Archive of Our Own

"It's okay to not be okay all of the time." - Unknown

Draco watched as Harry stepped to the podium, the spotlight falling over him in the darkened hall. The audience quieted, and Draco's stomach turned with nerves and anticipation.

Harry had been so adamant that he could do this, that he could give this talk. It was important, he'd said, and it might help someone else. If it twisted Harry up inside, drawing forth memories of past pain, then Harry would fight through it and Draco would be there for him as he did.

So Draco sat in the front row of the auditorium, watching as Harry took a deep, steadying breath and began his story.

Harry

It all started when Teddy got on the train.

Which was ridiculous. I knew it was. It had nothing to do with Teddy, my godson, going off for his first year of Hogwarts, and everything to do with me. So it didn't start then. Not really.

It really started the day I got on the train for Hogwarts that first time. Hell, it probably started before I was born and Sybill Fucking Trelawney made a bloody prophecy. But seeing as how I can't remember my time in the womb, and the years with the Dursleys are now a dull grey in my memory, we'll stick with the fateful day I left for Hogwarts.

That was the day I began to understand the fickleness of hope, and it was the day I understood that there was a much larger world around me that I had never accounted for.

Still, almost twenty years later, it felt like the darkness started when Teddy left because a part of me went with him. The best part of me.

I watched the train pull out of the station and stood staring as the parents and younger siblings slowly turned and left the platform. He was gone, and I was alone. Again.

"Harry," a smooth voice came from behind me. "Are you going to be okay?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, unable to muster up the 'fine' I generally responded with to such inane questions. Of course, I wasn't okay. I was twenty-nine years old, and I was going home to an empty, silent house, devoid of laughter and love.

My only source of that laughter and love had just boarded his train and started the next stage of his life. It didn't matter that it meant I was starting the next stage of mine, and it was empty. Lonely.

"All right. Come on, Scarhead. Let's get you home where you can mope and lament in privacy. The last thing you need right now is the bloody Daily Prophet getting a photo of you like this."

Right. Because then Teddy would see, and I'd been doing so well keeping this from him, the impending darkness that I'd felt seeping around my edges for months.

My friendship with Draco Malfoy was an odd thing, surprising in its strength and longevity.

It formed during Auror training more than a year after the war. We'd all taken that first year to heal, to go back to school in an attempt to find some kind of new normal in our lives. Hogwarts that year had been filled with war-weary young adults figuring out their identities in a new world of peace. Auror training was the logical next step for me, the only occupation I'd ever considered.

I'd just never considered that Malfoy, of all people, would join me there.

I sat across from him on the first day of training, confused and suspicious. We were no longer rivals, but we weren't friends either, and his sudden desire to enter law enforcement seemed incongruous with the Draco Malfoy I knew.

"Malfoy, Potter, you're paired up," Trainer Jeffreys ordered. "Get up here and show everyone how it's done. I expect the two of you to set the standard for the rest of the class."

My eyes met Malfoy's grey ones, and I wondered if I looked as unsure as he did. Malfoy took a deep breath and held out his hand. I stared for a moment, hoping I wasn't an idiot for believing this offer of peace.

I placed my hand in his, and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Let's do this," he said quietly, and I let myself relax, returning his half-smile.

"Right." I pulled my wand, demonstrating the overpowered Shield Charm the instructor had requested as I allowed Draco Malfoy to throw spells my way. I dropped it just as quickly and began to hurl hexes, confident in his shield.

Once upon a time, I'd seen a ballet on the telly in my aunt's living room. I think it was Christmas or something, and Vernon and Dudley must have been off somewhere, probably at their monthly, father-son, cinema night, watching things blow up. Whatever the case, Petunia had me sitting on the floor helping her wind her yarn while she watched the ballet, and I remember the fluidity with which the dancers moved. The woman twirled and jumped, confident in the knowledge the man would be there to catch her. He, in turn, positively leapt across the stage, the power of his movements adding gracefulness and beauty to the dancers nearby.

That was what duelling with Malfoy was like. I felt graceful and powerful, and the beauty of the dance between us was something I was aware of from the very first spell. Each spell I cast, I knew he'd be there to parry. When it came to an end, we were both panting and the room smelled of ozone and sweat. The rest of the students were stunned, but the instructor simply grunted, offered us a nod of approval, then told the rest of the class to do what we did.

As if.

I met Malfoy's eyes once more, and this time, the smile filled his face, transforming it into something bright and open.

"That was well done, Harry," Malfoy said quietly.

"Thanks, Draco. You too."

And that was that. He's been there next to me ever since.

He was there throughout training, constantly paired up with me in practice, which morphed naturally into our studying together. We complemented one another and when one of us needed help, the other was there.

It surprised no one when we were officially partnered in our first years in the corps. For nearly two years, we worked cases side by side. We arrested dark wizards and suffered the drudgery of bureaucracy. We ate together, teased one another about dates, friends and media stories. And we probably would have continued like that, but then—

"Andromeda's dead."

Ron and Hermione were sitting across from me in the dingy library of Grimmauld Place. I couldn't concentrate on them, however, due to the incessant buzzing in my ears.

"I—I don't understand. I just saw her yesterday when I dropped Teddy home. She was fine." I felt numb; I knew I should be feeling something, anything, but my brain wasn't firing correctly.

"There was a Potions accident," Hermione said, her voice thick with tears. "Her entire lab was destroyed."

"Oh, God." I heard a long whine, as though an animal were in pain, and with detached interest, I realised the sound was coming from me.

Hermione moved to put her arm around mine, hugging me close.

"Teddy's fine," said Ron, trying to reassure me. "She had wards up to protect the rest of the house."

I jerked. Teddy. Oh my God. Teddy. He'd lost so much, and now his grandmother was gone, too. The war was over. Stuff like this wasn't supposed to happen anymore.

I don't know how long I sat there, my friends talking quietly while I absorbed the news of Andromeda's death, a woman I considered like an aunt—the good kind, not the shitty, like Petunia. At some point, though, someone must have moved or left because suddenly a pale hand was on mine, squeezing, comforting, and I fell apart.

"Draco," I moaned, and he wrapped me in his arms.

He was shaking too. Of course, he was. Andromeda was his actual aunt, though he'd only known her a short time. She was his last connection to his mother, who had passed the previous year; the grief of Lucius's incarceration and death had been too much for her to bear. I'd been there as he mourned Narcissa's passing, and I knew how much Andromeda's continued presence had meant to him.

But here he was, comforting me.

"I've got you," he said into my ear while the reality of it all clicked into place, the grief slicing through me. So I held on.

And he had my back every step of the way. He was there for me when I handed in my resignation, the new, single parent of a four-year-old boy who depended on me not to be injured or killed on the job.

He was there for me when I needed a night out, when I needed to remind myself that I was only twenty-three, that life continued to go on outside of bedtime stories and ABCs. He was there to encourage me as I searched for a new career, something I could do for myself while staying home and raising an amazing child.

He was there for me then, and he was there for now, as I went home alone after dropping that child off for his first Hogwarts adventure, and the darkness that I generally kept at bay was creeping into the edges of my psyche.

The house I'd raised Teddy in was nothing like Grimmauld Place. It was a sweet little cottage in the Devon countryside that Teddy and I had immediately fallen in love with. It had character, magic, and most of all, love.

But standing outside the little stone fence that separated the front garden from the one-laned, dirt road, it looked empty. The windows that usually invited me in looked hollow, devoid of life. The stone path was overgrown with weeds, and all I could see when I looked at it was the work that needed doing, everything I'd avoided doing over Teddy's final summer before Hogwarts.

"I need to paint the shutters," I mumbled, staring up at the house.

"They look fine," Draco said, letting me stare, not trying to coax me into the house like Hermione would have done, or telling me to cheer up, as Ron might have. "But if you want to paint them, we will. Maybe a new colour. Something less Gryffindor."

I huffed a little laugh, the humour not quite reaching my chest. "You like the red."

"I said it didn't clash with the stone. I didn't say I liked it."

I rolled my eyes and pushed through the gate, each step feeling painful.

"What are you going to do this afternoon?" Draco asked, his voice quiet because somehow he knew that's what I needed. "Do you want me to stay?"

I shook my head. "No, I think I want to be alone for a bit."

He hesitated. "It's okay to not be okay, you know. You don't have to do it all by yourself."

"So I'm always told," I said, and the snarl in my voice irritated me even more. "Just, give me a few days. Please."

Draco let out a low hum, the sound he made when he didn't agree but wasn't going to argue. He didn't make that sound often, as he did love to bicker.

I ignored him, too tired to rise to the bait. I just wanted to climb into bed, to go to sleep and pretend this day hadn't happened, that my godson, my son, was still in the next room. I imagined he was waiting for me to come and tell him a story about Amil, the Boy Pirate, who changes his looks at will, sailing the seven seas doing good deeds under the guise of piracy.

Aargh.

Like many little boys, Teddy went through phases of intense interest when he was young — trains, dragons, frogs, weather…The stories of Amil first took form when Teddy was temporarily obsessed with everything related to boats. From rowboats to cruise ships, Teddy had questions about them all, and anyone hoping to have a discussion with him at any length needed to be ready to discuss water-faring vessels and answer questions.

Amil was my answer to a seven-year-old metamorph's need for bedtime stories that included boats. I'd become his only parent by this time, each of us finally settled into our new home and life, and each evening he'd curl up next to me in his bed and ask me to tell him a story.

I'd weave adventures about Amil sailing the world, meeting new people who always seemed to have some difficult problem that needed solving. Sometimes the problems were small, and Amil would help them figure it out themselves, and sometimes they were large, and he'd find a way to lend a hand.

Always, though, the story would end with Amil's kind and simple manners offering the people a ray of hope in their lives. Like Teddy had for me.

They were just little stories.

"It's brilliant, Potter. You should publish it," Draco insisted one night after he'd overheard Teddy and me at bedtime.

I rolled my eyes and handed my friend his preferred glass of wine before I sat down with my beer, ready to watch the football match on the telly.

"Harry."

His solemn tone halted me from hitting the button on the remote. "It's just a story I made up for my godson," I insisted.

"And it's good. Have Luna illustrate it and send it to a publisher."

"Who'd then publish it because it was Harry Potter's," I growled, irritation tightening my shoulders like an itch.

"Fine. Send it to a Muggle publisher. I bet you they'll buy it."

I didn't understand at the time why the idea made me so antsy, but I realise now it was fear. I was afraid to hope for something so entirely different than what I'd always known and expected from life. It sounded too good to be true, like a dream I hadn't even recalled I'd had, but it formed vividly in my mind when put into words. So I lashed out, knowing that Draco wouldn't walk away from me.

"I don't even know how to do that!" I hissed, trying to keep my voice down, not wanting to wake Teddy. "It's a ridiculous idea. I'm just me, not a writer."

Draco rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Write it down. Please. Between Hermione and I, we'll take it from there."

The longer I considered, the more I could admit that the idea excited me. I still wasn't doing anything with my life other than raising Teddy, and it was boring when he was in school each morning. This was something small I could do to keep myself entertained, but I was sure nothing would come from it.

"Fine. Whatever. Can we watch the match now?"

Draco sat back, seemingly satisfied, but the concept continued to stir in my brain.

Whatever.

Draco had been right.

He rarely let me forget it in the years to come, as my small collection of stories soon became a larger series, each fantastically decorated by Luna Lovegood and then eagerly published by a Muggle publishing house. And when they were being carried in Flourish and Blotts two years later, nobody seemed to care that they were written by H.J. Evans. They simply bought them anyway.

Teddy had long outgrown his pirate phase by the time he'd left for Hogwarts, but I still had deadlines for promised stories, even if my muse was gone and he was now much older than the boy pirate that brought hope to the wider world. Despite his age, Teddy still brought hope to me.

That's why his absence was so difficult. He was such an intricate part of every facet of my life. Even my work, my stories, revolved around an iteration of him that would forever be eight years old.

Draco left me alone to wallow as I'd requested that first day after Teddy left. He Floo-called me that evening to find out what house Teddy had made — Hufflepuff, as if there'd been any doubt — and there'd been daily check-ins after that.

Three weeks later, I'd not even felt up to leaving the house, let alone doing something productive like cleaning or working on my stories…or even taking a shower. But it was Hermione's birthday, and Ron had made plans, insisting I tag along.

Looking down at the Apparition coordinates, I let out a long sigh and spun.

"Harry!"

I forced a smile, trying to feel bright and happy, then turned to find Hermione sweeping me into a huge hug.

"I missed you," she muttered in my ear.

I held her a moment, wishing the warmth of her embrace could fill the hole in my chest that had settled in over the last month.

"Happy birthday," I whispered, and she pulled back, looking at me closely, her dark brown eyes searching.

The sounds around me finally penetrated my awareness, and I turned to look around. Seagulls squawked loudly, swooping over our heads along the sandy dune where we stood, Ron just behind Hermione, watching us carefully, watching me carefully.

Fuck.

They both had that "worried about Harry" look on their faces, and I felt my shoulders stiffen. "I'm fine," I said automatically.

Ron slapped me on the shoulder. "No you're not, but you will be. Come on, there's a bonfire down the beach."

"Where are we?"

"Boscombe. Beautiful, isn't it?" Hermione's hair was blowing in the evening breeze, and she was glowing with happiness. I put my arm around her, determined to push my lousy mood away for her sake.

"It is. And so are you. You're absolutely radiant. Twenty-nine agrees with you."

"I hope so because I intend to remain twenty-nine from now on," she said, laughing.

She wrapped her arm around my waist, took Ron's hand, and we walked along the boardwalk. It should have been perfect, just me, my best friends, the early autumn sun setting over the horizon, and the sound of the ocean waves lapping at the sand.

I couldn't keep it up, though. I could laugh, joke, and enjoy the evening as we sat drinking around the fire, telling stories, remembering past events, but I just didn't feel fully present.

"Have you talked to Simon lately?" Ron asked, and I realised I'd been staring at the ocean for several minutes, ignoring my friends.

Simon, the therapist I'd been visiting on and off in the years since the war. Mostly, I went to him when the residual trauma caught up with me, when the nightmares returned, or the flashbacks got to be too much. Honestly, I hadn't been to see him in almost three years. I'd been doing so well, so it hadn't even occurred to me to go back now.

I shook my head. "No."

"Don't you think it might help?" Hermione's voice was gentle, and I could tell she was restraining herself from nagging at me, which I really did appreciate.

I shrugged. "Probably. I'll owl him tomorrow."

"Good." Ron handed me another beer, and I played with the label, the feel of the wet paper under my hands suddenly fascinating.

"We're going to try for a baby," Hermione said a little bit later after the conversation had died down again.

That caught my attention, and I nearly strained my neck turning so quickly. Ron was grinning, his ears red in the dim firelight, and Hermione, sitting between his knees, had a sly smile on her face.

"A baby," I whispered. Holy fuck. My best friends and a baby?

"Yeah, you know, one of those little, smelly, crying things that looks like a mandrake?" Ron challenged, and Hermione slapped his knee.

"Our baby won't look like a mandrake."

"All babies look like mandrakes. Ours will be a cute mandrake."

My best friends and a baby. This was…brilliant!

"This is brilliant! Bloody hell, I'm going to be an uncle!"

I crawled across the sand, knocking my beer over, but I didn't care. I was going to be an uncle, and my best friends were going to have a baby, and this was amazing.

"Harry," Hermione complained when I pulled her to me, giving her a loud kiss on the cheek.

"Where's mine? I'm a necessary part of making this baby too."

I grabbed Ron and gave him an even louder kiss, this one on the lips, making him sputter and pull away.

We were all laughing by then, enjoying the idea of new life, new hope, and for a few minutes, I didn't feel nearly so empty. It was a good night.

My best friends and a baby.

My best friends and a baby.

The next day, it was all I could think about, but in the solitude of my house, walking past Teddy's empty bedroom, I couldn't find the glee of the previous evening.

Draco found me like that, sitting on the chair in my back garden, staring out at the autumn leaves changing colour at the edge of the property.

He sat down next to me in the chair we'd both long ago accepted was his, and he didn't say a word. He just let me sit, listening to the rustling branches, lost in my thoughts.

"Ron and Hermione are going to try for a baby," I said finally, still staring ahead.

"That's great." He meant it.

I could hear the smile in his voice. I think that's one of the things I liked best about the Draco of my adulthood. It was like all the empathy he'd lacked as a child had simply built up, waiting to be used now. And he refused to hide it, to put on a stoic face like he'd been taught as a child. Instead, he embraced it.

"You'll be an uncle," he continued.

That helped. The reminder that another little person I could call mine would eventually enter this world. It helped.

"Why does it bother you?"

Like I said. Empathy. He always knew what I was feeling without ever having to ask. It was never, "Are you okay?" He knew I wasn't, so I didn't have to prevaricate.

"I don't know. I'm happy for them. I really am."

"But…?"

I let my head fall to the side, looking at my friend. His pale blond hair was shining in the warm sun, and he was watching me with his clear, all-seeing, grey eyes. Something tight inside my chest loosened at the sight of him.

"You look nice today," I said, instead of an answer.

"I look nice every day. You're happy for them, but…"

Fine.

"Fine. But I'm jealous."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Jealous?"

"Yes, jealous. They're getting ready to start this whole new adventure, but it's theirs, and I'm just finishing mine. Teddy's gone off to Hogwarts, and I'm just here, waiting, with nothing in front of me, nobody to love me, no future to look forward to." The words sounded bitter, but I was feeling bitter.

Something seemed to flash in Draco's eyes for just a moment, but it was gone so quickly I thought I'd imagined it. "Your friends all love you, Potter. You're an idiot."

I rolled my eyes at his use of my surname. He generally reverted to that when I annoyed him.

"You know what I mean. I know you all care for me. It goes both ways, I promise. I just…I don't have anyone to plan a future with. And Teddy's gone, and I'll only see him at holidays and summers, and he'll start planning his own future — as he should. Merlin, he's got such hopes; the boy is a miracle. But me? I've got nothing."

Draco stiffened his shoulders. "Right. You only have a brilliant career, wonderful friends, people who are willing to sit and listen to you be an idiot and not punch you for it."

"What—"

"Nothing," Draco interrupted. He took a deep breath and seemed to shake off his irritation. "I'm starving. Are we having dinner or not?"

And that was that. Things were back to normal and we stood, going back into the house to make our weekly Wednesday dinner together. It was a tradition we'd started back when we were partners, and it'd stayed around all these years since. He usually came to my house — I'd had Teddy and it made more sense, and now it was just our habit — but we took turns cooking.

We never seemed to run out of things to talk about. His work, my stories, mutual friends, politics, books…Ten years later and he was still interesting. When he wasn't pissing me off, anyway.

"Hermione said the publishers want you to do a book tour."

I let out a little huff while I chopped the onions for the shepherd's pie, then cast a quick charm to clear the smell as my eyes began to water. "You know I don't do tours."

"No, I know you haven't done tours in the past, which made sense. You had Teddy at home and you needed to be here. But he's at Hogwarts now."

I slapped the knife down on the cutting board and turned to scrape the offending items into the sizzling pan. "I know he's at Hogwarts. The fact that my house is fucking empty has not escaped my notice."

"Hasn't it?" he bit back, his voice challenging.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that you need to get off your arse and start doing things. Teddy's at Hogwarts, not dead. You're mourning, for Merlin's sake, and I'm tired of watching you sit here every day, hopeless, as though there's nothing left for you." He stood up and grabbed his jumper off the back of the sofa where he'd draped it earlier. "Open your fucking eyes."

And with that, he stormed out the door, the faint crack of Apparition audible through the windows.

I stared, stunned, listening to the sizzling of the onions and wondering what the hell had just happened. I replayed Draco's words, growing more irritated by the minute.

I was not mourning. I knew Teddy wasn't dead. I was happy for my godson, and from the letters he sent every couple of days, I knew he was having a blast at school. He'd made new friends and was getting up to the appropriate levels of mischief.

And I knew he still needed me, but it just wasn't the same. Of course, it wasn't.

I'm tired of watching you sit here every day, hopeless, as though there's nothing left for you. Was I really doing that?

I looked around the house: mess was beginning to accumulate in my weeks of inactivity, calling out to me. I'd just not been able to bring myself to care enough to do anything about it.

I was jealous of Ron and Hermione starting something new. A baby. A family. And my family wasn't here anymore. It wasn't unreasonable, was it?

I threw the meat into the skillet, determined to finish making dinner even if I didn't plan on eating it. I took out my frustration by mashing the meat mercilessly. Fuck.

It was unreasonable, wasn't it?

I had work I enjoyed, even if I couldn't bring myself to write at the moment. I had a lovely house and a godson who wrote to me regularly, who would come home to me during the holidays and brighten everything again. I had my friends and the Weasleys. And I had Draco. I had people who loved me, who made my life good.

The darkness in my chest lightened just a little, and I felt able to take a deep breath for the first time in weeks.

This was okay. I was going to be okay.

I finished assembling the dinner and shoved it in the oven, then hit the room with a few cleaning spells.

Draco was right. I needed to start living again. Except, this time I couldn't just do it for Teddy. I had to do it for myself.

And dammit, I needed to call Simon.

Apologizing to Draco was at the top of my list for what to do next. It wasn't the first thing I was going to do, but for some reason, it felt like the most important. I wasn't even sure what I was apologising for. It wasn't like I'd been the one to yell at him and storm out, but I still felt like I'd wronged him.

I'd long ago learned to trust my instincts in this area.

First, I had some other matters to take care of. I needed to show him I'd taken his advice, that I was trying to pull myself together. Over the next day or two, I worked to get the house back in order. Preparing the garden for winter, cleaning, washing the linens, all things I'd been ignoring. With each task completed, I felt a little better. Less overwhelmed.

In the down moments between tasks, the darkness would close back in, the negative thoughts encroaching on my resolve to keep going, telling me I wasn't good enough, that I was alone, that I was useless. But I'd think of Draco, of the fire in his eyes when he told me I had friends who loved me, and the memory would push it all back.

Simon managed to fit me the next day, and that helped as well, even if he seemed to feel I needed to see him weekly for the foreseeable future. He helped me prioritise a few things, helped remind me of the coping skills I'd learned so long ago. And he encouraged me to continue with my plans, even when I felt useless and the dark felt all-encompassing when laying alone in my bed at night.

I had friends who loved me. I kept repeating this in my mind, Draco's clipped, posh accent as he said it, making me smile. By the weekend, I was eager to see him, to make those apologies, to tell him that he'd helped me. I wanted to thank him.

Friends who love me.

The thing is, when you plan something out so entirely in your mind and you think about it for days, it never goes how you thought it would. This was no exception.

Draco and I had standing tickets for the first Magpies home game every month, so that weekend, I gathered my things, layered up against the Scottish, October chill, and headed out. Draco generally met me in his box, so I tugged the hood of my jumper up over my head and Apparated to the stadium.

I'd been running behind, so the stadium was full. The Montrose Magpies were a popular team, and on a day like today, with the sun shining and the chill of the day still somewhat manageable, the stands were close to capacity. I smiled and nodded at the ticket booth, waving as I passed, hurrying through the members' queue.

The excitement of the crowd was invigorating, boosting my spirits as little else could.

"Hey, Harry," said Jimmy, the tiny wizard that worked the gate going up to the top boxes. "Where's Teddy?"

I suddenly felt guilty for not thinking of my godson at all that morning.

I'd been so intent on getting there, on seeing Draco, on having a day doing something I loved with a friend I loved that I hadn't even considered that it was something I usually did with Ted. I cleared my throat, hoping that my change of mood wasn't obvious.

"He's at Hogwarts this year." My voice sounded normal, cheerful even, so that was good.

Jimmy slapped his bald forehead with a smack. "Oi, that's right. How's he liking it? What house?"

The smile started to feel more natural at Jimmy's clear affection for my kid. "Hufflepuff."

Laughing, Jimmy shook his head. "No surprises there."

"No, none," I agreed. "And he seems to love it. He's making new friends and keeping up with old ones, even the ones in other houses. The boy's more popular than any kid has a right to be."

"Always has been." Jimmy jerked his head to the field when a whistle blew. "Oh, wow, sorry about keeping you. Mr Malfoy's already up there. Enjoy the game!"

I thanked him and ran up the remaining stairs, eager to talk to Draco, to clear the air, before the game got underway. I got to the landing, pulled open the door, and froze.

"—I'm so glad you can come," Gathii was saying, pulling Draco into a close embrace.

Draco leaned into the man; I felt the breath leave me, and I struggled to suck in a new one. I stood frozen, watching, my head swimming as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.

Gathii was a beautiful man. He was tall, the dark skin of his African childhood positively glowing, and the light accent in his voice added a level of polish that I couldn't possibly hope to emulate.

He was Draco's ex. He'd left Draco nearly three years before and returned to Kenya, leaving me to help mend Draco's broken heart.

But he was back, Draco was in his arms, and I couldn't do a thing about it. And why did I feel like I needed to do something about it, anyway? I felt so confused, both by what was going on in front of me and by what I was feeling. Was that…betrayal?

Gathii turned to me, his broad smile lighting his gorgeous eyes, and one feeling certainly became clear. Rage.

"Harry! It's good to see you, mate."

I forced a smile.

"Gathii, welcome back." I turned to Draco, embarrassed and afraid he'd recognise my tumultuous reaction. "I, uh, didn't mean to interrupt here."

I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to get out of there, to put as much distance as I could between myself and the private moment I'd intruded upon.

"Inter—" Draco started, but I cut him off.

He was my friend, and I wanted him to be happy. Gathii had made him happy once upon a time, and I needed to be okay with that. I would be okay with it because anything else didn't make sense.

"No, I just came by to tell you I couldn't stay today. I, er, have a meeting with my editor." Which was ridiculous, because Draco knew Liza didn't work on weekends. But it was all I could manage at the moment. "Great to see you Gathii. I'll see you around, I'm sure."

"Harry," Draco tried again.

I turned for the door before remembering my plans for the day — the plans that had so far been decimated and squashed into bicorn powder. At least I could still apologise and get that off my list.

I placed my hand on the door handle and turned, but I avoided Draco's eyes. "Oh, and I just wanted to say I'm sorry for being an arse the other night. You were right."

And with that, I fled.

The thing about hope is that it can be a fickle emotion. If you don't truly feel it in your stomach, if you're only beginning to find it in your life or if you base it upon something transient, you risk shattering it completely.

Since my early childhood, I've had problems with this. I'd learned at a very young age that hoping for something would only leave you disappointed. My relatives would take advantage of this and promise me treats or privileges, then take them away from me for ridiculous reasons. So, I'd learned not to trust it.

When I went off to Hogwarts, I'd begun to hope for something more, something different. And while it was indeed different, the darkness of my teenage years was haunting in a way that even my younger self could never have imagined. Later, I'd found my hope for the future in Teddy, and I'd wrapped myself in that entirely so when he'd gone off to school, his absence was filled by the darkness I'd always had chomping at the edges.

In the first days after Draco's and my discussion, when I'd decided to start living once again for myself, for the first time in my life I didn't think about my future as being something others could form for me. I spent those hours cleaning the house and trimming the hedges thinking about what I wanted in my future, considering who I wanted to be.

I wanted to be somebody that could see the joy in life, who could appreciate a thunderstorm as well as a sunrise. I decided I wanted to be a person who could look at the good in things and find hope in tomorrow.

When I'd said my plan revolved around apologising to Draco, I wasn't completely clear. I wanted to apologise, yes, but I wanted to thank him as well. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me as a friend, how his presence brought me joy, and how I hoped he'd be there with me in the future.

And then I saw him in Gathii's arms, and everything I'd planned to tell Draco seemed insignificant, but I wasn't sure how.

Simon always told me that when you feel too much, you should try to pull it apart into individual emotions. So, I found a little park near the stadium and sat on a bench, running through everything that had just happened, sifting through all the feelings spinning in my body, trying to make sense of it all.

I was angry, I knew that. Gathii had broken my friend's heart, and I didn't want to see that happen again. I was also disappointed because the day I'd planned hadn't come to fruition. Simon would say both of those feelings were natural, that they were normal.

But I also was jealous, and that didn't make sense, did it?

Draco wasn't mine to be jealous of. He was my friend, and yes, he was the person there for me when I needed it. He was the first person I wanted to tell when something good happened, the last person I talked to most evenings before bed, the person who knew how to make me smile when the world around me seemed to be too much.

I loved him. He was my friend.

I froze before saying that again in my head.

I loved him. And he was my friend. Not because he was my friend.

Bloody hell. I loved him. My heart began to race at the realisation, and all I could do was pull that emotion apart, picking at it to see all the little pieces that made up the whole.

I loved his honesty, the way he was willing to tell me what I needed to hear and the way he always knew what that was. I loved his ability to see the big picture and to be able to sum up a complex situation or problem in only a few words. I loved his biting wit and dry sense of humour, his ability to be soft at just the right moment, and the dichotomy those things created.

He helped push away the darkness so I could see the promise of the light. He wasn't my source of hope; that was mine. But he helped me dare to open my eyes one more time and look for it.

I got up and walked the streets of Montrose, too antsy to sit in one place any longer but not ready to go home.

The question of whether or not Draco wanted me in return didn't even register. It was irrelevant. He was back with Gathii who made him happy. I knew this; I'd seen it.

They'd been good together, and I'd be a terrible friend not to want him to have that, no matter my own feelings. So, I worked Draco's happiness into my hopes and plans, that he'd have what he always wanted. I'd be there to stand by his side and support him.

And if I was a little bit jealous and more than a little heart-sick, well, he didn't need to know that.

The sun was setting when I Apparated home, my growling stomach reminding me of my missed midday meal. I stepped through my back garden gate, thinking through what I had in my pantry for supper when a voice stopped me.

"Harry."

I jerked my head up, nearly giving myself whiplash. Draco was sitting in his chair waiting for me, and he looked terrible. His hair was standing on end in places like it did when he ran his hands through it with worry. His mouth was taut, and his eyes sad.

"Hey," I finally said. "When did you get here? I thought you'd be out with Gathii."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot."

"As you remind me daily."

"Well, you're an idiot daily."

A cold wind blew through the garden, and Draco shivered.

"Come on. It's freezing out here. Let's go inside," I said, then stopped, confused. "Hold on, why didn't you wait inside? You could have just Floo-ed in."

"This is our spot," he said quietly. "It helps me think."

Oh. I tried not to read too much into that, but it was hard.

"Right. Okay, well, come on." I stepped into the warm house and turned on the lights, the soft glow of the room in the falling darkness making everything feel close and cosy. "I was just going to have some leftovers, but we could order some takeaway if you like."

Draco was standing by the door, his back stiff, which was not like him. Shit. I'd really messed things up, and I needed to clear the air. I hated to see him so uncomfortable.

I steeled myself and ploughed ahead. "I'm sorry for running out like that earlier today. I realised later that it must have seemed incredibly rude to Gathii, and with you guys getting back together like that, it had to have made things awkward. I'm really, really sorry."

Draco narrowed his eyes, but he walked over to the kitchen table and leaned against it. "It was incredibly rude; you are correct."

I nodded, but he was holding something back. It made me nervous. I'd be happy for him and Gathii, but I really hoped he wasn't going to go into detail about their reunion.

"Gathii had some news that you might have heard if you'd stayed," he said after a few moments, still watching me closely.

"Yeah?"

"He's getting married. He was inviting me to the wedding."

"That's nice," I answered automatically and then froze. "Wait, what?"

"He's getting married. Her name is Makena. He's having a ceremony here in England and then another in Kenya with her family near where they'll be living."

Draco was still watching me like he was waiting for some kind of reaction. But the blood rushing through my ears only let one thing sink in: Draco was not back with Gathii.

"So," I managed to get out, my voice rough, "you aren't together again."

Draco pushed off from the table, coming towards me. "No."

"And I didn't interrupt anything romantic between you."

"No," he whispered, and he was so close now that I could see the flecks of blue in his otherwise grey eyes.

I couldn't look away. "Draco…"

"Why did that bother you?"

I could feel my pulse racing, and I wondered if Draco could see how terrified I was. Because I hadn't considered this. I hadn't even realised I felt this way until I thought he was no longer available. I'd been prepared to stand aside. There'd been no risk involved except my own, but this would be a step neither of us could come back from.

The Harry from a week ago would have used that risk to worry over, to fret and keep him from acting. He'd have decided that this would ruin everything and that it was better to keep what you had than to try for something more.

But I was no longer that Harry.

"What is it, Harry? What do you want?"

"I want to be happy."

Draco's lips twitched into a hint of a smile. "I want you to be happy."

"You make me happy," I said, and I raised my hand slowly, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted.

He didn't.

His hair was soft, and I trailed my fingers down the short lock that fell close to his left eye, letting the tips trace along his sharp cheekbone, slowly memorising the feel of his face under my touch.

He closed his eyes and nuzzled his face into my hand, and I could feel my chest swell. I loved him so much. How could this have been here for so long without me noticing?

"Because you weren't ready," he said quietly, and I realised I must have spoken aloud. My face heated.

"You knew?"

"I was waiting. I hoped you'd be ready eventually, and I'd be here when you were."

"Draco—"

"Are you ready, Harry?" he asked, his face so close that his breath brushed my cheek.

"Yeah. Are y—"

He cut me off, capturing my lips with his, and my world turned upside down. I was kissing my best friend, and his lips were so soft, his pressure questioning. I pushed against him, eager to answer, deepening the kiss.

He tasted like memories: like Quidditch, takeaway, and duelling ballet. He filled the entirety of my senses, the smell of his shampoo and the feel of his hand on my neck, then cupping the back of my head. When we both ran out of breath and pulled away, he dropped his forehead to mine as we panted together.

"What do we do now?" I asked after a moment, wanting to gather him close, to sink into him again and never surface.

My stomach growled. Loudly.

He grinned. "Well, I think the first thing we do is find something to eat. And then maybe we can kiss some more."

"And after?" I could hear the hope in my voice.

Draco smiled. "Whatever makes us happy."

"That sounds like a good start."

"It had all started when I put Teddy on the train. If you'd asked me then, I'd have told you that's when the darkness set in again, when I realised that I was alone and that my future seemed bleak.

"But I wasn't alone. And my future is mine to make with it as I will.

"I've fought with depression my entire life. Much of it has been brought on by situational triggers, and I'll always be prone to the dark periods. Therapy has helped. Teddy has helped. My friends and my work have all been things that pulled me through.

"That day in my kitchen, though, when Draco pulled back the curtains and told me to open my eyes, that day was the day my life truly began. It's when I decided to stop living my life for other people, to figure out what it was I wanted. It was the day I chose to take ownership of my future. It was the day I dared to hope again.

"If you've read my books, you might remember the story that I wrote shortly after this time. Amil, our boy pirate, sails into a port where all the people are trapped on a tiny island. They see visitors come and go, but they stay where they are because this is where they've always been. The food they grow isn't sufficient, and the houses they've built aren't enough to keep everyone safe, but they stay because they don't know of any other options.

"Amil visits with them and explores the island where he comes upon a bridge. It turns out the island isn't alone, that it's part of a series of islands all connected by bridges over the beautiful sea. The islanders were never meant to be separated from their sister islands, but they kept to themselves because that's all they knew how to do. It wasn't until Amil showed them the bridge and reminded them of its use that they were able to visit the other islands. They supplemented their food and gathered better supplies.

"The power to do this was theirs all along, of course, but sometimes you need to be reminded you can hope for something more. You need someone to show you the bridge.

"That's what Draco did for me. He showed me the bridge and held my hand when I crossed it. Sometimes I forget, and he's there, patiently waiting to show me again.

"Hope isn't something you can always see. Sometimes it's hidden by the darkness, and that can be overwhelming. That darkness can lie to you and tell you you're alone, can feed you negative thoughts, can beat you down. Sometimes it's the people around you who can see it and who can help you pull back the curtains.

"If you're suffering, please know you're not alone. Open your eyes and try to grasp onto any hands there to help you. And if someone around you is lost in the dark, please be patient and keep trying. You never know when they'll be ready to look for the bridge.

"Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk."

Draco watched the room cheer, standing to show their appreciation. Merlin, he was proud of his husband.

When the TedMagicSummit invited Harry to give a talk on Hope in Edinburgh this year, Harry had been unsure. His books featuring Amil, the boy whose name literally meant "hope", were wildly popular, of course. Now that Harry did a publicity tour each year, he was becoming a household name for parents of school-aged children in both the Muggle and magical worlds, not for what he'd done as a teenager, but for what he was creating as an adult. But Harry was still, and always would be, a private man.

Yet, he'd done it. He'd lain himself bare for everyone to see, and fuck, he'd been amazing. He'd stood up there in front of a room full of strangers and told about his own personal demons. Harry wanted to help people, as usual, wanted to bring them hope. It was one of the things that Draco loved most about Harry, his boundless love for people he didn't even know.

It was funny because Harry always told people that Teddy was the inspiration for Amil in the stories. But Amil was Harry; not because he was a war hero — even though he was — and not because he wrote wonderful children's stories that inspired a generation, but because Harry, even in his darkest moments, tried to be better. Tried to hope for something more.

Harry's eyes met Draco's across the crowd and he smiled. It was that half-smile Harry gave when he was pleased but embarrassed.

Draco stood and approached the stage, and Harry came over, taking his hand. "Let's go home."

Finis