Archive of Our Own

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 months after the War

"We are here today for the trial of Draco Lucius Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy, do you understand your charges?" Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister of Magic, asked.

"Yes," replied Draco, who was completely terrified of what was to come.

"Very well. You have requested to be questioned under Veritaserum, which has been granted. Official Padma Doge will come forward and administer it."

Doge walked towards Draco and gave him 3 drops of Veritaserum.

"Please tell us your full name," Minister Shacklebolt said.

"My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy."

"Explain to us why you decided–”

"With all due respect, Minister, I think you forgot to ask for witnesses."

Draco hadn't expected to hear that voice again, at least not so soon. It sounded so decisive and sure. It made Draco feel more secure, as if the trial wasn't over before it had even started. As if there was hope for him still.

Draco heard Potter's steady footsteps stop beside him; he looked up to see Potter glance at him and nod minutely in greeting.

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked at Potter with raised eyebrows but let him continue.

"I'm here to testify in favor of Draco Malfoy," Potter said.

There were a few gasps and yelled complaints; then, Potter’s hand was in the air, asking for silence, which fell heavily and instantly across the room. He must have learned that from Dumbledore, Draco thought. Or Granger. Draco could hear the reporters’ quills zoom across their parchment; he could feel the heat of the flash from the photographers’ cameras as they took pictures of their Savior next to Death Eater Draco Malfoy. Not to mention all the stunned stares and whispers coming from the audience watching his trial. None of this had distracted Potter, who maintained eye contact with Minister Shacklebolt during all the commotion.

"Are you sure?" Minister Shacklebolt asked slowly.

"Very."

Potter stood patiently by Draco’s side while he waited for Shacklebolt's verbal acknowledgement.

The Minister nodded. "Alright. Your statement, mister Potter?"

"Draco Malfoy was blackmailed into getting the Dark Mark burned onto his skin. After Lucius Malfoy failed Voldemort,–" there were some gasps, but Potter continued, "– he was forced to take the Dark Mark, and he was given the task to kill Dumbledore if he wanted to keep his family, and himself, alive. He didn't want to kill Dumbledore; he made a few half-assed attempts–"

"Please get to the point, mister Potter," a member of the Wizengamot interrupted.

"My point," Potter said through gritted teeth, "is that Malfoy– Draco Malfoy– saved my life."

Everyone was attentively listening now, waiting to hear how an alleged Death Eater had saved their precious Savior's life.

Harry started pacing around the space near Draco's chair. "I don't know if you all remember, but I had to disappear during the War in order to defeat Voldemort. During that time– and I'm sure you've heard about this by now– I was found by some snatchers. I was taken to Malfoy– Draco's– house..."

Potter explained the sequence of events on the day that Draco had saved his life; how Potter had said the Dark Lord– Voldemort's– name, which was taboo at the time, accidentally taking down all the wards protecting their hidden whereabouts; how Hermione had used a stinging jinx on his face so that he would be unrecognizable. How, at the Manor, Draco had insisted he couldn't be sure if the person with the disfigured face really was Harry Potter. How that false indecision had saved his life.

"How," The Minister asked, "do you know he wasn't actually unsure?"

"Because he would have said it wasn't me. I would have been a dead person walking either way, if he had given a clear answer."

"Draco Malfoy, did you recognize Harry Potter the night he was taken to Malfoy Manor during the war?" Dedalus Davis, a new Wizengamot member, asked.

"Yes," Draco answered, the Veritaserum still in his system.

“And why didn’t you turn Harry Potter in to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?” Davis asked.

“I didn’t want him to die. I wanted him to win the war,” replied Draco.

Shocked murmurs and whispers filled the room. Draco Malfoy had wanted the Harry Potter to win the war?

“And why is that?” another Wizengamot member asked Draco.

“You don’t know what it’s like, having the Dark– Vol–, having Voldemort live in your home, torturing you and your family for any small inconvenience or slip up— how terrifying it was to see everything up close. I didn’t understand what the war stood for, I didn’t understand what it meant. I never wanted the war. Harry Potter gave me hope, that… maybe… we could have a just world. Without him, it looked like Voldemort would have reigned for who knows how long, that any chance or hope of beating Vol– Voldemort would have been lost.”

The members of the Wizengamot all looked at each other, their expressions unreadable.

“Any last words you want to add, mister Draco Malfoy?” asked Minister Shacklebolt.

Draco shook his head. “No.”

“Alright, then we’ll begin with the voting for a sentence. Raise your hands if–”

“There’s another thing I want to add before you make your verdict,” Potter interrupted.

“Very well. What is it?”

The Wizengamot looked shocked— and some a bit annoyed— that their idol was defending Draco so vehemently. Draco was almost sure that all the members of the Wizengamot– and the whole Wizarding World, if he was being honest– were convinced that he had been a loyal and willing Death Eater just like his father.

“The night Albus Dumbledore died… I was there, and– Will you please stop interrupting and let me finish?!” exclaimed Potter.

“Dumbledore was talking to Draco, telling him he didn’t have to do this, that he wasn’t a killer. Draco said that if he didn’t, Voldemort would kill his family. But even then, I could tell Draco was terrified. He was crying, and he was actually putting down his wand when the Death Eaters barged into the Astronomy Tower.”

Potter took a breath and continued, “Draco Malfoy is just like me– he was forced into a role during the War. Only thing is, mine was celebrated. We’re two sides of the same coin. Or, er, knut. How could he have known better, when all his life he was taught that sort of prejudice and never had people with different views surrounding him? Once he found out that what he’d been taught was false, what was he going to do? He didn’t know where to go for help while making sure his family stayed safe. He was a kid , just like the rest of us. And I’m sure we all did things we regret.”

Draco couldn’t believe Potter’s words. It sounded as if Potter didn’t blame him for anything, as if he’d forgiven Draco long ago.

It seemed that the Wizengamot had the same thoughts.

“A question for you, mister Potter,” a small witch with silver spectacles said, “How do you feel about Draco Malfoy? Have you forgiven him for all he has done?”

Potter didn’t answer right away. He took a deep breath, looked at Draco for a minute— as if contemplating how much to say— before he replied, “I believe I have, yes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2.5 years after Draco’s trial

Draco’s been avoiding this, but he has no choice now. Yes, he could owl Flourish and Blotts his order, but they would just claim that his letter must have gotten lost like they have the last few times. He’s learned the hard way. He has to go in person.

His nerves will be on edge all day before, and after, his trip to Diagon Alley. No matter when he goes there are always a decent number of people shopping about. One would think that not many people would go during regular work hours since they’d be at their jobs, but as Draco’s luck would have it, there are always people around.

Draco gets dressed and stops in front of the Floo. He’s waited until a time when there won’t be too many people out shopping, but he’s still nervous. He doesn’t want to have another panic attack in public. It's bad enough when they publish something about him in the Daily Prophet ; it’s almost always negative and it always makes things worse. People are still hurting over the War, which is completely understandable. It’s not something one forgets or heals from overnight. This is something they’ll all carry for the rest of their lives.

But for some reason, they all still blame him. He knows what he did and what he let happen, but he’s not responsible for the whole war. He knows people still believe that he somehow got into Potter’s head and made Potter vouch for him at his trial, which is far from the truth. Even Potter said so, once Draco and Narcissa’s verdicts made it onto the front page of the Prophet; the gossip section was filled with rumors saying Draco must have Imperio’d Potter or had blackmailed him somehow. Potter kept defending Draco when asked about him, which made Draco feel giddy and irritated at the same time.

If Potter had forgiven him and believed in him so much, then why didn’t he write back to Draco? Draco had sent him a letter after the verdict of his mother’s trial had been released, thanking him for having spoken in their favor. He never responded. It made Draco feel like a child, as if he wasn’t good enough. The least Potter could have done was send a polite letter back or something, though Draco knows he shouldn’t have expected anything. He had sent another one a month after the first, inviting him to dinner with his mother (who had made him send the invitation), but Potter didn’t respond to that one either.

Draco closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He can do this. If anyone gets too heated he’ll walk away, leave, and go back another day. He would ask Blaise or Pansy to do it for him, but he feels bad relying on them too much— and for so long. It’s been more than two years. Surely he can do this by himself?

He grabs some Floo powder, throws it into his fireplace, and calls out the Leaky’s address.

---------------------------

Passing through the Leaky to enter Diagon Alley is no easy feat for Draco Malfoy. All the stares and whispers make him feel more uneasy and on edge. He walks with his head down, only looking up once he’s made it to the safety of his destination. People are usually civilized in bookstores. Usually.

Draco walks into the shop and starts browsing; now that he’s here, he may as well pick up some new books, since his to-read pile is dwindling at an alarmingly fast rate. He’s chosen three books to buy and has put them in a basket near his feet when he sees the newest edition of Potions and Their Histories — a book including information on the most recent potions and how they came to be, not to mention a whole section dedicated to theories on the effects of different ingredients when they interacted with peculiar potions such as–

“Malfoy?”

Draco jumps and quickly turns around at the sudden sound, instinctively drawing out his wand. When he sees that it’s Potter, though, he lowers it.

“Honestly Potter, do you have to scare the living daylights out of me? ” Draco asks.

“Erm, sorry. What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m looking at books to buy.”

“Right, I know. I mean, I don’t know, obviously, but–”

“Is he bothering you, mister Potter?” Asks the clerk, who’s looking at Draco with disdain.

“What? No, of course not. If anything, I’m bothering him,” Potter states.

“Oh... Okay.” The clerk blinks. “Well, if you need any help, just let me know.”

“Actually,” Draco says while handing over a piece of parchment, “Could you please get me a copy of Creating New Potions with Eubard Viken? I have a letter from Eubard stating that one of the reserved copies is for me.”

“Of course... I’ll be back in a moment.”

“You’re a potions master?” Potter asks.

“Trying to become one. What about you, Potter? How’s the Auror life going for you?”

“I quit, actually. A little over a month ago. It… well, let’s just say it wasn’t working out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Draco replies politely.

“Don’t be,” Potter says.

The sounds of the returning clerk’s footsteps interrupt their almost-comfortable-yet-slightly-awkward-silence.

“Here you go… sir. Anything else?”

“I think that’ll be all,” Draco says while grabbing the basket with his books. “Well, Potter, it was–”

“What are you doing after this?” Potter asks suddenly.

“Pardon?” Draco asks.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to get some tea after this and, you know, catch up,” Potter says.

Stunned, Draco says nothing, staring at Potter as if he’s grown a second head, before breaking out of his shock. It would be useful to get some potions ingredients while he’s here… And he might get helped sooner if he’s with Potter…

“As long as we can stop at the Apothecary on our way,” he replies.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Potter tells him.

---------------------------

Once Draco has paid for his books and has shrunk them to fit in this pocket, they walk to the Apothecary to place a rather hefty order of potions ingredients for Draco (he’ll have to pick it up in a few days and do this all over again...), and then head to the new tea shop/café at the end of the street.

They find seats near the back and order some tea. The silence that was oddly comforting when they first sat down starts to feel stifling.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Draco asks.

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“I mean, Potter, why are you here?”

“Erm, getting tea?”

Frustrated, Draco replies, “Not what I meant, and you know it.”

Potter scratches the back of his head, looking slightly flustered. “I don’t really know, to be honest. It’s just… been a while. And I’ve been wondering what you’ve been up to.”

“I haven’t been up to anything, Potter. This isn’t sixth year.”

Potter’s eyes soften. “I know. That’s not what I meant. I just… Just give me a chance, yeah?”

Draco looks into Potter’s vibrant emerald eyes. He can see the hesitancy and hope. Those eyes alone could undo Draco. But why should he give Potter a chance? Potter’s the one who didn’t even respond to his owls. Not even a ‘No thank you, I have better things to do .’ So why the sudden interest now?

Draco taps his fingers on the table in a rhythm of right to left, hoping he’s making the right choice. What’s the worst possible thing that can happen?

He doesn’t expect the answer to be falling in love with Harry Potter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Potter. Good to see you,” Draco says stiffly; he still can’t believe Potter wants to see him. When he had told Draco that he wanted to meet up again after their encounter at Flourish and Blotts, Draco thought of it as a polite gesture.

He didn’t expect an owl a week later asking when he was free for some tea and biscuits.

“Malfoy,” Potter says as he sits, “How’ve you been?”

“Same as always, Potter. Yourself?”

“Erm, right. I’m doing alright. Did you already order?” Potter asks him.

“No, I did not. I’ve been here twenty minutes and no waiter has passed by yet, of course –” Draco says bitterly.

Suddenly, a woman shows up to take their order. “Hello, Mr. Potter, my name is Giovanna. How can I be of service?”

Draco sighs; of course they magically appear when Boy Wonder shows up. It’s always like that; he’s the trash sitting on the curb while Potter’s the gold. The prejudice against Slytherins and himself has only gone uphill since the Battle. It’s harder for them to find jobs, people judging them instantly instead of hearing them out. They’re all assumed to be the same.

At least most don’t hide it; it’s better to know where people stand instead of having to figure it out by trial and error.

Draco clears his throat loudly, making her acknowledge him. “Oh, hello… Sorry, can’t say I saw you there. Are you two ready to order?”

Potter frowns. “What do you mean you didn’t see him there?”

“Oh, I just hadn’t seen him at the table,” she responds smoothly.

“This table’s in plain sight. He got here twenty minutes before me and says he hasn’t been attended. I just got here two minutes ago and it’s now that we have someone show up at our table?”

“Potter,” Draco warns, “It’s okay. I’m used to it, it happens all the time.”

“What? How often?” He demands.

“It doesn’t matter. Can we drop this and order?”

“But if you’re being treated unfairly–” Starts Potter.

“And I said it was fine. Alright? I don’t want to make a scene.” Draco fixes Potter with the most strict and burning gaze he has; the one his father used on him every time he spoke out of turn.

The server looks like she’s not sure what to do; no one wants to help Draco Malfoy, yet they also don’t want to anger The Harry Potter. All Draco wants to do right now is to blend in as much as he can and eat some food.

Harry drops the subject. He looks at the waitress and asks, “Can I get a hot chocolate please?”

“Of course,” She says quickly, “And you?”

Draco requests a coffee.

Giovanna nods and heads towards the counter to make their drinks.

“I don’t understand why you had to wait until I got here to order something,” Potter comments.

“Are you really that thick? I didn’t wait, I wasn’t being a gentleman.” he says. Draco knows he should go easy on Potter, but he’s also frustrated with Potter’s level of naivety.

“What?”

“Potter,” Draco says, “Think about it– You’re the Golden Boy. No one is going to make you wait. I’m unimportant–”

“That’s not true–” He interrupts.

“Yes I am! They don’t care about me! I’m not worthy of their time. I did unforgivable things–”

“We all did bad things during the war, Malfoy. How often does this happen?” Potter asks Draco.

“Potter, I did unforgivable things, things I am definitely not proud of. They have every right to hate me. As long as I don’t get hexed in public I’ll consider it a successful day,” Draco says.

“How often does this happen to you?” Potter asks, his voice raising a little. Draco should have realized Potter would fixate on his insignificant comment and would not give up until he got an answer.

Draco looks around and sees people starting to look. He’d already known before coming here that people would look at him when they saw him sit down. He knows they started glancing more often when Potter joined him. But now they’re openly staring, making Draco uncomfortable.

Giovanna hands them their orders and leaves as quickly as she’d shown up.

Draco leans in and says more quietly, “What does it matter, Potter? If I tell you to drop something–”

“ How often?”

“I told you to drop it!” Draco shouts. He hadn’t meant to lose his composure, but there’s something about Potter that always gets under his skin.

“And you should’ve moved on by now! I spoke at your trial for a reason.”

“Who said it was I who hasn’t moved on, Potter?”

Click. Then the world is too bright for them to see each other, followed by a muffled whirring noise.

That’s what they hear and see before Draco and Potter turn towards the large window near them, seeing at least two reporters and a few fans.

Another click. Another bright light.

Now there are more people.

“We have to leave, now,” Potter tells him. He stands up and leaves a few Galleons on the table as Draco responds.

“What, don’t want to be seen with Former Death Eater Draco Malfoy?” Draco sneers. He can’t help getting defensive; of course Potter didn’t want to be seen with him. Why had he hoped for anything different?

Potter scoffs. “No, dumbass. We can’t talk in private here; we shouldn’t be seen bickering. Give me your arm, we’ll get out of here and Side-Along.”

He’s right; it won’t do either of them any good to be seen arguing in public. Draco gives in and stands up.

Potter loops his arm through Draco’s so as to not lose him in the crowd of people now standing by the café entrance. “This is going to be brutal, just stay with me,” He tells Draco, who remains quiet.

This is why he had originally declined to meet Potter: too many eyes watching and ears listening. All he wants to do is be forgotten, to blend in. He didn’t want to pick a fight. He didn’t want to think of everything Potter brings to the forefront of his mind, the way he makes him feel. He always has to rise to Potter’s challenge, and it doesn’t always end well for him.

They exit the shop to cries of “Harry Potter! Marry me!”, “Mr. Potter, a quick question!”, “Mr. Potter! What is Mr. Malfoy doing with you?”, “What were you fighting about in there?”

“Get away please!” Potter yells, his voice strained. He keeps pushing the crowd with his body as he pulls Draco along with his arm. “Potter,” Draco wheezes, “I can’t… There’s too many people…”

“I know, I know! Me too!”

At long last, they are able to escape the crowd, quickly walking towards a secluded corner. Potter stops abruptly, making Draco pull on his arm as he stops.

“I’m Apparating, stay close.”

Draco feels the familiar feeling of being squished from all sides, the air leaving his lungs, nothing in view.

When they land, he falls to the floor, his arm untangling from Potter’s in the process.

Deep breaths, Draco tells himself. Deep breaths. One, two, three, four…

Once Draco’s breathing stabilizes, he notices he’s in a familiar building. One which he hasn’t been inside in years. He stands up and moves towards the mantle, which is littered with photos of Potter with his friends, the Weasleys, a boy with lavender-colored hair sitting on Potter’s lap, and so forth.

A cup of tea makes its way into his hands. “Hey,” Potter says softly, “Sorry I left. I needed to ground myself. I hate crowds.”

“Thanks,” Draco says. He takes a sip.

“I don’t know how you like your tea but I figured since you’re posh you probably like it sweet.”

“I do, actually,” Draco says, surprised. “And me too. I haven’t been able to handle crowds very well since the Trials.”

“Yeah,” Potter says.

They stay quiet, looking at the photographs.

“Who’s the boy with the purple hair?” Draco asks.

“Oh, that’s Teddy. He’s my godson,” Potter says, “I think he’s your cousin, right?”

“I believe so. I’ve never met him before, nor his mother actually. They’re not really fondly spoken about.”

“His parents died in the war, so it’s just Andromeda and I taking care of him,” Potter tells him.

“Oh.” Draco doesn’t really know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

He feels a hand on his shoulder, followed with a squeeze. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Draco looks down at his half-finished tea. “It kind of was, though.”

A sigh. The warmth on his shoulder disappears.

“Come on, if we’re going to talk about this we might as well sit down.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco’s eyes flutter open as he starts to wake up; he feels the bright warmth on his face as he stretches. It’s later than when he usually gets up, but he’d decided the night before that he deserves it: his talk with Potter yesterday was emotionally draining. It’s important for them to process their shared past; if they want anything resembling an acquaintanceship, or possibly a ‘friendship’, as Potter had put it, they need to be on the same page.

They both agree they are willing to move forward, yet they also know flare-ups or small bumps are inevitable, so they’ve grudgingly agreed to attempt honesty and communication in their new relationship.

Draco finally gets out of bed when he hears a repeated pecking noise coming from the window. He drags his feet towards the noise and opens the window. The owl flies around the room before perching themself on Draco’s console table. It’s a Daily Prophet owl; Draco curses himself for having forgotten to cancel the subscription Blaise had signed him up for. If he wants news, he’ll read The Quibbler or The Independent .

He gives the owl a treat as he grabs the newspaper and places a few knuts in the pouch attached to one of their legs.

Draco unfolds the Prophet ; his being instantly engulfed in dread, his stomach sinking as he reads the words: FIGHT BREAKS OUT BETWEEN EX-DEATH EATER DRACO MALFOY AND SAVIOR HARRY POTTER .

Draco swallows heavily and begins reading:

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were spotted together at a local café on Thursday the 25th of January.

 

Harry Potter is the person who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, also known as Voldemort. Draco Malfoy is an ex-Death Eater and former follower of Voldemort. The Malfoy family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

 

Witnesses who were at the Mystic Café around the same time as Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy claim that Mr. Malfoy had arrived approximately a half hour before Mr. Potter.

 

Shortly after Mr. Potter had arrived, witnesses say he had made a scene. Some witnesses claim it was Mr. Malfoy who had initiated the scene. It is unclear who actually made the first move.

 

Mr. Dodge, a now-retired Wizengamot member, was at the shop during the time of the incident.

 

When asked of the event, he said, “I don’t know what was going on over there, I was a little far away. All I know was that Mr. Potter had been a little brash with the waitress for some reason, and Mr. Malfoy tried to have him calm down.

 

“They kept talking for a bit and you could tell it was getting heated, whatever they were talking about, because Mr. Malfoy ended up yelling, ‘I told you to drop it!’ and Mr. Potter yelled back something about him moving on,” Mr. Dodge said.

 

According to Ms. Giovanna Rose, their waitress, when various people identified as reporters and fans took photographs of Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, they stood up and made their way out.

 

“...Then they started arguing over something, I don’t want to say what, but it must’ve escalated. I heard them talking about how Mr. Malfoy’s treated by the Wizarding World and something about his trial. Once they saw the reporters Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy left the shop, arm in arm,” Ms. Rose said.

 

It is rumored that Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy left together.

 

Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter were not able to be reached for comment.

Draco admits they could have painted him in a worse way. It seems like they are finally trying to be more decent when reporting news, though he will not trust them so easily again. “ It is unclear who actually made the first move ,” Draco mocks.

“Utter bull. And I was not contacted for a comment!” Draco tells the paper.

He discards the newspaper and heads downstairs for breakfast. Just as he finishes eating he receives letters from Theo, Blaise, and Pansy, all with similar messages: Why were you with Potter??

He writes them back with plans for dinner; he’ll explain then. It has been too long since he last saw them, anyway.

He spends the rest of the day reading through Creating New Potions with Eubard Viken. He wants to be as prepared as possible for this apprenticeship; he will prove to the other students that he earned his place. They can say whatever they like about him, but his skills will earn him the professional respect he deserves.

It’s past sundown when he sets the book on the coffee table; he’s about to start cooking dinner when he receives another owl, this time from Potter himself.

Malfoy,

Ignore what the Prophet says. They’re just trying to make people think we can’t get along.

Last night you said you’re a Muggle film fan right? Want to meet up sometime next week and watch a movie at my place?

HP

Draco smiles. Of course he’d remember that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe you haven’t watched this movie. You said you were a fan! I love this one.” Potter inserts the VHS tape into his television and sits down.

“I’m a movie fan. Never said I’ve watched every movie on Earth, you prat. What’s this movie called again?” Draco asks.

“ The Incredibles . It’s a superhero movie.”

“And they also have magic?” Draco asks as he sits down near Potter on the sofa.

Potter moves his head side to side while he considers the question. “Kind of? They have these supernatural abilities called superpowers and they’re all different.”

Draco hums in response.

They continue watching The Incredibles on Potter’s telly with minimal conversation; they’re just getting to the part where Mr. Incredibles chokes Gilbert Huph, his boss at the beginning of the movie, and slams him across the office, breaking a few concrete walls in the process.

“Merlin!” Draco exclaims. “Would a Muggle even survive that?”

Potter shrugs. “Probably not, but it’s a movie, so.”

After a few minutes, Potter releases a grunt of some sort originating from his throat, slowly getting up from the couch. “I’m going to make more popcorn. Someone just had to eat nearly the whole bag before the film started,” Potter teases, “Want some?”

“What a tragedy,” Draco deadpans, “The fact that you're even asking me is offensive, Potter. Of course I want more of this disgraceful substance,” he says as he stuffs the remaining food into his mouth.

Potter rolls his eyes and comes back a few minutes later with two bags of popcorn and sits down.

“How did you find out about movies anyways? Thought your parents hated everything Muggle.”

“Oh, they do. Well, my mother not as much anymore,” Draco replies, “I found out about movies during my time in the Muggle World as part of my probation. Mother thinks they’re silly but I rather enjoy them.”

“And how’d that go?”

“It was a bit hard at the beginning, honestly, but being on house arrest before helped. Prepared me for it, in a way,” he said, not really paying attention to the movie anymore.

“How long were you on house arrest for, two years?” Potter asks.

Draco shakes his head. “No, you’re thinking of Mother’s sentence. I was under house arrest for six months, then in the Muggle world for a year before I was allowed to come back.”

“Right,” Potter says, “I remember the Prophet announcing your return.”

Draco turns his head towards him and says, “Keeping tabs on me, Potter? I’m flattered.”

Potter snorts.“You wish, Malfoy,” Potter jokes, “And not really. I remember because a reporter asked me a few questions about it. They wanted me to slander you; ended up telling them to piss off before I decided to hex them.”

“Ah, I see. I try not to read the Prophet anymore; they’ve led me astray before,” Draco says.

“Yes, they have.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ No , I already told you no,” Draco replies rather forcefully.

“Oh, but Draco, the Greengrass girl is wealthy and educated. She would make a lovely wife,” Narcissa replies as she stirs her tea. “You should try sending her a letter. She went to Hogwarts around the same time as you–”

“Mother, I appreciate it, I really do, but I am in no rush to get married. I really just want to enjoy my life right now. I’m getting to discover myself in a way I was not allowed to when I was younger, for various reasons, and I do not want to drag a another person into this. The Greengrass family is mostly unscathed from the War but we are not,” Draco tells her.

“Exactly!” Narcissa replies readily, leaning forward with her hands on the table, “They were barely affected, meaning they can help our social status, Draco. You can bring a new honor to the Malfoy name.”

Draco sighs; he loves his mother, he really does, but it’s because of conversations like these that he mostly avoids her now. He doesn’t want to get married. At least, not to anyone his mother thinks he should marry.

During his time in exile, he had struggled so much. He had discovered parts about himself he had buried deep down that only a Mind Healer was able to help him figure out and process. And while he wasn’t ready to tell his mother he was gay, he also didn’t want to live a lie. Again.

“Just give me time, Mother. Alright?” Draco pleads. He needs to create a seamless plan to present to her, one that will allow him to live the life he wants while also somehow pleasing her.

Narcissa nods.

“Good,” Draco tells her, “And how are you enjoying the Muggle world? You’ve been fully integrated at this point I believe.”

“It has been… peculiar. But not horrible. Muggles do so many odd little things to excuse magic. It’s quite pathetic,” She replies.

“Mother,” Draco warns.

“What?”

“It isn’t pathetic. It’s quite marvellous, the explanations they make for magic. I rather enjoyed my time in the Muggle world; I learned a lot from them. Give it a chance, an actual chance– you might enjoy it.”

“Very well. I will try, for you, my son. Salut,” Narcissa says as she lifts her teacup.

“Cheers, Mother.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco enters the restaurant where he’s meeting his friends. He’s running right on time, which is unusual for him; he had lost track of time reading a book, but thankfully he isn’t late. Pansy would definitely tell him off if he arrived late. Draco is usually at least ten minutes early to events such as these... He goes up to the host stand and introduces himself as the remaining person from the Parkinson reservation of four. The waiter takes him to the assigned table. Once Theo, Pansy, and Blaise see him, they stand up.

“Hello! It’s so good to see all of you,” Draco says as he hugs them, “It’s been too long since I last saw you all.”

“Yes, it’s been too long, Draco,” Pansy tells him, “You mustn’t forget about us, even if your new paramour is keeping you busy . ”

Theo lets out a laugh.

Draco can feel his skin become the color of a peach, a cool pinkish-red. “He- He is not my paramour! And keep it down, Pansy, I don’t need any more rumors making the paper,” He says in a hushed voice as they sit down.

“If you still haven’t shagged him, then what are you two?” Blaise asks as he raises a brow. “You can’t possibly tell us this is nothing.”

Draco groans; he’s not even been here for a full minute and they’re already interrogating him. They obviously coordinated this before he arrived.

Draco clears his throat and picks up a menu. “We ran into each other at Diagon and he asked if I would join him for tea–”

“And you said yes ?” Pansy asks incredulously.

“I only said yes in order to be attended faster; I had quite a few errands to run and you all know how much longer they take because it’s me they have to attend to.”

After a pause, Draco continues, “Anyways, he asked if he could owl me, and I didn’t honestly think he would, so I agreed. As you can imagine, when we met up, things got a tad out of hand–”

“We saw.” Theo smirks; he leans in and says conspiratorially, “The Prophet says you two left together?”

“Get your head out of your arse, Theo,” Pansy says, “He’s too proper for a one-night stand.”

“No, he’s not,” Blaise replies, smirking into his drink.

Pansy gasps, “Blaise, you rascal! When did this happen? Why was I not told of this? Theo, did you know?”

“I did not,” Theo replies with an expression of genuine curiosity.

He seems on the verge of asking for more information when a waiter appears before them, interrupting their conversation, ready to take their order. They ask for the finest red wine from Argentina, order an appetizer to share, and order their meals.

Once the waiter is out of earshot, Draco sighs. “It was ages ago, Pans. We didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“Well you were quite wrong, love!”

Draco rolls his eyes.

“Now you know,” Blaise replies, “So– what happened with Potter?”

“Right. We Apparated back to his house and we talked of the War, our past… We agreed to try to move forward. He wants to be friends. ”

“Sounds like an improvement. Maybe you do have a chance of shagging him,” Theo winks.

“Theo!”

“Now, let’s not get our dear Draco’s hopes up. We all know how smitten he is when it comes to Potter,” Blaise teases.

“I am not smitten with Potter, will you all stop? ”

“Whatever you say, darling,” Pansy tells him, “So, what did he say when you asked him about the letters? He never responded, and now he wants to be friends?”

“I…,” is all Draco says.

“Oh, Draco,” Theo says, “You are smitten.”

Draco scowls and looks up from the menu, “I am not! I just haven’t gotten around to asking.”

“You’re scared to ask, aren’t you?” Pansy says, her voice gentler.

Draco replies softly, “Of course I am. We’re finally trying to get along; I don’t want to ruin it. But… to be honest, it is still something I wonder about.”

With their wine and appetizer served, they start to eat.

“Draco, how can you fully move on if you’re still mulling over this? You have to move past this if you want any sort of relationship with him,” Blaise tells him reasonably, “We know you. This is something that will bother you until it’s addressed.”

“Yes, I know. That’s what I feared you’d tell me. Now, can we change the subject?”

“Well,” Pansy says, “With that out of the way, why don’t you ask us how we’re doing? We have so much to fill you in on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco doesn’t know what to do; it’s been weeks since the dinner with his friends and he still hasn’t brought up the letters to Potter. They’ve been on his mind for months, years even, but never as regularly as this. His thoughts, confusion, and feelings over those damn letters have only intensified since he ran into Harry, who seems invested in being on good terms.

At times, he wonders how to bring it up but always hesitates when there’s an opening. Draco knows he keeps self-sabotaging, in a way. He knows why– he’s afraid. Afraid of the answer, of what this could mean for the tentative friendship they are building.  

He’s angry as well. He doesn’t understand what Potter’s deal is, doesn’t get what he’s playing at. Draco’s not willing to play a game he knows will not end well for him; he has so much to lose while Potter has so much to gain.

It’s only when Potter picks up on the fact there’s something on Draco’s mind that Draco actually has the courage to follow through and find out why he never received a reply.

“Malfoy, I can tell something’s bothering you… You’ve been acting oddly lately. Are you okay?” Potter asks. Draco can hear the genuine concern in his voice and it’s the confusion he feels that motivates him to finally ask.

“I just don’t understand. You’ve given me so many mixed signals… It doesn’t add up. Why didn’t you ever answer the letters I sent you?”

“Letters? What letters?”

“Oh, don’t be daft! I sent you two letters– one thanking you for speaking on my mother’s and my behalf at the trial and another one, a month later, inviting you to a dinner with my mother and I. You didn’t answer either letter, not even to politely decline. What a real golden boy you are, chosen one ,” Draco sneers, all his pent up emotions now bubbling to the surface.  

“I… I didn’t know,” Harry says, “I–”

“And then you come into my life– unannounced, mind you– and start acting like you care and you’re driving me insane, Potter–”

“I do care! Just– Let me explain! Alright? Calm down. Breathe, you’re going to blow up and ignore what I say if you stay this mad.”

Draco nods a few times and sits down across from Harry. Once he opens his eyes, Harry explains.

“After the war, I kept getting owls from people I didn’t know, thanking me for what I did, some asking for favors or advice, others threatening me saying they lost everything because of me, and some… sending uncomfortable requests,” Harry shifts in his chair, “I was becoming overwhelmed, owls tapping my window at home, at work, out with friends, at every waking moment. Hermione suggested opening up a somewhat-public owl box– all the letters would go there. They would first pass through the post office and only letters sent from people who were approved by me would actually get delivered to my house. Unless I gave permission to be owled directly, like I did to the Weasleys or to the Ministry.

“So I never actually got your letters, and I suppose the workers didn’t bother to tell me you were writing to me, assuming it wasn’t worth my time. I’m sorry, I genuinely didn’t think you’d write to me so I didn’t include you on the list.

“I did add you to the list after I saw you at Flourish and Blotts, but that’s recent. I’ll be sure to add your mom too,” Harry says.

Taking a deep breath, Draco responds with, “I guess that does make sense. Mother wanted to do that too, but we kept receiving death threats anyways so we decided to discontinue the service. It hadn’t occurred to me that you’d try the same thing.”

“It happens. Are we sincerely on good terms now?” Harry extends his left hand. Draco stares at it, a memory from first year flashing through his brain.

He shakes the hand.

“Yes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

“Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Smith wanted me to let you know there’s a visitor for you in room twenty-three,” a healer who goes by the name of Alexe Morgan tells him as they enter the exam room.

A visitor? I’ve never had a visitor at St Mungo’s, Draco thinks to himself.

“Thank you, I’ll be right there,” He replies before they cross the room towards their respective patient.

Hannah Abbott, the healer who supervises Draco when he volunteers and has been teaching him how to take care of a patient with Rheumatism, tells him, “I can finish up with the patient if you want.”

“Yes, that would be splendid. Thank you, Healer Abbott,” Draco replies.

Abbott has never treated him like he’s a waste of space; she has always treated him civilly even when he didn't deserve it. Not many people wanted to let Draco volunteer at St Mungo’s– many of the staff members were fearful of the feedback they would receive from the community if it became common knowledge, and while there were a significant number of people who were opposed, the staff decided to give him a chance regardless.

Then came the next issue– who could Draco Malfoy learn under? There weren’t many people who wanted him. Hannah Abbott was the only healer who volunteered to give him a chance. She treats him like he’s any other volunteer, which he appreciates immensely.

Maybe someday he’ll have a career he’s proud of, a career he loves. For now, however, he’s just a volunteer shadowing a certified Healer.

Draco walks into visiting room number twenty-three and sees none other than Harry Potter.

“Of course you’re the one visiting me. I should have expected no less from you,” Draco teases.

Potter scratches the back of his neck, a sure-tell sign Draco has learned over the weeks that means he’s nervous.

“You said we could meet up for lunch but didn’t say where. All you told me was that you were volunteering at St Mungo’s today.”

“Right you are. My apologizes. I’m still working, so give me another ten minutes or so?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Potter says, “I’ll wait here if that’s okay?”

“Of course. Well, I’ll be right back.”

Once he gives the paperwork to the person in charge of filing, he heads back to the visiting room, where he finds Potter asleep on a chair, snoring softly.

Draco smiles as he observes him. Potter looks more exhausted than usual, and his appearance looks significantly more shabby than Draco has seen him in ages. He slowly walks towards Potter, and shakes him gently.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty, it’s time for lunch…”

Potter doesn’t stir, so Draco shakes him more roughly. “Hello, wake up. Potter! ”

Finally, he wakes up with a start. “Malfoy! What are you doing?”

“Merlin, are you a deep sleeper! What do you think? Trying to wake you up.” Draco says, “You don’t look very well, and that’s saying something.”

“Prat,” Potter says jokingly as he stands up. “I haven’t been able to sleep properly for a few days, to be honest.”

“Oh, how come?” Malfoy asks as they leave for their agreed-upon restaurant.

Potter sighs. Not good, Draco thinks.

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

“Alright,” Draco tells him. “Would you want to eat at a Muggle place instead of in Diagon?”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Harry says.

Once they are sitting and have ordered their food, Draco makes sure no one is close enough to be able to hear them. There aren’t that many people in this restaurant, though Draco casts a Muffliato as a precaution anyhow.

“Potter,” Draco says.

“Hm?”

“You’re more of a mess than usual. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I told you, I don’t want to talk about this,” Potter tells him.

“That’s utter bull. Something’s eating at you, why won’t you tell me?”

Potter sighs and rubs his eyes, moving his glasses up in the process. “It’s just… It’s a heavy topic.”

“Right, because you and I only talk about the weather,” Draco says, sarcasm dripping from his voice, causing Potter to laugh.

“Alright, I get your point,” Potter says, “I haven’t been sleeping well lately because of nightmares. It gets to a point where I’m afraid to fall asleep, you know? And I don’t want to bother anyone about it so I’ve been dealing with it.”

He clears his throat and looks at the floor. “Yes, I do know. After the war, there was a time where I would do anything to avoid sleeping… I can assure you it did not go well for me. But H-, Potter, that’s not the right way to handle it. You know that. Not sleeping will only make things worse for you.”

Potter seems to deflate at that statement. “I know.”

Draco leans on the table. “If you know your habits are unhealthy, then why continue them?”

“Order number thirty! Please come forward to pick up your meal.”

“Looks like that’s us,” Potter says and stands up, “I’ll get the food, yeah?”

“Potter,” Draco warns as Potter comes back with the food. They’d agreed to ask for the food to go when they had ordered and now Draco’s glad they did; he wasn’t going to let Potter get away from this conversation.

Draco gets up and they walk outside. “Side-Along?”

“Yes,” he says, “Hold on.”

Draco grabs onto Potter’s arm and when he opens his eyes again, they’re in Potter’s dining room.

They eat silently, both unwilling to speak first, and Draco’s thankful for that— he hates talking about heavy topics while he eats (something Potter learned the hard way), and it gives him time to organize his thoughts and think of what he wants to say.

Potter Vanishes their empty containers when they’re done and sighs before he finally speaks. “I’m scared to sleep, Malfoy. Do you know what it’s like to see Cedric dying at that graveyard during the Tournament, or to hear Hermione being tortured? To relive everything that happened almost every night?”

“How dare you! Of course I know what that’s like! Don’t you think I suffer from nightmares too? Voldemort lived in my house during the War. I couldn’t get away from him anywhere I went,” Draco hisses.

Potter seems to realize what he said. “You’re right, I’m sorry. If anyone knows how I feel, it’s you.”

This takes Draco by surprise; if anyone knows could relate to how Potter feels, it’d be him? Really? That’s how he feels? Draco was mainly angry at his choice of words, but maybe Potter is right. They both suffered immensely because of Voldemort, and no one seems to fully understand their experiences. Some people try to move on and lock away those memories, but for them, it’s something that will always follow them.

Sometimes he realizes they really are trying to move forward, and it’s at times like these that Draco sees their growth.

Draco clears his throat. “It’s hard to talk about these things sometimes, isn’t it?”

Potter lets out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, it usually is. Do you mind if we talk about something else?”

“Not at all,” he replies, “What are you thinking about?”

“Er… How’s your apprenticeship going? Why did you start volunteering at St Mungo’s?”

“Ah, both are good questions. When I got back from the Muggle World, I knew I wanted to continue volunteering. During my probation, I was occasionally assigned to help at a hospital and it reminded me of when I was in Hogwarts; it was one of the professions I had been considering before the war. So, I decided to study in order to take my NEWTs in June and knew that it would look more attractive if besides Muggle experience, I also had Magical volunteer experience at St Mungo’s.

“Since things are more challenging for me due to my role in the War, I knew I would need as many qualifications as I could possibly get. I decided to apply for an apprenticeship, and was happily surprised when Eubard Viken accepted my application,” Draco takes a moment to breathe before he continues.

“And, it’s going… as well as it can go I suppose. We’re learning the rules and slowly being introduced to Professor Viken’s research at the moment. I’ll have to update you on that at a later date.”

“Sounds like you’ve had your hands full,” Potter says.

“Oh, it has definitely been a journey. At least we weren’t friends then; it is infinitely harder to get things done with you around,” Draco teases.

“Are you saying I’m… distracting, Malfoy?”

The bastard has the nerve to smirk!

“What?! No! Of course not. You’re a bother, that’s what you are.”

“Whatever you say, Malfoy. Whatever you say.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco makes sure he’s at the right address: 12 Grimmauld Place. He takes a deep breath; he can do this. It shouldn’t be too hard. It’s just… He’s not sure what to expect. Potter didn’t really give him any instructions other than “Don’t wear anything fancy.” Draco’s still not sure what Potter meant; why should he dress in a casual manner when he’s meeting his cousin for the first time? Shouldn’t he be dressing up for that?

Draco raises his arm and uses the door knocker to alert Potter of his presence. He hears a series of yells and some fast thuds before the door opens, revealing a somewhat wild-looking Potter. He’s only wearing an undershirt, currently, along with jeans and a singular sock. Even in a rushed state such as this, he still manages to look attractive. Draco curses internally.

“Hey,” Potter says, a little breathless, “Sorry about the mess, Teddy’s being a real nightmare today– whooomph! Teddy!”

Potter tumbles forward, almost falling trying to balance himself without really being able to. Draco grabs his arms to help steady him, and looks around for the source of impact when he hears giggles coming from below. He looks down to see two arms hugging Potter’s legs and a bright purple head of hair that immediately hides as soon as eye contact is made.

“Teddy, let me go, I need to move,” Potter says.

“No!”

“Teddy, I need to let our guest in. What did Andromeda tell you?”

All Draco hears is incoherent mumbling.

“Can’t say I heard you, Tedward,” Potter says over his shoulder.

“She said we shouldn’t leave people waiting outside because it’s mean!” The little boy says.

“Exactly. Now let me let our friend in, okay?”

“Okayyyy.”

When Potter’s able to move back, he opens the door wider. Draco enters the house and turns around to face the little boy and Potter as he closes the door.

Potter bends down in order to be eye level with the kid.

“This is Draco. He’s your cousin,” Potter tells his godson.

“Hello Edward, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Draco,” he says. He sees the boy’s face scrunch up in disgust the moment he introduces himself. Did I do something wrong? Was that too formal? Draco’s about to ask this out loud when his cousin responds, “Call me Teddy. I don’t like Edward. It’s a weird name.”

“I can do that. Teddy,” Draco says, earning a smile from him.

“Da said you’re my cousin?” Teddy asks him.

Draco nods. “Yes.”

“Cool! That means you like Connect Four too! Come on, let’s go play!” Teddy grabs Draco’s hand and starts running at too fast of a speed for Draco to keep up. He can hear Potter laughing behind them, watching Draco bent in half as he follows the tiny road runner.

Draco’s actually impressed– Teddy is good at board games and is just as competitive as himself. Potter’s been playing certain games, but sits out on others, watching their interactions.

It’s only when Draco wins the fourth game in a row that Potter exclaims, “Malfoy, you’re supposed to let him win!”

Draco looks at Potter like he cannot believe that just came out of his mouth. “Let him win? Then how will he ever learn to think for himself? Unlike you, I’m not going to baby him.”

“Yeah, I want to win fair and square!”

“See, Potter? Fair and square,” Malfoy tells him.

“Ugh, fine. Anyways, it’s time for bed. Come on, Teddy, let’s clean up.”

“Nooooooooooo, Daaaaaaaa,” Teddy whines.

“Bed. Now. If you don’t sleep you’ll drive me mental tomorrow.”

“Fiiiiiiine,” Teddy says as he starts packing up the board games scattered across the floor. He gives them to Potter and Draco, who store them in the lower shelves of a bookcase.

“Teddy-Bear, say goodnight to Draco,” Potter tells his godson as he picks him up.

“Good night, Dracoooo.”

“Good night, Teddy. I wish you sweet dreams,” Draco replies.

“I’ll be right back, it only takes a few minutes to put him to bed. If you want, you can choose a wine for us to drink. They should be in the kitchen, can’t miss them,” Potter says before he turns around and is swallowed by the dark hallway.

Stretching as he stands, Draco opens the door to the kitchen and immediately sees all the wine in a corner on his left. He starts to rummage through and finds a bottle of Malbec wine. Once he’s chosen the bottle, he’s not sure what to do– Is it acceptable to look around for the wine glasses? Or should he wait? Ultimately, he decides that if Granger helped Potter organize his kitchen, they’ll be near the bottles. He finds them in the third cabinet he tries and pours them each a generous amount.

“Trying to get me drunk, Malfoy?”

Draco feels as though he’s jumped seven feet in the air; he was so deep in his thoughts, he’d forgotten to stay attentive. He turns around with a smirk in place, hands Potter a glass and says, “You know it, Potter.”

Potter’s better dressed now, Draco notes. He’s wearing a simple dark gray t-shirt and both of his socks.

He leads them back to the living room, where they sit down, sip some wine, and take a moment before they start talking.

“Why does he call you ‘Da’?”

“Oh, um, he said it’s weird to call me Harry when he sees me as his dad, but I didn’t want him to call me that; I felt like I was disrespecting or replacing Remus, you know? So we came up with ‘Da.’ It’s close enough to dad where he’s happy and it’s distant enough for me not to feel like I’m taking his place. Hermione says I’m honoring Remus, but I just… Yeah,” Potter says before taking a sip.

Draco nods and drinks some more wine. “It’s understandable. You’re his father figure.”

“Yeah, I know. I just want him to be surrounded by people who love him. I can only imagine what that would have been like for me. I want him to grow up happy and loved.”

As Potter refills their glasses, Draco says, “You seem to be doing a good job of that. He seems happy, and I’m sure he receives a lot of love from the Weasleys.”

Draco looks down at his wine glass, debating whether or not to divulge this piece of information. It can easily go in a different direction, but he also thinks it’s something worth mentioning.

“You know, when I was… When I was on probation, I would, from time to time, help at an orphanage, and I met some great kids there. But they had gone through such horrible things, and… It broke my heart. Some were abused so badly in those shelters, some sharing a bed with a few other children… Many don’t even know why they’re there. Seeing you take care of Teddy reminds me of them, of their potential, of what they could have been if they’d had someone like you. I have no doubt he’ll turn into a great man one day.” He blinks away the tears threatening to spill from his eyes and takes a gulp of wine before looking at Potter, who’s gotten closer while Draco was talking. He has a hand on Draco’s thigh, squeezing minutely.

“Thank you.”

He looks up and sees Potter’s mere inches away from him, looking at him with an emotion Draco can’t quite put his finger on. Draco turns his body more towards Potter, and looks into those strikingly sharp viridescent eyes. He leans in slowly, tilting his head, giving Potter enough time to pull back— but he starts leaning into Draco’s space as well.

“Harry.”

They can feel the breath on each other’s lips, they’re so close, when they hear small, muffled footsteps followed by, “Daaaa, I can't sleeeeeeeepppp.”

Draco lets out a soft yet short laugh and drops his head onto Potter’s shoulder, the mood transformed.

Teddy runs in with his blanket engulfing him.

“I can put him to bed if you want,” Draco tells him quietly. He’s so near that his breath ghosts over Potter’s collarbone.

“Do you even know how to put him to sleep?”

Draco composes himself quickly, looking utterly unaffected by what had almost happened, as he stands up and says smugly, “Well, of course. All I have to do is tell him a story about you.”

He grabs Teddy’s hand and disappears back into the bedroom where Teddy sleeps. Potter slowly follows them and leans on the door frame as Draco recounts a story from their past— about the time Draco grabbed Neville’s remembrall. Teddy’s almost dozed off when he asks Draco, “Will you be here tomorrow for breakfast, cousin Draco?”

Draco hesitates before looking at Potter, who shrugs, as if to say it’s up to him.

“Of course I will be. Now, go to sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.”

He quietly exits the room while Harry closes the door behind them and mutters something Draco recognizes as a warding spell; he must be making sure he can hear Teddy but that Teddy can’t hear them as to not bother him.

“I’ll get the sofa ready for you,” Potter tells him, averting his gaze to the floor, “I’ll go grab some blankets.”

It’s then, when Draco puts away the nearly-empty bottle and starts washing the glasses when the insecurities creep in. He thinks of how stupid that was, what he did. He doesn’t even know Potter’s sexuality, doesn’t even know if he’s being strung along. He shouldn’t have leaned in, shouldn’t have thrown all logic out the window. He cannot have feelings for Potter. It would be the end of him.

---------------------------

Draco wakes with a start to yelling and loud thumps. He jumps out of his cocoon in the couch and has his wand at the ready, yet doesn’t see any imminent danger. He still hears the sounds, though, and decides to follow them. He walks down the unilluminated hallway, goes upstairs, and turns left, away from Teddy’s room.

He gently pushes the door open to see a dimly-lit room. As he gets closer to the bed in the middle, he notices it’s Potter who’s writhing and yelling at top-volume. He’s definitely having a nightmare; Draco knows what those look like, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. The best option is to wake him up.

“Potter, are you alright? Potter? Potter!”

Nothing. He’s starting to get worried. Yelling at him isn’t working– whatever nightmare he’s in, it’s a strong one.

Draco shakes him hard and shouts, “Harry! Harry, listen to me! Please, wake up!”

Slowly, Potter’s body stops moving, his eyelids fluttering open. “Huh?”

“Harry, it’s me, Malfoy. Draco. I’m here. You’re fine, you’re safe.”

“What…”

“You were having a nightmare. You were yelling, writhing… Are you alright?”

“It’s fine, I’m fine. Thanks, Draco. Erm– Malfoy.”

“Of course. It looked like a bad one. Can I sit?”

“What? Why?”

“You just had a nightmare. You’re thick if you think I’m going to leave you with your thoughts,” Draco replies as he sits down on the other side of the bed.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Of course.”

They’re quiet for a while; Draco’s never been a fan of being forced to talk about his nightmares. He prefers being offered company, sometimes a distraction. This is something he doesn’t think he could ever fully pry about.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but… What are your nightmares about usually?” Potter asks him.

Draco breathes in and out before responding, “Mine… vary. The most common one is of your escape at the Manor. You never make it, Voldemort kills you on the spot. Sometimes I can hear Granger screaming. Sometimes… I relive what happened after you had all left.”

“What happened after?”

“My aunt Bella used the Cruciatus Curse on me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence once more, before Draco lets out something he’s never really talked about.

“I remember… when I was living in the Muggle World. I had been dating this Muggle… The first time I had a nightmare when we were sleeping together was so hard to explain. How do you explain that, Harry? It’s nearly impossible. All I could truthfully say was that I had PTSD. I had to create this story that could match my experiences but… It was so challenging to be understood. As much as I cherished that relationship, I realized I would never be able to be in a fulfilling relationship with a Muggle. What’s happened to me— to us— is too significant to be dismissed. I can’t have a partner who doesn’t understand what I went through. Those nightmares… still haunt me at times.”

“What did you do?”

“I would take dreamless sleep beforehand.”

“Smart.”

They stay like that, losing track of time; the only sounds being their breathing and the breeze swaying the trees outside. Draco’s falling asleep when he hears–

“I like it when you call me Harry.”

“I like it when you call me Draco,” he replies truthfully. He has no filter at three in the morning. He hopes he doesn’t regret this tomorrow.

“Draco it is then.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco’s almost an hour early this time– he was quite anxious this morning. He’d felt as though he’d be late and make his mother irritable, causing her to critique him and question his growth. He decides to walk around Muggle London, not really paying attention to what’s going on around him. When he finally gets bored of walking without purpose, he looks at his watch and decides to head to his favorite café, which is a twenty minute walk away.

He decides to order two croissants and a small cup of coffee. He sits down near the back at a table that is mostly hidden from view. The coffee shop is bustling, even though it’s mid-afternoon. There’s a line of at least five people ordering a range of drinks, from a simple black coffee to one of their special monthly drinks.

Narcissa gives him a smile that doesn’t fully reach her eyes when she arrives. She walks to the back and sees Draco, who stands up to hug her.

“Draco,” she says, “How are you, my dear?”

“I’m doing well, Mother. What about yourself?”

They sit down and he hands her a croissant.

“Thank you. And, oh Draco, I’m not really sure what beauty you see in this Muggle world. Everyone is quite cross and it’s always so dirty in this city. Their forms of entertainment are so trivial– why are films so popular? Why do they have books with still images that are quite clearly meant for older children? I don’t understand all these medical conditions they keep mentioning in my Muggle immersion training– what is ‘ADHD’ and why do they need a name for it?”

Narcissa appears to be struggling to adapt to the Muggle world more than Draco had. Draco loved the Muggle world once he’d given it a chance, but he had also dearly missed his world, which is why he visits his favorite parts in Muggle London now that he is able to coexist in both. His mother, however, is still trying to hold on to her prejudices and ideals that wizards are inherently better; she won’t be able to grow as a person if she doesn’t acknowledge her still-existing deeply-rooted bias.

Draco drinks from his coffee before he answers. “Mother, their world is quite different from ours. You have to understand that. If you keep looking for similarities between the two worlds, you won’t enjoy it as much as you could. And you have to stop thinking we are better than them; we both have advantages and disadvantages. Only someone who lives a balanced life in both worlds will be able to fully appreciate them. They enjoy films because they tell a story, and while a book could also provide them an entertaining narrative, some prefer the film due to its lower level of commitment.

“You can also go watch a movie with someone and talk about it afterwards, something that’s harder to do with books since some read faster than others. Some older children need books with images to fully understand the story. Also, ADHD stands for ‘Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder’ and is a condition where the individual has trouble paying attention, trouble controlling impulsive behavior, among other things. I’m no expert, to be honest. Muggles are quite great when it comes to mental health and disabilities— unlike us— and they try to provide some resources for those who need it,” Draco replies.

She takes a few bites of her croissant. “I see.”

Draco looks around the café; it’s settled down a bit since he had first arrived, but he does recognize one or two people from his old Muggle job at one point, which is not that far from the coffee shop. He wishes he could say hello, but now’s not the best time.

“It looks like it’s been a hard adjustment for you. Have you tried to make a life here? Maybe made any friends? That immensely helped my transition,” Draco tells her.

“I’ve joined a local orchestra. It’s quite entertaining, though most of the women seem to like speaking ill of others while the men keep to themselves. It can get a little tedious at times, but it is going well.”

“Good; I’m glad, Mother. Have you invited any of them for lunch?”

Narcissa looked shocked and confused. “But why would I do that?”

Draco lets out a laugh. He tries to cover it quickly, knowing his mother would disprove of the “un-Malfoy-like” behavior. “Mother,” he says patiently, “that’s how you make friends. Inviting them to do social activities, or inviting them to your apartment for a dinner party. It’s similar to pure-blood customs in that way.”

“Oh, I did not know that. I suppose I could try that.” Narcissa finishes her croissant. She leans forward and lowers her voice.

“Draco, I’ve been in contact with the Greengrass family–”

“What– Mother! You’re not supposed to be owling anyone besides family and select friends.” Draco’s shocked; after everything they went through, she’s not following something as simple as this rule set by the Ministry.

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s of no concern. As I was saying, I’ve been owling the Greengrass family and they’ve agreed to meet you in a little over a month,” Narcissa informs him, “You will go and court her. It’s quite challenging to find someone honorable who will marry someone with our name at the moment.”

“Mother, I have told you I am not getting married so soon,” Draco says exasperated.

“It has been years since the War. We need an heir, you know that. We need to keep–”

“We need to keep what? The Malfoy line pure ?” Draco says with much venom. “No, I don’t think so. I will marry who I wish.”

“Draco, you’re breaking from centuries’ worth of tradition. An arranged marriage can be a wonderful–”

“How? How is it wonderful? You choose someone I can produce a suitable heir with, not taking into consideration what I want–”

“It is unbecoming to interrupt someone as much as you have. Where are the manners I taught you?”

Draco sighs and rakes his hand through his hair, letting it fall loosely; it’s nearly past his jaw now. He can see his mother watching him with mild distaste.

All he wants is to be free. Free to live, free to choose. He wants to make his own choices and learn from his own mistakes. He’s tired of living his life to please others, tired of living the consequences for choices that he didn’t make.

“Mother, please listen to me. I know you want me to bring more respect and honor to the Malfoy name. I understand that. However, I want to do it my way. Not yours. There’s a reason we were on the wrong side of the War. It was centuries’ worth of beliefs that led us here. It’s time for some change, don’t you think, Mother?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You should have heard her, Harry,” Draco tells him, standing in a more rigid posture that would have made Narcissa proud. “Draco, dear, it’s been three years since the War. I think we’re all better now and it’s honestly time for you to marry and have an heir. At least meet the Greengrass girl; it’s a miracle she’s waited for so long.”

Harry releases a puff of air that sounds like pity. “I’m glad I don’t have to deal with her.”

Draco plops down on his bed at the Manor. “And how does that help me exactly?”

“Never said it would,” Harry tells him, “Why don’t you want to get married? Not that I’m taking your mom’s side or anything; I’m just curious.”

The sigh that leaves Draco has to be one of the longest Harry’s ever heard. “Harry. Are you falling over yourself to find someone to marry?”

“No.”

“Well, neither am I. I want to actually live my life. Magical beings like us live up to be around one hundred and fifty years old! I have time. She just wants me to marry young because she had to,” Draco says bitterly.

“Fair enough,” Harry concedes. He looks around, studying the palette of grays and dark green adorning the room.

“It’s odd being back here. I didn’t think I’d ever step foot in here again,” Harry mostly says to himself.

Draco pats the spot next to him on the bed. It’s a queen; there’s more than enough space for both of them. Harry gets up from the chair he was sitting in and lays down next to Draco.

“I know. I hate staying here; my nightmares are always so awful when I sleep at the Manor.”

Harry shifts to get more comfortable and stares at the ornate designs on the ceiling. “Then why do you stay here?”

“Because Mother is on banishment in the Muggle world and can’t stay here, whereas I recently got back from the Muggle world and have nowhere else to stay. She wanted me to take care of the house and ‘give it some positive energy.’ As if that’ll actually do anything. I’m considering getting a place of my own anyways; I just can’t stay here until Mother gets back, it’s unrealistic. How am I supposed to heal if I’m in the place where I was at my lowest? Where I was scared beyond compare? Where I saw strangers, classmates, and family tortured?” Draco vents.

He moves his head to the right, facing Harry. “Excuse me; I’ve been bottling that up for a while.”

Harry turns to face him. “It’s okay. We all need to let it out every now and then. Hermione says it’s not healthy to keep it all inside.”

“How are Granger and the Weasleys? Do you see them often?”

Harry frowns, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Yeah, every once in a while. I see Ron and George more than anyone else, to be honest. They’re all doing alright. Hermione’s working with Kingsley to improve the Wizarding community and our laws; Ron’s working at the Aurors and helping George with the joke shop; and everyone else is getting by too.”

Draco moves his head up and down gently, “I’m glad. It’s hard to move on sometimes.”

“What about you, what made you quit the Aurors?” Draco asks him after a few minutes in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I sort of jumped into the Auror program without putting much thought into it; it was expected of me to help clean up the aftermath and I didn’t stop to think what I wanted. After a while, I dreaded going to work; being out on the field was thrilling but I hated the paperwork, the expectations, and the bureaucracy. If there’s something that can help right away, why do we need to go through so many obstacles? It’s counter-intuitive,” Harry lets out.

“And what are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know. I have a part-time job at a Muggle soccer camp while I figure it all out; I wanted to have something keeping me busy. I’m thinking of applying for the DADA position at Hogwarts, working with Luna on The Quibbler , or running the shop with George. I need to decide soon, now that I think of it,” Harry realizes, “Applications are due soon, too.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of options,” Draco says, sounding a little bitter to his own ears. Harry has all these wonderful choices, with positions he will more than likely be awarded without much contemplation. It’s not to take away from his achievements or to say he didn’t earn them, but Draco is jealous. He wishes he was free to choose what he wants and have a chance of getting it.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Harry says thoughtfully, “What about you? You’re training to become a potions master right?”

Draco’s silent as he gathers his thoughts. He watches the way the shadows from the chandelier move with the artificial breeze, causing his ceiling and walls to have peculiar soft shadows dancing on any and all surfaces.

“I am, yes. Truthfully, I’d love to become a Potions professor at Hogwarts, but I know there’s a very slim chance of that happening, even with McGonagall as Headmaster. I could try to become a Healer, but just volunteering, I’m prohibited in doing as much as other volunteers due to my past… I can imagine working there as an actual Healer would be more of the same. Honestly, though? I’ll accept any decent job I’m offered,” Draco tells Harry.

Draco can hear the confusion making its way into Harry’s voice, “But… why can’t you do that? Become a professor, I mean?”

“Harry, you can’t be serious,” Draco says as he turns to face him again, “I’m Draco Malfoy. I don’t get to choose what I want; I take whatever I can get. I don’t have the privilege of having as many options as you, and that’s okay. I was on the wrong side of the War and I’m paying for it. That’s the way life works.”

“But you’ve changed. You deserve a second chance. You should get a say in your future.”

Draco smiles as he feels his heart flutter; Harry’s a kind and sweet man. More than he should be, if Draco’s being honest.

“Alas, I am still fighting for the right to marry who I want. My life will always be filled with struggles because of my past. I’ve accepted that.”

“No,” Harry says forcefully, “You can have options too. They don’t have to be dreams of hope. You can make it happen. Yeah, it’ll take you longer than others and you’ll have to work harder to prove yourself, but you already know that. If you put half as much effort as you did into those ‘Potter Stinks’ badges back at Hogwarts, you can have whatever career you want.”

Draco snorts and says smugly, “Those were pretty brilliant, weren’t they?”

He receives a light shove as a response. “Git.”

It scares Draco that he might never get to live his life the way he wants. That he’ll never get his dream career, dream home, or dream man. His mother always says one is usually about to give up when they’re about to achieve their goals. After the War, he knew he’d have to work harder than everyone, but with his apprenticeship, he’s realized just how much harder he’ll have to work, and he’s started questioning if it’s really worth it. If he thinks about it, it’s thanks to Harry that he decides to keep trying. Draco feels blessed with Harry’s presence in his life; he’s the hope Draco’s never had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Draco lands unevenly on the thick, wet grass. He can hear the crunch of the grass as his left foot sinks slightly into the ground. He puts his right foot in front of his left quickly in order to try to balance himself before he falls. That would have been beyond embarrassing– ruining his clothes as soon as he arrives into what he jokingly refers to as the ‘Lion’s Den.’ His hands shake involuntarily as he runs them over his button-down, trying to get rid of the non-existent wrinkles he had gotten rid of before arriving.

He raises his head slowly. He tries to swallow but his throat is suddenly dry. Can he really do this? Should Draco leave before anyone sees him? He thinks back to Harry’s words: I want you there. You’ve changed. I want them to see that.

It’s not as if I have anything to prove; it’s not as if my family– and myself directly tormented them for years. No, not at all, Draco thinks bitterly. He knows exactly why he’s nervous– this will be the first time he’s seen the Weasleys since the War. He’s not sure how they’ll receive him, or why they even agreed to let him attend Teddy’s birthday party. He’s sure Harry must have talked to them, but he also doesn’t want to walk on eggshells the whole time he’s here.

He passes the sign that reads The Burrow , and approaches the whimsical house. Draco wonders just how much work it took to build this house; it does not look like it was an easy feat.

Draco reaches the door; he can hear the people talking, the volume ranging from normal to loud within seconds. He hears laughter, loud footsteps, and music. He straightens his button-down another time before knocking loudly. He really hopes it’s Harry who opens the door; he’s still not sure how he’ll greet everyone yet…

But of course, it’s just his luck that it’s Ronald Weasley, Harry’s best friend, who answers instead.

“Malfoy, come in,” he says, stepping back to give Draco room to enter, “Harry’s helping Mum in the kitchen right now.”

“Thank you,” Draco says.

He takes a deep breath and before he changes his mind, lets out his next words in a rush. “Weasley, I– I wanted to apologize. For everything. I treated you horribly at school, and my part in the War caused your family a lot of grief. I know my apology is meaningless, but I wanted to offer it regardless.”

He’s always hated when people do that– talk so fast one can’t possibly understand what they’ve said, then expect a significant response from you. A Muggle coworker of his had called this ‘word vomiting’ and it’s only now that Draco understands what his coworker had meant; you don’t plan to ‘word vomit,’ as he’d so eloquently put it, it just happens when you have something fighting to get out of your system.

“Oh, thanks. I appreciate it,” Weasley says; his face is an expression of disbelief mixed with shock and a small amount of discomfort.

He leads Draco to a room with couches and a gigantic kitchen table that must have been magically expanded. The room doesn’t completely quiet down when he enters, but the volume drops enough to make him feel examined.

“Harry, your boyfriend’s here!” An older Weasley yells; Draco’s cheeks heat up, causing them to pinken. He hates how people can see him blush; he knows it’s noticeable. He’s too pale to act indifferent in situations such as these. The man who shouted was at Hogwarts with them… He was a beater on the Quidditch team, if he remembers correctly.

Everyone around him laughs– it seems to be an ongoing joke in the family– and Draco relaxes slightly. George Weasley knows how to lighten the tension, it seems.

He hears Harry before he sees him. “Fuck off!” Harry shouts, a sheepish smile on his face as he enters the room. He looks a little embarrassed, but overall happy.

“You made it,” Harry says, stopping abruptly. The way he freezes makes Draco think Harry had been about to hug him. “Right. Erm, I’m just going to introduce everyone in case you don’t know someone’s name. This is George, Ginny, Bill– you remember Fleur right?– Hermione, Molly, Arthur, Percy, Oliver, Charlie, Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus, Angelina… There’s a few others but I’m not sure where they are. Teddy and Andromeda should be here soon.”

Draco can see everyone’s eyes on him; he’s the odd man out in many ways. He doesn’t particularly know anyone really well, whereas they all know each other; it adds a level of uneasiness to the situation for Draco.

“Hello,” Draco says a bit awkwardly, “Thank you for having me.”

Molly walks up to him and stands there for a second. Her eyes study him with an intensity he hasn’t seen in years. He starts sweating lightly, not really sure of what’s happening and too afraid to ask.

Then, suddenly, she smiles and taps his arm twice. “Nice to meet you, dear. Feel free to call me Molly. Harry’s told me a lot about you. You’re almost as skinny as he was, but you look healthier, at least. Food will be ready soon; come on, Harry, let’s go finish up.”

“Sorry,” Harry mouths as he walks away, to which Draco mouths back, “Traitor,” eliciting a smile from Harry.

“You can sit down, Draco. We don’t bite,” Charlie says.

Draco nods and quickly walks towards the first empty seat he sees, which happens to be next to Granger. The chatter picks up after that, making Draco feel a little more comfortable in the unfamiliar setting.

“Granger, hello.”

“Hi, Malfoy. Harry tells me you have an apprenticeship with Eubard Viken? I’ve heard he’s a great potions instructor.”

Draco nods again, relieved that he is able to avoid small talk. “Yes, I’m one of his apprentices. I’m enjoying it so far; we’re currently working on modifying the Wolfsbane potion, actually. You wouldn’t happen to know how to make the potion less thick and taste more pleasant? We’ve been trying to get around that for ages but it always affects the potion’s endurance, which I’m sure you know is a vital part.”

Granger leans back in her seat; her eyebrows knit close together as she ponders the situation.

“Hm… What have you tried?”

“They’ve tried quite a few versions before I started working on this; Vikens has been trying to improve this potion for over a year now, I believe. The only times I’ve seen a significant enough change is with the ingredient Borage. It absorbs the thickness of the potion but the longevity suffers drastically, which means we would have to brew it in more quantities and that’s not very realistic nor is it cost-effective for the people who suffer from lycanthropy.”

“Interesting… Have you tried removing the Borage herb at the end, before you complete the potion? And you could try adding honey to improve the taste if you haven’t already; it’s also a great endurance and healing substance when combined with moonseed, which is already an ingredient used in the Wolfsbane potion,” Granger says.

Draco slams his hand onto his forehead. “Honey! Of course. That would work brilliantly, thank you. And I know we’ve let it dissolve into the potion but I don’t think we’ve tried removing the Borage before we pour it into jars.”

Granger gives Draco a small smile as she stands up. “I’m glad I could help. Feel free to owl me if you need help finding other solutions. I should go see where Ron is… He’s probably off somewhere with George stressing out Molly.”

“So,” Charlie says suddenly to Draco as he sits down in Granger’s just-vacated seat, “You’re Teddy’s cousin?”

“Yes. Charlie, right?”

“Yup, that’s me. Have you met Teddy before?”

Draco nods, “A few times, yes. Most times have been with Harry. I can tell he’s very loved by all of you.”

“Yeah, he’s great; we love the kid. It’s good you’ve gotten to meet him,” He says with a smile.

The conversations stills, and Draco’s not sure what to do. He knows Narcissa raised him better than this; he’s aware of what he should do if a conversation starts dying in social situations such as these, but this is also a peculiar situation, and it should be handled with care. He also doesn’t want to use old, forced pure-blood techniques that his mother had taught him.

He tries to think of a topic while he looks around the room; everyone talks over the other, yet everyone is heard. There’s enough movement everywhere he looks to cause him to become dizzy, so he looks back at Charlie, who’s currently looking at someone behind Draco.

“What’s your profession, if I may ask?”

Charlie’s eyes light up, making Draco believe they contain all the joy in the world.

He leans in his seat a tad and says, “I train dragons for a living. We’ve just received the most beautiful Chinese Fireball the other day…”

Next thing Draco knows, he’s forgotten all the reasons why he had been nervous in the first place, too focused on the conversation at hand. They talk about the most effective ways to transport a dragon (along with some of Charlie’s personal stories), the most interesting history tidbits about the creatures, and so forth.

They’re talking about Harry’s fight with the Hungarian Horntail in their fourth year when Harry sits on Draco’s other side and quietly hands him a butterbeer as he listens to the rest of their conversation.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to talk for a bit. It was nice to meet you, Draco. Who knew it’d be the dragon tamer who’d get the dragon talking?” Charlie says smugly, looking directly at Harry.

Draco chokes on his butterbeer and starts coughing while Harry laughs, leans back and rests his arm behind Draco on the couch, and replies, “You’ve made your point, I owe you ten Sickles.”

Charlie puts his hands on his knees as he stands up and leaves while Draco says, “You bet on me?”

“Yeah,” Harry says sheepishly, “We were wondering who would be the person to make you feel more comfortable first and then Charlie said he could get you talking within twenty minutes maximum, and he did, so…”

“Harry Potter,” Draco says, laughing with disbelief. Draco turns to look at him better, and says, “You are such a Slytherin sometimes.”

Harry smirks. “You have no idea. I actually almost–”

“DAAAA! COUSIN DRACOOO!” A loud and high pitched voice yells. They turn to look at Teddy, who’s running towards them like there’s no tomorrow. He slams into both Harry and Draco, leaving them with no air to breathe as he hugs them.

“What are we, chopped liver?” Ron asks. Teddy hears him, climbs off of Draco and Harry, and starts running towards Ron. “Hi, Uncle Ron! To the sky!”

“You got it, squirt!” He says as he picks Teddy up and hugs him, then throws him into the air before quickly catching him again. Draco’s heart stops as Teddy’s in the air, but his cousin giggles as Ron catches him and puts him back down. Andromeda’s caught up with them by now, greeting everyone as she passes them.

Harry laughs. “Hey. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. Teddy woke up too energetic this morning,” Andromeda says.

“We can tell,” Draco says, smiling. “Nice to see you again.”

“As well as you, dear. If you’ll excuse me, I should go greet Molly and Arthur.”  

“I knew the Weasleys were a big family, but my, they’re bigger than I thought. There must never be a dull moment around here,” Draco says to Harry as they stand and walk towards a table in a corner of the room. They serve themselves a drink, a Firewhiskey each. There aren’t as many people on this side of the room, yet still enough for them to feel like they haven’t left the party.

“Yeah, it’s great. When Fred was still around, George and him would experiment new products for their joke shop up in their room. It drove Molly crazy,” Harry says, laughing at the memories.

“How’s it been for you so far? Knowing you, you probably almost didn’t come,” Harry says after a while.

Draco takes a sip of his Firewhiskey. “You’re sort of right. I started wondering if I should turn back as soon as I was outside.”

Harry smiles. “Well, I’m glad you came. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Liar, you would’ve enjoyed yourself regardless.”

“Well, yeah. It’s the Weasleys. I always have fun here. But I would’ve missed you anyways,” Harry says as he rubs the back of his neck. “Anyways, how’s your mom?”

Draco tries not to let Harry’s word stick to his head as he replies, “She’s doing alright. It’s been harder for her to adjust to the Muggle World actually. She still has… many old beliefs, sadly. I’m hoping these two years there will help make her more tolerant and respectful towards Muggles. They’re actually quite great. The things they come up with are fascinating, Harry–“

“Did Draco Malfoy just say Muggles are great?” Oliver Wood jokes. “The world must be ending.”

“Now Oliver, if you’re going to tease the poor fellow at least do it properly,” Percy teases with a smirk on his face as he joins them. Draco sees him settle his arm on Oliver’s hip, subtly bringing him closer. Draco wonders if this means something or if he’s reading into it; he would love for it to be true, but he doesn’t want to ask in case he’s wrong. He’s not very sure how the Weasleys feel about gay people, and he’d rather not ask and get off on the wrong foot ( again ) when they’re starting to give him a chance.

“Exactly,” Draco says, playing along, “you should ask me something so absurd that I couldn’t possibly keep up.”

Oliver laughs. “I have no idea what you two are playing at. Have you kept up with the Quidditch stats, Harry? It looks like the Chudley Cannons might actually make it into the starting tournament this year.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “No, I haven’t! Ron’ll be ecstatic.”

“You know he is. Oliver and Ron were talking my ear off about it while I tried to review some ancient runes,” Percy tells them.

“Honestly,” Draco says, “As much as I don’t like the Cannons I think they have a decent chance of passing the starting tournament as long as they don’t play against the Harpies.”

“Well, of course. Everyone knows the Harpies are the ones to beat this season,” Oliver replies. “Oh! You know…”

“Why were you reviewing ancient runes?” Draco asks Percy as Harry and Oliver begin dissecting the teams and which players might retire after this season.

“Oh, I’m reviewing them because of work. I can’t really talk much of it I’m afraid. But, it’s nice to be able to review them; I’ve been meaning to re-read that book for months,” Percy says.

“What are you working as again?”

“I’m a translator, currently, though I’d love to work in the legal department somewhere. Oliver says I should join his team’s department but I think it would take too much energy for me to be around a team so often.”

“Yes, I completely get that. I’d almost never get some time for myself when I played Quidditch at Hogwarts. I’d have to go hide in the library or in the Astronomy tower.

“I think that’s a great career you’re pursuing; there isn’t much legal representation in the trials the Wizengamot hold and as someone who had to teach themselves what were the correct things to do during one, I think you could end up helping a lot of people,” Draco says. He takes a sip of his Firewhiskey when he notices Oliver and Harry are long gone; he hadn’t noticed they had left. He scans the room and finds them talking to Luna and Dean.

“Thank you. I know the easiest path would be to work for the Ministry, but last time I worked for them I became too ambitious and treated my family dreadfully; so horribly, actually, that I had denied Voldemort had even returned and ignored my family for months. I worked towards my own success, discarding all that my family had taught me. Not my proudest moment, that I can tell you. I’m trying to be more… balanced.”

“You sound like a Slytherin at heart,” Draco says as he pours himself more Firewhiskey, “and that can be tricky can’t it? You seem to be doing quite well at it though. I remember you more uptight at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, I was,” Percy laughs. “I had been such a sour person, never focusing on what really matters. He’s actually helped me balance my life more. And you’re also not wrong about my Slytherin qualities; Oliver mentions them from time to time.”

“Sounds like he’s quite the voice of reason,” Draco replies, smiling, as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Hey,” Oliver says, snaking an arm over Percy’s shoulders, “Sorry Draco but I’m going to steal Percy for a while.”

Oliver runs his arm that’s wrapped around Percy down his shoulders all the way to his hand, which he then grabs and tugs on as they start moving. “Sorry,” Percy says, “Nice talking to you!”

Draco laughs, “You as well!”

His eyes start surveying the room. He feels more at ease now that he knows they seem to be willing to give him a chance. Though, as he sees Luna, Neville, Granger, Ron, Dean, and Seamus talk, he notices that Seamus and Dean are sitting very closely together, more than what would be socially acceptable for friends. He sees this too with Ron and Granger, and remembers the subtle displays of affection he’s seen throughout the night from various couples. Everything starts making sense to him when he feels a hand on the small of his back; he’s brought out of his thoughts and quickly turns towards the body next to him, relaxing when he sees it’s Harry.

“Hi. How was your talk with Percy?”

“Thanks for abandoning me, golden boy,” Draco says teasingly, “It went well; I think he would have done well in Slytherin.”

“You think so?” Harry asks.

Draco nods. “Definitely. How’s your night been going so far?”

“It’s been good, pretty busy though. Molly’s asked me to do about a dozen things,” He says. Draco’s suddenly hyper-aware that Harry’s hand is still resting on his back when Harry gets closer to him and says lowly, “Want to go outside for a while? We’re going to sit for dinner soon but we haven’t really spent much time together since everyone’s been keen to talk to you.”

Draco’s face flushes lightly at that, but he manages to keep his voice even, at least. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Harry removes his hand and starts walking. They pass through the kitchen and make it to the garden with minimal interruptions. They sit on a bench overlooking the hills; it’s quite a peaceful view, though something’s been on Draco’s mind. He’s quite curious, but can’t bring himself to ask about the people he believes are possibly together. He’s not sure how he’d be able to bring that up casually, without having to explain himself, and he really doesn’t want to admit to himself (or anyone for that matter) the growing feeling of warmth spreading from his stomach to his whole body every time he looks at Harry.  

“You feeling better? Now that you’ve been here a while and no one’s hexed you?”

“Quite, actually. I’m sure you had something to do with that,” Draco says.

“You can’t prove anything,” Harry says nonchalantly.

Draco laughs and lightly shoves him with his shoulder. “Git.”

“I think that’s you, actually. I’m more of a… what did you call me, a golden boy ?”

“I was being sarcastic, which I’m very sure you already know.”

Harry smiles. “Yeah I did.”

Draco sighs before he says, “I’m glad I came. In a way, I’m overcoming a fear by being here; I thought everyone would treat me with hostility and that I wouldn’t be welcomed. Which would have been understandable, to be honest, since I caused you all a lot of harm. And with the history we all share, I just didn’t think we’d be able to get past it and properly get to know one another. But, they’ve all been kind to me. I know you must have had something to do with it, and I appreciate it. I never thought I’d get to meet another family member and be lucky enough to spend quality time together. I never thought I’d get to have family that wasn’t tainted by toxic pure-blood ideals. You’ve changed my life in ways I never expected.”

“Wow. Who knew you had a heart under that facade?” Harry jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “Erm, being serious for a second, you’ve changed my life too. I’m glad we’ve been able to get to know each other; I can’t really imagine my life without you in it now, which I know is sappy, you don’t need to push me again– The Weasleys know we’ve become friends and they know you’ve changed. Like I told you, I wanted them to see that.

“I may have also wanted to see how this would all work out anyways…”

Draco laughs, “You prat! You did have an ulterior motive! How very Slytherin of you. I’m starting to think there are a few hidden Slytherins in this family.”

Harry’s side is pressed against Draco’s, and he can feel when Harry leans back and relaxes more into the seat. “Well,” he says with a nonchalance that makes Draco instantly attentive, ready to read between the lines, “I may have almost been sorted into Slytherin–”

Draco straightens and leans into Harry’s space. “What?! Why weren’t you–”

“Daaaaa! Are you out here with Cousin Draco?” A voice— which Draco immediately recognizes as Teddy— shouts.

“Yeah, we’re here. Where are you?”

“Here!” Teddy yells as he runs and jumps onto Harry’s lap. “You’ve been gone so long that Aunt Molly was getting worried.”

“Well, not to worry. We’ve been out here the whole time,” Draco replies, “Have you been enjoying your birthday party?”

Teddy’s face lights up, his hair color turning turquoise. “Yeah! I can’t wait to eat my cake though. Aunt Molly’s cakes are the best.”

“Are they? I’ll have to try a slice for myself then. Do you want to head inside?”

He nods and Draco picks him up from Harry’s lap. “Come on, Harry, we should probably head back.”

Harry stands up and follows them back inside the house. Dean and Seamus look at Draco funny but he ignores their looks and sets Teddy in his chair. While the look they gave him was not hostile, he’s not sure what that look meant. Was it because he was carrying Teddy inside? Or because of the time he’s been spending with Harry recently?

The table is set once they arrive; Draco and Harry sit next to each other on the left end of the table, near Luna, Dean, Seamus, Ginny, and Neville. They’re halfway done with the meal when Draco slowly starts to notice that almost everyone came with their partner. The only people who didn’t bring someone were Charlie, Ginny, and… well, that’s it, because Harry had brought him along, right? Draco feels like this must mean something. Harry had wanted him to come, had wanted Draco to properly meet his family. Draco’s heart lightens a touch when he starts to think about this, but then, his eyes find Teddy eating across the table, and his heart sinks a little.

He’s not here as Harry’s date… No, of course not. He can’t afford to be so thick, letting his emotions run wild like that. They’re only friends. He’s here as Teddy’s cousin, and things could not be clearer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey,” Harry says as he opens the door for Draco.

“Hello there,” Draco replies, fighting down an unrestrained smile, looking at the ground. He’s been… feeling things for Harry recently and he’s no longer fighting himself to deny it; he’s tired of doing so if he’s being honest. Though, it’s still a problem he doesn’t want to think about; Harry has been such a great influence and spectacular company. He doesn't just blindly accept things– he questions them and analyzes them. He stands up for himself and others, even if no one is on his side (regardless, someone usually is). He has opinions and isn’t afraid to share them. He regularly offers Draco a new perspective, one that Draco usually hasn’t ever considered before.

Harry grabs his jacket and steps out. “So, where are we going today? It’s your turn to choose, right?”

“Quite right; I thought of walking to this park called Hyde Park, actually. Pansy told me it’s very nice.” They walk side by side, Draco leading the way.

“Perfect. I brought snacks this time.” Harry pats his pocket.

Twice a month, they take turns choosing something new to do in London. This came about after Draco had learnt that Harry had only ever explored the city a handful of times and Draco has only done the posher activities that are available there. So, this seemed like a fresh way to explore the city for both of them.

They walk in silence for a while, pointing at odd objects as they walk. Harry’s the one who breaks the silence.

“Do you ever consider telling people something, but then you chicken out at the last minute? Like, you’re scared of what could happen? It's something that you believe should be so meaningless, but it isn’t for some reason. You want to be yourself, fully yourself, but you know it comes at a cost and aren’t sure what the consequences will be. Would you tell people anyways?”

“Hm. Interesting question,” states Draco. He’s not sure what Harry could be referring to, but it reminds him a lot of how he felt before coming out to his friends, some at Hogwarts and some after. How he feels about coming out in general, actually. It’s why he hasn’t told many people; not because he’s not certain, but because of how it could go. Had he told the wrong people or had the wrong people overheard, his life would have gone very differently. His father would have tried to beat it out of him, or would have arranged a marriage sooner, perhaps. Thank goodness Lucius is in Azkaban now.

They step into a café, buy some coffee– Harry’s treat– and sit down. It’s at that moment that Draco speaks.

“Your question reminds me a lot of something I went through, actually. I had been going through a hard time during my fourth and fifth year at Hogwarts and I wasn’t sure who I could talk about it with. I didn’t want my doubts to land on my father’s ears; there would have been a grave consequence, I’m sure. There still would be, honestly, but I’m old enough where it won’t matter for various reasons.

“I was feeling conflicted; everyone in the Slytherin dorms kept talking about women and what they would do to them if they were granted a chance. I, however, was very uncomfortable when asked. And I slowly figured out that I’m gay and–”

A few loud coughs promptly follow Draco’s revelation. Harry’s choking; well, trying not to, Draco supposes. He had been taking a sip of coffee while Draco had been talking. Harry grabs his left fist and hits his chest, hoping that’ll help him calm down.

“Are you alright?” Draco asks. What in the world could have caused him to choke like that?

Harry nods somewhat slowly, his voice raspy when he speaks. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just… You’re gay?”

Draco releases a nervous laugh. “Seriously, Potter? That’s why you decided to choke? Don’t tell me I’ve been wasting my time with you, because if you’re homophobic I will–”

Harry holds his hands up to quickly stop him from continuing. “No, no! Of course not, jeez. I didn’t expect you to say that, is all.”

Draco looks at Harry dubiously. “Mm, alright. Shall I continue?”

Once Harry agrees, he resumes his story.

“As I was saying, in fifth year I finally put together I was gay. It took ages to tell Blaise and once I did he told me he’s pansexual. I didn’t know what that meant exactly but he said he just cares about the person, not what their sex or gender is. And well, after that I came out to a select few. It could have gone horribly wrong, mind you, but it didn’t. And if it had gone wrong or gotten out, my friends had my back. So, yes, I would do it anyways,” Draco answers.

Harry sits for a while without really moving as he processes Draco’s reply.

“Thanks, that really helps.”

Draco looks around the café, the customers oblivious to their conversation. He distractedly gazes at the people in the line waiting to order as Draco processes what he’s just told Harry. He feels vulnerable in a way he hasn’t been around Harry before and he’s not sure how to feel about that. He opts to look at his coffee, now half-empty.

“Come on,” Harry says, standing up, “We should get going.”

Once at the park, they keep on walking, wanting to get to a specific area, passing a peacock on the way.

“Ah, look, you should feel right at home, Malfoy,” Harry tells him as he points at the peacock.

“Oh, piss off,” Draco says, causing Harry to laugh.

They sit by a body of water with a few swans and take out Harry’s snacks. They talk of their families, Harry’s application for the DADA position, and Draco’s plans to hopefully become a Healer, potions master, or the Potions professor at Hogwarts. It’ll be quite the challenge since so many people still don’t trust him. With reason, of course.

“That’s brilliant, Draco. I think you’d do well at any of those things.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t tell Harry how far-fetched his dreams really are; that, his goal to be a trusted and respected professional in the Potions field is going to take years and years of building trust and hard work. That it’s possible he won’t ever get his desired position or career.

They lapse into a comfortable silence, the only sounds in the background being the water and the people at the park.

Suddenly, Harry takes a deep breath and divulges, “I’m pansexual. At least, I think I am? I’m thinking of coming out to everyone but I’m nervous.”

Now it’s Draco’s turn to be taken by surprise; he feels as though his eyes bulge out of his head. He feels frozen like a block of ice, like a VHS tape that takes too long to start.

Draco clears his throat; Harry expects him to say something, to say the right thing, whatever that may be. He has to consider his next words very carefully.

At last, Draco says, “Well, it’s not an easy thing to figure out for many people. I struggled and was unsure for a while before I was confident about my sexuality.”

“What made you realize, or be sure?” Harry asks, his attention solely on Draco.

“I… I had this crush on a classmate. Took me forever to realize I was jealous, took longer to come to terms with it. Even just saying ‘I’m gay’ out loud was a process for me.”

“What helped?” Harry questions.

“Saying it out loud. Talking to someone who had been in a similar position did wonders; Blaise pretends to be cold and sly, but he’s genuinely a good listener and empathizer. Also, time. You don’t have to have dated or hooked up with someone to know, that’s important to mention,” Draco says as he looks at what he assumes is a lake.

Harry hugs his legs and rests his head on his knees. “I remember when I was questioning if I was gay or straight… I thought those were the two only options and neither fit me. Thinking back on the past, my thoughts and feelings… It’s hard to remember if that’s how I really felt or if I was remembering things differently. I was going through a really hard time and I did what I always do when I’m confused– I went to Hermione. She was great about it, helped me out a lot, but she doesn’t always get it, you know? She can help me with finding definitions or history-related things but she can’t always relate to what I’ve been through or what I’m feeling. That’s kind of why I asked. When it comes to coming out… I don’t think she can really help me.

“I had a few crushes on guys throughout Hogwarts, I just never put together they were crushes because of everything going on. It was kind of hard for me to focus on that.”

“Hm,” Draco says, “I mean, you use whatever label fits best for you. I know I’m very gay; I’ve never been interested in women romantically or sexually. It’s always been men for me.”

“Yeah… ‘Gay’ just doesn’t fit me.”

“And that’s okay. You don’t need to figure this out now. You have time,” Draco reminds him, “How many people have you told?”

“You’re the second person,” Harry admits.

“Harry, that’s… Thank you. I’m honored. Coming out isn’t easy, especially if you’re not sure.”

They sit there for a while, again in silence. Draco’s brain goes into overdrive with thoughts of He likes men? And he told me before anyone else, save for Granger? It is definitely possible that he might… No, he definitely does not have feelings for someone like you, Draco thinks to himself. How about you be a good friend? Just help him through this and see where it goes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco knocks on the door of his old apartment; his mother now lives there while she resides in the Muggle world. More often than not, he misses this place; it kept him sane and safe during his time here.

Narcissa opens the door and he walks in.

“Good morning, Mother. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, Draco. How was Edward’s birthday party? It was a few weeks ago, correct?” He follows her to the sitting room where they sit.

“Yes, it was lovely, very delightful. The Weasleys were quite kind and welcoming.”

Narcissa’s expression betrays her, a mixture of shock and distaste, before it returns to the polite expression she had on before. “You were with the Weasleys?”

“Well, of course; they hosted the party. You do know Harry’s his godfather and he’s practically been adopted by the Weasleys?”

“I didn’t know he was Edward’s godfather; I don’t really keep tabs on them anymore. Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. How are Mr. Potter and Pansy doing?”

Draco relaxes into his seat. “Harry’s good; he’s thinking of starting a new career soon, possibly a professor at Hogwarts. And Pansy is doing great. She’s still working at the Quibbler with Luna.”

Narcissa gives him a smile that falls flat. “I’m glad she’s doing well. Do you know if she plans on applying to the Prophet ? I’ve heard they’re looking for more reporters.”

Draco sighs quietly and says, “I doubt she’ll want to change jobs but I’ll let her know. She’s quite happy at the Quibbler from what she’s told me.”

“Oh, well, that’s what matters I suppose. I’ve been doing as you suggested. I’ve met some acceptable Muggles and we’ve actually been having tea every Friday.”

Draco smiles. “That’s great, I’m happy for you.”

He notices the apartment is cleaner than it has been since she first moved in, and all the films he had left her are now organized by genre– classic, romance, mystery, and so on.

“Have you cleaned your apartment recently? It looks more in order now,” Draco asks her.

Narcissa nods. “Yes, I’ve been paying someone to clean it every so often. Merlin knows I don’t know how to use those Muggle supplies to do it myself.”

“You know Mother, you could ask the person to teach you.”

“But, why? I have someone more than competent doing it for me,” she replies.

“Well, yes, but it could help you better understand how Muggles live.”

Narcissa’s expression is one lost in thought; and then, she smirks and says, “I’ll consider it– if you consider something as well.”

Draco doesn’t like where this is heading, but humors her nevertheless. “Alright,” He says cautiously, “What should I consider?”

Narcissa straightens up more, preparing herself for the conversation she now believes is to be had in a loop for years to come.

“You could meet the Greengrass family. Astoria is looking forward to meeting you. We could coordinate an initial dinner party for this weekend, actually, if you were to consider finally meeting the dear.”

Draco sighs; he’s glad he’s a Slytherin at times like this. Reading between the lines and knowing when people are trying to pressure him into something help him make a more educated decision. This doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll choose differently, but at least he’ll decide knowing what’s really in store.

He feels himself sag in place. He gives up; he knows his mother will continue to bring up marriage at every turn. He can’t escape it, and he’s done trying. It’s taxing to keep fighting this, to keep putting it off. He’ll find a way out, but for now, he surrenders.

Draco runs a hand over his face, from his forehead to his chin, his index finger resting by his nose. “Fine,” he says, defeated, “Set up the meeting for this weekend and let me know. Just… Don’t book it for Friday, alright? I’ll be with Harry that day.”

Narcissa gives him the biggest smile he’s seen since the War. “Wonderful, my love. I’m sure you’ll find her just as charming as I do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Dearest Draco,

I wanted to inform you of the meeting’s date in order for you to make any necessary changes. Mr. Greengrass and I agreed on this Friday at six in the afternoon.

I know you said you were unavailable on Friday, but I’m sure Mr. Potter will understand the importance of this commitment.

Best,

Narcissa

Draco curses at the letter. Fridays are sacred– they never move their Friday plans. Not only will he have to owl Harry and explain the situation, now he has nothing to look forward to on Friday.

He doesn’t even want Friday to arrive anymore.

Draco owls Harry asking to meet later tonight; he receives a letter back quickly, saying he’ll stop by in a few hours. Draco starts thinking of how to best tell Harry. Maybe he’ll prepare them dinner…  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

“Hey,” Harry says, water dripping from his clothes. It’s been raining all day, and it’s clear he forgot to cast a water-repelling charm. Draco casts a quick drying charm over him before letting him in.

“Thanks,” Harry says, “So, what happened?”

Draco scoffs. “Who said anything happened, Potter? I just felt like owling you.”

“Riiight,” he replies, “Should I also assume you didn’t make me dinner?”

“What–”

“You always cook when something’s upsetting you, and you don’t usually owl to meet the same day. I figured something was on your mind,” Harry says. They walk to the kitchen and sit at the small, informal dining table.

“Alright, fine; I forget you used to be an Auror. I’m going to have to cancel our plans for Friday,” Draco says nervously as he sets his elbows on the table, hands resting under his chin.

Harry looks confused and disappointed. “But we never postpone Fridays. What happened?”

“My mother did,” Draco says, handing over the letter. Draco studies Harry’s face as he reads the letter. First is curiosity, then the most unusual expression– disbelief and… oddly enough, hurt.

“I thought you weren’t planning to get married to someone you don’t love. You said you didn’t want an arranged marriage.” Harry’s voice sounds reluctant, as if he doesn’t want to accept this just as Draco doesn’t.

“I don’t, but Mother keeps insisting, and I just– It’s so draining to keep fighting about this, Harry. I’m done. I’ll figure out how to get out of this later–”

“Draco,” Harry interrupts, placing his hand on Draco’s arm, “This won’t end well, you know that. Why are you leading her on? You told me you were going to come out– this is the opposite of that.”

“Don’t you think I know that, Potter?” Draco yanks his arm away, irritated at the truth in Harry’s words. “ I know. But I won’t ever be able to escape this anyways, I should just accept my fate–”

“Malfoy, this isn’t your fate, you can create your own future, remember? You had said–”

“I know what I said!” Draco doesn’t remember standing up, but now that he has, he realizes something in the air has changed. It makes him feel uncomfortable, but he decides to stand his ground anyhow. “I’m going to meet her. Hopefully I can convince Astoria to tell her parents she’d rather marry someone else.”

“Fine, let’s see how well that goes,” Harry says, standing up. “You know your mom will try to have you married as soon as possible. You said that after the War, you’d pave your own path instead of following your parents again. That they had led you wrong before and you wanted to make your own mistakes. How is this your own choice? You’re being forced into this–”

“I already know, Potter. I remember what I had said. Maybe I can talk some sense into Astoria,” Draco says desperately.

“You know that’s a long shot, Draco. You said yes, you told me what this means– you’ve agreed to an informal courtship that’ll become official. And that leads to marriage. ”

“I can make my own choices, Harry!”

“Oh really? This is your choice? To follow your parents footsteps, again ?”

“Can you stop! I’m not following their footsteps. Look, I’m just trying to get her off my back. You don’t know what she can be like. I just want to be happy,” Draco says.

“You want to be happy, yet you’re agreeing to a loveless marriage. You’re agreeing to the path your parents laid for you when you were five! You’ve said it yourself, times have changed!” Harry’s shouting now, his face contorted with despair.  

Draco hates how right Harry is. He doesn’t want this. He wants to live his life his way . But he can’t. He’s made sure of that. Draco hates how resigned he is, and he hates fighting with Harry. He just wants Harry to support him, to give him a hug when he needs one, even if he’s in the wrong. Draco’s not saying he can’t ever be with a man; he might be able to.. It’ll just never be Harry, sadly.

Draco just won’t be allowed to be in a public relationship. And yes, that kills him a little inside, but maybe he could come to an agreement with Astoria on lovers. His grandparents had lovers at one point, he’s sure he could too.

“Why do you care anyways? This doesn’t concern you!” Draco yells.

Harry looks shocked into defeat. He deflates at that, and takes a step back. “You know what? I just remembered, I actually have leftovers at my place, so I’ll see you later.”

“Harry–” Draco says, turning towards where Harry’s leaving, “Don’t–”

“Hope it goes well.”

Harry turns back, walking out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

The rest of the week is painfully slow for Draco, though he does receive good news– according to Hannah, he was magnificent during his volunteer evaluation, which means he can keep volunteering at St Mungo’s. He’s also excelling in his apprenticeship, slowly gaining the professional trust of the others, and has befriended another apprentice. They ate lunch earlier in the week and Draco found himself enjoying Penelope’s company. She’s still wary of him, but she’s also not avoiding him.

He hasn’t heard anything from Harry since their fight; for some reason that makes Draco even more nervous. He’s not used to complete silence from him; yes, there are days they don’t talk or owl each other, but they also don’t usually argue like that anymore. He’s been thinking of sending Harry a letter but he’s afraid of not getting a response like he didn’t years ago.

Now, it’s Friday, and Draco’s trying to decide how to dress. He takes a deep breath; he’s still not sure what he’ll do if Astoria agrees to be courted. Traditionally, they’ll meet twice, and on the second meeting they’ll talk about pursuing a courtship. But knowing his mother, she’ll most likely bring it up at the end of the first, not giving him time to back out now that he has agreed to meet Astoria.

Draco opts for a simple, navy blue robe with a pin of their family’s crest; elegant enough for the meeting but not as formal as he should be dressed. His mother won’t be very pleased and it won’t give the best impression to the Greengrass family.

He arrives five minutes late to the meeting; the Greengrass family is already in the sitting room. They all turn to look at him as Narcissa lets him in.

“You’re late,” She whispers, “What are you playing at?”

“Hello Mother, please excuse my delay. I’m afraid I Apparated to the wrong area and decided to walk to the apartment,” He says, raising his voice enough for the family to hear them.

“Very well,” Narcissa says, “Draco, I’d like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass and their daughters Astoria, Daphne, and Lyra.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Draco says as he shakes their hands.

“Likewise,” Mr. Greengrass replies.

Draco clears his throat. “These are for you,” He says, handing Astoria a bouquet of white tulips.

“Oh, thank you. They’re lovely,” She tells him.

They walk to the dining room and sit down for dinner. Narcissa and Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass steer the conversation, asking Draco and Astoria questions.

“So, Astoria, what do you do for a living?” Narcissa asks.

“I work in the Department of Equal Magical Rights; it’s the new department that Hermione Granger created at the Ministry a year ago.”

That perks Draco’s attention; maybe she sees muggle-borns and pure-bloods equally then. It does, however, disappoint Narcissa.

“I see,” his mother replies, “Do you enjoy it?”

“Very much; I learn something new every day.”

“What about you, Draco?” Ms. Greengrass asks suddenly.

“I’m currently an apprentice with the potions master Eubard Vikens, though I’m also volunteering at St Mungo’s,” Draco replies.

Mr. Greengrass asks, “Do you plan on becoming a Healer? That’s a great profession, son.”

“I’m actually not sure,” Draco says.

“I see… Well, I’m certain you’ll figure it out soon enough,” He assures Draco.

“Did you two spend a lot of time together at Hogwarts?” Narcissa asks.

Astoria and Draco look at each other before Astoria says, “Not really, no; I mostly spent my time with Ravenclaws or with people in my year.”

The conversation flows as such: Draco and Astoria get asked most of the questions, the parents trying to decide if they’d be an asset to the family while Lyra and Daphne are asked more polite questions. Draco hates the way these meetings are designed.

During the dinner, Draco realizes he rather enjoys the Greengrass sisters’ commentary; they talk low enough that they can’t really be heard by their parents, and entertain each other during the dull affair.

Once they finish eating, they’re back in the sitting room. Draco’s been so bored he invites Astoria to the porch in order to have a private conversation about the possible marriage. Though he believes Astoria would be a good wife and a great parent, he doesn’t want a wife. He’d really like a husband one day.

“I don’t think your mother likes me very much anymore,” Astoria tells him as they look towards the city skyline.

“I believe it’s your job my mother doesn’t like,” Draco tells her.

“Yes, you could definitely see her shock at a nice pure-blood girl working for equal rights.”

“It was priceless,” He says with a smile.

“You’ve changed since Hogwarts; you’re more respectful and more sure of yourself,” Astoria says as she glances at him.

“That I am. It’s been quite a journey. You seem more outspoken now.”

Draco looks out at the city, the lights of the cars moving below them. He can hear the horns blaring at the traffic and music from an unknown source. He relaxes and closes his eyes; he misses living in a city.

“Mother tells me you’re tired of waiting,” Draco says, opening his eyes and looking at her.

Astoria shrugs. “Not really; I wasn’t really been keen on getting married right after the War, you know?”

“I completely understand. That was one of my reasons too,” Draco says.

He’s staring at the city again when Astoria asks him, “You’re still not keen to get married aren’t you?”

“I am not,” Draco says truthfully, “I was hoping to ask you if you could call this whole thing off; I’m afraid my mother won’t listen to me.”

“I’d be more than happy to. I don’t think I’ll ever want to marry someone, honestly.”

“I want to someday, if it’s possible. On my own terms though,” Draco tells her, “Is there a reason you don’t ever want to marry?”

“Oh, yes. I’m not really interested in a relationship. I’m what some people call aromantic; have you heard of that?”

“Can’t say I have. I’d be interested to hear about it, if you’re comfortable talking about it,” Draco assures her.

“For me, I don't particularly care for romantic relationships. I don't feel that love other people seem to write home about,” She shrugs, "I don't mind having a partner, someone to be tender with, but I won't love them, and as long as they know that and are okay with that… But to be married when I have that feeling– it would just feel wrong to me, like a cage trying to force me to be something I'm not. It's not something I want, and it's not something I think I should have to have.”

“Completely valid,” He tells her, “We should really be allowed to make our own choices.”

Astoria laughs. “Tell me about it. Hope it’s fine to pry, but, who is she?”

Draco looks at her, confused as to who she’s asking about. “Pardon?”

“The woman you like. You’re interested in someone, aren’t you?”

“Ah,” Draco says, blushing crimson, “I’m actually not interested in women, I’m afraid. It’s the primary reason I’ve been putting off getting married.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Do they know you’re interested in them?” She has the glint in her eye every Slytherin has when they know they’re about to receive classified information. Draco smiles sadly and says, “He does not, as far as I know. Might tell him soon if I get a chance, hopefully. We’re… not on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Because you agreed to meet me?”

Draco nods, opting not to speak.

“Sounds like he’s pining for you too,” she says, smirking.

“What– I am not pining!”

Astoria laughs. “You’re as oblivious as a Gryffindor, aren’t you, dear? And no worries, I’ll tell my father to call off the courtship. It was a pleasure to see you again. Maybe someday we can meet again on our own terms if you’d like.”

Draco nods. “I look forward to it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Draco,

Come to my apartment immediately. There’s something we need to talk about.

Best,

Narcissa

Draco re-reads the short letter from his mother. He’s not sure why she’s being so dry; the rest of the evening on Friday had gone well. He’d been polite and a great co-host. Astoria said she would talk to her father by next Saturday, and it’s only Thursday. It’s possible she could have told her parents sooner, but he thinks she would have owled him… Although it’s possible she didn’t see the need to.

Still, he gets dressed and heads to his mother’s apartment, stopping by his favorite café and picking up some breakfast.

He knocks on her door at exactly nine in the morning; she answers almost immediately, her face a new level of furious he doesn’t think he’s ever seen. Though, to be fair, he usually never sees his mother be anything but collected.

“Good morning–”

“Draco,” she seethes, “Whatever did you say to Astoria for her to call off the courtship?”

“I didn’t convince her to call it off if that’s what you’re wondering,” Draco tells her as he walks in. He throws away his now-empty bag that had contained his breakfast and turns to face her.

“Oh, drop the act, Draco! You must have told her something. We were finally making progress! She comes from a respected family in the Wizarding world, she’s a pure-blood– she could have a better profession, but regardless– you threw away a perfectly great candidate!”

“Perfectly good candidate? Mother, this isn’t a competition, and she isn’t a prize to be won or lost. I didn’t throw her away; she can make her own choices. We agreed not to marry each other,” Draco says calmly.

“Complete horseshit! What did you tell her, hm? How did you convince her? She’s such a sweetheart, waiting for you all these years. Then, you have her cancel the marriage! I have never been more disappointed in you,” She says with considerable venom.

He’s never seen his mother so angry, so overwrought. She’s the opposite of everything she’s ever taught him: Control your emotions, don’t let other people see you vulnerable. Show them the power and reward in always keeping one’s cool. People will never know what makes you tick.

“I refuse to believe that, Mother! Are you sure you weren’t disappointed after my first year, when I failed to befriend Harry Potter? Were you not disappointed when I failed to follow Voldemort’s order?”

“Draco! We do not say his name! What do you have to say for yourself?”

“He’s dead, Mother, dead!” Draco shouts, “And I didn’t have to convince her. She asked me if I still didn't want to marry and I told her I didn’t. You know what she said? She didn’t want to either, that’s why she waited! We both wanted the freedom to choose– to marry if we so wish, not to be forced into a loveless marriage,” Draco exclaims.

“I refuse to believe she didn’t want to marry; she would make such a tremendous wife! She would have gone through with it, unlike you! You don’t get to choose who you marry, we never have– that is tradition! You’ve ruined years worth of searching for an adequate bride, ruined the possibility of producing such a beautiful heir. You should have told her you wanted to get married!”

“Who cares about producing an heir, about keeping our line pure? All I want is to court who I love!”

“Well, had you been more willing years prior, I might have allowed it. Now, however, I will find you a suitable wife–”

“I don’t want a wife! I want to be with a man! I will never produce an heir, will never be able to marry! All I want is a partner,” Draco says without giving it much thought. He leans against the wall, his words catching up to him. Shit, he thinks. His eyes widen as he realizes what he said, what he’s told her. What this could mean. He lifts his head to see her reaction; she’s as surprised as he is, though for other reasons. He did not mean to tell her this way.

“A man?” She says, sounding disgusted. “What have you become, Draco?”

“Mother, I– just let me–” He pushes himself off the wall and starts clumsily walking towards her when she raises his hand, ordering him to stop.

“I never raised you to be a disgrace, Draco. I never thought you would become so selfish,” Narcissa says, her voice hard and cold.  

“I deserve to be selfish with my future, after all you and Father put me through.”

“How– How dare you. That is no way to talk to your mother. Get out; I don’t want you near me,” Narcissa says as she turns around. Draco stays frozen on the spot, refusing to believe he may have lost his mother.

“Mother–”

“I don’t want to hear from you. Get out, Draco.”

He feels a tear get through the imaginary walls stopping him from breaking down in front of his mother. He leaves the apartment, finally letting the tears fall freely. He Apparates without focusing on a place first; he feels himself shrink into space, darkness engulfing him as he travels. He lands on unsteady feet; he looks to see where he is, and when he sees the door of 12 Grimmauld Place, he starts to sob. Of course he would land here, of all places. He had been thinking of somewhere comfortable, somewhere he felt safe and valued.

He runs to the house, slamming his body against the door. “Harry,” Draco yells as he hits the door, “I’m sorry, please let me in. Are you here? Please be here. I fear I’ve lost everything, please open up. Tell me I haven’t lost you too. Harry.”

Draco’s thumping on the door slowly stops as he realizes Harry isn’t going to let him in. Did he really fuck things up so much that Harry would ignore him? Draco releases another sob, hiccuping as he breathes in, putting all his weight on the door, his forehead touching the wood, his hands balled up in fists next to his face.

“Draco?” Harry asks. He can hear the disbelief and hope in Harry’s voice.

Draco turns around to face him. Harry’s standing on the sidewalk that leads to his house, where Draco is currently standing. He tries to clear his vision by blinking his tears away and sees that Harry isn’t alone. George Weasley is with him, and if Draco wasn’t so distraught he would have been embarrassed.

Draco’s breathing is ragged, his hair disheveled. He can feel the tears running down his cheeks, can feel how red his face must be right now. He knows he looks devastated, and that’s all Harry needs to see before he drops the bags he’s holding and runs towards Draco.

Draco runs down the stairs as fast as he can, tripping over his own foot on the last step. Gravity pushes Draco forward and he slams into Harry, who instantly wraps his arms around him and places him on even ground.

“I’m sorry,” Draco gasps, sobbing, “I should have listened–”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry too. I had been thinking of asking you out and then you told me you agreed to meet Astoria, and I was angry and jealous. You haven’t lost me, you idiot, I’m sorry for how I reacted–”

Draco doesn’t let Harry finish what he was saying, which he knows is rude, but he can’t help it. He lurches forward as soon as his brain registers that Harry wants him too. He seals their lips together, Draco’s hands snaking up from Harry’s chest to the back of his neck. Harry tightens his hold on him, pulling him closer. Harry pushes against Draco, adding pressure. They stay like that for a while, the spark that had always been there between them finally flaring to life. They separate, both panting and in need of some air. Draco sets his head on Harry’s shoulder, moving his arms down to hug Harry.

“Where did George go?” Harry asks, looking around. Draco lifts his head and notices the bags Harry had dropped are gone.

“I guess he went inside to put away the groceries,” Harry says.

“Do you want to step inside? If we stay like this I’ll freeze any day now, you know,” Draco tells him.

Harry laughs, “You’re such a drama queen.”

They untangle themselves and walk inside, hand in hand. They head to the kitchen to see George putting the last of the groceries away. He turns around when he hears them walk into the room.

“Figured you two might have wanted some privacy,” George says, folding his arms.

“All better now?” He smirks.

“Yes,” Harry tells him, “Mind if we do a raincheck?”

“Not at all,” George says as he pushes himself off the counter. He stops in front of them with a sly smile and says, “Hope you two know you’ll never live that down.”

Draco groans and uses his free hand to hide his blush. “Great,” He says.

George laughs. “See you later.”

Once they hear the door shut, Harry turns to Draco. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in me.”

“Neither did I. I guess we’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, guess we are,” Harry says softly. They walk to the couch and sit down. Draco drapes himself over Harry, hugging him by his middle, his head resting on Harry’s chest. Harry embraces him as he leans back into the couch, summoning tissues a few minutes later when he hears Draco sniffling.

“Here. What happened, anyways?” Harry says as Draco straightens up and grabs the tissues.

“Thank you. Um… I came out to my mother and, well, let’s just say she didn’t take it very well.”

“What? How did– What happened?” Harry asks, leaning forward. He rests his hand on Draco’s knee, squeezing lightly. Draco intertwines their hands.

He blows his nose. “She was furious that Astoria had called off the courtship– I’ll tell you more on that later– and accused me of not taking it seriously. I told her Astoria didn’t want to marry either, that’s why she kept agreeing to wait. The argument… may have escalated when talk of keeping the line pure came up, along with her insistence on finding an acceptable pure-blood wife… And I yelled something along the lines of wanting to be in a relationship with a man.

“She was disgusted with me, Harry. Absolutely revolted. Ordered me out of her home, saying she didn’t raise me to be a disgrace. She was utterly disgusted with me,” Draco hiccups, “I thought she’d have been more receptive after the War, since we almost lost each other. Thought it wouldn’t matter if I wanted to be in a relationship with a man or a woman.”

“Draco, that’s… That’s really awful, I’m sorry.”

“I’m afraid my search for an apartment will have to be sped up; I’m sure she’ll legally disown me once she has contact with Gringotts and any other Wizarding entities,” Draco says mostly to himself, his eyesight blurring everything in view.

“You don’t have to. Search for an apartment, I mean. You could move in with me,” Harry says.

“Oh, Harry,” Draco says, shaking his head a little. He places his free hand on top of their entwined ones, “I don’t know. We don’t even know what’s going on between us. And the press, they would probably have a field day with all the stuff they come up with, just with what’s happened today. I don’t want to bring you down like that.”

“Draco, I want you to move in, if you want to. I don’t care what the world says about us, you know that already. We can try it out, yeah? If we think it’s not working out we’ll talk it through, come up with other options.”

Harry leans into Draco’s space, tentatively placing his other hand on Draco’s cheek; Draco leans into Harry’s touch. Draco’s eyes flutter closed, and Harry kisses him languidly and delicately.

Draco pulls back and sighs tiredly, a small smile on his face. “Alright, fine, we can try this. But if you ever need a moment alone, just tell me.”

Harry smiles. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

“What do you think?” Harry asks, abruptly stopping in front of Draco.

Draco laughs. “Why are you so dressed up? You only have to look presentable. You look fine.”

Draco stands up from where he was sitting on the bed to remove Harry’s jacket and fix his tie. He looks handsome, Draco thinks to himself. But then again, he always does .

“Because I’m meeting your friends properly. And because it’s your birthday. What if they don’t like me? What if they think I’m not good enough? Or that you can do better?” Harry says as he runs his hand through his hair absentmindedly.

Draco swats Harry’s hands away and starts fixing his hair. “Honestly Potter, if you think they’ll force me to leave you then you don’t know me as well as you should. They know I’ve been gone for you for ages; all they want is to make sure we’re treating each other right. You look fine, very dashing in those Muggle clothes, in fact. I’m sure we’ll all get along marvelously.”

Harry nods, taking a few deep breaths. “Relax, yeah, I can do that.”

Draco snorts, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist. He kisses him gently before saying, “Come on, they’ll be here any minute.”

“What? But we still have ten minutes!” Harry says, confused, as he’s dragged out of their bedroom.

“Exactly,” Draco smirks.

Theo, Blaise, and Pansy arrive not even five minutes later. Harry and Draco get up from the couch and walk towards them. Draco gives them a bright smile. “I knew you’d be early,” He says as he gives them a hug.

“Well of course,” Theo tells him, “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Draco dismisses Theo with a wave of his hand. “No reason. Excuse the cringe-worthy introduction, dears. You all know Harry; Harry, this is Theo, Blaise, and Pansy.”

“Hi,” Harry says awkwardly. “Thanks for coming.”

“I’m still calling you Potter. ‘Harry’ doesn’t feel right to me,” Pansy tells them.

“I feel the same, Parkinson,” Harry says while he stiffly shakes her hand.

“Perfect. Now that we have that out of the way, shall we sit? I didn’t come here to stand all day,” Blaise informs the group. Theo chuckles and comments something about being guests, which Blaise determinedly ignores.

They sit down on the sofas as Draco offers them the snacks Harry had laid out before the trio arrived.

“So, Potter,” Theo starts. He has a mischievous look on face, telling Draco they’ll be no survivors today. “How good is Draco in bed? I’m afraid Blaise won’t tell us anything.”

Harry chokes on his drink once he’s processed what Theo’s said. Draco laughs. “You didn’t even give the poor man five minutes! You three love jumping right on the money.”

Harry recovers rather quickly, taking another gulp of water before he turns to Draco, saying, “I think we should bring the alcohol out now, honestly.”

Pansy smirks. “Now, now, we’re only getting started.”

“You like to start off strong, then,” Harry says, “You work with Luna right?”

“I do; she’s quite lovely and easy going. I appreciate her letting me write about whatever I please.”

“Yeah, Luna’s always been her own person. What do you two do? You know, as jobs?” Harry asks them. Draco can tell Harry doesn’t really know what to talk about, which he guesses is a little bit his fault. He didn’t want Harry to memorize topics to bring up, so he told Harry he’ll figure it out as they go. A little cruel, maybe, but also very Slytherin.

Blaise answers first. “Well, I’m a photographer for Queer & Here , the new queer Wizarding magazine. I interviewed people occasionally at my previous job; I’m hoping to do so at Queer & Here as well. I love having insider knowledge.”

“That sounds brilliant; I didn’t know about that magazine. How new is it?” Harry asks, very interested in the potential new reading material.

“We’re only just starting to fine-tune details before we publish the first issue; we should have it ready to be published in a few months… We could always use a star feature for the opening issue, if you’re interested,” Blaise offers, ready to reap a harmless benefit of having his best friend dating the Wizarding World’s Savior.

Harry leans back in his seat for a moment. “I’ll think about it.”

“Perfect,” Blaise says with a smug smile.

“I’m a bartender at the Leaky. It’s quite entertaining,” Theo supplies. “I love seeing people’s faces when they realize the person they’ve been flirting with is a Slytherin. It’s also… quite entertaining to overhear people’s conversations.”

Draco smirks. “I bet; do tell more.”

Theo glances at Pansy, who seems to guess the words that are about to exit Theo’s mouth.

“Don’t you dare, Theo,” Pansy threatens.

“Sorry, darling, I must.”  

Blaise and Draco lean forward. “Why do I smell gossip?” Blaise asks Draco.

“Because I think there’s something we haven’t been told, dear Blaise. Do tell, Pans. Or better yet, let Theo tell us,” Draco says.

“Your choice,” Theo says with an air of indifference, though Draco knows he’s rather enjoying this.

“I’m not saying anything,” Pansy says, folding her arms and looking towards the fireplace.

Harry’s face looks full of realization, as if he doesn’t know whether or not to believe what he’s just discovered.

Then Draco sees his expression shift to a smug, knowing smile before he says, “Did you by any chance go on a date, Parkinson? With a Holyhead Harpies Quidditch Player, perhaps?”

Pansy turns to him, with a look of disbelief. She doesn’t speak, but the speed with which she turns is all the confirmation Blaise and Draco need.

“My my, Potter, looks like you’re right on the money,” Blaise says.

Draco’s impressed by Harry’s deduction skills; he must know something they don’t, which means…

“On Merlin’s sanity, did you go on a date with a Gryffindor ?” Draco asks, his attention solely on Pansy.

Pansy stares evenly at Theo and Harry before answering Draco, “Says the man dating one. If you must know, I went on a date with Potter’s ex, Ginevra.”

“I can’t believe you two have abandoned Theo and I for Gryffindors,” Blaise says. He turns to Theo and swats his arm. “And you knew, you rascal.”

“What can I say? It was too good of information not to hold on to,” Theo says while he shrugs.

“I need something to drink. Who wants one?” Draco asks, looking around.

“You know we'll never turn down an offer for a drink, Draco,” Pansy says, leaning back on the sofa.

Draco nods and heads to the kitchen. He purposefully takes longer than needed preparing the drinks. Hopefully everything will still be intact by the time he returns.

He puts the drinks on a tray, and heads back to the sitting room. He sets the tray on the coffee table, everyone grabbing a drink as the conversation ensues.

“Hmm… See, you can’t really do that. The Ministry’s got a lot of hoops you’ve got to jump before you can even get what you want or need. It’s absolutely frustrating when all you want to do is help and it’s an urgent situation. They have these systems in place to make it harder for every other magical creature to be properly taken care of. Hermione’s actually working on that right now– getting rid of all those hurdles and on making the laws more fair.

“But anyways, to answer your question,” Harry continues, “It’ll be hard for you to legally obtain access to those files; they’re going to be very nitpicky. You’ll have to bring them all the required forms filled in perfectly, and something to give you more of an in… You could ask someone like Hermione, or a Wizengamot judge to write you a recommendation letter of sorts.”

“What did I miss?” Draco asks curiously. He leaves for a few minutes and comes back to a conversation about bureaucracies and forms. While Draco can infer Pansy asked something about accessing hard-to-get files, he’s still not sure how they got to this subject.

“Potter here is going to help us overthrow the Ministry,” Pansy tells him.

“No,” Harry says quickly, pointing a finger at her, “I did not say that. I already did that once– er, kind of. I’m not doing it again.”

“I am still very lost,” Draco says to the void.

“As are we,” Theo replies, “All I know is Pansy asked something about accessing classified files.”

“Yes,” Pansy says, “I got a tip on unauthorized government spending going on in the Ministry’s Department of Magical Games and Sports for our Quidditch World Cup team, and I’d like to do as much research as I can before they announce the roster, since you all know that’s coming up…”

They go on about the progressive yet slow changes happening in the Wizarding World, their favorite Quidditch teams, sharing an embarrassing story about Draco here and there, and so on. The evening passes by so quickly, especially after dinner, that when they look at the clock again it is almost eleven at night.

“Goodness,” Blaise says, looking at his watch, “I must get going; I have an interview to do tomorrow morning. Before I go, I just want to toast to Draco. May this birthday have been a pleasant one, and may you continue to grow both as a person and in your career. To Draco.”

An echo of cheers follows. Draco doesn’t think he’s ever had such an exceptional birthday; it may have been a simpler party compared to ones he grew up having, but he’s spent the day with people that care about him and that’s the best thing one can ask for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

5 months later

“Look what Blaise dropped off while you were at work,” Draco says teasingly. The object Draco’s holding is wrapped in brown paper, yet the shape makes it easy to guess what it could be.

“The magazine!” Harry says excitedly. He jogs towards the table Draco’s leaning against and grabs it. Harry tears the paper in a matter of seconds and stops when he sees himself on the cover. Blaise did well with the pictures; Harry looks comfortable and confident, something Draco knows he struggles with.

“You look charming,” Draco reassures him. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend as he’s flipping through the magazine until he lands on his interview.

The article reads–

HARRY POTTER TALKS ABOUT HIS SEXUALITY: EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW

Interviewed by Blaise Zabini

 

The interview has minor edits for clarification.

 

BZ: Welcome, Potter. Thank you for letting me interview you.

 

HP: Hi. Thanks for offering the opportunity.

 

BZ: Of course. To start off, would you tell us a bit about yourself?

 

HP: Well, I’m Harry, just Harry. I like to drink tea, I like to read… I love watching Muggle films. My friends tell me I can be a bit impulsive, and they’re not wrong, to be honest.

 

BZ: Alright then; let’s get right down to business, shall we? A lot of our readers will be wondering why you’re not only in this magazine but also on our front page. Can you tell us why?

 

HP: Erm, yeah. I’m coming out. As pansexual.

 

BZ: *laughs* Ever so eloquent. Can you give us your personal definition of pansexuality?

 

HP: Sure. The way I look at it is that gender isn’t a factor for me to like someone; I’m attracted to the person no matter their gender. What I care about is the person and their personality.

 

BZ: How did you figure it out?

 

HP: That’s a bit of a longer story… I had been questioning for a while. I didn’t really grasp that there were other labels besides gay and straight, and I was really confused because neither of those labels fit me. I knew I liked men, and I knew I found other people attractive… So I sat down with Hermione [Granger]; she helped me do some research and I found the word I had been looking for– pansexuality. But I was still lost: I had the word, but no one I could really relate to on this. Like, I have a few friends that are gay but they’ve either always known, or realized they liked someone and started dating them.

 

There was a point where Draco and I had been hanging out for a while after that– and we were good friends at this point– so I asked him something along the lines of ‘If you want to tell people something about yourself but you’re scared of how they’ll react would you still do it?’ and he told me of his coming out process and how he didn’t regret it. He told me of when he came out to you, actually, and he gave me some good advice. It helped me a lot to realize it was normal to feel the way I was feeling at that time. So to answer your question, it was a gradual thing, and I had to slowly figure out how I was feeling, then accept it and eventually become more comfortable with my sexuality.

 

BZ: What was your coming out process like?

 

HP: *laughs* My coming out process was all over the place. I first came out to Hermione, who, like I said, helped me figure it all out. She was absolutely brilliant about it; I never felt judged by her or anything like that. When I came out to Draco he was very considerate and supportive. I thought I had to figure it all out quickly and he reminded me I had all the time in the world to figure it out. Then I came out to Dean, an old friend from Hogwarts, and when he told me he’s bisexual I almost lost it– *laughs*– because he would have been a great help. A lot of my coming out moments were individual, but I did come out to a lot of the Weasleys during brunch one day, and they were all great about it, honestly. Throughout my coming out process there were one or two people that didn’t really get it, but they care about me so they’re trying to be supportive, learning as we go. I’d been scared I wouldn’t get such a positive reaction, but thankfully I did.

 

BZ: Did you have any fears or concerns about coming out?

 

HP: I mean, yeah of course. Doesn’t everyone? I was scared I’d be treated differently, that I wouldn’t be accepted or supported. Sexuality is so taboo in the Muggle world and I wasn’t really sure if it was the same in the Wizarding World. I’ve come to realize that it’s a mixed bag; many people don’t care and some care too much.

 

BZ: The Wizarding world can be quite contradictory on some subjects, as I’m sure you’ve noticed over the years. Anyways, I’m sure a lot of people are wondering… Why now?

 

HP:  I just think it was time, you know? There aren’t that many openly out people in the Wizarding World right now– or anywhere, really–, and I know that would’ve made a difference for me. So I guess I’m trying to help people by using the influence that’s been thrust onto me.

 

BZ: Do you have any advice for your fans on coming out, or any reflections you want to share?

 

HP: Something Draco told me when I came out to him was that I didn’t have to have been in a relationship with someone who wasn’t a woman to know. That just me identifying with that label was completely acceptable and valid.

 

Be safe. Coming out isn’t always safe for people, and while that can suck, you have to be careful. I know someone who came out and their family basically kicked them out of the family. It was awful to see that, but thankfully they were independent enough to be able to get back on their feet.

 

Another thing that I think people should know is that gender and sexuality can be fluid. It’s not fluid for everyone, and it’s not constant for everyone. You’re completely valid, and you deserve to be happy.

 

BZ: What a beautifully Gryffindor way to end things, Potter. Thank you again.

 

HP: *laughs* Thanks for the opportunity, Zabini.

---------------------------

“Zabini was great. There’s no violation of privacy or anything,” Harry says, putting down the magazine. He wraps his arms around Draco, who gives him a peck.

“I did tell you he’d be respectful. Not only because he’s my friend and you’re my boyfriend, but because he’s actually a good journalist, unlike Skeeter,” Draco says, his face twisting unpleasantly as he says ‘Skeeter.’

Harry smiles. “Yeah.”

Draco nuzzles Harry’s chest. “By the way, we both may have also gotten a letter from Hogwarts with our application results. I left them on the desk; I thought we could open them together.”

Harry untangles himself at lightning speed, racing towards their room. “WHAT? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT FIRST? Come on, let's go open them!”

Draco laughs, holding onto the dining table for balance. “Careful! You almost knocked me down.”

Draco sprints after Harry, wanting to see his reaction. He’s positive Harry will have gotten the position; from what Harry had told him the interview had gone really well, and he does have the experience needed to become the DADA professor. What Draco is worried about is his own result. Even though he’s decently qualified, he’s not as qualified as he wanted to be before applying. He’d decided to try applying early, and though his interview went adequately, Draco still believes it’s a long shot.

Harry makes it to the room before Draco. Once their breathing is back to normal, Draco grabs their letters.

“On three?” Harry asks.

Draco nods. “On three.”

“One, two, three…”

Harry quickly opens his letter and starts reading out loud.

“Dear Mr. Harry Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as Hogwarts’ new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor… Oh my god. I actually… I got it!”

He looks up from the letter, beaming as bright as the sun, his eyes landing on Draco.

Draco had opened his letter slowly, afraid of what it could hold. While Harry had been reading and re-reading his letter, Draco had finished reading his in one go.

“Draco?”

He hands Harry his letter silently, letting him read it out loud.

“Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy,

We regret to inform you that you have not been selected to take on the post as Hogwarts’ Potions professor. We look forward to reviewing your application in the future when you have gained more experience…”

“Draco, I’m sorry,” Harry says, looking up.

Draco tries to ignore the tiny pang of jealousy in his system– he’s happy for Harry, he really is. He just wishes he’d be going back to Hogwarts too.

“It’s fine,” Draco reassures him, “I didn’t think I’d get it anyways. McGonagall told me during the interview that it was unlikely I’d get the post due to my past as a Death Eater. She had said I was a perfect candidate but that I’d need more experience and to be more publicly redeemed for her to be able to defend me when talking to the press.”

Harry grabs Draco’s hand and squeezes lightly. “It sucks that this keeps happening to you.”

“I know, but those are the consequences of my actions,” Draco tells him. “I am happy for you, you know.”

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly, “I was really hoping we could start teaching together.”

Draco gives him a soft smile. “Don’t fret. I’ll join you there soon enough. Since you’re not head of house you’re allowed to Floo back to your residence, with exceptions of course.”

Draco’s a little disappointed, but he’d known it was a long shot. The public still views him as ‘former Death Eater,’ and it might take Draco a few more years to gain the public’s trust before they let him near their children. Still, there are other things he can look forward to currently going on in his life– he’d finally reached out to the Muggle friends he’d lost contact with when he’d moved back to the Wizarding world, and his apprenticeship is getting more enjoyable every week. He enjoys learning from professor Viken— he’s a great and unbiased instructor.

He hugs Harry, both lost in thought about how these letters will change their future.

“Have you heard from Narcissa?” Harry asks.

“No,” Draco says.

“This is bullshit, she’s your mom. She almost lost you once, in a war. And now she won’t talk to you because you’re gay? It pisses me off.” Harry’s grip tightens.

“I know, love, me too.”

“I sent her a letter a few weeks ago,” Harry says. This is news to Draco; he doesn’t know what to expect so he says nothing, opting to let Harry explain before he can jump to a conclusion.

“I told her she was being childish, shutting you out like that when you two have gone through so much together. Told her she needed to get past it because you’re still the person she lied to Voldemort for. You’re still Draco.”

Draco feels hope he doesn’t want– would she really answer Harry but not him? Would she owl Draco?… Would she learn to love and support him for who he is and not who she wants him to be?

Hesitantly, Draco asks, “Did she answer?”

Harry slowly moves Draco in order to see him. “No. I’m sorry. I think it’s going to take her some time to even tolerate it.”

Draco kisses him. “I appreciate your effort.”

“Always, Draco. Always.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Life isn’t perfect. It never has been and it never will be. Life is a collection of all types of memories. Experiences are essential; they build your character, make you who you are. Draco understands this. He’ll always work to be a better person, to be someone deserving of Harry’s love. Draco sees Harry clearly– they aren’t perfect. No one is.

All those days watching from the windows

All those years outside looking in

Though Draco had never put Harry on a pedestal, he had never thought to look into any other perspective but his own. He assumed so much about Harry’s life, assumed it could never have challenges. Draco had thought Harry’s life had been everything his wasn’t: filled with unconditional love, admiration, and support. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

All that time

Never really knowing

Just how blind I’ve been

He had never stopped to consider what life was like for the Wizarding World’s Savior. Draco’s still not perfect, but he’s no longer making assumptions about other people’s lives. He’s no longer looking for something that isn’t there, no longer pretending to know what’s going on. He admits his faults and misconceptions and does his best to learn from them.

Now I’m here blinking in the starlight

Now I’m here suddenly I see

Standing here it’s all so clear

I’m where I’m meant to be

All his life, Draco has been looking for something. He could never put his finger on it, could never vocalize what it was he was searching for; it was always on the tip of his tongue. Now, thinking back on his life, he’s always known what he’s been looking for: Freedom, and love. Freedom from expectations forced upon him, the freedom to be his own person. Draco’s finally achieved that. He’s not where he wants to be exactly, but he understands now– he’s getting there, and he’s on the right path.

And at last I see the light

And it’s like the fog has lifted

And at last I see the light

And it’s like the sky is new

And it’s warm and real and bright

And the world has somehow shifted

All at once everything looks different

Now that I see you

Draco no longer blindly believes what his parents tell him– he hasn’t for a long time. He’s fought to unlearn many biases and prejudices ingrained into his brain, and he’s become a better person because of it. If it hadn’t been for Harry, he would never have gotten the chance to change his perspective and to improve his life. Harry challenges his ideals, challenges everything he was ever taught as a child. He sees the world differently now, sees the beauty in more things than he ever thought he would.

They treat each other as equals, not as the ‘Savior and the Death Eater.’ They see each other as people who choose to be together despite the history that says they should be apart.

Together, they can get through anything.

And together, they will change the world.