you respond to every minor inconvenience by repeatedly swearing at it and screaming for help?’ Harry shot back, and Malfoy scowled, glower darkening.
‘My clothes being eaten by a glorified dead tree is a little more than a minor inconvenience, Potter. Now, answer my question. Every time?’
Harry ignored him, peering over his shoulder at the offending piece of fabric, eyes narrowed. ‘Is that muggle? Like, a muggle suit?’
Malfoy groaned, waving his hand in front of Harry’s face. ‘Hello? Earth to morbidly oblivious Gryffindor? I hardly think my style of suit matters, I need a new wardrobe. Literally.’
Harry hummed, swinging back around to watch him, surveying him with his stare. ‘Transfigure one. I’m sure you’re more than capable. Besides, I like the wardrobe!’ He waved his hands in the air in some attempt at explanation. ‘It has… character.’
Malfoy blinked, gaping for a second, eyebrows arched thinly in disbelief. ‘...Character.’
Harry nodded. ‘Yep,’ he said, popping the p.
His face seemed to do something rather inexplicable and rather disgusted for a brief second, before he seemingly settled on a decisive glare.
‘Potter?’
‘Mhm?’
‘I’ve decided I no longer need your help. Get out.’
___
They’d been back at the house for maybe two hours, and Harry had already decided it was rather weird, and a little awkward, being alone in this way with Malfoy.
He didn’t hate him, really. By no means did he like him, but he couldn’t hate him. And maybe if anyone asked, he’d say it was for Teddy’s sake. But that wasn’t strictly true. It was also for the sake of age, the years that had passed, time without each other lessening the animosity between the two. For the sake of Andromeda, and why she’d clearly… cared for Malfoy, in some way.
As much as he loathed to admit it, also for the sake of himself.
For the sake of hands clasping around his waist, terrified breathing fast and rapid as his own heartbeat by his ear, tendrils of flame and coils of fire stretching out to him- to Malfoy, too- like some sort of devil’s hand.
He’d been stubbornly ignoring Malfoy for most of the day, probably giving him a run for his money on who could be the most avoidant, at this point. Everything was a competition, really.
But getting caught in his thoughts didn’t do anybody any good, least of all him. So, he stood, from where he’d been lounging, easily sat on the porch staircase, closing his eyes and breathing in one last gently blowing whisper of coastal air, turning around and heading back into the house.
The kitchen wasn’t empty, but, thank God, no blond, pointy gits were in sight. Just a curly-haired kid with too much mischief in his eye.
Harry wandered over, ruffling Teddy’s hair as he walked past, grabbing the kettle and taking it over to the sink, filling it.
‘Tea?’ he glanced over at Teddy, smiling to himself when he pulled a face.
‘Ew.’
Harry snorted, setting the kettle to boil. Muggles. Thank Merlin for their inventions.
‘I thought Malfoy was supposed to be watching you? Where’d he go?’
Teddy stuck his tongue out. ‘He started complaining about the colour of the walls in his room. I think he’s changing them. I got bored.’
‘Of course you did. Of course he did, actually.’ Harry swept a mug into his hands, spinning around to lean against the counter, watching him. ‘Are you okay with it? With him being here?’
Teddy shot him one long, funny look, before shrugging in the bright, careless way only someone who didn’t really give a fuck could.
‘Yep. I already said. He’s cool.’
Harry rolled his eyes, grinning, staring up to the ceiling with an exasperated sigh. ‘In no world is Draco Malfoy cool.’
‘Oh? And whyever not?’
Harry’s head whipped round to the doorframe, Malfoy leaning against it, watching them both with a raised eyebrow and a not-quite-as-disdainful-as-Harry-had-grown-accustomed-to sneer.
‘You’re…’ Harry waved a hand at him, gesturing his point, and the smirk on Malfoy’s face grew.
‘Please, elaborate, your words are simply enthralling.’
Harry clicked, pointing at him. ‘That! That! You use words like enthralling! That’s not cool!’
Teddy hummed, drawing Harry’s attention back. ‘I think it’s cool.’
Harry groaned, settling back against the counter. Typical. He could hardly argue with Teddy, could he?
Malfoy stalked over, eyes narrowing a little. ‘Is that tea?’
Harry nodded, taking a sip from his mug, and made no move to get Malfoy any of his own. Malfoy stared at him for a minute, before groaning.
‘I’m your guest, Potter. You should at least offer me some.’
Harry wrinkled his nose at him, a slight flicker of annoyance settling in his gut, but his heart wasn’t really in it.
‘Not a guest. Technically. You live here now.’
‘Oh, good Godrick, don’t remind me.’
‘Weren’t you supposed to be looking after Teddy?’
Malfoy shot him a glare. ‘He’s yours too, you know. Shared responsibility. Apologies for presuming you’d know. You were the one who suggested it, after all. Isn’t he supposed to be learning something right now? What happened to that?’
Harry rolled his eyes. ‘It’s the weekend. Please don’t tell me you want him to study on a weekend.’
Malfoy didn’t reply, folding his arms and staring down at Harry, chin jutted. Eventually, Harry sighed, giving in– much to Teddy’s amusement, it seemed.
‘Teabags are in the pot on the left. The grey one. Sugar in the middle one. Mugs in the cupboard above. Kettle is still warm.’
Malfoy grinned, whip-sharp, teeth glinting. It wasn’t cruel, really, just strange to see his face twist into anything not quite a sneer.
‘Thank you.’
Harry watched as he went through the motions, not offering to help. It surprised him, somewhat, that Malfoy hadn’t asked. Well, he was far too stubborn to do such a thing, but he supposed that what surprised him more was that Malfoy didn’t seem to need the help, like he’d done it a hundred times before, stirring the mug with the same spoon Harry had used and couldn’t be bothered to wash up, long fingers clasping around the drink.
‘Have you ever made tea before?’
The words had fallen from his mouth before he realised he was saying them, and Malfoy looked up, eyes wide and lips a little parted, an odd look momentarily flashing across his face, before he settled for cautious blankness.
‘Potter, everyone has made tea before.’
Harry looked down to the ground, face flushing. ‘No, I just meant- I thought- y’know, house elves…’
Malfoy snorted, and relief flooded through him that he hadn’t seemed to take Harry’s admittedly strange comments to heart.
‘We were banned from interaction with magic for a few years after the war, remember? Had to learn to do some things by ourselves, much as it may shock you, I am a capable, fully functioning adult. Plus, Araggy gets days off. She’s paid. As are all the other house elves.’
Harry tried not to gape, shaking off the genuine surprise at the rather placid response. ‘Oh.’
‘Yes, oh.’
Quiet silence settled over the kitchen, falling easily as a blanket over the three. Even Teddy didn’t say anything, watching them both with wide-eyes.
‘Besides, having to make tea for myself was better than the alternative. I’m not complaining.’
Harry swallowed, finding his throat had gone dry, words sticking in his mouth. Malfoy didn’t need to specify any further for Harry to know what he was on about; the alternative of Azkaban.
Really, the sentence he’d received- no magic for a few years, and having to pay minor reparations, alongside a little community service- seemed like a scraped knee in comparison.
‘Thanks for that, by the way.’
Malfoy’s words were barely above a whisper, and at first, Harry wasn’t sure he’d caught them right. But he did, and he had. He stared at Malfoy, eyes wide, suddenly aware of the heat of his hands around his mug, the air ten times colder in the daylight.
‘I’m– you don’t have to thank me. You never did.’
He side-eyed Teddy. They probably shouldn’t be discussing this here, in front of him. Yet Harry wasn’t lying. Yes, testifying for Malfoy and Narcissa had been difficult. Yes, he’d had to give up some of his most painful memories, and relive every second. But it was one of the few decisions he’d ever made that he was genuinely proud of. It was his own. Nobody had tried to coerce him into it, nobody had lied to him about it, it was the first thing he’d ever really considered his achievement.
And it’d been the right thing to do.
Malfoy scoffed, setting his tea down on the counter, not looking at Harry. ‘Yes, I do. You saved my mother. She would’ve died in that place. Father, I can understand why he might deserve that. Why he still does. But I find I owe something of a debt to you, for her.’
Harry licked his lips a little, taking another sip from his tea, pretending like he wasn’t hyper-aware of his senses and the heart thudding louder than his mind in his ears.
‘What about you?’
Malfoy’s head whipped back to stare at Harry, frowning. ‘What?’
‘What about you? Would you have died there? Would you have wanted to?’
Malfoy’s jaw clenched a little, and he didn’t reply for a long, long moment. When he did, he pushed himself away from the counter, not looking back to Teddy or to Harry.
‘Thank you for the tea.’
Harry watched him leave the room, mug still steaming, hardly touched, on the counter.
___
Much of the rest of the weekend passed like that- awkward, stilted conversations, before one of them fled the room, distracted themselves with entertaining Teddy, or, in Malfoy’s case, locked himself away in his bedroom. Malfoy didn’t mention how the transfiguration walls turning his room from bright, raging red (Harry would admit that the room hadn’t matched any of the rest of the house whatsoever, but sue him, it reminded him of Gryffindor,) to a much more socially acceptable muted green weren’t permanent, that Harry would still have time to protest if he really wanted to, and Harry didn’t mention the actual paint that showed up miraculously in Malfoy’s room the next day. Neither of them mentioned how Malfoy hadn’t used it yet, leaving him to only wonder if he didn’t really know how to paint a wall.
In the same way, Harry didn’t mention the way whenever Malfoy made food, there was always enough for all of them, or how when they sat in the lounge or, on a few occasions, the conservatory, they’d sit there in quiet silence, allowing each other the space to read, or write letters, or play with Teddy, or– well, get on with life, he supposed.
In hindsight, Harry had probably been asking for it, then. It wasn’t as if Malfoy had been pissing him off, preventing him from having the headspace to write to Ron or ‘Mione and tell them what was going on. But it was so weird! How was he supposed to have known what to say?!
‘You want ice cream?’
Harry grinned at Teddy, and his eyes sparked with life. It ached to see- he’d still not changed his hair, or eyes, from that same dark black, the same things that had characterised Andromeda. Harry supposed it was his own way of mourning. Keeping her close, as much as he could.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t do anything to see him giggling as he tried to morph his face into some dragon or whatever again, though.
Teddy nodded, eagerly, and went bounding off into the kitchen. Harry stood to his feet, stretching out languidly, throwing a glance over to Malfoy. His mouth twisted for a moment, stood in bated silence, before he caved, carefully speaking through the tangibly awkward quiet.
‘How about you? We only have birthday cake flavour, ‘m afraid.’
Malfoy pulled a face, not looking up from his book as he slowly turned the page. ‘I’m quite alright. I’d like to think my tastes are a little more refined than that.’ He glanced up, catching Harry’s eyes for only a heart-thudding second before turning back to his reading. ‘Besides, it’s getting late. Who eats ice cream at half past eight at night?’
Harry rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, come off it. It’s June! Live a little!’
Still, though, he didn’t complain any further, following after Teddy.
Teddy was already rifling through the differently-coloured freezer cabinet when Harry got into the kitchen. He laughed to himself, but made no move to stop Teddy, as he pulled out an all-too familiar white tub, grinning at Harry with starlight in his stare.
‘There’s enough for both of us!’
‘’Course there is. Couldn’t be having otherwise, could we?’
He wandered over to the cutlery drawer, tugging it open and pulling at two spoons. He crouched down, winking at Teddy and holding one out, whispering conspiratorally.
‘Hey, look, don’t tell Malfoy, ‘cause he’d hate it, but I can’t be bothered with bowls. Can you?’
Teddy’s smile grew wider, jittering with the excitement of breaking conventional rules on how to eat birthday cake ice cream. He took a spoon from Harry, miming zipping his mouth shut as he dug in, straight into the tub.
Harry let out a laugh, sitting down cross-legged on the floor, Teddy doing the same across from him, setting the tub between the two. He was just about to dig in too when he heard a thundering crash, startled yelp, followed by a strangled half-scream.
Him and Teddy shared a wide-eyed glance, and he gently pressed a hand against his shoulder, mouthing stay here whilst scrambling to his feet, spoon clattering to the ground. He sped over to the doorframe, going to draw his wand, before freezing, mouth agape.
Shit.
He’d forgotten that Ron and ‘Mione were coming to visit.
They did every week. Fuck! He’d been busy– of course he’d forgotten. But that excuse wouldn’t work on them. They knew him too well, knew not to put up with his shit.
Currently, Malfoy sat frozen, shoulders tense, face completely, almost scarily blank, Ron half on the floor next to him, clear from where lay that he’d tripped up over his own feet. Hermione stood behind him, blinking slowly, for once appearing to have been rendered genuinely speechless.
Harry, for all intents and purposes of the word, froze up. He looked between Hermione and Ron, to Malfoy, and back again, struggling to find anything to say. Slowly, with great care, Hermione turned to face him, a smile on her face and calm in her voice that she only really adopted when she was truly angry.
‘Harry. Care to explain why Draco Malfoy is in your living room?’
That seemed to break him out of his trance a little, and he coughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish shrug, staring at the floorboards.
‘No idea.’
‘Potter!’ Malfoy hissed, spun around to glare at him. ‘Did you not fucking tell them?!’
Harry folded his arms, lifting his chin. ‘Well. It’s not as if it wasn’t in my list of things to do.’
‘Oh my God,’ the blond ferret groaned, head quite literally in his hands. ‘Oh my God, you didn’t fucking tell them?’
Harry looked away from Malfoy, cheeks flushing. ‘I was busy!’
‘Too busy to send a letter?!’
‘I was stressed!’
‘Bloody fucking Merlin, so am I, and yet Pansy still knows, doesn’t she?!’
Harry blinked, mind trailing off on a different line of thought. ‘Parkinson? You’re still in contact?’
‘Forgive me for having friends, Potter, some of us are familiar with the concept,’ he spat, but it was venomless, and the roll in his eyes was more annoyed than angry.
Ron cleared his throat, and Harry’s stare snapped back to his best friend. He was watching the two of them, a little green, a sense of dismayed interest sparked in his eyes.
‘Alright. Not that I’m not loving whatever… this is… Seriously, Harry, mate. I love you. What the hell have you done now?’
Harry winced, still determinedly not looking towards Hermione. She was bloody scary when he wanted to be. Slowly, he stepped forwards, gesturing for them to sit down.
‘Try not to swear. Teddy-’
‘Fuck!’
‘...Has a thing for imitating people.’ He cringed at the cheery seven-year-old’s curse from the kitchen as he came bounding in, slipping airily past Harry and collapsing onto the sofa next to Malfoy, leaning against him. Malfoy sent him a panicked, wide-eyed stare- he’d clearly never done that before. Harry’s eyes slid back to Ron, Hermione, their varying states of confusion, horror, and anger. Fucking hell. Teddy could be such a little shit sometimes.
Slowly, hesitantly, Ron and Hermione took their place on the sofa opposite Malfoy. Harry took the floor without much complaint; he probably deserved it, and there undoubtedly needed someone to be a mediator between the groups so they didn't kill each other.
Actually, on second thought, he didn’t think things could go that badly wrong.Probably.
Well.
Hopefully they’d at least send Teddy out of the room before any murder were to occur. Would war heroes get away with murder? It seemed likely. But maybe-
‘Harry.’
Hermione’s voice was calm, collected, and it jolted him straight back into his senses. He straightened, sitting up and giving her his undivided attention.
‘Yep?’
‘What is going on here?’
He hesitated, not really knowing what to say. He caught eyes with Malfoy, but there seemed to be a sort of reluctant acceptance there- and so, Harry ploughed onwards, clearing his throat before he spoke.
‘Alright. So, you know Andromeda?...’
___
‘Bloody hell, Harry,’ Ron said, sitting back against the sofa. At some point, somebody had gotten a hold of some alcohol, and whilst Draco had decided to abstain for the sake of his sanity, it had to be said that Harry’s best friend appeared a little cross-eyed. Or perhaps that was simply because everything seemed a little fuzzy at the edges. Where had his glasses gone? Was he still wearing them?
‘I mean, ‘s not everyday ‘s it? Fuckin’... bloody gits, in your ‘ouse, y’know?’
Harry nodded, sagely. ‘I wish it wasn’t every day, Ron. Wish. Wish lots o’ things.’
‘And I wish you wouldn’t be such a bad influence on Teddy.’
Malfoy’s tone was elegant, curt, and Harry side-eyed him a little guiltily. Teddy, though, didn’t appear to care all that much. He was having great fun, giggling and prodding Malfoy’s face. Somehow, he still appeared careless and laid-back, despite the kid rather literally hanging off his arm. Harry frowned, a little petulant.
‘Yeah, and I wish- I wish you liked… birthday cake ice ‘ream! But we don’t all get wha’ we want! You- you-’ he scrunched up his nose, not entirely sure where he’d been going. ‘Bloody wardrobe,’ he muttered, glaring stubbornly at the floor. Ron let out a chortle, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, and Hermione’s fond sigh suggested that, thank Merlin, she wasn’t too upset at all.
‘Oh, Harry, I do wish you’d told us. But you were never very forward-thinking at the best of times, I suppose.’
‘Thanks.’ Harry narrowed his eyes, letting her words catch up to him. ‘Wait- wait- no, tha’s not something to thank you for- I’m act- actu- really quite insul’ed!’
She snorted, shaking her head. ‘Well, there was that time where you went running after a troll at eleven…’
‘Once!’
‘...and also chased after a madman in an underground game then fought him-’
‘Alr’t, so that’s maybe two examples, but it was only twice-’
‘...how about the time you thought it would be a good idea to follow a bunch of spiders into the Forbidden Forest and didn’t think to stop until you were already inside an acromantula nest-’
‘I’d been given good infor-’
‘...and also stalked Malfoy thinking he was the Heir of Slytherin-’
‘Was rational-’
‘Not to mention how you were about him in sixth year, or all the things that happened in between-’
‘How he was about me during sixth year? Granger, do elaborate, I’m hooked-’
‘Okay! Okay, I get it!’ Harry protested, waving his arms about in the air. ‘I get it. Forward thinkin’. I’m better a’ quidditch, I know, I know.’
‘I still want to hear about this sixth year, you know-’
‘Shhhh!’ Harry shot Malfoy a glare, sticking his tongue out a little petulantly, and Malfoy just smirked, raising a brow. ‘There wasn’t an’ sta’king. I was a respectab’ studen’.’
‘That a bit rich, mate,’ Ron wrinkled his nose, leaning back against the sofa. Harry narrowed his eyes at him. Ron was supposed to be on his side! Traitor.
He voiced this, drawing a reluctant giggle from Hermione. She smiled, standing, gesturing to Ron.
‘Alright, I think we should go. I’m sure it’s far too late for Teddy to be up now.’
Harry took a pointed glance over to Teddy where, sure enough, he was curled up against Malfoy, not quite asleep, but certainly sometime near it. Harry almost went to reach for him, but he shifted a little, pressing himself further against Malfoy, and he thought better of it.
‘’M not tired.’
‘Of course you aren’t,’ Hermione said, eyes dancing with light, ‘but I think Ronald here is, so we’ll see you next time, alright?’
Teddy eyed her suspiciously for a second, evaluating if Ron was really tired or if she was trying to trick him into going to bed, before nodding decisively and falling back against Malfoy. ‘Alright.’
Ron groaned, forcing himself up from the floor. ‘What ‘Mione says goes, mate. Sorry.’
Harry snorted, shaking his head. ‘’S alright. She can be scary.’
Ron nodded, eyes wide and the straight line of his mouth somber in agreement. They locked eyes for a moment, faces utterly grave, before Harry broke his stare, collapsing back against the floor in a fit of giggles, echoed by Ron’s own.
‘Okay, well. I dread dealing with him in the morning.’ Hermione sighed, and Harry sat back on his elbows, shooting her a venomless glare. She turned to Malfoy, giving him a cordial nod. ‘Look after him.’
Ah. Teddy. Right. Malfoy quirked up an eyebrow, holding her gaze, and Harry got the distinct impression he was missing out on something.
‘Merlin knows he’s incapable of doing so himself.’
Hermione let out a short, surprised laugh. ‘Yes, I’ve found that quite true over the years.’ She turned back to Ron, taking his hand, her wedding ring shining a little in the light. ‘Come on, then. We promised Molly she wouldn’t have to look after Rose for long.’
Ron nodded, saluting Harry, whilst Hermione grabbed some of the floo powder.
‘G’bye, mate. I hope he doesn’ kill you.’
‘Can’t if I ge’ there firs’.’
Ron grinned, opening his mouth to say something, but Harry never got to hear what he said before a rather disgruntled Hermione tugged him through the burning green of the floo.
___
Harry groaned, cursing whatever had let the sunlight seep through the curtains, forcing him into a world of waking. Hissing, he pushed himself up until he was leaning against the headboard, head drumming stubbornly. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath before forcing himself to face the day ahead.
He dragged himself out of bed, stumbling to standing. He’d clearly not even deemed it worthy of getting changed before going to bed last night, so he reluctantly forced himself out of his clothes, picking up a half-clean shirt from the floor and shrugging that on instead. He was just about to ready himself to face Malfoy when his stare caught sight of something on his windowsill- a glass, half-full with water, and a little jar beside it. He walked over, popping off the cork, recoiling at the all-too-familiar smell of a hangover potion that hit his nose. Bracing himself, he downed it straight, followed by the water.
Weird. He’d never remembered to do that before.
So had Malfoy…?
Well. That was. Almost kind.
He didn’t know how to feel about that.
He vanished the jar, grabbing the glass and wandering out of his room, head already feeling clearer, thoughts more concise, and slinked down the stairs, weaving his way into the kitchen. It took him a moment to register that Malfoy was there, sitting at the kitchen table, bent over a sheet of paper, Teddy next to him.
‘There is still water in the kettle, Potter. Can you manage to do that yourself, or do you intend to fail at that particular task as well?’
Harry blinked, standing there for a moment with his mouth half-open like some sort of gobsmacked goldfish that hadn’t quite come to terms with reality yet.
‘...What’re you doing?’
Malfoy didn’t even look up, pointing to the page and whispering something to Teddy. ‘Studying English.’
Right. Homeschooling.
Malfoy was teaching?!
Maybe Harry had died (again) and come back to life (again) only to find something had gone oddly wrong and he’d been teleported into another dimension. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen to him. In fact, it seemed significantly more plausible that had happened than this was genuinely his life now.
Malfoy arched an eyebrow, movement smooth and elegant. ‘Well?’
Harry froze, not really sure how to respond.
‘...Sure.’
He made two cups of tea for good measure.
Malfoy liked his best with two sugars.