Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Astoria
The first time Harry really noticed Astoria Greengrass was on Valentine’s Day.
The day itself had been surprisingly subdued. Without Dumbledore overseeing proceedings, there were no flocks of singing cupids dive-bombing unsuspecting students, no enchanted pink confetti raining from the ceiling and no dwarves lurking behind suits of armour waiting to deliver embarrassing declarations of love.
There were still decorations, of course. Floating hearts drifted lazily beneath the enchanted ceiling and clusters of enchanted roses appeared throughout the castle, but compared to previous years it all felt remarkably restrained.
Harry was grateful. Ron had spent most of the day glaring threateningly at any younger student who looked remotely interested in approaching Harry with a card or gift.
Hermione had only had to confiscated three anonymous Valentine’s cards from him. “You can’t threaten people for liking your friend.”
“I can if they’re first years.” Ron spluttered.
Harry had laughed despite himself. Across the Great Hall, Ginny looked over. Harry looked away quickly. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about her. He did.
That was the problem wasn’t it. She still hoped there might be a future for them when there wasn’t. Harry had known it for too long.
At some point he would have to tell her the truth but the truth was more than he just didn’t want to be with her wasn’t it. It wasn’t just that they weren’t getting back together. That he was gay.
The thought made his stomach knot. He wasn’t ashamed of it.
Not exactly; he simply didn’t know what it meant. Not for someone like him anyway.
Over the past few months Draco had taught him enough wizarding politics to understand that things were rarely straightforward.
Harry had seen boys openly dating at Hogwarts. Nobody seemed particularly bothered by it. But dating at school and inheriting two ancient Wizengamot seats were very different matters.
He wanted answers before he started making declarations.
Which was how he found himself in the communal common room that evening, half-listening to Ron and Hermione’s bickering and watching Draco Malfoy from across the room.
Draco stood from his usual armchair in the corner and Harry’s attention followed him automatically. He crossed the room towards a group of fifth-year Slytherin girls gathered around one of the tables.
Several immediately began whispering, one even giggled. Harry rolled his eyes.
Draco said something Harry couldn’t hear. Then, with a flick of his wand, dozens of silver-green petals appeared overhead and drifted gently down around the table.
The girls burst into delighted laughter and Harry’s lips twitched despite himself. Show-off.
Then Draco produced a single red rose handing it to one of the girls. Harry frowned despite himself.
She was pretty, extremely pretty Dark hair, pale bright skin, elegant features. The sort of girl Harry imagined mothers pointing at and saying, that one.
Draco then placed a large box of chocolates on the table and the entire group immediately descended upon it.
Ron snorted. “He’s such a show-off.”
Hermione glanced over. “I think he’s just trying to be nice.”
“Nice?” Ron repeated incredulously. “He’s flirting with a bunch of fifteen-year-olds.”
Hermione sighed. “You have noticed how isolated the Slytherins are, haven’t you?”
Ron didn’t answer.
“Most students still avoid them,” she continued. “Even with the shared common room. Half the castle acts like they’ll catch something if they sit too close.”
Ron looked unconvinced and shrugged.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ronald. He’s probably trying to make them feel a little bit less left out on Valentine’s.”
Draco laughed at something one of the girls said and the dark-haired girl smiled up at him. Harry didn’t like how much he noticed that. A few moments later Draco departed and the girl watched him leave.
For reasons Harry couldn’t quite explain, that irritated him even more.
“Well,” Harry announced, standing, “I’m off.”
Hermione smiled, “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Harry ignored the look she exchanged with Ron. A few corridors away he summoned a house-elf and arranged for his usual deception before he headed for Draco’s room.
The door opened before he’d even knocked. Draco was standing by the window, one shoulder resting against the frame. Moonlight spilled across his pale hair.
Harry tried very hard not to think about how attractive he looked instead of saying something completely ridiculous like Merlin, you’re beautiful “Nice trick with the petals.”
Draco’s mouth twitched when he glanced over. “If that pout is anything to go by, I’d say you’re jealous.”
Harry scoffed. “I am not.”
Draco raised one eyebrow. The bastard. “Come here.”
Harry crossed the room and Draco produced a dozen red roses from behind his back. Harry blinked surprised.
“Better?” Draco raised one blond eyebrow.
A laugh escaped him. “Much.”
Draco leaned forward and kissed him. Slowly with warmth and familiarity and Harry melted into it instantly. When they finally pulled apart, Draco took the roses and placed them in a waiting vase.
“You’ll have to leave them here.” He told Harry.
“Obviously.” Harry replied with an eye roll. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the questions he’d get if he took them back to his room.
“Your ginger bodyguard asks too many questions.”
Harry grinned. “Fair point.”
Draco looked suspiciously pleased with himself. Then he cleared his throat. “Sit down.”
Harry frowned. The window seat had been transformed into something almost cosy with cushions and blankets. He sat.
Draco joined him carrying a small green velvet box. Harry immediately became suspicious. “What’s that?”
“Open it.”
Harry did.
Inside was a ring. A heavy signet ring crafted from dark silver, set with a polished black stone.
Harry looked up. Draco wore an almost identical one.
Something strange tightened in Harry’s chest. “Is this…”
Draco laughed softly. “I wasn’t sure you’d know what it was.”
Harry looked back down at it. “Know what?”
“It’s your heir’s ring.”
Harry stared. “My what?”
“Heir’s ring.” Draco nudged him. “Put it on.”
Harry slid it onto his little finger. It fit perfectly. Draco drew his wand and a moment later the black stone glowed. Within it appeared two intertwined crests.
The Potter stag and the Black hound. Harry couldn’t look away.
“The Potter and Black seats,” Draco said quietly. “The ring recognises your inheritance.”
For a moment Harry simply stared. Nobody had ever given him something like this before. Nobody had ever treated his heritage as though it mattered.
Draco summoned parchment and sealing wax. “Come here.”
He melted a drop of wax onto the page then he took Harry’s hand firmly. The simple contact sent warmth racing up Harry’s arm. Slowly, Draco pressed the ring into the wax.
Golden light flashed briefly then when Harry lifted his hand, the intertwined crests remained behind on the wax.
Draco still hadn’t let go. Harry looked up, “Thank you.”
The words came out quieter than he’d intended. “This means a lot.”
For once Draco seemed uncertain.
He shrugged. “I’m just continuing your political education.”
Harry smiled. “Right.”
“Wouldn’t want you embarrassing yourself in the Chamber this summer.”
Harry leaned forward and kissed him anyway. Draco made a protesting noise that lasted approximately two seconds before kissing him back.
A few days later Harry lay sprawled across Draco’s bed, staring up at the canopy. The guest suite was quiet except for the crackling fire and the occasional howl of wind against the castle windows.
Draco’s room had become strangely familiar over the past few months. The dark green hangings around the bed with the silver-trimmed blankets. The bookshelf overflowing with texts on politics, warding and subjects Harry couldn’t begin to understand.
His clothes tucked neatly into one corner of Draco’s wardrobe. His toothbrush beside Draco’s at the sink. Little signs of him scattered throughout the room.
Signs that probably meant more than either of them cared to admit. The mattress shifted as Draco turned a page in the book resting against his chest.
Harry glanced at him. The firelight caught the sharp line of his jaw and reflected faintly off his signet ring.
The ring Harry had given surprisingly little thought to wearing now sat comfortably on his own hand.
The thought that had been bothering him all week resurfaced.
“Draco?”
“Hm?”
Harry hesitated. Suddenly it felt ridiculous.
Draco lowered his book slightly. “What?”
Harry rolled onto his side. “I need to ask you something.”
Draco’s eyebrows lifted. “That sounds ominous.”
“Can we be serious for a minute?” To Harry’s surprise, Draco immediately closed the book and set it aside. He shifted until he was sitting upright against the headboard, drawing one knee up beneath the blankets.
The movement caused the lamp beside the bed to cast shadows across his face. His expression became attentive. “Go on.”
Harry picked at a loose thread in the blanket.
He’d faced Voldemort. Why was this making him nervous?
“I think I need to tell my friends I’m gay.”
Draco blinked and for a moment he simply looked at him “Right.”
“I know how that sounds.”
“How does it sound?”
Harry exhaled heavily. “Like a declaration.”
Draco’s expression softened slightly.
Harry continued before he could lose his nerve. “It’s Ginny.”
Something flickered across Draco’s face, it wasn’t jealousy exactly. More resignation. “Still hoping?”
Harry made a strained noise and nodded. “A bit.”
Draco looked away briefly so Harry continued. “Ron and Hermione keep dancing around it too. Nobody wants to mention it.”
“You could just tell them.”
“I should just tell them.” Harry sat up, dragging a pillow into his lap. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed.”
The words came quickly now his thoughts and feelings all jumbled up. “I’m not ashamed of it. I don’t want to hide it. I just…”
He struggled to explain. Draco watched him patiently.
“I need to understand what it means first.”
“What do you mean?”
Harry gestured vaguely. “To the wizarding world.”
Draco frowned. “Harry, being gay in the wizarding world isn’t really a big deal.”
“It isn’t?” He blew out a breath.
“No.”
Harry looked genuinely surprised.
Draco huffed a laugh. “No one cares who you sleep with.”
“Really?”
“Generally speaking? No.” Draco stretched his legs beneath the blankets. “Love who you want. Marry who you want. Shag who you want.”
Harry snorted. “Very eloquent.”
“Thank you.”
Harry’s smile faded. “Then why does it feel more complicated?”
Draco’s expression immediately became thoughtful. Harry knew why it felt complicated. There over half a year secret relationship made everything feel more complicated.
“You aren’t really asking about being gay.” Draco seemed to settle on how he was going to tackle the subject.
Harry frowned. “Aren’t I?”
“No.”
Draco looked down at his hands. “You’re asking about inheritance.”
The room fell quiet. Harry hated it when Draco was right “Maybe.”
Draco sighed softly. “That’s different.”
Harry’s stomach tightened. “Because of heirs?”
“Because of duty.”
Harry looked away. There it was. The thing neither of them liked talking about. The thing sitting between them every single day. Duty, very specifically, Dracos duty. “Which is why you have to find a wife.”
Draco’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Yes.”
The answer came quietly.
Harry swallowed forcing himself to continue. “For an heir.”
“Yes.” The fire crackled.
Outside, wind rattled faintly against the windows. Harry stared down at the blanket gathered in his hands. “But I’m not under the same pressure?”
Draco shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because your situation is different.”
Harry looked up. Draco was already slipping into explanation mode. The expression Harry had privately begun referring to as future politician.
“The Potter and Black seats belong to you.”
“Right.”
“You can nominate an heir.”
Harry frowned. “Like Sirius did?”
“Exactly.” Draco nodded. “The Black inheritance passed to you because Sirius named you.”
Harry considered that. “So if I never had children…”
“You could still choose an heir.” Draco told him as though it was the simplest thing in the world.
Harry blinked. “Oh.”
The idea had genuinely never occurred to him.
Draco looked faintly amused. “I can practically hear your brain working.”
Harry ignored him. “So men can marry?”
Draco stared and then laughed. Really laughed now. “Yes, Potter.”
Harry felt himself flush. “Well, you never know with old aristocratic families.”
“Men have married men in wizarding Britain for centuries.” Draco shrugged as though this should be common knowledge to Harry but it completely contradicted their current situation.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Harry frowned. “Then why…”
His voice trailed off but he could tell Draco knew exactly what he meant.
Why not you?
The smile disappeared from Draco’s face and in that moment he looked tired. Far older than eighteen.
“Malfoys have had same-sex marriages before.” He said just above a whisper. “Several.”
Draco settled back against the headboard. “As long as there was already an heir.”
Harry understood then that a blood heir was what was required above all. “Oh.”
“Usually a younger sibling.” Draco smiled as if he should be so lucky.
Harry nodded slowly. “Or a second marriage?”
“Sometimes.”
Neither of them mentioned the obvious implication. Harry stared at the green canopy overhead and Draco stared at the opposite wall.
This was close enough to all the things they usually avoided discussing. Eventually Draco rubbed a hand across his face “I’m actually exhausted.”
Harry laughed softly. “Sorry.”
“No.” Draco’s lips twitched. “I’ll find you a book.”
“A book?” Harry laughed.
“A proper one.”
Harry groaned. “You really are turning into a teacher.”
“Someone has to.” Draco smirked. “You are very clueless, Potter. Plus I thought you enjoyed some of what I taught you. You were loud enough about it.”
Harry threw a pillow at him. Draco caught it effortlessly.
“A book on magical family law,” Draco continued. “Inheritance. Marriage customs. Lordships.”
Harry sighed dramatically. “Fine.”
“Good.” For a moment neither moved. Harry glanced towards the clock on the mantelpiece seeing it was nearly midnight.
“I should probably head back.”
Draco immediately frowned. “No.”
Harry blinked. “No?”
Draco reached out and caught his wrist, movement was quick, instinctive. Almost as though he’d spoken before thinking. Something warm settled in Harry’s chest.
Draco tugged gently. “Stay.”
Harry smiled. “Bossy.”
“Stay.”
Harry allowed himself to be pulled back beneath the blankets as Draco extinguished the lamps letting darkness settled over the room.
A minute later Harry felt Draco shift closer. Then an arm slid around his waist. Harry relaxed instantly. Draco pressed his face into the back of Harry’s shoulder.
Neither of them spoke.
But as Harry drifted towards sleep, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Draco had said.
Malfoys have had same-sex marriages before.
Not impossible then just complicated; somehow that felt both better and infinitely worse.
The next time Harry noticed Astoria Greengrass was at a Quidditch match in early March.
The Eighth Years weren’t permitted to play. Officially, McGonagall had decided that students returning to complete their interrupted education should focus on their studies rather than House competitions.
Privately, Harry suspected she was trying to move the Eighth years away from inter-house competitiveness.
Ron had spent the entire walk down to the pitch complaining loudly about the injustice of it all even though this had been the situation since September. “It’s ridiculous.”
“You haven’t played for nearly two years,” Hermione pointed out.
“That’s not the point.”
“What’s the point?” Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow challenging him.
Ron opened his mouth and then closed it. Harry smirked.
The March air was cold enough to turn their breath white. The grounds were still damp from several days of rain and students were picking their way carefully across the muddy paths leading to the stadium.
The stands were already filling by the time they arrived.
Gryffindor versus Slytherin.
Normally Harry would have been invested. Today his attention wandered after he spotted a familiar flash of pale blond hair .
Draco.
Harry followed him automatically. Draco wasn’t alone.
The same dark-haired girl from Valentine’s Day walked beside him. Harry slowed slightly.
The girl was wrapped in a Slytherin scarf, her long hair loose around her shoulders. She said something that made Draco laugh.
Which made Harry frowned, which made Hermione followed his gaze. “Oh.”
Harry looked at her. “What?”
“Daphne Greengrass’s younger sister.” She said in a conspiratorial tone
Harry glanced back. “Oh, didn’t know she had a sister.”
He tried to make the response sound casual. But apparently he failed and Hermione gave him an odd look.
“Astoria.” The name lodged itself in Harry’s mind immediately.
Astoria. He wasn’t sure why he was so bothered by this girl.
“Her father died at Christmas.”
Harry turned back to Hermione. “What?”
Hermione nodded. “Heart attack.”
The casual irritation Harry had been feeling immediately evaporated. “Oh.”
“Quite sudden apparently.”
Harry watched as Draco guided Astoria through a particularly muddy section of the path.
Not touching her, just slowing his pace so she could keep up.
“I suspect he’s trying to cheer her up.” Hermione offered.
Harry’s shoulders relaxed slightly because sounded like the Draco he knew now. Not the Draco he’d known but the one he’d grown to know in those quiet moments between them.
The one who quietly tutored younger students. The one who donated half his allowance to families affected by the war and never told anyone - Harry had seen is Gringotts statement by accident one day.
The one who Gave him thoughtful gifts and spent time carefully explaining things he thought might hurt Harry’s feelings. “Maybe.”
Hermione linked her arm through his. “You want to come to Hogsmeade later?”
Harry looked away from Draco. “What?”
“Ron and I are going.”
Ron nodded enthusiastically at the other side of Hermione. “Having a few drinks, mate.”
Eighth Years had considerably more freedom than the younger students. Weekend trips away from the castle were allowed as long as they signed out and returned before curfew on Sunday.
Harry had occasionally thought about asking Draco to go, not to Hogsmeade, they’d be seen. Somewhere no one knew them where they could be them.
Then immediately dismissed the idea.
“Yeah,” Harry said. “Sounds good.”
The match started and Gryffindor lost.
Ron spent most of the second half muttering darkly under his breath about incompetent goalkeepers.
Harry barely noticed as his attention kept drifting. Every time he looked across the stadium, Draco and Astoria were still there.
Just talking, occasionally laughing. Watching the match. Nothing inappropriate and certainly nothing remotely romantic. No touching or lingering glances just two people sitting with each other.
And yet Harry found himself looking for them every few minutes. It was ridiculous… he as ridiculous.
The final whistle blew and the Gryffindor supporters groaned collectively. Ron looked personally offended by the result.
As students began filing from the stands, Harry found himself searching for a glimpse of pale blond hair.
He spotted Draco halfway down the path leading back to the castle. Astoria walked beside him and for a moment Harry’s stomach tightened.
Then, at the fork in the path, they stopped. Astoria smiled. Draco said something making her laugh. Then she waved and headed off towards a group of fifth-year girls waiting nearby. Draco continued towards the castle alone.
Harry felt an absurd amount of relief then annoyed at himself. Draco hadn’t done anything wrong.
As far as Harry knew, Astoria Greengrass was just a lonely fifteen-year-old whose father had recently died. But as he watched Draco disappear through the castle doors, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that he should ask.
By the time he’d reached Hogsmeade Harry had talked himself out of asking Draco anything about Astoria Greengrass. The village was busy with students making the most of a rare dry Saturday. Groups spilled out onto the streets, scarves in House colours bright against the grey stone buildings.
Ron insisted on stopping at Honeydukes first. Hermione insisted they didn’t need any more sweets. Ron bought three bags anyway.
By the time they found a table in the back corner of the Three Broomsticks, Harry’s nerves had somehow become worse.
Ron bought the beers then started eating chocolate. Hermione rolled her eyes.
Harry stared at the foam in his drink.
“You alright?” Ron asked.
Harry looked up to find both of them were watching him “Yeah.”
Hermione gave him a look that suggested she didn’t believe him for a second. “Harry.”
He sighed. There wasn’t really a graceful way to do this. “I wanted to tell you both something.”
Ron sat up straighter. “You aren’t ill, are you?”
“What?”
“You did the serious voice.”
“I’m ok… really.” Harry reassured. Though he got their concern. Residual dark magic and all that.
“Good.”
Harry rubbed a hand across his face. Suddenly this felt ridiculous. He’d fought Voldemort. Why was this harder?
“Right.” He took a breath. “I’m gay.”
Silence.
A beat.
Then another.
Ron reached for his Butterbeer and Hermione took a sip of hers.
Neither looked remotely surprised. Harry frowned, “You knew.”
Hermione winced. “A little.”
“A little?” Harry scoffed.
Ron looked guilty. “Mate.”
“You knew?” Harry repeated not really sure what else to say.
Ron shrugged. “Sort of.”
Harry stared at them but neither seemed particularly concerned. In fact, Hermione looked relieved. “You could have reacted slightly more dramatically.”
Ron snorted into his drink. “Sorry.”
“You knew then?” Harry tried again determined to understand exactly what his friends had known.
Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron. “We suspected.”
“For how long?”
Hermione considered. “Fifth year.”
Ron nodded. “Definitely sixth.”
Harry gaped at them. “What?”
Hermione laughed. “Harry, you dated Cho because she cried over Cedric and you wanted to make her feel better.”
Harry opened his mouth but then decided that he couldn’t defend that.
“Then you spent most of your relationship with Ginny staring into space looking confused.” Hermione continued.
Ron nodded. “That too. Though I was a bit relieved by that point because she is my sister.”
Harry groaned. “This is awful.”
“We weren’t certain,” Hermione said quickly. “We just thought you might be and maybe hadn’t realised yet.”
Harry slumped back in his chair. The panic he’d been carrying around for months seemed to leak out of him all at once “That’s it?”
Ron frowned. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know.”
“A speech?”
“Maybe.”
Ron reached across the table and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re still Harry.”
Harry smiled despite himself. “Thanks.”
Ron looked uncomfortable. “Don’t get emotional.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ron.”
For a while they simply sat there with the noise of the pub flowed around them. Laughter and clinking glasses, a couple more rowdy customers by the door.
Then Ron sighed. “There is one thing.”
Harry’s stomach dropped. “What’s that?”
“Ginny.”
The relief vanished and Harry looked down at his drink “Yeah.”
Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I’m not angry.”
Harry nodded. “I know.”
“But she deserves to know.” Ron’s words were gentle. They were the words of someone who had come to terms with this months ago and was eager to see all the loose ends tied up. Ron looked at him steadily. “She’s still hoping.”
Harry swallowed and glanced across the table at Hermione who looked sad.
“Not because she thinks you’ll get back together tomorrow,” she said quietly. “But because nobody’s ever properly closed the door.”
Harry stared at the table he knew they were right. That’s what had prompted him to have this conversation in the first place because he needed to tell them before he told anyone else. “I don’t want to hurt her.”
“She just needs to hear it from you.” The words came softly from Hermione.
“She’ll be upset,” Hermione continued. “But she’ll be more upset if she spends another year waiting for something that isn’t going to happen.”
Harry sighed. “I know.”
Ron nodded. “Tell her, soon.
Harry nodded reluctantly. “I will.”
“Good.”
The tension eased as Ron reached for another chocolate and the conversation drifted to easier topics, exams, graduation then who was dating who.
Then Hermione casually asked, “So is there someone?”
Harry nearly inhaled his pint. “What?”
Hermione smiled innocently. “You’ve been sneaking off all year.”
Ron looked up. “You have.”
Harry glared at them. “I have not.”
“You have,” Ron said. “You’re constantly disappearing.”
Hermione’s smile widened. “And you’ve started smiling at absolutely nothing.”
Harry felt heat creep up his neck. “I do not.”
“You do.” Ron confirmed.
“I don’t.”
Hermione leaned forward. “So there is someone.”
“No.” The answer came far too quickly making Hermione’s eyebrows rose and Ron started grinning. Harry wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. “There isn’t.”
“Harry.”
“There isn’t.”
Hermione held up both hands in surrender. “Fine.”
But she was still smiling. The knowing sort of smile Hermione got whenever she thought she’d solved a puzzle.
Harry looked away, out of the window to the quite evening highstreet. Anywhere except at his two best friends because this he couldn’t tell them. Not now and maybe not ever.