Archive of Our Own

“Trevor!” Harry shouted in exasperation. “No kissing Benjamin.”

“But there’s mistletoe.”

Looking up at the doorframe, Harry discovered that Trevor was correct, but he had no idea who had hung it or how Trevor even knew what it was for.

“Greg –”

“Don’t look at me,” Goyle said, not letting Harry even finish his question. “I didn’t put it there.”

Harry scowled at him. “You’re no help.”

Goyle just gave him a flat stare before going back to painstakingly putting hooks on each of the ornaments so the girls could add them to the tree.

Harry caught Trevor as he attempted to sidle past. “Trevor, you can’t go about kissing boys.”

“You do.”

Darting a withering glare at a sniggering Goyle, Harry attempted to come up with an appropriate answer.

“Yes, I kiss boys, but I’m an adult.”

“So I can only kiss girls until I’m big like you?”

“No! I don’t care if you kiss boys or girls, but you can’t go about kissing anyone until you’re older. You’re only six!”

“But I kiss you and Uncle Gregory and Grandma Molly and Aunt Gabby and Uncle Fred and . . .”

Harry sighed heavily as Trevor continued his litany of older relatives, whether they were blood relatives or simply claimed. They would be there all day if he let Trevor run through all of them, but at least it gave Harry a few moments to think. Not that he was coming up with any answers.

“. . . and I even kissed Hagrid, and he’s all scratchy. Better than kissing Grawp, though. He’s scary!” He gave a full body shudder for affect before turning innocent eyes on Harry. “So why can’t I kiss Benjamin?”

Inspiration hit. “You can’t kiss on the lips, only on the cheek. You don’t want to share your germs, do you?”

“But I share germs with Benjamin all the time.” He squared his shoulders and tried to make a stern expression as he mimicked Harry. “You two can just share your germs because I’m tired of washing fifty bazillion cups every day.”

Groaning, Harry dropped his head into his hands.

“Daddy?”

Harry’s heart leapt upon hearing that word, despite the fact that he knew Trevor was using it now for sympathy. Depending on mood, the kids called him either Harry or Daddy, but Daddy was becoming more and more frequent.

“What, Trevor?”

“Am I in trouble?”

Reluctantly, Harry smiled and pecked Trevor on the forehead. “No, but you can’t go about kissing boys, all right? Or girls,” he added hastily.

“I don’t even like to bite girls. They taste horrible!”

Harry turned his head and covered his mouth, making a strong effort to control his bubbling laughter. It would send the wrong message and wouldn’t be fair to Byrony, who’d been on the receiving end of Trevor’s bite that morning.

“Keep your mouth to yourself in the future, all right?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Trevor said, his shoulders slumping in resignation.

As Trevor slunk to the other side of the room, Harry turned his attention to Benjamin. “Why did you let him kiss you?”

Benjamin shrugged. “No reason.”

“Of course,” Harry said with a sigh. “Why don’t you go help with the tree?”

The two boys were going to drive him mad long before Christmas arrived. He smiled softly as he watched them snatch up ornaments for the tree and realized that he wouldn’t trade them for anything, no matter how much they exasperated him.

It was their second Christmas together and he would make sure they had a nice one. They had traditions to uphold this year and he was rather excited about that, even if the kids didn’t exactly understand what it meant yet.

A knock sounded at the front door and Harry had to shout over the kids. “I’ll get it. You lot stay put and keep decorating the tree.”

He exchanged a pointed glance with Goyle before he left the room. Neither of them had been expecting company, and certainly not at the front door. Goyle would keep the kids occupied while Harry checked it out.

Opening the door warily, he stared blankly at the person standing on the front porch. “Zabini.”

“Potter,” Blaise returned the greeting with a curt nod.

Harry gave himself a mental shake as he glanced back at the doorway to the living room. He could clearly hear the sound of the kids’ laughter and realized he didn’t want them hearing Blaise. At least, not yet. Instead of inviting Blaise in, he pushed past him to the steps and shut the door behind him.

Blaise sneered unpleasantly, but didn’t look remotely surprised by Harry’s actions. “Rather rude of you, Potter.”

“What are you doing here?” Harry demanded, his voice hard. His heart was pounding furiously, even though he’d been expecting this visit for the past month.

“I came to see my godchildren, of course. I understand they’re living here with you.”

“And they’re going to continue living here with me. I’m not letting you take them.”

“Touchy, aren’t we?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration, turning his back on Blaise and staring blindly down the hill to the lights of Hogsmeade. He wasn’t helping anyone by becoming confrontational first thing.

“I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “I don’t intend to deny you the right to see them, but I’d like to know your intentions first.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“But if those children actually mean anything to you, you will,” Harry said. “I’ve had custody of those kids since their parents died. They’re finally comfortable and at home here and I’m concerned that . . .”

If he was honest, he was afraid their nice little home would tumble like a stack of cards, but he didn’t know how to explain that to Blaise. How did he explain the months of dealing with nightmares at night and crying fits during the day? The struggle he and Goyle had gone through to make the kids feel safe.

Blaise’s presence was likely to disrupt everything and Harry wasn’t remotely prepared to deal with it.

“I don’t intend to whisk them away tonight,” Blaise said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

Harry turned again to face Blaise. “But you do intend to take them.” It was a flat, emotionless statement rather than a question.

“They’re my godchildren,” Blaise said, a faint hint of defensiveness in his voice. “What else do you expect me to do?”

“Benjamin and Amaryllis are your godchildren, but before she died, Pansy made me godfather of Daisy.”

Grimacing, Blaise was the one to turn away this time and Harry studied his profile. Blaise was tall and not nearly as thin as Harry had been expecting. For someone who had spent three years in Azkaban, he looked surprisingly healthy. Perhaps that was why Blaise had waited a month before coming to see his godchildren.

With an uncomfortable stirring in his gut, Harry realized he was attracted to Blaise. With his fine, chiselled features and dark honey skin, he certainly fit Harry’s ideal of tall, dark and handsome. He firmly squashed those thoughts before they could develop any further, as that was not a complication he needed.

The kids were the priority, although he didn’t know what the solution was. He was fiercely protective of them and didn’t want to let them go.

“Where are you living?” he asked abruptly.

Blaise glanced at him askance, but after a few moments he answered willingly. “I’ve been staying with my mother until I find a place of my own.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry hoped he didn’t come to regret what he was about to offer. He’d been considering it for the past month but still wasn’t certain it was a wise idea, no matter how well things had turned out with Goyle.

“Stay here with us,” he said as he exhaled. At Blaise’s raised eyebrow, he continued in a rush. “Just for awhile, so you can get to know the kids and they can get to know you. We’ve got lots of room and, Merlin knows, Goyle and I could use the help.”

Blaise began to look more alarmed than incredulous. “You’re mad.”

Harry wanted to say that, of course he was mad. He had eight children, nine if he counted Goyle. A sane person would be happy to hand over custody of two or three of them. It would make life easier, but there was no way he could do it willingly. Certainly not without doing his best to ensure that they were taken care of and happy.

“You know you’re mad,” Blaise said in grim amusement when Harry still hadn’t said anything in his defence.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m mad or not, because really, it’s not about me. You don’t have to live here, but give the kids some time before you take them away from everything familiar.” He swallowed his pride and added, “Please.”

He returned Blaise’s speculative gaze steadily, knowing he was being weighed, measured and judged. He did his best to suppress his resentment as he waited for Blaise to come to a decision.

“May I see them?”

Wanting to shout no, Harry nevertheless silently led the way inside the house. Goyle noticed them in the doorframe immediately, but the kids were preoccupied, giving Harry and Blaise a few minutes to observe, and Harry took the opportunity to point out who was who.

“The two boys wrestling in the corner – the one with the blond hair is obviously Benjamin. The redhead is Trevor. They’re both six now and they get along well enough.”

“They look like Weasley and Draco in miniature,” Blaise murmured.

“They do,” Harry agreed. “I think their attitudes are ten times worse, though.”

“Not possible.”

“You’ve not lived with them,” Harry said dryly. “Although, to be fair, they’ve calmed down dramatically over the last year.”

Blaise raised a sceptical brow, but didn’t comment aloud. Harry elected not to mention the earlier kissing episode. It didn’t even occur to him that he and Blaise were now standing under that exact same mistletoe.

“The three giggling girls doing most of the tree decorating – Pippa and Melba are Ron and Hermione’s twins. Pippa with the red hair and Melba has the golden brown. Obviously they’re not identical, and you might as well call the three of them triplets. That’s Byrony with them, with the golden blond hair.”

“They look similar,” Blaise said, head tilted as he tried to figure out why.

“Aunt Gabby, Gabrielle Delacour, took them to the salon and had their hair all done up in the same style. She takes them once every couple weeks and I only have to plait their hair at night and brush it for them in the morning and they end up with the wild, adorable curls. The girls won’t have it any other way and they’re essentially inseparable.”

“Byrony is Crabbe and Daphne’s oldest?”

“Yes, she’s five, just like the twins, and Trenton is their little boy. He’s four and a curious handful. Greg is their godfather, and Trenton’s especially attached to him. I don’t know what Trenton’s talking about right now, as it could be anything. They have a lot of one-sided conversations, but it seems to suit them. Trenton talks and Greg listens.”

Blaise nodded absently, his gaze drifting to the two remaining girls, sitting in an armchair together and looking at a picture book.

“They’re Draco and Pansy’s other two, of course. Amaryllis is five, the same age as the other girls. Daisy is only two. I’m guessing that Daisy was getting tired, so Amaryllis is distracting her for a bit.”

Harry hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain Daisy. “She was premature and she’s always been a little bit more delicate than the other kids. She had a lot of health problems, but now it’s mainly an issue of becoming exhausted easily. The doctors say that she’ll slowly gain more strength, it just takes time.”

“The two girls are close?”

Harry nodded. “Daisy will follow Amaryllis anywhere and Amaryllis won’t have it any other way. She may be five, but I think she’s older than I am. She’s got such a serious nature and she took her parents’ death extremely hard.”

He gave Blaise a sidelong glance. “It’s Amaryllis that needs you here, more than the others. She remembers you and misses you terribly.”

Blaise closed his eyes as he took in a slow, deep breath. “Why did you take them? You never liked Draco or Pansy. Or any of the Slytherins, for that matter.”

Harry thought back to that time in the hospital right after Voldemort had been defeated. There had been so many dead and injured, including Ron and Hermione. He’d been grieving, looking for anything to focus on besides their deaths.

“Pansy – she had the nurses summon me. I found out that she’d been gravely injured in that final siege and had to make the decision whether to save her own life or the life of the baby. Draco was dead. You were in Azkaban. Her family and Draco’s had long been dead. She had absolutely no one, aside from her children, and at the time, we didn’t even know where Benjamin and Amaryllis had been taken.

“She begged me,” Harry continued tonelessly. “She’d lost all and only wanted her children to grow up safely. I promised to take care of them. There’s no other choice in a situation like that. I was with her until she died. I saw Daisy being taken from Pansy’s womb. Pansy had already signed everything making me Daisy’s godfather and legal guardian, but I was the one who named her.”

His eyes stared at the little girl across the room, but he was seeing Pansy in the hospital.

“I was grieving, the kids were grieving, and Daisy was sick. Greg searched me out a couple days later when he learned that I was fighting the Ministry for their custody. They wouldn’t let him have Byrony and Trenton, so I fought the Ministry for them as well. I won.”

“And Goyle was happy with that?” There was surprisingly only subdued curiosity, not accusation in Blaise’s voice.

“I think he was even more lost than I was,” Harry said. “He’d always been a follower and suddenly he had no one to follow and two kids he was expected to take care of. He had no idea what to do.”

“So you took him in as well.”

Harry shrugged. “I needed him as much as he needed me. Between us we suddenly had eight children and we had no idea how to be parents. Those first months were a nightmare.”

They watched the kids in silence as Blaise soaked in everything Harry had been telling him. Finally he spoke again, with an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.

“Never expected to see you and Goyle as a couple.”

Harry flashed him an amused smile. “He’s straight and he’s much more comfortable when I’m actually seeing someone, because he hates being teased about us being together.”

“And you?” Blaise questioned with raised brow.

“He’s not exactly my type, but honestly? I could do worse than to end up with someone like him. He’s amazing with the kids and I’ve come to rely on him.”

Blaise looked at Harry strangely. “You are talking about Goyle, right? Clumsy oaf of a Slytherin with more brawn than brains?”

Harry gave him a look of warning. “Teasing aside, I don’t see him as boyfriend material, but he’s one of my best friends. Don’t forget, you are the outsider here, not me and not him.”

Blaise gave Harry a nod in understanding, but his brow was furrowed in thought. The world had turned upside down while he was in Azkaban and it would take awhile to get used to the changes.

“When’s Harry coming back?” Pippa suddenly asked loudly. “He’s supposed to help with the angel.”

Goyle didn’t even bother looking up as he finished adding a hook to another ornament. “He’s been watching you for the last fifteen minutes.”

Heads whipped in the direction of the doorway and the kids froze at the sight of someone with Harry.

“Is that . . .?” Amaryllis whispered.

“Yes, it’s Blaise,” Harry said softly, striding across the room to take Daisy from her. “You can go give him a hug if you like.”

She hesitated, looking to Harry for reassurance. When he gave her a smile and a nod, she jumped up and flew across the room, throwing herself at Blaise. Blaise appeared rather startled, but he lifted her up easily and returned her hug.

Harry exchanged a knowing glance with Goyle. Life was about to become more interesting, but for good or bad, they had no way of knowing yet.

Blaise watched Harry and Goyle working together with practiced efficiency and felt entirely out of his depth. He’d come with the intention of talking to Harry about gaining custody of his godchildren, but after one evening spent with them, he already knew it was a waste of his time.

The irony was that it had nothing to do with Harry. It was the children who’d made it clear that they didn’t want to leave. Maybe that would change with time, but right now it was an impossibility. He would damage them more than help if he were to take Benjamin and Amaryllis from the others.

The stomach clenching uncertainty threatened to overwhelm him once he was left to himself in the sitting room. Harry and Goyle had herded the children upstairs for baths and to get ready for bed. He thought briefly about following but couldn’t help feeling that he’d just be in the way.

He stared at the haphazardly decorated tree and absently decided that it had charm. It was nothing like the tree at his mother’s house, every ornament and bow placed in perfect alignment. From the tree alone, he could already tell that this household was much different than anything he’d experienced while growing up.

For that matter, it was different from anything Draco and Pansy or Crabbe and Daphne had experienced. This home actually felt lived in. Between his childhood and three years in Azkaban, Blaise was rather tired of living in the cold. Here it was warm and cosy, despite the abundant space.

Photos adorned the walls and snapshots lined the mantle. It was the oddest looking family Blaise had ever seen, but he couldn’t deny that they were beautiful. Even Goyle looked absurdly happy and Blaise wouldn’t have thought that was possible. Slytherins were never happy. They were satisfied, and that was the limit. Happiness was for Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors.

Gazing at the photos, Blaise was aware that he would be taking Harry up on his offer to move in. He was tired of being lonely and didn’t think that emotion would be possible in this household.

Eyes shifting to another set of portraits, he was surprised to see one of himself, taken during his last year at Hogwarts. There were photos of Harry and Goyle nearby and he realized they’d been set low enough for the kids to reach and see easily. Their godfathers.

A little further down the wall were photos of the kids’ parents. Draco and Pansy. Vincent and Daphne. Ron and Hermione. All dead before their time.

Blaise couldn’t help feeling grateful to Harry for preserving the memories of his enemies for their children. It couldn’t have been easy, but Blaise had no doubt that Harry had done it. He just wasn’t the type who would let children suffer if he could help it and he had honour when it came to family. Everyone knew that about Harry Potter and it was just one of those indisputable facts of life.

“Blaise?”

He turned to find Goyle studying him warily and had the sudden feeling that he didn’t know who this person was any longer. Goyle had grown up.

“You gonna cause trouble?” Goyle asked suspiciously.

Maybe Goyle hadn’t grown up so much after all.

“No,” Blaise said honestly. He didn’t want to cause trouble. He just wanted to get to know his godchildren. He didn’t have much else and certainly had no where else to be.

“Harry said you’re staying.”

“Is that going to be a problem?”

Goyle’s brow furrowed deeply in thought and Blaise couldn’t help but think it was a painful looking expression for him. Never answering the question, Goyle turned to head back out of the room.

“Harry said you could come upstairs to help get the kids into bed. He’s reading to them now.”

Following Goyle, simply because he didn’t know what else to do, he became curious despite himself as he heard the kids shrieking with laughter. Goyle directed him into what appeared to be a large playroom in the midst of a cocoa storm. It was raining hot chocolate and snowing marshmallows.

“He’s here! He’s here!” the kids shouted upon sighting Blaise.

“So he is,” Harry said, studiously raining the hot chocolate down into several waiting mugs. The miniature marshmallows, however, went everywhere.

“What is he doing?” Blaise asked.

Goyle shrugged. “Dunno.” He didn’t appear to think it odd, and moved to drop heavily onto an extra large bean bag, Trenton plopping into his lap almost instantly.

Blaise had the sudden, rather disturbing impression that Goyle was a giant teddy bear to the boy. Although, he couldn’t deny that they both appeared content.

“You can come sit by me,” Amaryllis offered with a shy seriousness that Blaise found charming. It shouldn’t surprise him that a child of Draco’s could manipulate him so easily, but this was almost terrifying. The girl did it with such ease and she was only five years old.

“What are you doing?” Blaise asked as he gingerly sat down beside her. Bean bags weren’t his preference, but it was far better than the accommodations in Azkaban.

“It’s cloudy with a chance of meatballs,” she said. “So Harry’s making a hot chocolate storm for us so we can make a toast to you.”

Everyone was listening in and Harry sniggered at Blaise’s blank expression.

“The name of the book we’ve been reading tonight is called ‘Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs’.”

Blaise nodded, although he didn’t exactly feel that clarified things. Benjamin plonked down on the other side of Blaise and earnestly tried to explain.

“They live in Chewandswallow and the weather’s never normal. They get all their food from the sky. Kind of like magic, but mostly just like storms. Melba thought it was stupid because it couldn’t happen, but Harry made a marshmallow storm and it rained hot chocolate, so it could happen.”

Nodding appeared to be the best recourse as Blaise determined that he needed to learn another language. Kid speak. Benjamin had spoken so quickly that Blaise had only caught every other word, and those words didn’t make much sense. What the hell was Chewandswallow?

“Here.” A clearly amused Harry passed Blaise a mug of the hot chocolate. “Will you be staying?”

Again, Blaise could only nod, recognizing that Harry was already aware of his decision somehow, or he never would’ve mentioned it in front of the kids, who were now squealing excitedly. He cast a suspicious glance between Goyle and Harry, wondering if they had some form of silent communication techniques they employed.

Benjamin and Trevor had taken up a chant, accompanied by an odd dance. “He’s staying! He’s staying!”

“Sit,” Harry ordered in exasperation. “Let’s make a toast to the newest member of our household.”

As the boys sat, Amaryllis stood, her expression solemn. “I want to make a toast. To having our three godfathers.”

“That’s a fine toast,” Harry agreed, giving her a warm smile. “Ready?”

The kids got firm grips on the handles of their mugs and raised them up. Clearly they were used to making toasts, but as Blaise raised his own mug, he glanced at the little, fluffy marshmallows floating on top of the hot cocoa and wondered whatever had happened to toasting with a fine wine. He’d apparently walked into a household where the kids ruled, rather than the adults.

After making their toasts and drinking their hot cocoa, the kids began a series of bedtime hugs and kisses for each of the adults and Blaise couldn’t help feeling that the trade of wine for hugs wasn’t such a bad one. He didn’t, however, understand the tension regarding simple kisses on the cheek.

“So, I’m only allowed to kiss adults?” Trevor asked, and even Blaise could tell his expression was deceptively innocent.

“Trevor,” Harry said with a firm note of warning.

“All right, all right,” Trevor said. “Only on the cheek. Got it.”

When Trevor got to Blaise, he pecked Blaise on the cheek before throwing his arms around his neck for a huge hug.

“Harry can be kind of stuffy, but he’s all right. You’ll like it here,” Trevor promised before letting Blaise go.

“Thank you,” Blaise said solemnly, suppressing his amusement. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation, but he was certain that living in this household would be an interesting experience.

“Cocoa!”

Blaise unwound Daisy’s scarf and plucked off her mittens. “You want hot chocolate?”

“Cocoa,” Daisy chirped again.

Sighing, Blaise realized that hot chocolate was apparently a staple in the household, a staple that he would have to learn how to make immediately, if he wasn’t to disappoint Daisy.

“I don’t reckon you’d know where to find –”

He unconsciously stepped between Daisy and the fireplace as the fire in the kitchen flared green. From the blazing red hair on the woman before him, he could only determine that he was staring at the Weasley matriarch.

She returned the stare for long seconds before shaking her head roughly and bustling to the counter, setting down a large basket she’d brought with her.

“So you’ve come, then,” she said briskly, beginning to unpack food items from her basket.

“Grandma!”

“Well, hello, Daisy,” she greeted warmly. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Cocoa!”

“Of course, dear.”

Blaise watched as the woman effortlessly set about preparing the little girl some hot chocolate, continuing her chatter all the while. It didn’t seem necessary for him to respond so he finished removing Daisy’s winter garb as he surreptitiously took mental notes on cocoa preparation.

In short order, he was sitting at the table sipping at his own mug of hot chocolate, observing Mrs. Weasley as she continued to bustle about the kitchen.

“Harry and Gregory are out enjoying the new snow with the rest of the children?”

It took him a second to realize he’d been asked a direct question and a response was required.

“Yes. I was asked to take Daisy inside because she was getting too cold.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded in understanding, patting the top of Daisy’s head fondly as she passed. “The poor mite is always more sensitive to the weather.”

She plonked a large bowl in front of the little girl. “Can you stir this for me, poppet? I could use your help with today’s supper.”

Daisy grinned widely and attacked the contents of the bowl with enthusiasm before thinking to ask, “What is it?”

“Cornbread,” Mrs. Weasley replied. She winked conspiratorially at Daisy, as if sharing a great secret. “We must make an extra large batch because we know how much your Uncle Gregory enjoys it.”

Blaise snorted quietly, unimpressed. Goyle had always been known to eat anything, and in large quantities. The extra large batch of cornbread just meant that there might be some left for the rest of them.

She gave him a stern look of warning and plonked another bowl in front of him. “Stir.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, dutifully beginning to stir. He didn’t need to get off on the wrong foot with this woman, instinctively recognizing how important she was to everyone in the household. Harry had always been fond of the Weasleys and he surely would’ve passed that down to the children.

It was the obvious affection between Mrs. Weasley and Daisy, however, that most struck Blaise’s attention. Daisy was too young to understand, but Mrs. Weasley was perfectly aware that Daisy was a Malfoy, and accepted her anyway. Blaise could only guess, because he hadn’t seen Mrs. Weasley interact with the other children yet, but he suspected that she treated all of them as her grandchildren. Affection wasn’t withheld because of a last name.

“Call me Molly,” she said, dragging his attention back to her. “Whether you appreciate it or not, you’re family.”

Apparently his last name and his history wasn’t being held against him, either, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. “If you’ll call me Blaise,” he said finally.

She nodded, continuing to chop vegetables as if this was a normal conversation. “It’s nice to meet you Blaise.”

“Aren’t you worried –?” He stopped abruptly, not even certain what he was trying to ask.

Still wielding the knife, she turned to face him with a serious expression, giving him her undivided attention.

“I’m aware of who you are, Blaise Zabini. I don’t know that I’m entirely comfortable with you being here, but I trust Harry’s judgement. Just be aware, if you do anything to harm him or any of the children, you will regret it. If he didn’t kill you, there are a number of people who would get in line.”

Well. There was the threat he had been expecting, but he acknowledged that it could’ve been much worse. She had already turned back to her vegetables, leaving him to his own thoughts.

He wasn’t sure if he was that unthreatening or if everyone just had that much faith in Harry being able to control him. He had the feeling that he could have red snake eyes and speak Parseltongue and they’d still have faith that Harry could handle the situation.

It was rather easy over the next few days to simply coast along with the rest of the household, getting a feel for the routines. And he learned that there was a routine for everything. One of the kids was always sure to tell him if he did things wrong.

One afternoon he found himself sitting with Pippa, Melba and Byrony making paper chains.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” Melba informed him.

He frowned, trying to figure out what he was doing different.

“You have to cut them on the short side, not the long side. And they’re too fat. You need short and skinny.”

“They won’t look right if you cut them like that,” Byrony agreed.

With a long-suffering sigh, Blaise turned the paper and began cutting again, mentally cursing Harry for volunteering him for this activity.

The girls painstakingly glued and connected the strips, forming their colourful chains, as they chattered amicably about possible Christmas presents. He had the feeling Harry was already aware of what they wanted and most likely had all the presents bought and wrapped already. These girls would not be left wanting for anything material, but to Blaise’s surprise, they didn’t appear to be spoilt and snobbish.

He remembered Draco’s spoilt attitude and the temper tantrums that would often result when he didn’t get his way. These girls seemed to actually appreciate the things they had and Blaise found that it was a rather novel concept, particularly since he’d never truly appreciated the things he had until they’d been taken away.

As the girls looped and glued their paper, they talked as much about the presents they wanted to get for other people as they did about what they wanted. He was learning a great deal about the members of the extended family but his interest peaked when they started discussing what they thought Harry wanted for Christmas.

“I think he wants a new boyfriend,” Byrony declared.

“Yeah,” Pippa said, with a surprising amount of scorn for a five-year-old little girl. “One that’s not a bastard.”

“Pippa!” Melba shouted. “You know we’re not supposed to say that word.”

“Sorry,” Pippa said blithely. “I forgot Uncle Fred said we couldn’t say that one.”

She didn’t appear the least bit apologetic, but Melba and Byrony were looking at Blaise fearfully for his reaction.

“Uncle Fred is right,” Blaise said, and wasn’t that an odd sentence to utter. “It’s inappropriate for little ladies, but I’m not a little lady. So, who was the bastard?”

Pippa grinned triumphantly and the other two girls relaxed now that they knew they weren’t going to get in trouble.

“The last one was named Matthew,” Pippa said. “I heard Aunt Ginny tell Aunt Gabby that Matthew didn’t like all of us kids, so Harry dumped him.”

“I don’t know why he didn’t like us,” Byrony said. “We’re cute and mostly friendly. Except Trevor. He bites, but I don’t think he bit Matthew.”

Blaise ducked his head, doing his best to suppress his amusement. The girls were speaking seriously and he didn’t think they’d appreciate him laughing.

“At least Matthew was better than Sebastian,” Melba said, wrinkling her nose. Pippa and Byrony took on the same disgusted expressions.

“He was the worst slime ball.”

“Are we allowed to say slime ball?”

“Uncle Fred said we could, as long as we don’t say it around Grandma Molly. She wouldn’t like it.”

Pippa turned bold blue eyes on Blaise. “Why can’t you be our other daddy? You’re not a slime ball.”

“Your daddy?”

“Well, you can’t be our mummy because you’re a boy,” Melba said reasonably. “And Harry said we can call him daddy if we want but if he marries someone it would be a boy so they’d have to be another daddy.”

“Of course,” Blaise said weakly. “Girls, I don’t think Harry would appreciate you trying to set him up with someone.” Especially me, he added silently.

“But he’s lonely,” Byrony said. “I heard Aunt Ginny say so and she knows everything.”

“And she’s always trying to set him up with someone new,” Melba agreed. “He just doesn’t seem to like very many people.”

“That’s because they all think he’s famous,” Pippa retorted. “They just want his money and he doesn’t care about that. Love’s more important.”

Melba and Byrony nodded seriously in agreement and Blaise shook his head. “How old are you three?”

“We’re five,” Pippa said importantly. Squinting, she eyed him critically. “And I still think you’d be good for Harry.”

“We like you,” Melba agreed. “Even if you are a criminal.”

Byrony snorted loudly. “Uncle George said he’s not a real criminal. Just stupid.”

“It’s good to know Uncle George thinks so highly of me,” Blaise said dryly.

“Oh, Uncle George likes you,” Pippa said, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s Grandpa Arthur that’s worried you’re bad for us.”

“And just how do you know this?”

“Uncle Fred told us, of course.”

“I take it Uncle Fred likes me?”

The girls nodded. “He says you’d be good for Harry because you don’t give a damn about his fame.”

“Pippa!” Melba shrieked. “You can’t say damn!”

“Sorry.”

“Do you girls always eavesdrop on conversations?”

They gazed at him with sudden expressions of innocence. “Harry said eavesdropping is wrong,” Byrony said. “Sometimes people just forget that we’re there.”

“We’re out of red,” Melba announced.

It took Blaise a moment to comprehend the abrupt change in conversation, and when he did, he realized he’d been mindlessly cutting green strips of paper and there was now a huge stack of green, but no red. He snagged some red paper to start cutting as the girls shifted the conversation to discuss what kind of pranks Fred and George might like for Christmas.

Harry rubbed at his temples, attempting to ignore the loud shrieks that surrounded him.

“Do I dare ask what is going on?”

At the sound of Blaise’s voice, Harry sighed heavily and looked up at him. “Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier. Fred and George are on duty tonight and the kids are excited about it.”

“On duty for what?”

“For watching the kids,” Harry explained. “Every Friday night someone in the family watches them for me and Greg so we can go out. Even when we don’t want to go out, we’re forced to – for our own good.” He rolled his eyes widely as he added the last bit. It wasn’t a bad arrangement, but this was one of those nights when he would rather stay home.

“Where’s Goyle?”

“He bailed,” Harry said, a smile playing at his lips. “The git deserves a night out, but he could’ve at least waited for the twins to get here first.”

“You don’t appear that unhappy about it,” Blaise observed.

“He’s got a date with Gabrielle tonight.”

“Gabrielle Delacour? Part veela?”

“That’d be the one,” Harry said, grinning at Blaise’s shock. “She came up to visit her sister after she finished school and never returned home. She likes it here and she’s taken a fancy to Goyle.”

“What could she possibly see in him?”

“Apparently she likes the strong, silent type. He’s loyal and sweet and he’s good with the kids.” Harry’s grin widened. “Also, Gabrielle likes to cook and Goyle likes to eat. It’s a perfect match.”

“I can’t see it,” Blaise said flatly.

“You’ll get used to it. They do actually get on quite well together. He worships her, treating her like a real lady, and she soaks up the attention and returns it. I have the feeling it won’t be long before Gabrielle is living here instead of at the Burrow.”

“The kids are expecting another daddy, not a new mummy.”

Harry blinked at him in astonishment. “What?”

Blaise grimaced, looking like he wished he’d never spoken. “The triplets have been eavesdropping – and learning some colourful language, I might add – and they’ve decided you need a new boyfriend. Because they think you would marry a boy, they’ve accepted the fact that they’d get another daddy, not a mummy.”

Groaning, Harry went back to rubbing his temples. He could guess where the girls were learning the colourful language, and wished more than ever that he could just stay home and send Fred and George back to their flat. Or to the Burrow, and they could cause trouble there instead.

He fervently wished that the family would quit trying to set him up. He didn’t even have time to commit to a real relationship, so it was no surprise to him that he’d had more one-night-stands than dates over the last year. But according to the rest of the family, getting some sexual relief was unacceptable.

If they ever learned of even half his encounters with other men, he’d never hear the end of it. It was possible for him to be discreet in the Muggle world and he took advantage of that fact on his Friday nights out. He could admit to himself that he was tired of pulling tricks, but the fact that he still had eight young children to take care of hadn’t changed. He didn’t have time for anything beyond anonymous twinks.

“I don’t know how to discourage them,” he mumbled to himself.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, when the flames in the fireplace flared green and Fred tumbled out, with George following a few seconds later. The excited shrieks grew louder and soon Fred and George were trying to walk with several kids attached to them. Only Amaryllis was too dignified to launch herself at her uncles, but Fred snatched her up and threw her over his shoulder, causing her to squeal happily. Daisy was perched on George’s shoulders, clutching handfuls of bright red hair as she laughed in delight.

“You actually trust those two?” Blaise asked.

Harry smiled ruefully. “Yeah. I’m not sure any of us would’ve survived the last two years without them. Fred and George kept us laughing even when we didn’t want to.”

“Harry!” Fred shouted loudly. “You’re intruding on our time.”

“Get out of here,” George added, grinning manically. “And take him with you.”

“We’re going, we’re going,” Harry said, shaking his head fondly. “You lot be good for Fred and George, all right?”

He received a chorus of, “Yes, Daddy,” and, “Yes, Harry,” and decided that would have to suffice. Gesturing for Blaise to follow, he left the kids in the twins’ care and gathered up his cloak, scarf and gloves.

“Care to have dinner with me at the Three Broomsticks?”

“I thought this was your night out,” Blaise said, looking at him curiously.

Harry shrugged into his cloak. “I don’t feel like going out, but I’m hungry. If you’ve got something better to do, go ahead.”

“I didn’t know this was a scheduled night out, so I’ve made no plans. I just didn’t think you’d want my company.”

Harry realized with a startling clarity that he did want Blaise’s company. He wanted an opportunity to get to know him better and spend some real time with him, without interruption from whatever the current crisis was with the kids.

“I just thought maybe we should talk about what your plans are,” he said, feeling uncomfortable. “Now that you’ve had a chance to spend some time with the kids.”

“Ah, I understand,” Blaise said, wrapping a green scarf around his throat. “Dinner at the Three Broomsticks, then.”

Harry frowned as he opened the front door, wondering if that had actually been disappointment he’d heard in Blaise’s voice. He wasn’t given time to dwell on it as Blaise asked him about the house as they walked down the hill into Hogsmeade.

“How is it that you built a house here, of all places?”

“I inherited the land by default.”

“By default?”

“It belonged to Dumbledore, who willed it to Remus Lupin, who willed it to me. I’ve got several properties, but Hogwarts is where I’ve always felt most at home so I tore down the Shrieking Shack and had this house built. It was the closest I could get. Besides, people are used to seeing me in Hogsmeade, so I’m comfortable here.”

He knew Blaise was aware that a lot had been left out of that little story, but he didn’t feel like talking about Dumbledore and Remus. He and Blaise would have enough things to talk about without opening up those old wounds.

“It’s a nice house,” Blaise said mildly, not probing for more information.

“Thanks.” Harry paused and turned to look back up the hill. He didn’t like how he’d gained the property, but he did love the house. The first floor had a huge kitchen and living room, bathroom and a couple of guestrooms. The second floor belonged to the kids with their bedrooms, a couple bathrooms and a large playroom for them. The third floor essentially held two master suites, occupied by Harry and Goyle. The house was large enough for all of them, but it was also comfortable and homey.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he realized Blaise was waiting for him.

Blaise shrugged off the apology and started walking again. “I like your house. It’s a lot different from how I grew up.”

“Yeah, me too,” Harry said, with old bitterness.

“The rumours were true?”

“Depends on which rumours you’re referring to,” Harry said dryly.

“That your relatives hated you.”

“Hate is such a mild word for how they felt about me,” Harry said flippantly before growing serious. He explained a bit about his childhood, knowing that it helped people understand why he’d taken on the responsibility for eight children. It worked this time as well and Blaise glanced at him with new understanding.

“You’ll never make any of those kids feel inferior, will you?”

“No,” Harry agreed. “It’s a miserable way to grow up. I’ve done my best to surround them with family and friends and a huge support system. They’ll always have people there to help them with anything they might need.”

“They’ll never be alone.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re trying to turn them all into Hufflepuffs,” Blaise said lightly.

Harry laughed, appreciating the lighter topic as they entered the Three Broomsticks and found a table. They placed their orders for supper with Madam Rosmerta before returning to the discussion of Houses.

“I don’t know that we’ve got any Hufflepuffs,” Harry said. “Trevor’s aiming to be the first Weasley sorted into Slytherin. Benjamin plans to be right there with him. Amaryllis is definitely Ravenclaw material.”

Rosmerta placed their drinks on the table and Harry sipped his thoughtfully as he considered the other children.

“I don’t know about the triplets. As much as they like doing everything together, they really are quite different. Melba’s a lot like Hermione and I could see her going into Ravenclaw, or maybe even Gryffindor. The same with Byrony. She’s a little more tentative than the other two, but she’ll follow them anywhere.

“Pippa, on the other hand, I couldn’t tell you if she’ll be in Gryffindor or Slytherin. She’s fearless, but she’s also sneaky. I think she’ll argue with the Sorting Hat and ultimately end up wherever she wants. Most likely wherever the other two girls are sorted, since she’ll be the last out of the three to wear the hat.”

“You can’t argue with the Sorting Hat.”

“Yes, you can,” Harry said, smiling ruefully. “And I can just hear Pippa ordering the Hat to put her with Melba and Byrony, insisting she’ll make her own damned way, regardless of what House it is.”

“That’s what you did?”

“No, I just didn’t want to be in Slytherin. By the time I was sorted, I was convinced the entire House was evil and I wanted to be anywhere that Draco wasn’t.”

“And yet now you’re raising Draco’s children,” Blaise pointed out, sounding fascinated rather than angry.

“Ironic, isn’t it? I had to work through a lot of guilt, knowing that Ron and Draco, in particular, would’ve hated their children living in the same house and growing up together. I think Hermione would’ve ultimately supported my decision, breaking down barriers and all that. Crabbe and Daphne would still be standing back and waiting for the fall out. Sometimes I can hear Ron and Draco in my head, though, arguing the entire situation.”

Blaise grimaced. “I can imagine. Draco would have a lot to say about this arrangement.”

“Pansy approved, though. In fact, she’s essentially the one who made it possible.”

“Better for her kids to grow up as heroes rather than outcasts.”

“Something like that,” Harry agreed. “Although, I try to keep things as normal as possible. It’s one of the main reasons we live in Hogsmeade. My fame doesn’t really reach here.”

Their food was served and Harry tucked in, deciding he was ravenous. Blaise focused on his meal as well and they were quiet as they ate. Harry snuck glances at him, wondering what he was thinking and wanting to know what his plans were for the kids.

“You can stop looking at me like that,” Blaise said mildly.

Harry blinked. “Like what?”

“Like I’m the big bad wolf that’s going to steal the children away at any moment and gobble them up.”

“I don’t think that,” Harry said, feeling sheepish.

“Close enough,” Blaise said dryly. He set his fork down and pushed his plate away.

“Look, let’s just get this out of the way. Originally I had hoped to take the kids, but I’m not blind. They’re doing well where they are and I’d be a fool to take them away. You’ve been kind enough to let me stay temporarily and I’m hoping we can make arrangements for it to be more permanent.”

“You want to stay?” Harry asked in astonishment.

“If you’ll allow it.”

Harry gazed at him suspiciously. “Why? What do you get out of it?”

“Besides the opportunity to be a part of my godchildren’s lives?”

Well, when Blaise put it like that, Harry felt rather ridiculous for asking, but he still felt like there was something more that Blaise wasn’t telling him.

Blaise eyed him irritably. “You won’t accept anything but complete honesty, will you?”

Harry smiled, despite himself. “Honesty is probably the number one rule in the house. Ask any of the kids and they’ll tell you that they get in far more trouble for lying than anything else. So no, I don’t tolerate half-truths well.”

Blaise sighed, twirling his wine glass absently. “I just got out of Azkaban, the coldest and loneliest place in Britain. Your house is the exact opposite and I find it appealing.”

He looked up and met Harry’s gaze directly. “You want honesty? I’ve got no future, Potter. I made an idiotic decision when I was seventeen and destroyed everything. It doesn’t matter that I failed miserably as a Death Eater. People don’t care that I didn’t have the stomach for all the killing and raping. They only care that I made the decision to bear the Dark Mark on my arm.”

“You had little choice in the matter.”

Blaise arched a brow, obviously surprised that Harry understood, but then he laughed bitterly. “Do you think most people will believe that? I’m Death Eater scum, no one in their right mind would hire me, and I’ve got no future.”

“So, it’s safe to live with me,” Harry said, feeling unaccountably disappointed. “I can help smooth the way for you.”

“It’s not safety I’m looking for,” Blaise said. He hesitated, taking a rather large gulp of his wine. “It’s acceptance. I’ve seen how Goyle is treated. He’s just Goyle, a friend. A good friend, at that. The kids, it doesn’t matter if their last name is Crabbe, Weasley or Malfoy.”

“At my house, you’re just Blaise,” Harry murmured in understanding.

“Exactly,” Blaise said. “Yes, there’s a certain amount of security that’s admittedly appealing if I were to live in the Saviour’s world, but in that house, you’re not even the Saviour. You’re just Harry, crazed Daddy of too many kids.”

Harry grinned, feeling relieved and surprisingly happy. He and Blaise understood each other better than he’d realized.

“You horrible, terrible toad!” Melba shouted.

“Ribbet.”

“That’s enough,” Harry said, pulling Trevor, the wannabe toad, up by the back of his shirt and keeping a firm hold in case the boy decided to try for an escape like his namesake. “What’s going on here?”

“He ruined my picture,” Melba accused, on the verge of tears.

Harry examined the picture in question, what appeared to be a stick figure family portrait, and noted the thick, black X’s that marred everyone except Trevor, Benjamin and little Daisy. Even Trevor at his worst wouldn’t inflict any harm upon the little girl.

“Trevor, did you do this?”

“Yes.” Not a sign of remorse. Not even defiance. Just simple admittance of truth.

“Why?”

“Dunno.”

Harry sighed, wondering if he would ever break through to Trevor. The boy lived in his own world, by his own set of rules, and Harry wasn’t privy to the non-existent manual.

“Go sit on the sofa downstairs and I’ll be there to talk to you in a few minutes.”

“I’ll take him down.”

Harry looked up to see Goyle and Blaise observing the situation, no doubt attracted by Melba’s shouts. Goyle laid a heavy hand on Trevor’s shoulder and guided him out of the room. Harry did his best to calm Melba and encourage her to draw another picture, but she also needed a gentle reminder about name calling.

“What have I told you about calling Trevor a toad?”

“It’s not my fault he was named after one,” she pouted.

No, that would be Hermione’s fault, Harry thought dryly. Out loud he said, “It doesn’t matter how Trevor got his name. Your parents were happy with it and you should respect that.”

“But it’s not fair. He hates everyone.”

“He doesn’t hate everyone,” Harry responded automatically. He glanced at the picture again. “Sometimes he just gets frustrated and doesn’t know how to tell us.”

Melba gazed at him sceptically, not looking remotely appeased. In the end, Harry gave her a hug, extracted a promise that she would be nice, promised her that Trevor would be punished and encouraged her to draw another picture.

Harry left her with the other girls in the playroom and went out into the hallway to collapse against the wall. He had no idea how to deal with Trevor this time. Talking never seemed to do any good and Trevor simply accepted his punishments as a fact of life, never letting them faze him.

“He was named after a toad?” Blaise questioned.

“The first time Ron and Hermione met, she was looking for Neville’s toad, who happened to be named Trevor. When it came time to name the baby, she was loopy from the painkillers, thought it was romantic, and couldn’t be talked out of it.”

Blaise wisely refrained from commenting.

Shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at the floor, Harry debated his options. He thought he actually understood how Trevor was feeling. As much as he tried to create a good family environment for them, sometimes it still felt wrong.

He missed Ron and Hermione with a fierceness that made his chest ache and he understood the urge to lash out. Hermione should be here giving her son hugs and reassurance. Ron should be having a heart to heart talk with Trevor before taking him out flying.

“You all right?”

Startled at the light touch on his shoulder, Harry looked up to find Blaise directly in front of him looking concerned, and he made a conscious effort to unclench his jaw.

“I’ll be fine.” He shook his head in an attempt to clear out the melancholy. “Sometimes I just remember that I’m supposed to be the doting uncle and not the parent.”

“And it’s not easy.”

“No, it’s not.” Harry sighed and pushed away from the wall before realizing that put him even closer to Blaise, who hadn’t stepped back.

Harry stared at him and was suddenly conscious of a different sort of tension. Blaise’s hand was still resting on his shoulder and the warmth was seeping through Harry’s shirt. Harry unconsciously licked his lips as he watched Blaise tilt his head fractionally as if preparing to kiss him.

“Harry!”

Jerking away, Harry looked down the stairs with wide eyes. “That’s Benjamin. I, er, best go see what that’s about and I still need to talk to Trevor.” He fled, knowing Blaise’s eyes were following him.

After rescuing Benjamin from the table – Harry didn’t want to know how he’d managed to get himself stuck underneath – and having his talk with Trevor, Harry left the kids in Goyle’s care and disappeared to his rooms for a little while. He flopped onto the sofa in his personal sitting room and wondered what the hell had possessed him.

Since when had he reverted to being a shy, hormonal teenager? It wasn’t a good combination and he felt amazingly uncomfortable, but he couldn’t deny that he’d wanted Blaise to kiss him. Unfortunately for his hormones, he also couldn’t help but think that it would be a bad idea.

He had a family to take care of and it would be selfish of him to get involved with Blaise. The kids, especially Amaryllis, needed Blaise in their lives as much as they needed Harry. A relationship could turn sour quickly and then what would happen? He didn’t need those kinds of complications.

Within a week, Harry was ready to throw complications out the window, along with his sanity, and drag Blaise to his bed. Everywhere he turned, there was Blaise, and often in Harry’s personal space. Light touches, casual gestures, soft-spoken words – all indications that Blaise was feeling the growing tension between them as well.

He felt like he was being subtly seduced, and the damned thing was, it was working. The situation became even more intolerable as he realized the kids were apparently in on the scheme. He had no idea how he was going to get out of this without someone getting hurt.

“C’mere, Daddy,” Pippa said, holding Harry’s hand and dragging him from the kitchen.

“Where are we going? I still have to finish cleaning the kitchen.”

“Blaise wants to talk to you. It’ll only take a minute.”

Bewildered, Harry allowed himself to be led to the sitting room, becoming more curious when he saw all the kids gathered around Blaise, who was standing in the middle of the room looking as confused as Harry felt.

Pippa pulled Harry to stand in front of Blaise and then let go of his hand. All the kids suddenly stepped back, large grins on their faces.

“Do you know what this is about?” Harry asked Blaise, eyeing the kids suspiciously.

“No idea,” Blaise said. “They just said that you wanted to talk to me.”

“That’s what they told me.”

“You’re under the mistletoe!” Byrony squealed, unable to contain her secret or her excitement any longer.

Harry’s eyes darted to the ceiling, noting there was indeed mistletoe, before glaring at the kids. “I don’t think this is appropriate.”

“You have to kiss him,” Benjamin said, his grin looking terribly sly and reminding Harry strongly of Draco.

“It’s the rule of mistletoe,” Trevor said triumphantly. “And it’s all right, you can kiss him on the mouth because you’re big.”

Harry was ready to send all of them to their rooms for manipulating him. Better yet, he’d send them to Snape, where he could come up with some nasty punishment for them.

“I don’t want to kiss him.” He refused to make eye contact with Blaise, not knowing how he was taking this situation, but guessing that he was amused.

“But I thought you liked kissing boys,” Amaryllis said with genuine innocence and curiosity.

“You’re not going to win,” Blaise said, and Harry could hear the bloody amusement in his voice.

Harry looked around at all of the kids gazing at him expectantly and realized that Blaise was right. It didn’t make him any happier, but he finally looked at Blaise.

The kids started up a chant, “Kiss him! Kiss him!” but Harry ignored them as his eyes flicked to Blaise’s mouth. He could do this. Just a quick kiss and get it over with. It wouldn’t mean anything.

Blaise tucked a finger under Harry’s chin and tilted his head up as he leaned closer and pressed a kiss to Harry’s lips. It was soft and gentle and warm and chaste and Harry wanted to thrust his tongue into Blaise’s mouth and explore. He pulled away abruptly, to the sound of the kids cheering.

“Satisfied?” he asked the kids, cursing himself when his voice came out slightly uneven. Thankfully the kids didn’t notice, but he was certain Blaise hadn’t missed it.

“I’ve got work to do in the kitchen. You lot go play now.”

Apparently the kids were actually satisfied, because they allowed themselves to be herded upstairs. Harry returned to the kitchen and leaned against the sink, his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

“Harry?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry said, doing his best to ignore Blaise’s presence and returning his attention to the remaining dirty dishes.

“It was only a kiss.”

Harry ground his teeth together, knowing that for a lie. It was far more than just a kiss to him, and he was fairly certain it meant more to Blaise. He was even more certain he was right when Blaise changed tactics.

“I enjoyed kissing you. I’d like to do it again.”

Slowly, Harry turned around. “I can’t get involved with you.”

“You like me,” Blaise said. “I know you do.”

“It’s not about me. I have to think of the kids and it wouldn’t be fair to them if I started playing these games with you.”

“Is that what you think this is? A game?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Harry muttered, being entirely truthful. He didn’t know what to think anymore.

Blaise stepped closer. “Harry, I like you.”

“You’ve always hated me.”

“Yes, I hated the scrawny Gryffindor, but I like the man you’ve grown up to be.”

“This isn’t a good idea.”

“I just want you to give me a chance.”

Harry had never been so tempted to just give in, but he resisted. “I can’t take that risk.” He ran, needing to get away from the temptation.

“Here, Daddy,” Pippa said one evening as they were settling in the sitting room after dinner. “You can sit next to Blaise.” She led him to the sofa where Blaise was already sitting and shoved to get him to sit.

Harry hadn’t been this close to Blaise since their impromptu kiss three days before and he wasn’t remotely comfortable. Or, he was too comfortable. Blaise smelled wonderful, some kind of musky cologne that was teasing Harry’s senses. Then again, it might’ve been the heat radiating from Blaise that was affecting Harry and sending his senses out of control. He couldn’t be certain which.

His children were obviously working on new means of torturing him.

“Relax,” Blaise murmured. “I don’t plan to jump you.”

Harry glanced at him askance, not entirely surprised when that statement and Blaise’s proximity sent his imagination into overdrive and heat coiled low in his belly. He frowned when it struck him that Blaise hadn’t been actively pursuing him. Harry had been running, but Blaise had actually backed off since they’d kissed. It was the kids who had literally shoved him at Blaise.

“What are you lot up to?” he asked them distrustfully.

“We want to hear Hogwarts stories tonight,” Amaryllis said primly.

Harry promptly forgot about his attraction to Blaise. Usually Hogwarts stories meant someone was upset and missing their parents. “Whose idea was it?”

He had a sneaking suspicion and . . .

“It was Trevor’s.”

. . . he was right.

“All right, then. C’mere, Trevor,” he said, patting his leg.

Trevor scrambled up and the others crowded around close. Even Goyle moved his chair closer, snagging Trenton and settling him on his lap. It seemed to be the boys’ turn, because Benjamin had followed right behind Trevor and claimed Blaise’s lap for himself.

The girls made no protest. Hogwarts story time took on an almost sacred atmosphere in their house. It meant a lot to all of them and the kids knew they would always have their turns, because it had been reinforced over and over.

“What do you want to hear tonight?”

“I want to hear about the Yule ball,” Byrony piped up.

“Yuck!” Benjamin protested. “We already heard about the stupid dance.”

“But it’s Christmas time,” Melba said, attempting to sound reasonable and reminding Harry so much of Hermione.

“Who cares?” Benjamin said. “I’d rather hear about the Quidditch games between Daddy and Harry.”

“We talked about Quidditch last time,” Amaryllis said, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

Harry gave Trevor a light squeeze. “What do you want to hear about?”

“Your last Christmas at Hogwarts.”

“Sixth year?”

“No, when you went back to visit in seventh year.”

Harry smiled sadly as he allowed the memories to flow to the front of his mind. Trevor wanted to hear about when Ron proposed to Hermione. So, Harry began talking, bringing the story to life with as much detail as possible.

He even included details of what Ron had worn. It was forever ingrained in Harry’s brain because Ron had thrown such a fit about his clothing, wanting everything to be perfect. In the end, he’d chosen a simple pair of denims and a white button-down. The clothing had been clean and fit him, the two deciding factors.

Ron had spent every spare moment of the summer – when not with Harry hunting Horcruxes – working for his brothers to pay for the small engagement ring. Harry hadn’t tried talking him out of it. He’d understood Ron’s urgency. No one wanted to wait because the future was too uncertain.

It was the reason Harry now had so many children. Draco and Pansy and Daphne and Vincent had felt the same way, and Draco had the added pressure of needing an heir. Harry understood from Goyle that Crabbe hadn’t cared much about having an heir and he and Daphne had waited a little longer before they’d had Byrony.

All three couples had wanted everything they could get, and Harry was glad that they’d taken the risks so young and had at least some time to enjoy each other and their children.

There was a part of Harry that regretted not going back for his seventh year. He’d insisted that Ron and Hermione return, with the promise that he’d come get them when he needed help. And he had. He’d periodically removed them from school, with McGonagall’s permission, if not her entire approval.

Harry was around frequently, but he used Hogwarts more as a place to stay than a place to study for NEWTs. He researched possible Horcruxes and ventured out on search missions and never attended classes. McGonagall questioned him regularly, but otherwise everyone left him alone. They knew he had a job to do.

Christmas had definitely been one of the few highlights of that year. Overall, it was quiet, but Ron and Hermione were filled with subdued happiness and Harry soaked in every bit of it that he could.

“Did you see Blaise?” Amaryllis asked curiously.

“Yes, most of the Slytherins stayed that year for Christmas. It wasn’t safe for anyone to go home, but especially them.”

He exchanged a knowing glance with first Goyle, then Blaise.

“My daddy wasn’t there,” Benjamin said sadly.

“No, but your mum was there. She spent a lot of time worrying about him and ended up making everyone around her miserable. Just ask your Uncle Gregory.”

He grinned at Goyle’s scowl, grateful he hadn’t had to put up with Pansy that year.

“Was she mean?” Trevor asked. “Aunt Ginny said she wasn’t always very nice.”

“No, she wasn’t always nice, but she wasn’t really a mean person. It’s just that everyone was scared.”

Blaise snorted quietly in disbelief and Harry shot him a look of warning. He finished telling his stories and answering questions until the kids were satisfied and Trevor was feeling better before sending them upstairs to get ready for bed. It wasn’t until they’d been tucked in and were asleep that Blaise returned to the subject.

“I’m just surprised that you can manage to say anything nice about the Slytherins,” Blaise said. “We were horrible to you and your friends that year.”

“And we weren’t nice, either, but no one is all good or all bad. The kids will hear a lot about the bad choices their parents made. They need to hear about the good as well.”

“You manage to say nice things about Draco?” Blaise questioned dubiously.

“It’s become easier with time,” Harry said dryly. “But seriously, I still don’t know much about my parents and I hate it, so I tell the kids as much as I can. Of course, it’s tempered a bit because they’re still so young, but they’ll know the truth about their parents.”

“Do they know about what I did?”

“They know you made bad choices and were punished for it. And yes, they are aware that you were a Death Eater, but it’s been reinforced repeatedly that you’re not evil.”

“How do you explain Draco?”

“Draco wasn’t evil, either. He just made some really lousy choices because he didn’t feel he had any options. I tell the kids repeatedly that if they ever have anything they want to talk about or need help with, they can come to me. Or just about anyone else in the family, for that matter. I’m trying to teach them that there are always options, but sometimes we just need help finding them.”

“You sound like Dumbledore,” Blaise said with a wry smile.

Harry grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment. He was a good man and taught me a lot.”

“I’m sure he did,” Blaise murmured, appearing lost in thought.

“What?”

“I’m just wondering how old you are.”

“I’m twenty-five.”

“Are you?” Blaise asked. “Have you ever been young, Harry? Has there ever been a time in your life when you didn’t have heaps of responsibility hanging over your head?”

Harry looked away, not interested in having that particular conversation.

“I’m just saying, isn’t it time you did something for yourself for once?”

“What do you mean? I do what I want all the time.”

“Do you?” Blaise asked, obviously not believing him. “You do everything for your friends, for the Wizarding world, for the children. What do you do for yourself?”

Harry scowled at him irritably. “I do things for myself.”

Blaise stood and crossed to Harry. Resting his hands on the arms of the chair, he leaned down as if he was going to kiss Harry, but Harry pulled back with wide eyes.

“I don’t think you do,” Blaise said softly, before walking out of the room and leaving Harry with his thoughts.

Harry groaned, feeling off balance. He did do things for himself, but didn’t Blaise realize that every decision he made affected so many other people? Harry didn’t like it, but it was a fact of life. Besides, it was the right thing to do, to put others first. Wasn’t it?

Sitting there late into the night debating the issue, he finally admitted that he wanted to be a little selfish. He was attracted to Blaise and his calm and steady personality. With Harry’s chaotic life, a quiet, supportive partner was extremely appealing. It would be nice to have someone he could rely on for a change. Someone to lean on when everything got to be too much. He had Goyle and the rest of the family, but it wasn’t the same.

At three in the morning, Harry decided he needed some outside advice, but he needed to get some sleep first.

“Why did I come to you two, of all people, for advice?” Harry groaned, flopping face first onto the twins’ sofa.

“I find that to be a very interesting question myself,” George said, sitting on the floor and patting Harry on the head.

Fred nodded wisely in agreement as he sat beside his brother. “I do believe you’re the only one who ever comes to us for advice.”

They turned to each other and grinned. “We’re so proud!”

“Piss off,” Harry muttered.

“Such language,” George said. “We should tell Mum.”

Harry stared at him in disbelief, wondering what kind of weird kick they were on. “You’d never tell her.”

“Well, no,” Fred agreed. “But I’ve always wanted to say it. Our dearest siblings always sound like they enjoy saying such things.”

“You didn’t say it, George did.”

“I said it for him.”

Harry closed his eyes and gave up. “Can we get back to me? You know, man in dire need of advice.”

Fred and George sniggered. “More like, man in need of a good shag.”

“Piss off.”

“There’s that language again,” said Fred. “I should tell Mum.” A pause. “Nah, I still can’t see the appeal.”

“Doesn’t do it for me, either,” George said. “Maybe it’s an acquired taste.”

“That would be the reason I come to you two,” Harry said wearily. “You’ll actually keep my secrets without blabbing them to everyone in the family.”

He opened his eyes to glare at them. “You’re not being much help, though.”

“That’s because you don’t really want our advice this time.”

“Yes, I do,” Harry protested. “Tell me what to do. Please.”

“Shag Zabini.”

“That’s it? That’s your grand advice?”

They shrugged in unison. “We’d suggest doing it regularly.”

“Having him in your bed every night would help with that.”

“Have you two gone mental?” Harry exclaimed. “I can’t do that! What about the kids?”

“What about them?” Fred asked. “They have nothing to do with your sex life.”

“I want more than just sex.”

“With Blaise?”

Harry hesitated before admitting, “Yes.”

“Then go for it.”

“I can’t!”

“Since when are you a coward?”

Harry shot up to a sitting position. “I’m not a coward!”

“You’re acting like it.”

“I’m not!” Harry looked between them, taking note of their identical expressions of disbelief. “Am I?”

“Dear, dear, Harry,” George said sadly, reaching up to pet Harry’s hair.

“Quit that!” he snapped, shoving George’s hand away irritably. “Just tell me. Do you really think I’m being a coward?”

They exchanged glances before answering with a simple, “Yes.”

Harry flopped back down into a lying position, grabbed George’s hand and put it back on top of his head, silently requesting a resume of the sympathetic petting.

Fred sniggered as George complied. “You’re being pathetic.”

“I know,” Harry said. “Unfortunately, it’s the only thing I know.”

“You want him, so go get him. What’s so difficult about that?”

“Especially since you said he wants you in return,” Fred added with a roll of his eyes.

“Hey,” Harry pouted. “Are you trying to say he’s mental for wanting to be with me?”

Fred grinned widely. “You said it, not me.”

“Ah, don’t listen to my brother dearest,” George said, still petting Harry’s hair. He paused for effect. “You know we love you even if you are mental.”

“You two are no help,” Harry said, trying to scowl but failing miserably. His smile broke free. “But I love you anyway.”

“Do you love Blaise?”

Harry was astounded at the question, especially since it came from Fred. “Of course not. I’ve barely known him for two weeks.”

“No, he’s only lived with you for two weeks,” Fred corrected. “You’ve known him for years.”

“And you’ve been fantasizing about him for at least a couple years.”

“I have not!”

Fred and George simply stared at him, waiting expectantly.

“I’ve known he was gay, so yes, I’ve thought about it a few times.”

They continued to stare.

“All right, maybe it was more than a few times, but it’s not like he’s been my secret fantasy lover.”

They raised their eyebrows, expressing their doubt.

“He’s not,” Harry said sullenly. “There was just a vague attraction and an odd fantasy here or there. I knew I could never get involved with him.”

“But then you saw him again.”

Harry released a heart felt sigh. “Yeah. He looks rather delicious, don’t you think?”

Fred and George shared an eye roll. “If you go for the tall, dark and handsome type.”

“I do.”

“We know.”

“I’m so pathetic.”

“We know that, too. It’s already been discussed this evening.”

“What am I supposed to do? I want him, but I don’t dare get involved. I’ve got a family to take care of.”

“Harry, it has nothing to do with family.”

“Sure it does,” Harry said, but he was eyeing Fred doubtfully, who looked more serious than Harry had seen since Ron’s funeral.

“You’re not being disloyal to their memories if you get involved with someone. Even if it’s Blaise.”

Harry jerked back in shock. “What are you talking about?” But he knew the answer. He could feel the sick ball of dread in his gut, telling him he’d known all along but had been avoiding it.

“You’re a wonderful parent and you’ve been brilliant with all of the kids, but you need to have a life for yourself, too.”

“Why do you think we make you go out on Friday nights?”

“But I don’t have time for a real relationship.”

“Hellloooo?” George knocked on the top of Harry’s head. “Blaise lives with you. I don’t think it’d be a problem.”

“But what if something goes wrong between us? What happens to the kids then?”

“The kids have survived the death of their parents. They could survive a break up between you and Blaise, which I don’t think would happen anyway.”

“We’ve told you, it’s not about them.”

Harry closed his eyes, oddly grateful when George started the ridiculous petting again.

“You’re right. I’m a bloody coward.”

“You’re only twenty-five, Harry. Live a little. Take a few risks.”

Harry sniggered, despite his misery. “I thought I’d given up risk taking a couple years ago.”

“Time you relearned the skill.”

“Hey, next Friday is Christmas Eve,” said Fred cheerfully.

Harry opened his eyes to stare at him blankly. He was often thrown off by the abrupt subject changes.

“Don’t you get it?” Fred was obviously excited, and George was picking up on it, but Harry still didn’t have a clue.

“Get what?”

“Your night off? Friday nights? Christmas Eve?”

“Er . . .”

“You’re pathetic.”

“Already been established,” Harry pointed out.

“You can ask Blaise out and plan something special,” George spelled it out for him. “Seduce him.”

Harry’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You do remember me, right? I suck at relationships and you want me to seduce him?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you plan something.”

Staring at their matching mischievous grins, Harry thought he should head them off quickly. “That’s all right. I think I can manage without your help. Besides, I won’t be going out on Christmas Eve.”

“You take away all our fun, Harry.”

Harry shrugged awkwardly while still lying on the sofa, a small smile on his face. “I couldn’t be anywhere but with family on Christmas, and Christmas Eve is my time with the kids. We’ll be at the Burrow most of Christmas day and it’ll be too crazy to spend any real time with them.”

“So what are you going to do about Blaise?”

“I don’t know. I’ll figure out something.”

During the week leading up to Christmas, Harry tried not to think about Blaise. It was a rather difficult task, since they were living in the same house, but he put in a good effort. He’d decided that he would try to sort out his feelings and discuss the possibilities with Blaise after the holidays. With eight excited kids anticipating the holiday more and more by the minute, they didn’t have time for much else anyway.

There was new fallen snow, forcing them to go sledding down the hill into Hogsmeade. There was shopping to do and presents to wrap. Crafts were being worked on regularly, many of them intended as gifts from the children or used as further decoration around the house. A steady chorus of Christmas music played on the Wizarding wireless, resulting in the singing of carols at any given moment and even impromptu dancing at times.

The morning time that the kids generally spent on home studies gradually dwindled down to nothing by the time Christmas Eve arrived. Harry declared that music and art appreciation was an appropriate course of study and learning words and numbers could resume after things calmed down again.

Harry was laying everything out on the table for dinner and realized he had two kids missing.

“Where’s Benjamin and Amaryllis?”

“Dunno,” Goyle said. “Want me to go look for them?”

“No, I’ll go,” Harry said, rolling his eyes at Goyle, who was practically drooling over the roast Mrs. Weasley had left them. “They’re probably with Blaise, since he’s missing as well. Just finish getting everything on the table and get them started?”

Goyle nodded, already beginning to dish up plates. Harry shook his head fondly and left the kitchen to search for the missing family members.

He didn’t find them on the first floor and started up to the second, checking the bedrooms on the way to the end of the hallway where the playroom was located, finally hearing faint voices. He paused outside the door.

“. . . always miss them, at least a little,” Blaise was saying.

“I don’t like missing them,” Amaryllis said sadly, her voice hitching and sounding like she was crying, little sniffles accompanying her words. “It hurts.”

“You won’t leave us, will you?” Benjamin asked. The hope in his voice was breaking Harry’s heart. It reinforced his belief that it was wrong of him to be selfish and attempt to pursue a relationship with Blaise. There were too many things that could go wrong and it would be the kids that would suffer the most, and they’d already been through so much.

“Of course I won’t. Harry’s already agreed to let me stay.”

Harry had to strain to hear Amaryllis’ whisper. “I . . . I called him Daddy today. Do you think my real daddy would hate me?”

“Oh, Amaryllis,” Blaise said. “He would never be able to hate you. He’d be happy that you have someone you can trust enough to call Daddy.”

Harry jerked his head towards the door in surprise. He wasn’t inclined to think Draco would be happy with any of this.

“Draco, your daddy,” Blaise continued, “didn’t always trust his own daddy very much. He loved him, but he didn’t trust him. Your grandfather wasn’t a very nice man.”

“That’s what Harry said,” Benjamin piped up. “But he also said Grandfather was an honourable man.”

“Harry said that?” Blaise asked dubiously.

“He did,” Benjamin said earnestly. “He said being honourable isn’t always about right and wrong, it’s about following through with your beliefs, no matter what. Grandfather was . . . tray . . .”

“Traditional,” Amaryllis filled in the word Benjamin was searching for.

“Yeah, that. Harry also said Grandfather always put his family first and that was an honourable thing to do.”

“Harry says a lot of things, doesn’t he?” Blaise said, and Harry could hear the surprise and slight bewilderment. It put Benjamin on the defensive.

“I like him,” Benjamin said.

“Can I tell you a secret?” asked Blaise. The kids must have nodded, because he continued almost immediately. “I like him, too.”

“You do?” Benjamin was excited.

“Does that mean you’re not angry that I called him Daddy?”

“No, I’m not angry with you at all,” Blaise assured Amaryllis. “I think you’re very lucky that you have him. He’s a very good daddy to you.”

“But he’s not my real daddy.”

“No, he’s not, but that’s all right. It just means you’re special because you’ve got more than one.”

“Then Pippa is right, and you could be our daddy, too.”

Harry held his breath, feeling sympathetic towards Blaise for the difficult discussion, but also anxious to hear the response.

“I know the lot of you want me and Harry to get together,” Blaise said slowly, feeling his way. “But I don’t think that’s what Harry wants.”

“Does that mean you have to leave?” Benjamin demanded.

“No, of course not. Harry and I could hate each other and he’d still never keep me from seeing you and spending time with you. See, you’ve helped me learn something about him. Even when Harry doesn’t like someone, he can still find the good in them to give them a chance, and he knows I’d never do anything to hurt the two of you.”

“So, you’ll always be here?” Amaryllis asked hopefully.

Blaise answered honestly. “I don’t know.”

“But you can’t leave!”

“I didn’t mean I was leaving you,” Blaise said quickly. “I’ll do my best to always be here for whatever you need from me. I’m just saying that I might not always live here. Harry and I . . . well, let’s just say it might be better for me to find my own place to live, but I’ll still visit, and you could visit me as well.”

“That wouldn’t be the same,” Benjamin pouted.

“No, but we’d work it out and neither Harry nor I would give you a chance to miss me. You get to see all of your other family as much as you want, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I reckon so,” Benjamin said, but he sounded doubtful. “I’d rather you live here, though.”

“Does Harry hate you?” Amaryllis asked.

“No, I think . . .” Blaise sighed. “I think he’s just a little uncomfortable.”

Squirming in the hallway, Harry had to agree. He knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but couldn’t tear himself away.

“Why is he uncomfortable?”

“That’s between Harry and me.”

“So you won’t tell us.” Benjamin had returned to pouting. “Harry says it’s not nice to keep secrets. It can hurt people’s feelings.”

“Keeping some things private is not the same as keeping secrets that could hurt other people.”

“It’s not?”

“Tell Harry to explain the difference to you later.”

Thanks, Harry thought dryly.

“Do you love Harry?”

Harry blinked at the abrupt question from Amaryllis, and wondered briefly if she’d been spending too much time with Fred and George.

“No, Harry won’t let me get close enough to love him.”

“We could help you get closer,” Benjamin offered.

“That’s all right. I don’t think Harry wants that.”

“Then what does he want?”

“He wants you to be happy.”

“I know that,” Benjamin said, and Harry could picture the eye roll that went along with that statement. “I wanted to know what would make him happy.”

“We tried giving you to him for Christmas,” Amaryllis said, “but it didn’t work very well. I tried telling Pippa it wouldn’t, but she didn’t listen to me. She never does.”

“You can’t force two people to like each other. They have to figure that out themselves.”

“But Harry will never figure it out on his own,” Benjamin protested. “Aunt Ginny said he’s stupid like that.”

Dropping his mouth open in indignation, Harry planned to have a talk with dear Aunt Ginny. And eavesdroppers. Like himself. He slid back into the shadows behind the door, trying not to feel like a hypocrite.

“That’s because he’s a Gryffindor,” Blaise said, clearly amused. “They tend to be rather slow sometimes. Come on, I’m sure it must be about time for dinner.”

Thankful he’d moved, Harry watched Benjamin streak down the hallway and down the stairs. He almost missed Amaryllis’ question.

“Can I call you Papa?”

Harry whipped his head back around, not that he could see anything through the small crack between the door hinges. He couldn’t hear anything, either, until Amaryllis spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” she said sadly. “Pippa said you had to marry Harry to be our other daddy, but I thought you could be our other daddy anyway. You said it was all right to have more than one and you are my godfather. I’d just hoped . . .”

“Amaryllis, stop,” Blaise said. “I’m the one who should be sorry, not you. You simply startled me with your question. I never thought you’d want that. From me. I thought you’d call me uncle, like Uncle Gregory.”

“But we’ve never called Harry an uncle. He’s just Harry. Or Daddy. You’re like that. We call you just Blaise. And I thought maybe you could be Papa, but you don’t have to.”

“I would be honoured to be your Papa.”

“Really?” Amaryllis’ voice perked up hopefully. Harry’s eyes were moist as he listened to what he was sure was a gigantic hug. Seconds later, Amaryllis went bounding down the hall, in much better spirits.

Harry slid down the wall and hugged his knees to his chest, not surprised when Blaise actually noticed that he was there as he exited the room.

“Congratulations,” Harry murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Thank you.” Blaise crouched down in front of him. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I’m just a little overwhelmed.” He lifted his head, boldly meeting Blaise’s gaze, which contrasted sharply with his next words. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of you. Us. The kids’ future. My future. I didn’t think I’d ever have one.”

Blaise shifted to sit down beside Harry. “You feel guilty.”

“Yes,” Harry admitted. He’d survived when the kids’ parents hadn’t. He’d vowed to take care of them and he wasn’t sure he had the right to get involved in a personal relationship.

“You’re entitled to be happy, you know. More than anyone, you’ve earned it.”

“Maybe.” But knowing it and following through were two different things. Starting a relationship with Blaise felt like such a huge step to a new future and letting go a part of the past. He wasn’t certain he was ready to let go.

“I loved them. Ron and Hermione.”

“I understand. I feel the same way about Draco and Pansy and Crabbe and Daphne. Feels selfish to start a new life without them, but then, I’m a Slytherin and selfishness is one of our house traits.”

Harry smiled faintly. “I want to be selfish.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, but it’s more difficult for a Gryffindor.”

“I can help you through it,” Blaise offered.

Harry tilted his head sideways to look at Blaise. “Do you think we could make things work?”

“You’re the most stubborn person on the planet. You’d force it to work, one way or another.”

“I don’t want to force you,” Harry said, appalled.

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Not us,” he said. “I mean you’d make things work out, with time for us and time for the kids, schedules, routines.”

“Oh.”

Shaking his head fondly, Blaise leaned over to kiss Harry on the cheek. “Sometimes you’re a daft git.”

“Hey,” Harry protested. “This is all new to me. How am I supposed to know what I’m doing? Everything’s . . . complicated.”

“Not everything has to be complicated,” Blaise said slyly.

Harry perked up in interest, casting a coy smile at Blaise. “It doesn’t?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Blaise said. “Can I kiss you, Harry?”

Finally giving in, Harry nodded before meeting Blaise halfway. It was even better than Harry had been imagining, and sweet and tender soon gave way to heated and passionate.

“There they are!” Trevor shouted. “They’re kissing!”

Harry jerked away from Blaise and attempted to straighten his clothing, knowing it wasn’t doing any good. He felt like a teenager that had just been caught by a professor.

“You’re lying!” Pippa’s voice rebounded up the stairs and down the hallway.

“I’m not! I swear! Come see! Although, they stopped now, but you can still tell.”

“How can you tell?” Benjamin asked, landing with a jump beside Trevor.

“Harry’s face is all red and they just look like they’ve been kissing. They’re all guilty looking.”

Blaise started laughing and Harry shot him a glare before he gave in and started laughing as well. They’d been caught by the kids the first time they’d kissed.

“Oh, wow, you’re right!” Pippa exclaimed. “They kissed! They kissed!” She started jumping around and dancing in excitement, the other kids quickly joining her.

“I don’t think they mind,” Blaise said dryly.

Harry frowned, thinking that it wasn’t the getting together that he’d been worried about. It was the breaking up that concerned him. Blaise twined their fingers together and Harry realized that he was damned if he was giving this up any time soon. He’d just have to work hard at making their relationship as good as possible so there’d never be a need to break up.

“Have you lot finished eating?”

Because they had finished, Harry sent them off to play for a bit while he and Blaise ate. So much for a family dinner, he thought ruefully, but it was nice getting to sit down at the table next to Blaise. Now that he’d stopped angsting and come to a decision, he was thrilled with the new relationship and wanted to experience everything.

“So, you’re finally together?” Goyle asked.

“What do you mean, finally?” Harry demanded.

Goyle shrugged. “Knew it was going to happen since Blaise got here. Just didn’t know when.”

“Hmmph, since when are you a Trelawney?”

“I’m not a Trewlawney. I didn’t predict your death, did I?”

Harry spluttered a laugh, always caught by surprise when Goyle said something funny. It happened more often than he would’ve expected and he always enjoyed it.

Dinner was pleasant, but Harry was sidetracked by Blaise. They used any excuse to touch each other and Harry was loving it. He just wasn’t sure what he was going to do once the kids were around. He’d already been caught once.

He was almost wishing he’d taken the twins up on their offer to let him take Blaise out, but it was the reminder of Christmas Eve that helped him curb his suddenly rampaging hormones. He was an adult, not a teenager, he told himself firmly.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from joining the kids in the playroom and creating a magical snowstorm. They used the results to build a snow fort and then settled inside with lots of fluffy warm blankets.

With a resigned sigh, Blaise crawled inside and sat down next to Harry. “Why do you do these things?”

“Because it’s fun,” Harry said, grinning widely. “We made a snow fort in here last year on Christmas Eve, too. It’s tradition now.”

“Do we get to look at the pictures again?” Byrony asked hopefully.

With a flourish, Harry removed his Invisibility Cloak and revealed a stack of photo albums. He passed them out to the squealing kids and simply watched the expressions on their faces for a few minutes. There were moments of sadness and wonder and laughter. He was pleased that no one looked like they were going to fall apart. The previous year they’d all been feeling rather raw. This year, the kids had had numerous opportunities to look through the albums, but not often enough that it didn’t take away the specialness of seeing all the photos of their parents.

“Where did you get these?” Blaise asked curiously.

Harry glanced at the photos Blaise was looking at. Pictures of Blaise and Draco and some of the other Slytherin relaxing beside the lake at Hogwarts.

“I got the majority from Colin Creevey, but I got some from other people as well. Goyle was able to get a hold of quite a few photos for me and I got some from Snape.”

“Snape?”

Harry shrugged. “He hasn’t been round this month because he prefers to hide in his dungeons through the holidays, but he’ll start stopping by again after the first of the year. I think he’s trying to make sure I’m not permanently damaging future Slytherins.”

Blaise sniggered as he flipped to the next page. “Now that I can believe.”

“He’s not so bad. When one of the kids get sick, he supplies all the potions. I’m not sure Daisy would’ve lived without his efforts. I owe him a great deal. Of course, it doesn’t mean we get on that well, but we manage.”

Daisy crawled into Harry’s lap, dragging a blanket behind her. Harry helped her snuggle in. “Getting tired, pumpkin?”

“I’m not!” Trenton protested immediately.

“Me, neither,” came the chorus from the rest of them.

“It’s not quite time for bed yet,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I am going to throw you all in the bath soon, though.”

Reassured that playtime wasn’t over, the kids went back to looking through the albums.

“Here’s the one of Harry and Blaise,” Melba said excitedly.

“Of us?” Blaise questioned.

“Yeah, but we’re just standing near each other. It was at one of Slughorn’s gatherings.”

“Let me see.”

Melba passed over the album willingly, but she came with it, settling into Blaise’s lap so she could see, too.

Harry watched the two of them, amazed that Blaise had fit into their household so smoothly overall. The only real tension had been between Harry and Blaise. All of the kids had taken to him instantly and Blaise had accepted all of the kids, slowly becoming more adept and comfortable with their routines.

Glancing at the photo, he wondered what that Blaise back in sixth year would’ve said if someone had told him he’d be sitting with a future child of Ron and Hermione on his lap. Harry knew he would’ve laughed his arse off if someone had suggested he’d be contemplating taking Blaise to his bed.

Impulsively, he kissed Blaise on the cheek, grateful they’d been able to grow up.

“Oooooh,” Melba squealed. “Harry kissed Blaise!”

“He didn’t,” Byrony gasped, looking upset that she’d missed it.

Harry rolled his eyes, amused, before kissing Blaise again. It resulted in a fair amount of squealing and cheering.

“Are you lot going to do this every time Blaise and I kiss?”

“Are you going to kiss him all the time?” Trevor countered.

“Maybe.”

“Then, we probably won’t do it every time. It’ll get boring.”

Harry laughed along with Blaise, wondering how in the world he was going to manage to be a good role model for Trevor.

Feeling incredibly content, Harry gazed at the chaos surrounding him. It was a mystery to him how they’d all managed to fit into the sitting room of the Burrow. People and presents were stacked everywhere. It was interesting that he could still miss people in the midst of everything, but it didn’t hurt as bad as it had the year before.

Still feeling a little guilty about his new relationship, Harry had attempted to keep it quiet. With his lot, though, that was impossible. Within two minutes, everyone was aware that Harry and Blaise were now an item and that Blaise had slept in Harry’s room.

Harry had been mortified at that announcement, but everyone else had laughed before beginning a round of congratulations. Blaise hadn’t exactly been comfortable, but they’d both slowly relaxed. It was almost impossible to stay tense in the middle of a Weasley Christmas.

He snuggled closer to Blaise, the two of them sharing a chair due to the lack of available space. Neither of them were put out by the inconvenience.

Blaise’s arm tightened around him. “All right?”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m surprised to be saying this but, me too. I do believe this is the oddest family gathering I’ve ever witnessed, but it’s good.”

“The kids are having a good time.”

“They are,” Blaise agreed as they watched Trevor and Benjamin playing tug ‘o war with Fred and George and a large bundle of wrapping paper. The two younger boys cheered in triumph when they somehow managed to pull Fred and George past some line only they could see.

“You know Draco’s somewhere watching this and having a conniption fit,” Blaise said conversationally.

Harry sniggered. “Yeah, and Ron’s laughing his arse off while Hermione and Pansy try to calm them both down.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he observed Fred slip a package out from under the sofa and pass it to Trevor.

“What is that?” Blaise asked, having seen the exchange as well.

“I don’t know.” Harry was tensed in anticipation of imminent disaster, wondering if he should warn the unobservant family members. It was too late. As Trevor pulled the ribbon, the box exploded.

Automatically ducking, it took Harry a few seconds to realize that it was only . . . mistletoe?

“What the . . .”

“We said we’d give you some help, Harry,” George said cheerfully. “’Course, you got things sorted on your own, but a little extra mistletoe never hurt.”

“A little . . .” Harry stared at the explosion of mistletoe as the others started shouting, Mrs. Weasley being the loudest as she laid into Fred and George for playing the prank.

Harry could only think about one thing.

“Trevor! No kissing Benjamin!”