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Magic had always been effortless for Draco. He’d felt the shiver of it flow through him since he was child. Father had said his talent was because of his pure, flawless blood but Draco had known better.
Draco had known that magic was a part of him, as necessary as his bones or his heart.
Charms had been simple, easy things: feathers had floated for him and locks had clicked open. Transfiguration had been trickier, but Draco had soon mastered the basics. He’d gotten good marks in Defence, in Astronomy and in Potions too. Draco had been arrogant about it; proud and self-important but beneath all his bravado he’d been grateful. He was a wizard, part of a rarefied few, and Draco wouldn’t have known how to exist otherwise.
It was only in his Eighth Year – after the War, after Father’s conviction and the collapse of everything that Draco had once believed as truth – that a spell had beaten him.
Expecto Patronum.
It was an ugly experience for Draco; emasculating and mortifying. The rest of his class had cast the enchantment with little trouble; indeed, many had already known this spell for years, his boyfriend Harry among them. Even Pansy managed after a couple of tries.
Not Draco though. Expecto Patronum had defeated him.
However carefully he angled his wand, however hard he focussed his favourite memories – however much he wanted this and shouted it like he meant it – nothing happened for him. All that Draco’s wand would produce was a silvery wisp of mist that glittered for a moment before vanishing into nothing. There was no Patronus and no prospect of one.
Harry, wonderful boyfriend that he was, took pity on Draco and he offered to practice with him in an empty classroom. His help didn’t seem to make a whole Sickle of difference though. Draco growled, full of dissatisfaction and frustration, slicing his wand through the chilly January air.
“Expecto Patronum,” Draco shouted, again and again until his voice was raw and cracked. “Expecto Patronum!”
Still nothing happened.
If anything, the mist was even thinner and more miserable than it’d been on Draco’s previous few attempts. The few silver sparkles soon disappeared and Draco slumped against a desk, his heart racing with humiliation and defeat.
Magic had always been his one true faith. It’d never let him down before and that it was doing so now – in front of Harry, too – felt devastating in a way that he couldn’t quite articulate. Somehow, he felt like less of a person. Draco felt his cheeks burn with a hot humiliation and he refused to lift his eyes to meet Harry’s own.
“It’s a really advanced spell,” Harry said from across the room, his voice obscenely soft in the quiet classroom. “There are lots of wizards that struggle with it, Draco. It’s not shameful, or -”
Draco couldn’t stand to hear that. He whirled around, cutting Harry off mid-flow.
“Piss off,” Draco glowered, hating how kind and concerned Harry looked. His boyfriend’s green eyes were soft with concern and care. Draco felt some of the heat leave his voice. “There might be lots of wizards that struggle with it, but you’ve never been one of them, Harry! What was it you told me? Oh yes! ‘Lupin taught me the spell when I was thirteen.’ Thirteen, Harry! I’m nearly eighteen and I can’t do a spell that was mastered by a bloody child.” Draco rolled his eyes so hard they nearly hurt. “I loathe you, Harry Potter! Of all the wizards in the world, I had to fall for you, Mr. Glittering Saviour.”
Harry hopped down from the desk where he’d been perched and strode over to stand beside Draco. He didn’t seem affronted by Draco’s half-baked insults.
“You don’t loathe me,” Harry laughed. “You love me. You told me so, just the other night when we met in the Astronomy Tower. We were cuddled under a blanket and -”
Once more, Draco felt the need to interrupt Harry. He couldn’t have the wizard derail their practice with talk of love. They’d only start kissing and then Draco would be distracted. He wouldn’t ever learn this blasted bugger of a spell.
“I was there too,” Draco reminded him. “So I don’t need to hear your gabbing, Harry Potter. You’re here to support me with learning to cast a Patronus. Not to change the subject.”
Harry smiled. “Pity,” he replied. “I was rather hoping to hear you say it again.” He cast his eyes over Draco’s still half-raised arm and seemed to come to a decision. Draco watched as Harry began to move a couple of desks out of the way to clear a space. Then Harry looked across at him again, those same green eyes now full of vigour. “Alright then, Draco. Let’s do this! I can see that this is something really important to you and I want to be there for you. Show me once more how you cast the spell.”
Draco focussed, tearing his eyes from his boyfriend. Harry was terribly attractive when he got into his teaching mode – all excitement and direction – and Draco’s body automatically reacted to the energy of him.
Centring himself, Draco focussed all his magic to a pinprick point of power. He knew that happy memories were the spark that ignited the spell so Draco let them rush through his brain and coil through his blood. He held his wand in the perfect position as he murmured the incantation and closed his eyes tightly.
“Expecto Patronum.”
It didn’t work.
All Draco got were the same wisps of light that he’d gotten before and the same few sparkles. He felt his heart sink down into his shoes. Even with Harry stood beside him, the spell still wouldn’t work. Draco felt like half a wizard. Beside him, Harry raised an eyebrow beneath his ridiculous wire-frames.
“It’s isn’t your casting,” Harry said, critical eyes taking in every element of Draco’s posture. “Your technique is flawless and there’s no doubt that you want it enough. We can solve this. I think I know what your problem might be.”
Draco looked at Harry, feeling downcast. “I’m glad one of us does,” Draco said glumly, “because I’ve not got a single clue. I’ve no idea why this spell is so hard for me. I can feel the enchantment flowing through me. It’s a pulse, a heat… But that isn’t enough.”
“Then it must be your memories,” Harry said, his voice infused with urgency. “Memories are your only key to unlocking your Patronus. What do you think about?” Harry demanded. “I need to know. Tell me everything.”
Draco’s face flamed red.
“Father letting me try brandy when I received my Hogwarts letter,” Draco said, the words falling from his mouth in a hurried rush. “How he said I’d make my family proud. Learning I was a Prefect. The first time I flew on my broomstick. When you asked me to Hogsmeade and held my hand as we walked. You. Every good memory of my life.”
“They aren't enough though,” Harry replied, his hand reaching out and clutching Draco’s forearm. “The purpose of a Patronus isn’t just to cast a creature. It isn’t some childish charm! A Patronus is a shield, Draco. It’s a positive force! The reason a Patronus alone can defeat a Dementor is that it projects hope, happiness and love. Everything that make us human! Everything that a Dementor isn’t! Your memories? They’re fine – they’re grand – but that’s all they are. Memories. The emotions associated with them? I’m just not sure they’re strong enough.”
Draco felt despair. He couldn’t answer that. He loved Harry, loved him down to his very bones. If that wasn’t enough, then what possibly would be?
“So what do you think about?” Draco shot back, flailing, defensive, hating how his voice broke on the very last word.
Harry answered without a blink of hesitation.
“I think about you,” Harry said, moving a step closer. “I think about the expression on your face when I first asked you out. You were wary, Draco. Your eyes darted. You were scared that I was having fun with you – having some joke – but you still agreed. You still said yes. I think how, when I’m with you, I’m not the Chosen One. I’m not the Saviour. I think about how you love me despite all of what's happened between us and how you always have.” Harry paused and he swallowed. “And I think about how lucky I am. How I might have lost Sirius, and my parents, but that I found you while we were both still young. We’ve got all the years of our life together and I’m grateful, Draco. I’m so grateful for that.”
Draco didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t the words in his vocabulary. Harry’s words echoed through Draco’s mind – the raw honesty of them – and then Draco imagined what that their together might be like. Draco imagined a cottage with crisp white sheets across their bed. He imagined neat rows of herbs. They’d spend long days in their garden, a light breeze ruffling their hair and the sun pinking the tips of their noses.
“I think about you.”
Harry, who’d never known what it was to have a family. Harry, who’d been used and exploited by the very people that were supposed to care about him.
Harry, who was the very best of them all, wanted to share the rest of his life with him.
“I think about you.”
Draco felt humbled by Harry’s simple words. His chest felt too big, like it’d been pumped full of air and his heart was overfull with emotion. Harry wanted to spend all the years of his life beside him. Harry had found a comfort and a safety in his arms.
Draco raised his wand, closed his eyes and spoke the incantation
This time though, when he said “Expecto Patronum” Draco didn’t only get silvery wisps and piteous sparkles. Instead, a mist of shining, sparkling magic emerged from his wand, filling the empty space that Harry had cleared.
The cloud coalesced into a large, powerful form. It was a corporeal Patronus and it was in the shape of a horse. Draco couldn’t help but gasp at the sight. His Patronus was the very image of Hermes, the first horse he had ridden as a young boy. He still loved that animal more than any other he’d known in his life.
“A fancy creature for a fancy man,” Harry said behind him, his voice a gentle tease. Draco would have told him off for his cheek – he really would have done – except that he was still too overjoyed. He was riding high on the thrill of casting a Patronus and being in love. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and together they watched as Hermes faded back into the ether. “You did it, Draco,” Harry said, brushing a kiss onto Draco’s blond hair. “I always knew you would.”
“Thank you,” Draco said, turning around to lean into Harry’s embrace. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Harry’s arms around him were impossibly tight. “Together we can achieve anything we set our minds to, love,” Harry said. “We’re invincible.”
Draco buried his head in the crook of Harry’s neck, loving and feeling loved in return. They had all the years of their lives in front of them and all the time in the world.