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Chapter Text

Harry supposed that he hadn’t given that much thought to what the world would look like after the war had ended. After all, it had seemed so improbable that he should live through it, let alone be able to find and destroy the horcruxes and kill Voldemort. That the wizarding world should still exist beyond this moment had seemed difficult to imagine. Still, whatever vague thoughts or hopes he may have had, he certainly wouldn’t have expected it to be the disaster that it was. True, Voldemort was dead, and many of his followers killed along with him, but in his wake he had left a path of destruction and chaos. Hogwarts was in ruins and would be needing extensive repairs. Not to mention the problem of the surviving giants, who had been left rather confused and angry on the school grounds after the death eaters that led them there had all taken flight, both literally and figuratively. Once they had all been restrained it seemed in poor taste to kill them, and rather impossible to house them in Azkaban, but leading them back to the mountains was quite the challenge to organize as well. Not to mention that it was next to impossible to pass any legislation or sort out a committee on these things, what with half of the ministry needing to be fired, fined, or face some sort of infraction for their involvement in the anti muggle legislation under Voldemort’s regime. Figuring out who had been coerced, and who had directly involved in atrocities was turning out to be something of a nightmare for Kingsley, who had been appointed interim minister until an election could be held. Then there was the matter of freeing innocent muggleborn witches and wizards from Azkaban, and drawing funds to provide them with new wands, theirs having been snapped in two, which was another headache, even with a reluctant Ollivander agreeing to return to business. The captured death eaters needed to be tried and taken to Azkaban, and those on the run needed to be tracked down and arrested. And in between all of this – the trials, the rebuilding, and the legislation – were the funerals. So many had died that day at Hogwarts, and so many more had died in the months leading up to it, or disappeared, never to return, that the few wizarding funeral parlors in Great Britain found themselves well past maximum capacity.

Harry, who wanted nothing more than to rest and to be left alone, found himself constantly occupied. He was perpetually being called into the ministry to testify at some trial or another, having witnessed so much firsthand. He also felt compelled to attend each memorial service, even for the students that he had not known, or had only known vaguely. After all, he reasoned, it was because of him that they had been fighting that day - because of him that their lives had been cut so short. There were days when Harry attended three memorial services, back to back, only to return to Grimmauld place exhausted, catching a few short hours of sleep before the next service.

Harry felt desperately uncomfortable at each service, suddenly surrounded by the wizarding public, many of whom only seemed to attend at all so that they could have the chance to gawk at him.

“I told you he’d be here, didn’t I!”

“He’s a right hero, that Potter – saved all our skins”

“Well, not all of them, look at poor Creevey in his casket, he certainly didn’t save him.”

“Hush!”

“No, you’re quite right, he didn’t. Don’t see why he had to show up to Hogwarts in the first place and put you lot in danger. It’s a miracle any of you survived!”

“They survived because of Potter! He’s the reason any of us are still standing!”

“If you ask me, he’s nearly as bad as you-know-who, involving a bunch of school children in a fight. He ought to be ashamed of himself”

“He’s a child himself!”

Harry would cower miserably in the corner, pulling his robes up to hide the flush growing along his neck, sick with anger, shame, and grief.

Rita Skeeter and her brethren followed him shamelessly, snapping photographs outside the ministry each time he arrived for a hearing. “Can you spare us your thoughts on the Dolores Umbridge trial?” “Any thoughts about the sentencing of Lucius Malfoy? Six months in Azkaban seems a bit excessive to me, what do you think Mr. Potter?” “Is it true that you testified on behalf of the young Draco Malfoy and his mother?” “How do you feel about the ministry abolishing the practice of dementors at Azkaban?” “Any ideas on the whereabouts of the death eaters still at large?”

Harry, who never did more that shrug or occasionally glower, would still often be quoted in the Daily Prophet quite liberally by Skeeter, his scowling photograph storming across the front page.

Meanwhile, much of Harry’s support system seemed to have vanished. Hagrid was off, having been appointed by Kingsley to lead the expedition to return the giants (and flanked by some rather intimidated young aurors whose job it was to ensure minimal bloodshed and havoc). Hermione was off to Australia to track down her parents and try to restore their memories. Ginny, though happy to see Harry again, rather awkwardly informed him a few days after the battle, when Harry had tried to kiss her, that, “I’m really very sorry Harry but I started seeing someone else while you were gone, please don’t be mad, it just happened, no one meant for it to, you know…but I don’t regret that it happened, I really do love him, and I hope that you and I can still be friends.” And Harry, more awkward still, assured her that, “no its fine, brilliant, happy for you. Really, very happy. You deserve it, happy, I mean to be happy.” It was hard to tell whose face had turned a more luminous shade of red, and both had bolted away from one another rather quickly. Meanwhile, Ron was nearly always owling Hermione, or bustling about the Burrow trying to keep busy, and to distract Mrs. Weasley and George, both of whom had become especially withdrawn after Fred’s death.

Harry found himself avoiding the Burrow, between things with Ginny and the guilt he felt over causing the Weasley family so much suffering, he found himself coming up with excuses each time he was invited to dinner, preferring to spend nights alone at Grimmauld place.

…

While each moment felt agonizingly long and painful, the summer itself seemed to go by rapidly, rather like magic. It took Harry by surprise to receive a letter by owl one warm morning with a list of books to purchase for his 8^th year at Hogwarts.

Staring at the letter, rather dumbfounded, Harry figured that he had better reach out to Ron about this. After a moment of hesitation, he Floo’d to the Weasley’s grate.

“Harry! Come to visit us at last” Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly, “you’ve missed my suppers nearly every night this week!”

“Sorry Mrs. Weasley, it’s been, er, a busy time. Is Ron in?”

“He’s puttering around in the garden with George doing some de-gnoming, shall I call him in?”

“Er, no, that’s all right, I’ll go find him.”

Wiping soot off his face Harry made his way out to the garden, which seemed to have grown nearly triple in size under the weight of Ron’s need to keep busy.

“All right there Harry?” George called, looking up. “Come to save me from Ron’s mad scheme to rid the world of gnomes have you?”

“Harry!” Ron smiled, shaking off a rather persistent gnome that was currently gnawing away at his finger, “I take it you got your letter this morning!”

Harry nodded. “I did – I didn’t know that Hogwarts offered an 8^th year, I thought we were meant to stop at 7?”

Ron nodded glumly, “We were, but the ministry - or more likely McGonagall - felt that students who’d been interrupted in their final year ought to have the chance to return and finish their education. I suspect Hermione petitioned her to about it, although of course she swears she didn’t. You’re going though, aren’t you?”

Harry paused, having not gotten that far in considering the matter. “I don’t know, are you?”

At this Hermione came crashing out into the garden. “Harry!” she shouted, nearly barreling him over as she leapt to embrace him.

“Careful Hermione, he might still want to use those limbs you’re squeezing off!” George warned playfully.

“Hermione! When did you get back?”

“Just last night, I tried to call you over floo but Kreacher answered and said that ‘Master Potter is NOT to be disturbed’” Hermione pantomimed in a high little voice.

Harry forced a laugh, “yeah, that sounds like him.”

“You’ll have received McGonagall’s letter I expect?”

Harry nodded, “I did, threw me for a bit of a loop. I hadn’t really considered, going back, you know.”

Hermione’s eyes sharpened, then softened nearly immediately, and her voice trembled a bit as she spoke. “Yes, I know Harry. It’s hard for me too, to picture going back there. But it’s so important that we finish our educations. We can’t let Voldemort rob us of our futures, not after everything else he took from us.”

Ron, sensing that Hermione was on the verge of tears, wrapped an arm around her. “Course not, Harry will be there with us, won’t you Harry?”

Harry, found himself nodding, rather resenting it as he did so. Why not. One more year at Hogwarts.

…

Buying schoolbooks themselves was something of a nightmare. Harry (and Ron and Hermione) had very nearly been banned from Gringotts after robbing a vault and escaping with a full grown dragon only a few months prior, and it had only been at Kingsley’s insistence that the Goblins had allowed them in (with a fully armored set of goblin guards crowding them at each side and poking them rather harshly in the ribs with their wands). Diagon alley was another obstacle, with fans and reporters alike thronging the trio, snapping pictures and asking for autographs and their take on Hogwarts offering an 8^th year. After the first store on their list, Hermione had suggested miserably that perhaps they ought to take Mrs. Weasley up on her offer to do their shopping, as it seemed unlikely that they would be able to get anything done. Harry, torn between panic from the crowds and a heavy guilt at asking anything more of Mrs. Weasley, sullenly agreed with her.

And so, before he knew it, Harry was back on the Hogwarts Express, trunk neatly packed by an insistent Kreacher.

“Who else do you think is coming back?” Ron asked, craning his neck around as they loaded themselves into a compartment.

“Well,” Hermione paused, “Ginny told me that Neville is returning, since he spent half the year hiding out in the room of requirement and failed most of his exams. Seamus too, and a few others like them.”

Ron glowered. “Neville, that back stabber, the nerve of him to return.”

“He isn’t a back stabber Ron,” Harry sighed, “I told you I don’t mind that him and Gin are dating. Really, I don’t. We wouldn’t have lasted anyway.”

“And” Hermione carried on briskly, pretending that she hadn’t heard either of them, “Dean will be coming back, since he spent the whole year on the run from snatchers. Then there are three Ravenclaws whose parents sent them into hiding, a few other muggle born students from Hufflepuff, and then Malfoy of course.”

“Malfoy!” Ron shouted in shock, “there’s no way he’d come back to Hogwarts! They wouldn’t let him!”

“Well Ron, of course he’s got to come back. He spent the past year at home serving Voldemort, he’s completely neglected his education. And he was found at the trials to not be responsible for his actions, Harry testified for him himself, didn’t you Harry?”

“Err…well he didn’t seem to want to do any of the stuff that he did, even if he is a prat. More like he had to, what with Voldemort camping out in his living room”

Ron scoffed “I still can’t believe you actually did that Harry. And even if he isn’t festering in Azkaban where he belongs there’s no way that McGonagall invited him back,”

Hermione paused, considering. “Well he did let the death eaters in during sixth year, its true she may have expelled him, but I think McGonagall is trying to be a bit more high minded than that.”

“He should be expelled after what he did to you!” Ron shouted, this time aiming his glare at Hermione.

“He didn’t do anything to me Ron, that was all Bellatrix’s work” Hermione huffed.

“He’s definitely coming back” said Harry quietly.

“Why do you say that?” “How can you be sure Harry?”

“Because, I saw him on the train platform with his mum. She’s missing a hand these days apparently”

“Missing a HAND?” Ron shouted. “Where exactly did it go?”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose in shock, “I heard there was some trouble at the Manor – the death eater’s weren’t too happy with her involvement in the battle and once that got out in the papers things got a bit nasty, but I didn’t realize anyone had actually been hurt by it!”

“Good” Ron glowered.

Harry looked stunned. He had assumed she might have mishandled a dark object, but to learn she’d been hurt by death eaters hadn’t even occurred to him. “What did the papers say? And how did the death eater’s even find out she’d been involved?”

Hermione gave him a soft look. “Well Harry,” she hedged “you know the daily prophet printed everything you’d said at the Malfoy’s trial – it was front page news.” Harry’s face darkened, he hadn’t touched the prophet since the war, couldn’t bear to look at the faces of those he’d let down, but now he wished he had. “Anyway” Hermione carried on quickly, like ripping off a band aid, “A few of the death eaters that haven’t been caught yet came to the manor. Greyback was one of them. I guess he tried to attack Malfoy but his mother stepped in at the last minute to stop him, and got bit instead.”

Ron snorted. “So does that mean she’s turned? A wolf and a ferret, who would have thought.”

“Ronald!” Shouted Hermione, “It’s not funny! And besides, Greyback got away after all that. The ministry has been in an uproar trying to track him down.”

The two began to argue, but Harry was already lost in thought, his mind heavy with the guilt of yet another family he’d managed to hurt.

…

The start of term was off to a rough launch. Many of the returning students found themselves shocked to suddenly notice the thestrals pulling the carriages, with some of them becoming weepy at the sight when the realization first hit them. Hagrid was still abroad, and it was a rather somber Filch that ushered the first-year students across the lake.

The castle itself seemed unfamiliar – entire new patches of wall trying rather desperately to blend into the old, and half the portraits missing. But worse than the glaring reminder of what the new walls meant, was the shock of seeing spaces that had held the bodies of those they’d lost.

Harry felt as though his mind was filled with static from a muggle television, each spot he glanced at reminding him of another loss that he was responsible for, another death that he had caused by luring Voldemort to Hogwarts. This was where Lupins body had laid alongside Tonks, and that spot over there was where Lavender had been killed, that spot there was where Fred had spoken his last few words. The static turned up, crackling loudly at each reminder, while Harry’s vision seemed to dim. He hardly made it through the dinner, not seeming to notice any of McGonagall’s speech, or the pointed stares from other students. It wasn’t until Ron had nudged him that Harry even realized that the meal had ended, and that it was time to head up to Gryffindor tower.

That night wasn’t much better. Harry noticed that Ron, Dean, and Neville had all quietly spelled their bed curtains silent, which meant that he wasn’t the only one to get nightmares. Even with the stillness of the room it was ages before Harry could sleep.

“It’s harder than I thought, being back here” Ron remarked at breakfast the next morning. “I know what you mean,” Hermione agreed. “When I was off in Australia I was so busy, I don’t think everything had hit me quite yet. But being back here – you can’t avoid it.” Harry stared at his untouched toast, the static in his brain crackling loudly. 

…

The thing was, Harry knew he ought to talk about how he was feeling with Ron and Hermione, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. It wasn’t just the grief of everyone he had lost, a list that seemed impossibly long to begin with, but the little seed of guilt that had been growing – flourishing really – since that summer. His parents were dead because they had tried to protect him. Sirius was dead because Harry was too stupid to understand the difference between dreams and reality. The Weasley family was shattered because they had tried to protect Harry, because they had followed him into battle. So many students from Hogwarts – some of them whose names he didn’t even know – were dead, injured, or grieving – because Harry had brought the battle there. Snatchers and death eaters alike had killed people because Harry wasn’t clever enough to figure things out sooner, to discover and destroy the horcruxes in time. All that time wasted, tromping around the forest, while people were dying. All of it, Harry reasoned, because of him. He couldn’t look at a single corner of the castle without seeing evidence of his culpability, his incompetence, his failure of everyone touched by his existence. Even Malfoy, his quiet, pained face, those thin, drawn shoulders – his suffering was at Harry’s hands. If Harry hadn’t been so vocal about his innocence he would never have been targeted after the war.

They hadn’t been back in the castle for even a week and Harry had already missed half his classes, spelling his curtains shut so that he could lay in bed, staring blankly up above. The one thought that played, over and over in his head, was the prophecy that had started it all – that had set Harry on this path of suffering - “either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.” What if it wasn’t just a prophecy, but a curse? What if it meant that whoever survived couldn’t die? Voldemort had already been on the path to live forever, slicing his soul into pieces. What if Harry’s return from death meant that he, too, was cursed to live forever. This really would be a curse, Harry reasoned. To never have peace. To never get to see his parents - or Sirius or Lupin or Dumbledore or Tonks, or any of them - again. Harry became obsessed with the thought of dying. The desperate relief that it would bring him, and the fear that he might never be able to get it. The more that Harry thought on it, the more unbearable the pain of being alive became. Harry’s thoughts became consumed with the idea of the relief that death would bring – the end to his guilt, his pain, all of it. Pity the living, Dumbledore had said, and Harry thought he finally understood him.

It was this thought, and a rather large bottle of firewhiskey, that brought Harry to the Astronomy tower late one night. The pain of being alive had simply become unbearable, and it was with a great breath of relief that he stepped out of the tower window, ready to be at peace.

Chapter Text

Malfoy had been sitting outside, wand tucked behind his ear while he penned a letter to his mother. The grounds outside of Hogwarts, especially at this time of night, was the only place that he could find a bit of peace and quiet – the only time he didn’t have to worry about being hexed or harassed. Even the library had been filled with hushed murmurings of “death eater scum” and pointed glares. And so it was with great surprise that Malfoy noticed Potter, standing rather shakily in the window of the astronomy tower. The figure was small but the messy outline of black hair, sticking up at all ends, was unmistakably Potter’s.  “Git” Malfoy muttered crossly, wondering if Potter had come to spy on him. He had hardly finished his thought when Potter came plunging out the window in a swan dive, headed straight for the ground. Instinctively Malfoy whipped out his wand, shouting “Arresto momentum!” and ran towards the tumbling figure.

Harry’s body lurched suddenly in the air, stopping just above the ground for a moment, before landing rather awkwardly on his ankle, which made a sickening cracking noise.

“Potter!” Malfoy bellowed, rushing towards him. “What in Merlin’s name were you doing up there? You could have been killed!”

At this Harry began to laugh, hiccupping, “could have been killed?” hic “Doesn’t seem possible, apparently. After all I’m the boy cursed to live.” Hic.

Malfoy stood, stunned. “Potter are you drunk? I mean it, what the hell are you playing at, falling out of windows like that?”

Harry’s laugh turned into something like a low sob. “Falling or jumping?” he hiccupped “Either way I’m cursed to live forever apparently.”

Thunderstruck, Malfoy’s voice lowered, “Potter?” Malfoy crouched down, “You weren’t…I mean…were you trying to jump? I…were you trying to kill yourself?”

Harry glared miserably up, eyes red rimmed, and Malfoy could smell the whiskey on his breath as he shouted, “A bit hard to kill myself when a git like you has to come and interfere!”

“But…But you’re a hero! I mean, you’re Harry Potter – what would you want to go jumping off towers for?”

At the word “hero” Harry tried to stand so he could storm off, but found himself collapsing on his ankle almost immediately.

“Merlin don’t stand you great idiot – you’ve obviously broken something!”

Harry hiccupped angrily. “Don’t call me a” hic “bloody” hic “hero” he spat.

“Fine, but don’t go bloody jumping out windows again, I mean, really, what the hell are you on about doing something like that?”

And Harry, whether it was from alcohol or sheer desperation, began to cry. Of all people to divulge his feelings to, Draco Malfoy was hardly the first person he would have considered. Even Peeves, or Filch, might have come higher up on that list, and yet, here he was, sobbing and choking out phrases like, “and it’s all my fault” and “they died because of me.” Malfoy could hardly make him out, what with the crying and the slurred speech, and the hiccups that seemed to wind their way between each word, but he understood the gist of it. Reaching down he tentatively touched Harry’s shoulder, saying, “This is not your fault Potter – none of it. You don’t deserve to die.”

It was, of course, at that moment that Malfoy found himself stunned and thrown several feet back.

“You stay away from Harry!” Ron thundered, tearing across the lawn.

Harry gave a shocked hiccup. “Malfoy – please, please don’t say anything” he whispered. Malfoy, brushing himself off, raised his wand. “Please Malfoy!” Harry’s voice grew desperate. “Fine” huffed Malfoy, before pointing his wand at Ron and tossing a quick protego before Ron could launch his next curse.

“What have you done to Harry?” Shouted Ron, his wand pointing threateningly in one hand while the other clutched at an old bit of parchment.

“I haven’t done anything to him!” Malfoy replied anxiously.

“He’s hurt!” Ron thundered, as Harry hiccupped from the ground, “I’m fine, really! Just a bit of an accident.”

Malfoy sneered at Ron. “Our dashing hero was out wandering the grounds drunk and managed to twist up his ankle. I was only stopping to offer some help when I came across him.”

 “You? Offer help?” Ron huffed, “A likely story Malfoy. I’m guessing it was you that knocked him over in the first place.”

Harry made to stand up again, wobbling on his one good leg. “Really Ron,” he shot Draco a grateful look, “Malfoy’s telling the truth. I had a little fall and he offered to help. I’m fine.”

“You should keep a better eye on your friend, Weasley, instead of letting him wander off drunk on his own.”

Ron glared, “Found him, didn’t I?”

Harry hiccupped, “How’d you know to look out here?”

Ron, still glaring at Malfoy suspiciously, went to catch Harry before he fell again. “I used your map when you didn’t come back. Alright mate, come on then, let’s get you to Pomfrey’s.”

…

That night Draco hardly slept. He couldn’t stop picturing the pain on Harry’s face when he’d found him, or the way that his body had looked as it careened towards the ground. How could it be that Potter wanted to die? It didn’t make sense. Worse yet, what was he supposed to do with this information? He knew what his mother would say – that he owed Potter a life debt, that both of them owed Potter for their freedom, and it would be best to help now so that Potter wouldn’t come trying to collect on it later. His father would say quite the opposite – to let Potter get on with killing himself, that no debts are owed to the dead.

Helping Potter wouldn’t just be difficult, it would be awkward. They hated each other. Or, rather, Potter hated him, Draco was sure of it. Draco had tried to extend his hand in friendship when they were first years. He had been so excited, to meet another wizard on his level, someone that would see him as an equal, not another student cloying to be close to him due to his name, his status, his wealth. Not another minion, like Crabbe or Goyle, but someone who could stand alongside him. But Potter had refused – insulted him even – and then gone on to befriend two absolute nobodies – the Weasley git, who was more freckle and torn hand-me-downs than wizard, and a muggleborn – someone with no status at all. Draco had seethed, complained endlessly about it to the great irritation of his friends, and vowed to make sure that Potter would notice and acknowledge him, whether he liked it or not. All to say that their history was hardly pleasant. And now, here he was, the keeper of Potter’s dark secret, holding his life in his hands.

Draco knew that the matter was not over, even if he had stopped Potter tonight. He’d seen the look of determination in his eyes, the anger at being stopped, the incredible pain behind those piercing green eyes. He’d seen that same look of pain in Theo, the last time they’d met, before the trials. He never saw Theo again, and never would. Draco shuddered, resolved. He wouldn’t let Potter die, he would find a way to help him. He wasn’t quite sure what drove a wizard to want to die, but he imagined that having some way to stop those emotions when they occurred was the key, and for that he did have a solution.

Draco dug through his trunks and pulled out a tiny vial of potion – Motus Deleo. The potion was made to stop all emotions for 24 hours – anger, sadness, love, fear – all of it. A person could still function, still live by their principles, but they would be entirely without feelings. Draco had gone to great lengths (and spent considerable funds, even for him) to acquire it after he and his mother had been attacked. He had known that, should she be killed while he was at Hogwarts and unable to defend her, he would need this. He would need something to bear the news the day it should come. If he could find a way to give the vial to Potter, without being seen, then he could prevent Potter from acting on his pain. If Potter had this, he could take it if things ever got as dark as they had that night.

The following morning Draco made his way to the great hall for breakfast, something he typically avoided. Younger Slytherins largely avoided him. While Draco still had his wealth, his social standing had plummeted. He was something of a pariah, and whether they avoided him because of his involvement in the war, or because of his family’s status as traitors to the dark lord, it was hard to say. He was routinely treated as nonexistent, which was still a step up from the treatment he received by the students from the other houses. To them, Draco was, and would always be, death eater scum, and he was routinely hexed between classes, in corridors, and anywhere else that he appeared, so long as the professors were out of sight or otherwise distracted.

Draco sat, off to himself at the Slytherin table, and watched intently for Potter. He was not sure if he would appear, after all he was hardly showing up to their shared classes these days, but still, he had to hope. Potter, much to his chagrin, did not appear, although Weasley and Granger did, and neither had the look of someone who’s friend had just died, so he had to conclude that Potter was still alive. Draco narrowed his gaze as he watched Weasley laughing at something – the great ginger git, oblivious to Harry’s pain, and to how close he was to his life being turned on end.

Classes followed in a similar fashion. Draco would wait, lurking in the halls, knowing that if Potter ever did show up for a class it was never on time. By the end of the day, having received several admonitions from professors for turning up late, Draco was beyond frustrated.

The next day was much of the same, and Draco was nearly apoplectic with anger that Potter was making him suffer this much. True Potter didn’t know he was looking for him, but this was irrelevant. It was two days later that Draco managed to spot Potter, and hours later before he found an opportunity to have a moment alone with him. Lingering in an alcove outside the potions classroom, he waited until he’d spotted him. Late to class, as usual, Draco thought, before hissing, “Potter, over here a moment.”

Harry looked rather embarrassed when he saw him, and stared determinedly at the floor. “Erm, Malfoy, we’d better get to class, I think it’s already started.” Malfoy glared, “Yes you imbecile, I’m aware it’s started. You’ve been late to every class you haven’t missed, yet somehow the rules don’t seem to apply to chosen ones.” Harry only stared harder at his feet. “Erm, right, well then, better head in.” Draco kicked himself internally, couldn’t he manage to speak to Potter without insulting him for even a moment. “Wait!” he stepped in front of Harry to block him from going any further. “Potter, the other night -” But at that Harry did look up, face red with embarrassment. “Oh that, look I’m sorry about all that. Thanks for not saying anything to Ron.” Malfoy shook his head, “Look, Potter, clearly you meant some of what you said. I just wanted to give you something, in case that sort of thing happens again.” Quickly he shoved the small glass vial at Harry, filled with a swirling grey potion. “This is motus deleo – two drops and it will remove all emotions for 24 hours. Just take this next time you’re feeling, you know, a bit window jumpy. Don’t take it too often though, there are consequences – only when you really have need of it. And don’t tell anyone I’ve given it to you either, it’s not exactly legal.” Harry stared at the vial. “Why are you giving this to me Malfoy? I mean, why do you even care?” At this Draco sniffed angrily. “You saved my life, Potter, and gave my mother and I our freedom. I owe you a life debt, and I’d be a bit hard pressed to repay it if you go off and die suddenly.” Harry glowered, “No one owes me anything Malfoy.” Draco’s lips thinned. “My life might not hold much value to you, but it does to me. I’d rather repay my debt and be done with it if it’s alright to you” and with that he stormed off into the classroom. “Five points from Slytherin for being late Malfoy! Oh Mr. Potter, so glad you can join us today! We’re just getting started discussing the properties of billywig wings!”

…

Despite his misgivings with Malfoy, Harry had taken the potion almost at once. He hadn’t returned to the tower since the other night, but that had only been out of fear that another pesky onlooker would come rescuing him like Malfoy had. The effects hit him immediately. The guilt, pain, all of it – gone. It was with a clear mind that he finished classes that day, and the next, and the one after that. His pain was gone, and with it all other emotions – anger, fear, boredom. Classes were suddenly easy to sit through, with nothing to distract his attention, meals could be eaten mechanically, and sleep came effortlessly.

A week had passed when he overheard Ron and Hermione talking in the common room. “Is it just me or does Harry seem a bit…off…lately?” Ron whispered loudly.

Hermione nodded, “he does seem different – like he’s not even here. I mean, better than before – he’s finally eating again - but…I don’t know, I’m worried about him.”

“Do you think its seeing Ginny and Neville snog all over the place that’s getting to him? Because I’m happy to hex the little back stabber if it is”

“No you dolt, I think it’s grief from the war we just fought and - OH HI HARRY! Come sit down we were just studying!”

…

Malfoy, of course, had quickly cottoned on to what Harry was up to. Sneaking glances at Harry over his breakfast or in class it was impossible to miss the blank look in Potter’s eyes, the empty way that he stared at ahead each day. Approaching him was a challenge though. Potter was attending classes on time finally, flanked by Weasley and Granger. When he wasn’t with them he was surrounded by admirers, no longer trying to slink away from them to avoid long monologues of praise for his heroism. It was infuriating – Harry didn’t seem to have a single moment in the day that he was alone, and Malfoy wasn’t sure how he could approach him.

By the third week Malfoy found his limit. Spying (or gently eavesdropping as he preferred to call it) on Potter in the library, Malfoy scowled saw him reading a textbook while Romilda Vane cozied up to him. Batting her lashes she slid her hand along his arm. “You know, Harry, I never thanked you properly for saving us all in the war.” “Hm” said Harry dumbly, staring ahead at his book. “You just thanked me now.” “I mean” she cooed “really thanked you. You know there’s a classroom on the third floor that’s always empty, maybe we could go and study together in there so I can…thank you.” Harry looked around “library seems just fine for studying” he was saying, as Malfoy, apoplectic, stormed over.

“Potter I need to speak to you, NOW” he whisper shouted.

Romilda glared, “What do you need with Harry? I don’t think he wants to talk to any death eaters!”

Malfoy sneered angrily, “Aren’t you dating that Ravenclaw, Terry Shoe or Boot or whatever his name is?”

Romilda narrowed her eyes, “What’s it to you, Malfoy?”

“Nothing, only I think he’d find it quite interested that you’re trying to thank Potter in an empty classroom”

“Oh you beast!”

Harry made to stand up. “Bit noisy for studying” he said blandly.

“Sit down” Malfoy commanded, “And you – bugger off before I go have a nice chat with shoe boy”

Romilda huffed but complied, shoving her books into her bag and storming off.

Harry, immersed in his studies again already, gave a dull look at Malfoy when slammed his book shut.

“Potter! You’ve been taking that potion haven’t you?”

“The one you gave me? Yeah, what’s the matter?”

“The matter? It’s supposed to be for emergencies! For days you want to go jump off a tower or something. You’ve been taking it daily, haven’t you?”

Harry shrugged. “Every day is a day I want to jump off a tower.”

At this Malfoy looked stunned. He’d assumed that Harry hadn’t understood his instructions, or that he was being reckless, but hearing this threw him. Things were worse than he’d assumed, and his assumptions hadn’t been cheery to begin with. “Look, Potter, it isn’t safe to take this stuff every day, I told you, it has consequences.” Harry shrugged again, “Okay, then I’ll deal with those.” Malfoy wrang his hands in frustration before saying, “Potter, you must be running low at this point.” Harry pulled the vial out of his pockets and inspected it. “Does look a bit low” he agreed, “probably only a few more days worth. Where should I order some more?” Malfoy took a sharp breath in, shutting his eyes to keep calm. “Potter this is a very difficult potion to get ahold of – it’s not exactly legal” Harry shrugged again, “you managed to get it quickly enough.” “No Potter! That’s the thing – it took ages for me to get my hands on it, the whole summer! I purchased this for myself, but clearly you’re an even more lost cause than I am which is why I gave it to you in the first place!” Harry shrugged. “Stop shrugging for Merlin’s sake or I’m going to curse your shoulders still!” Harry stilled his shoulders before asking, “can’t you just brew some more? You’re pretty decent with potions.” Malfoy clenched his jaw “Motus Deleo can’t just be brewed up on a whim you gigantic imbecile. It takes 18 months to brew, and besides that half the ingredients are rare or illegal or both! Just tracking those down would take ages.” Harry made to shrug but stopped himself at Malfoys deadly look, “Okay, well then I guess when it runs out, it runs out.” Malfoy gave him a despairing look. Clearly Potter was incapable of understanding the word “consequences” and trying to explain them would do him no good. He would just have to find another solution. “I’ll try to get some more, alright? Just, if I come to you about it, you have to come alone, so the others don’t see me giving it to you.” Harry nodded, then turned back to his books.

But Malfoy knew that there was no way he could get more of the potion. He’d already tried to get another for himself when he’d given the first bottle to Potter, and found that his contact was currently serving time in Azkaban on charges of illegal potions dealing. And just going off it was no solution either. When wizards took Motus for a prolonged period of time and then stopped suddenly they often went insane. All of those vanished feelings, they were fine to escape from for a day, maybe even two. But for nearly a month? They built up eventually, wizards had gone insane from the withdrawal, and for shorter periods of use. And when Potter went insane and was found with an empty bottle of a dark, illegal potion, eventually it would come back to Malfoy, he was sure of it. Even if Potter didn’t go insane, whatever pain or guilt he was feeling would have built up enough that he was sure to kill himself. As much as he hated the git, he still didn’t want him to die.

Draco spent the next two days immersed in frantic research. He had hoped that there might be a potion to counter the effects of coming off motus but as luck would have it, not only was there no potion to counter it, the majority of common potions would actually make things worse. In fact the only thing that didn’t seem to contraindicate it was skelegrow. A strong stupefy could help to knock a wizard out long enough for the effects of withdrawal to leave the system while a wizard was unconscious, but Malfoy couldn’t figure a way to stupefy Harry and hide him from his friends long enough to keep him from being found and reneverated back into consciousness and therefore insanity. He could hide him in an empty room but Weasley seemed to have some sort of Potter finding map, so there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t be found out, and being caught with an unconscious Potter was unlikely to go over well. Hiding Harry Potter from the public, for over 24 hours, was an impossible task. There was simply no where he could go that guaranteed privacy, not for that long.

From the looks of the vial Draco only had three days to figure something out, and so it was with desperation that on the third day he cornered Harry after charms class, despite him trotting closely behind Granger and Weasley. “Potter we need to speak” he hissed. Harry stopped, blankly, but Weasley had also heard and turned around with a glare. “What do you need to speak to Harry about?” he asked suspiciously. “It’s a private matter” Draco shot back. Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Potter, alone please, now?” Harry turned to Ron and Hermione with a shrug, “Don’t worry, I’ll catch up with you in a few,” before turning to stroll off after Draco.

Draco led Harry along the halls, his mind racing. He just needed to keep him somewhere private for 24 hours, somewhere his fan base wouldn’t be allowed. “You’ve got more of the potion?” Harry asked. “Sure, yes, it’s this way.” “Oh, good, I think I only have an hour or so before my next dose is due.” Draco nodded blindly, walking onwards. He knew it was a risky idea, but he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, and so it was that he found himself at the entrance to the hospital wing, turning towards Potter with a strained look. “I’m very sorry for what I’m about to do” and with that he whipped out his wand and pointed it at Harry’s legs “Ossio Dispersimus!”

Harry tumbled to the ground, the bones in his legs having disappeared. Dully he thought to himself that it felt quite like second year all over again, with Lockhart tending to his arm. “Malfoy what was that about?” he asked, but Draco was already rapping at the door.

Madam Pomfrey came bustling out, “Mr. Malfoy another hex hit you again” she tsked gently, before noticing the heap of Potter that was lying on the floor. “Potter!” she shouted, “What’s happened?” Malfoy stared at his shoes. “He’s, erm, been de-boned somehow. He’s going to need to stay here overnight with some skelegrow.” Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows, “well quick, help me get him in!” Draco rushed to heave Potter up, dragging him over to the nearest sick bed. When Harry had been laid down, saying something about “that was an odd trick Malfoy, now where’s the potion?” Madam Pomfrey stared at Harry, perplexed. “Oh dear it sounds as though he may have hit his head. Well you’d better go Mr. Malfoy, I’ll be needing to tend to this.” Draco scuffed his shoe against the floor. “Erm, I think I’d better stay and help keep an eye on him.” “That will be unnecessary Mr. Malfoy, you may go.” Draco looked wildly around. He couldn’t leave, not now. “I’ll just stay if that’s alright.” Madam Pomfrey, looking away from Harry finally, gave a sharp look at Draco. “As I said Mr. Malfoy, you can leave – the hospital wing is only for sick or injured students.” With a desperate look Draco pulled out his wand again, “oh all right, FINE!” Before pointing it at his own legs and shouting “Ossio Dispersimus!”

Immediately Draco regretted not at least sitting before shouting the spell, as he tumbled onto the hard stone floors. “Merlin’s beard! What on earth is this about Malfoy?!” Shouted Pomfrey. “I’m injured too now aren’t I, so you’d better let me stay!” Draco shouted back. Madame Pomfrey had gone quite red in the face, levitating Draco onto a hospital bed furiously. It was in the midst of this that the windows shattered, and the vials and various healing instruments on the shelves began to rattle dangerously. Potter. Draco turned, terrified as he watched Harry, from the waist up, rocking back and forth, his eyes black. Quickly he turned his wand to him, shouting “Stupefy!” “Stupefy!” “Stupefy!” Until Potter was thoroughly knocked out.  

Madam Pomfrey was on Draco in an instant, binding his limbs to him with a slash of her wand. “What on earth are you DOING?” She shouted, before turning back to Harry, ready to reneverate him. “Stop!” Draco cried, “You’ll kill him!” Pomfrey lowered her wand, turning murderous eyes back to Draco, “tell me right now what’s going on Malfoy or so help me I will veritaserum you myself.”

To his great embarrassment and surprise, Draco began to cry.

Chapter Text

“Potter’s been taking Motus deleo, for about a month” Draco sniffed, when he’d finally composed himself.

“Motus deleo?” Madam Pomfrey said, aghast. Draco nodded glumly. “But where would he even get that? And a MONTH did you say?”

Malfoy carefully ignored her first question, instead saying, “about 29 days, as far as I can tell, but he’s run out of it.”

“Do you realize Malfoy that taking a potion of that nature for a month could drive a wizard to madness or suicide? There’s a reason it’s highly illegal!”

Malfoy nodded again, looking down.

“Whoever gave this to Mr. Potter” and at this Madam Pomfrey shot Draco a piercing gaze, “could be charged with attempted murder even if he does recover without incident.”

Draco gulped. “I know” he whispered miserably, “but I was only trying to stop him from killing himself in the first place” and at this he began to shake with tears again. “I’ve messed everything up, and now I don’t know how I’m supposed to help him next.”

“Has Mr. Potter been exhibiting signs of wanting to harm himself?” Pomfrey asked sharply. Draco nodded, afraid to speak again. “I see.” And with that Madam Pomfrey began bustling around the unit.

Draco was given skelegrow and choked it down quite admirably he felt, and Harry, still knocked out, was given the same through a dropper. Pomfrey had insisted that Draco tell her everything he knew, and after a tearful confession from him she spent several hours in her office, consulting her books and sending off owls, and only emerged when there was another rap at the door. Draco could hear her thundering voice from around the corner saying, “Mr. Potter is just fine Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, but I can assure you that you will both be far from it yourselves if you continue to barge in here and disrupt his rest!”

It was a long night. Draco lay awake, terrified to sleep lest Harry wake up again or his friends come sneaking in. He had refused Pomfrey’s offer of a dreamless sleep potion and instead lay there staring at Harry, who rested as though he was already dead in the hospital bed next to his. It was odd, getting to stare at Harry so closely, and for this long. His infamous lightning bolt scar branched across his forehead in thin white lines like a spider’s web, poking out from behind his tousled curls. Draco had the urge to lean over and sweep them out of his face, but didn’t dare lest Pomfrey come bustling out.

It wasn’t until the following evening that Potter woke. Draco’s legs were quite healed by then but Madam Pomfrey had made no move to evict him from the hospital wing, Draco supposed in part due to his acting every time she came round. “Oooh still a bit weak at the ankles” he’d murmur. Whether she was rolling her eyes or it was just a trick of the light he couldn’t be sure. Granger and Weasley had stopped by several more times since then, becoming increasingly insistent about entering. “I know Malfoy’s in there too! If he’s done something to Harry-” “OUT MR. WEASLEY!”

When Harry’s eyes finally fluttered open Draco leaned forward as if to touch him, “What have you done to me Malfoy” Harry’s low voice rasped. Draco shrank back. “I – uh…”

“Mr. Potter, good to see that you’re awake”

Harry glanced up at Madam Pomfrey, who was striding over from her office. “What’s going on?” He asked.

“What’s going on is that you’ve been taking a highly illegal potion for the past month” she stated, “And you’ve been in a very dark place, long before that I suspect” at this Harry shot Malfoy a furious look. “I’m fine” he said angrily.

“Oh no Mr. Potter you are far from fine. The war has wounded us all in ways we can’t begin to understand, and you most of all.” Her voice was soft and her eyes misted a bit as she spoke. “You’ve been asked to carry a heavy burden for far too long Mr. Potter, and it’s time you were given the chance to put it down for a bit. I’ve arranged for you to meet with a mindhealer tomorrow afternoon.”

“A mindhealer? I don’t need anyone digging around in my head again thanks”

“Yes Potter, a mindhealer. And I’m not asking your permission, I’m telling you. This is mandatory.”

At this Draco chimed in, “Er, Madam Pomfrey, are you sure that’s such a good idea? Only, if a mindhealer were to go to the press with what Potter shares with them it could be a disaster.”

At this Pomfrey drew up her shoulders. “That may be so Mr. Malfoy, but I happen to trust this healer immensely.”

“But how can you be sure?” Draco persisted, “everyone has a price and the Prophet would pay a fortune for a look inside Potter’s brain.”

“I can be sure, Mr. Malfoy, because the healer in question is my wife. Now if you don’t mind I’ll be needing to speak to Minerva about arranging a portkey to bring the two of you there.”

“The two of us?” Draco and Harry shouted simultaneously.

“Yes the two of you. I’ll need Mr. Malfoy there to make sure you attend your appointment AS SCHEDULED.”

Draco glanced at Harry’s furious face. “Me? Why not ask one of his friends? I’m a Death Eater – how do you know I won’t just attack him instead of take him?”

“I am quite sure that you’ll do just fine Mr. Malfoy, and I highly doubt that you’ll be harming Mr. Potter considering the – incredibly dangerous and stupid – efforts you’ve made to do just the opposite. Now if you don’t mind I have other things to do. Your suppers will be brought up shortly. And Mr. Potter – if you so much as step one toe outside of your bed before I say so, I assure you that you will live to regret it.”

And with that Madam Pomfrey was off. A house elf came up shortly with two trays of food, and Draco looked nervously at Harry as he ate. Harry stared resolutely at the wall, refusing to touch his food or to look at Draco. It occurred to Draco, much later, that Madam Pomfrey must intimidate Harry more than Voldemort or any of the death eaters had, for an angry as he was, he made no move to leave.

…

After the house elves had come and removed Harry’s untouched tray Draco turned to him. “I’m sorry about the potion – I didn’t realize that things were as bad off for you as they were. Just thought it was a once in a while kind of feeling,” Harry huffed in response, saying nothing. “I mean” Draco carried on nervously, “I just kind of hoped the tower thing was a fluke, or because you’d been drinking. I thought the potion would just be a help if you ever got that way again, I didn’t know you felt like that every single day.”

Harry stared at the wall before speaking in a low voice, “I can’t believe you told Madam Pomfrey. I asked you to keep it to yourself.”

Draco looked indignant. “First off you asked me not to tell the Weasel, and secondly I had to tell someone! My solution was clearly a bust, I didn’t know what else to do to help.”

“Why do you care about helping me anyway? Thought you of all people would be glad to see me dead.”

In a small voice Draco said, “You’re wrong about that.”

Harry huffed. “The life debt thing again?”

“Sure” Draco said.

“I told you not to worry about that. You don’t owe me anything.”

There was a long stretch of silence. Harry was sure Draco had fallen asleep when he heard him quietly clear his throat to ask, “Did you really mean what you said that night? That you feel like it’s your fault everyone’s dead?”

“Yes.” Harry said, voice cracking as he looked at the wall again.

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re unbelievably stupid or just have an enormous ego” said Draco as he surveyed him “probably both.”

“Excuse me?” Said Harry sharply.

“I mean, come on Potter. You didn’t ask for any of this. You really think everyone was out there fighting on your behalf? I mean, sure, your parents, but you were a toddler, you didn’t exactly go asking them to lay down their lives. You seem liked you were probably slow as a child, I can’t picture you forming sentences at that age, let alone commanding them to defend you. And everyone else?”

“What the hell Malfoy?”

“I’m just saying – as far as I know you never commanded anyone to do anything. You really think they had no control over their actions – they were all just so stunned by your charm and good looks that they laid down their lives at a nod of your head or something?”

“Are you on drugs Malfoy?”

“I mean really, name one wizard who you forced to fight for you.”

“Colin Creevey wouldn’t have been out there if he weren’t trying to impress me, or protect me or something.” Harry said glumly

“Creevey? The little git with the camera?”

“He wasn’t a git.”

“Okay sure Potter he wasn’t a git. Were the two of you friends? From what I recall he just wandered around gawking at you all day and asking for signatures.”

“But that’s the point – he thought I stood for something, that I was chosen or something. It was my fault he wanted to fight my battles.”

“Oh that’s right” Malfoy scoffed “the stupid prophecy. Tell me Potter were you the one that prophesized you taking down the dark lord?”

“No” said Harry, “Trelawney did actually.”

“That old bat? Merlin” Malfoy laughed, “But you’re proving my point. You never said you were famous – as far as I can recall you tried to avoid the press like the plague.”

Harry scoffed, “All these years you’ve been the one always saying I was obsessed with fame”

Malfoy batted his hand in the air as though tossing that notion aside. “Of course I said that, I’ve always known just what to say to get under your skin”

“Too right” Harry agreed.

“But,” Malfoy carried on, “you never tried to be famous or celebrated. You just skulked around with your weird little friend trio. You didn’t ask Creevey to worship you. And you didn’t ask anyone to fight for you. In fact there’s only one wizard I can think of who asked people to worship him and to fight his battles.”

“You?” Harry joked.

Malfoy laughed. “Okay, two wizards. But you know what I mean. Actually – I take that back. You are enormously stupid, probably don’t know what I mean. Should I repeat myself, really slowly, so that you can understand it?”

Harry huffed out a small laugh. “That’s fine Malfoy, I get the point you’re making. But I still feel like it’s my fault. I could have done things differently, could have figured things out faster.”

“Unlikely” Malfoy smirked, “You’re quite stupid, remember? It’s a miracle you figured out getting your robes on without doing it backwards.”

“Git”

“Idiot”

“Night Malfoy.”

“Goodnight Potter.”

…

The next morning after breakfast Harry and Draco were met with a very stern looking Madam Pomfrey. “You are not to abscond into the night, do you understand? Now you will take this portkey” she held up a large green umbrella and stuffed it into Draco’s hand, “and then head straight to 73 Larch road. Knock twice on the door and you’ll be taken right in. And no funny business! I mean it! You will then take this portkey” at this she shoved an old red hat into Harry’s hand, “back straight at noon. If you don’t return I’ll be instructing the ministry to conduct a manhunt. Now off with you both!”

Harry and Draco grabbed at the umbrella and were shortly spit out into a small residential street in Muggle London. Both landed with a bit of a wobble – Draco suspected they were getting used to their new leg bones – before setting off for building 73.

They were ushered inside by a portly looking house elf and made to sit down in a hideously cozy – by Draco’s standards at least - waiting room. The chairs were enormously squashy and round, and a painting on the wall kept tossing out phrases like “it’s okay to not be okay” and “feelings matter.” Gentle music played from an instrument in the corner and every so often the potted plant on the side table would give what Draco could only described as a sympathetic nod in their direction. Harry was soon ushered into the next room, and he shot Draco a panicked look before being led off.

The house elf, whose name turned out to be Minnie, kept plying Draco with tea and biscuits, and it was nearly an hour before Potter returned.

As they stepped onto the sidewalk Draco glanced at his watch. “We still have over an hour before the portkey will take us back. I’m guessing they gave us extra time in case you tried to pull a runner before your appointment.”

“Good” Harry said, “I need a drink.”

“It’s a bit early for drinking you know.”

“Humor me Malfoy I’ve just had my brain sorted through for the last hour.”

Draco surveyed him. “Was it really that bad? I thought it was supposed to help.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, it wasn’t all bad. Different, but not entirely bad. Still, I need a drink.”

“Oh, alright but no hard liquor, Pomfrey will have my head if you come back drunk. I don’t think we’re very close to the wizarding bars though, should we apparate?”

“We’re not going to the wizarding bars – you said it yourself, the press doesn’t need more opportunity to pick me over. I can’t step foot in the Leakey without getting my picture snapped a dozen times.”

Malfoy stopped in his tracks. “Potter” he said sharply “where exactly are we going then?”

Harry gestured at a pub across the street from where they had been walking. “Here looks fine to me”

“A muggle pub?”

At this Harry looked up. “Will that be a problem Malfoy?”

“I’m not going into a Muggle establishment!”

“Fine, suit yourself” said Harry, and he walked off.

“Wait! Wait! You can’t just leave me out here!” Malfoy scurried after him.

“Then come along,” shouted Harry, “Because I’m going in.”

Chapter Text

The pub was rather small, but quiet and clean, with white oak tables topped with electric candles tucked into mason jars and comfortable leather chairs. A few patrons sat scattered around, eating an early lunch. A cheery waitress greeted them and directed them to a table by the window. “Interesting costumes boys” she said with a smile at their school robes. Malfoy seemed in a state of shock, unable to reply. “Yes” said Harry, “We’re practicing for a school play” She nodded, seemingly satisfied.

At the table Harry pressed a menu in front of Malfoy, who seemed incapable of understanding it. “Two coronas and the fish and chips each” Harry said, as Malfoy continued to look dumbfounded.

When their food had been served and Harry had downed his beer he finally turned to Malfoy. “Are you really not going to eat? I mean I know you hate muggles but -” Malfoy was finally roused of out of his stupor. “I’ve never actually seen a muggle before” he whispered. “Never?” asked Harry, seeming stunned himself by the revelation. “I just…I mean I know their outfits are a bit odd,” Malfoy carried on in a strangled voice, “but they’re quite human aren’t they? Just like regular people almost.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes Malfoy, they are just like regular people. Some good, some bad, probably have some pointy blonde gits among them same as you.” Malfoy ignored the barb, staring around the room with his mouth still gaping slightly. “I just…I always thought they’d be a bit more barbaric or something.” He seemed uncomfortable, the realization of it all slowly dawning on him.

As the hour drew nearer for them to go Harry called over their waitress to close their tab. When Harry dug in his pockets to produce a credit card Malfoy seemed taken aback all over. “Their money is plastic? They don’t use gold like the rest of us?” Harry laughed. “No Malfoy they don’t use plastic for money. This little card gets swiped by some machine with, well I’m not sure, with magnets in it I think, and the machine tells the card how much things cost and then the card pulls that money out from your bank account and pays it to the pub’s bank account. This way you don’t have to go carrying around a bunch of money in your pockets.” Malfoy looked inquisitive, snatching Harry’s card so that he could inspect it himself. “Magnets you say? That’s really quite clever of them.” Harry gave an odd smile, “Yes the muggles have figured out quite a lot of things to get by without magic. You’d be impressed if you learned about some of them. They’ve even figured out how to send a ship to the moon you know.” Malfoy scoffed. “Now you’re just pulling my leg.”

When the two returned to Hogwarts - knitted hat in hand - it was into a very somber looking Professor McGonagall’s office. “Professor” said Harry, surveying the portraits behind her and noticing that a new one, Professor Snape, had been added. McGonagall gestured to the chairs in front of her desk and wordlessly they sat. “I’ve spoken to Poppy and she’s informed me of some rather alarming news. Illegal potions! Drinking on school grounds! Deboning spells! The ministry could have you both detained for the potions alone!” Harry hung his head as the Snape portrait behind him gave out an angry sniff, “ought to be expelled Minerva, and brought to the authorities.” “Now, now, Severus, we’ve all coped with loss in our own ways, haven’t we. Grief has a funny way of twisting our minds and hearts” Dumbledore could be heard replying from his portrait. Professor McGonagall nodded sharply, “I don’t plan to expel or arrest you, although do keep in mind that if either of you performs a stunt like this again I will have no choice but to do so!” Malfoy looked up, too stunned by his own good luck. “We aren’t in trouble then?” he asked hopefully. “You are most certainly in trouble. The two of you will be spending the rest of the year in detention. Twice a week, helping Professor Sprout in her green houses. And Potter you are to attend weekly mind healing sessions with Mr. Malfoy as your escort, for the remainder of the year.” Malfoy looked up sharply, “You know if you’re trying to keep Potter wanting to live detention is hardly the right motivator!” Harry elbowed him, “shut it Malfoy.” Professor McGonagall gave Harry an inscrutable look. “Potter” she said, “I’m always here if you need me, please remember that.” Harry nodded, looking at the table. “Right, well if you don’t want to extend your detentions to daily then I’d suggest you stop with the cheek Mr. Malfoy. The two of you may leave, but be warned, I am keeping an eye on you both!”

…

Harry found his return to Gryffindor tower to be far from the discrete entrance he’d hoped for. Hermione shrieked and leapt on him in a bone crushing hug, with Ron right behind her to join in. “What happened to you mate?” Seamus asked. “I heard Malfoy tried to crucio you, is he in Azkaban?” Neville asked shakily. “He didn’t try to crucio him Neville, he poisoned him, least that’s what I heard” Dean joined in. “Tell us what happened, Harry,” Ron asked in a low voice, his eyes darkly lined with worry. “No one tried to poison me or crucio me or anything else” Harry mumbled. “But Malfoy must have done something!” Hermione said, sounding scandalized, “How else did the two of you wind up in the hospital wing for two days Harry?” Harry shook his head, regretting not coming up with a story sooner. “Look it was an accident, Malfoy didn’t do anything to me.” Ron glowered. “He did something, I know it. I never should have let you go off alone with the ferret.” Harry shook his head hopelessly, “Really Ron, he didn’t do anything to me. We had a little accident, the two of us, but we’re both fine. Now I’m going to do some studying if you don’t mind, I’ve just missed two days of classes.” Hermione’s lips thinned, and Harry knew that it was clear to her that he was lying.

Heading to the library proved no more peaceful than the Gryffindor towers. Student’s flocked at Harry’s side, ignoring Madam Pince’s furious shushing, as they exclaimed with shock, “You’re alive!” “I heard Malfoy killed you!” “Harry is it true that Malfoy stabbed you in the corridor?” “Is it true that Malfoy’s been given a dementor’s kiss for trying to hex you?” Harry lasted less than an hour before Pince kicked him out. “But I’m not the one talking!” Harry protested as she angrily pointed at the exit. “Leave NOW Potter! Before I call the headmaster!”

It was with a great deal of frustration that Harry threw on his invisibility cloak and stormed outside of the castle to find some peace. Harry was stomping, rather childishly he would later admit, around the grounds, kicking at rocks and bits of leaves on the lawn. Why couldn’t he have a moments peace and quiet? Why did the whole bloody wizarding world feel privy to his every step? He had just given a great kick to a disgruntled looking rose bush when he heard voices up ahead. More nosey wizards Harry thought angrily, making to turn around and avoid them, when he heard a voice he recognized. “Please!” Malfoy was shouting piteously, “I haven’t killed Potter! Go see for yourself, he’s fine!” Harry froze. Of course students would be after Malfoy, half the castle thought he’d done something to him. “No one believes you, death eater, now tell us what you did to him!” came another voice, and Malfoy could be heard crying out in pain. Harry rounded the corner at once, pulling back his cloak. He took a sharp breath in at the sight of Malfoy, lying bruised and trembling on the ground as a group of students circled round him angrily, their wands pointed out. “Leave him alone!” Harry shouted, “Malfoy’s done nothing to me!” The group turned their attention to Harry, and he could hear lots of cries of “Harry you’re alive!”

Harry found himself having to push away the crush of students coming over to inspect him, hug him, or otherwise badger him with questions, when he noticed several students still circling Malfoy. “Potter this death eater scum did something to you!” said one, as another gave him a heavy kick to the ribs. “I said leave him ALONE” Harry shouted, nearly trembling with anger at this point, “All of you get away from him! NOW, or I’ll hex you myself!” Harry pulled out his wand threateningly, and it took little more urging for the group on the lawn to scatter, dumbfounded at the turn of events.

Malfoy still lay there, clutching at his ribs as Harry stared. “Waiting for a thanks for saving me from your fan club Potter? Well you won’t be getting one” he wheezed. Harry shook his head. “I’m sorry, I should have realized -” he started, but Malfoy cut him off. “No need to apologize now Potter, it’s been much of the same all year, although they were a bit more persistent today” he mused. Harry looked thunderstruck, “They’ve been torturing you all year?” Malfoy gave a haughty sniff, that was slightly less believable with the wince that joined it, “you heard them – I’m death eater scum. Doesn’t make me very popular these days.” Harry shook his head, “But what about the Slytherins? Don’t they at least have your back? To protect you from this kind of thing?” Malfoy sniffed again, “Hardly. Being my friend is too much of a liability these days.” Harry crouched down, inspecting Malfoy’s wounds. “We need to get you to madam Pomfrey” he said. Malfoy shook his head, “I’m fine Potter, we’ve only just left Pomfrey’s, I’d rather not return again so soon. Besides, I only go to her for the things I can’t heal on my own, this is easy enough work.” Rather awkwardly Malfoy began to point his wand at himself, wincing as his bones cracked back into place. Harry grumbled, “at least let me help you with that you dolt,” and began casting on Malfoy himself.

When they’d finished Harry’s face was drawn with guilt. “This is all my fault” he said softly. “Oh enough with the guilt thing Potter, I’m quite sick of that drivel!” Malfoy snarked. Harry stopped, but still stared on, looking plainly upset. “I mean it, this is the product of my own choices in the war, Potter. I made it quite well known where I stood with the Dark Lord, you can hardly go blaming yourself for his opposition being angry. Well, actually, you can go blaming yourself. If you’d just let him win I’d be quite popular these days.” Harry gave a dry laugh at that and Malfoy continued, “I mean it though, don’t go jumping off towers because of this. Besides, if you do that it’ll be me that’s held accountable.” Harry pursed his lips, thinking. “You’re right, you would be held accountable. The whole school seems to think you’ve done something to me. I can’t let you go around the castle on your own till everyone’s seen I’m alive and unharmed.” Malfoy raised his brows, “Planning to be my personal body guard then Potter? I suppose it would make it easier to keep an eye on you, keep you from getting jumpy around high places.” Harry shook his head, “No, but I’ll make sure everyone knows you didn’t do anything to harm me.”

So it was that Harry escorted Malfoy to the great hall for dinner that evening, and made a big show of shaking his hand at the Slytherin table. “Thanks again for saving me from that rogue acromantula, Malfoy, glad we’re both healed up finally” he shouted, before heading over to his table to sit down. “Acromantula attack?” Ginny asked, leaning across the dining table, “what was that all about Harry?” Harry blushed, “Malfoy’s idea” he said, knowing it was no use to lie to her. “I was going to go with something less flashy but he insisted. Bet the git’s just as scared of spiders as Ron is. He helped me with something though, if its alright I’d rather not talk about it.” Ginny nodded, glancing back at Malfoy as she did, “Alright Harry.”

That evening Harry entered Gryffindor tower in his invisibility cloak, hoping to sneak into bed without incident. He was stopped abruptly in front of the stairs by a terrifying looking Hermione and a rather shame faced Ron clutching the Maurader’s map. “I know you’re there Harry, now take off that stupid cloak, we need to talk” Hermione shouted shrilly. “Later” Harry insisted from under the cloak, “I’m just about to head to bed.” Hermione’s face darkened, “No Harry, not later. NOW. You’ve been acting odd for weeks now, and then just go off and disappear in the hospital ward with Malfoy for two days. Somethings up and you owe it to us to tell us what it is!” Ron, looking over Harry’s shoulder, nodded firmly, “Come on mate, something’s up, you can tell us. If Malfoy’s blackmailing you or something…” Harry tugged off the cloak. “Fine, but not here” he muttered.

When the three of them had crammed into an empty classroom (well, empty after a very flustered looking Romilda Vane and Ernie Mcmillan emptied out of it), Harry finally spoke. “Malfoy isn’t blackmailing me, he didn’t do anything” he said, staring at his trainers. Ron gave a narrow eyed look, “Harry you’ve been off ever since we got back here, but things have only been weirder since that night Malfoy broke your ankle outside.” Harry shook his head, “he didn’t break my ankle Ron, I keep telling you that.” Hermione gave a patient look, “Alright Harry well then what did happen? We know something went on that night, you’ve been, different, ever since.” They waited in a tense silence, until Harry, still avoiding eye contact finally said, “I might have been a bit drunk that night and fell off the astronomy tower” – at this Hermione gasped – “and Malfoy just happened to be out there and stopped me from falling, well, mostly stopped me, I still landed on my ankle.” Ron stared at Harry in shock. Hermione, voice shaking, asked, “Harry did you fall from the tower or did you jump?” Ron’s eyes bulged at the question, and he swung his head wildly between Harry and Hermione. After a long silence Harry finally said, “might’ve jumped.” Ron leapt to his feet, “Might’ve jumped?” He shouted, “MIGHT’VE JUMPED!” He jabbed his finger into Harry’s chest angrily, “After all we’ve lost and you think you can just leave us again? Did you even think about us when you were up there? Did you?” He shouted, his face nearly purple with rage. Hermione swept Ron back with her wand, her voice dangerous, “Ronald you shut up this instant and let Harry speak.” Harry gave them both a shamed faced look, “It’s alright Hermione I deserve it. I’ve ruined both of your lives.”  His voice trembled as he spoke. Ron had gone from purple to white, and Hermione, tears streaming down her face, wrapped her arms around Harry, soaking his shoulder as she cried. “I’m so sorry we didn’t know how bad things were Harry” she cried. Harry felt another set of arms around, and Ron, voice shaking, said, “Harry mate we love you, I can’t lose another brother.” The three of them stayed like this for a long time.

When they’d finally extricated themselves Hermione asked again about what had happened, and why Harry had been acting so odd. “Well” Harry hedged, he didn’t want to get Malfoy in trouble with the potion, but he supposed he’d have to say something. “Malfoy stopped me from jumping, and I kind of told him that it was, err, intentional, and then he went on about not wanting me to, said he owes me a life debt or something” he began, as Ron snorted, “owes you about a dozen of those.” “Anyway” Harry carried on, “he thought if I took Motus Deleo next time I was feeling that way that it would help.” At this Ron and Hermione both began to shout, “But it’s illegal!” said Hermione. “But that would cost a fortune Harry, even for you!” Ron cried. Harry ignored them and carried on, “Anyway, he suggested it and so I took some, every day, for the last month.” Again they began to cry out, “No wonder you’ve been acting like such a weirdo!” “But Harry, a month? You’re lucky to be alive!”

Harry spoke over them again, “Anyway, Malfoy realized what I was doing and he took me to Pomfrey. She sorted me out and now she’s making me see a mind healer,”

“Oh thank goodness, I was just going to suggest that” Hermione interjected.

“But she’s also gone and given Malfoy and I detention for the rest of the year, twice a week.”

“Twice a week with Malfoy? Don’t they want you to live?” shouted Ron.

Harry snorted, “Malfoy said the same thing. They’re making him take me to all my appointments too, make sure I don’t run off or something.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Well his methods were totally backwards – don’t look at me like that Harry, I’m sure you got the Motus from Malfoy, how else would you have found it – but I’m glad that he was there to save you, and I’m glad you’re getting help.” And with that she dissolved into tears again and gave Harry another bone crushing embrace. It was a long time before the three of them made their way to bed, and both Harry’s shoulders were soaked. Still, he realized, as he stared at his curtains that night, he felt a lot better than he had in a long time.

…

The next morning the trio were rather bleary eyed at breakfast, and when Hermione spotted Malfoy at his table she marched up to him in a huff. Draco scrambled for his wand, sure that Granger had come to hex him, but to his surprise she wrapped him in a rather wet hug. “Thank you for helping Harry,” she said into his ear before releasing him, and then marched herself back to her table. Draco looked rather bewildered, and staring at the Gryffindor table he could see Weasley giving him a friendly looking nod, while Harry stared at his porridge in embarrassment.

The week continued in this odd direction. Between the acromantula story and Granger’s hug, hardly anyone was hexing Draco between classes. He was still being shunned, but it seemed that the school had largely accepted that he had done something to help Potter, and that it would be frowned upon if he were to be harmed. Draco’s first detention with Potter had also proven to be reasonably bearable. They were left in Greenhouse six to trim the featherwing bushes (a task made difficult by the plant’s propensity to tickle anyone within reach), and they had managed to carry on in mostly companionable silence, apart from the occasional tickling induced giggle. Potter had cleared his throat several times, seeming on the verge of saying something, but no words came out, and Draco, not about to test his luck, did not pry.

The following day after classes Draco came to find Potter at Gryffindor tower to escort him to his mindhealing appointment. For a moment he was afraid that Potter wouldn’t show, and that he would have to try and convince the portrait to let him in and look for him, when a throat cleared behind him in the corridor. “Over here” Potter said, pulling off his cloak. Malfoy nodded, holding out an old sock. “Erm?” Harry asked. “The portkey you dolt, hurry up it’s about to go off any minute.” And with that the two of them were carried off to London.

Chapter Text

After Harry’s appointment he insisted on dining at a muggle establishment again. Draco pursed his lips but did not complain this time, holding his head high as they walked in and sat down. After a great deal of staring at the muggles he finally turned to Harry, asking, “what exactly does a mindhealer do?” Harry looked up from his lunch, “err” he said, swallowing his bite, “heals your mind I suppose.” Draco rolled his eyes. “I’ve gathered that much, I meant, how? What do they do to help with healing?” Harry pursed his lips and for a moment Draco was sure that he wouldn’t answer, that perhaps it was some sort of confidential thing, or that Potter was already frustrated that Draco was this privy into his emotional experience. “They do lots of things” Harry said finally, “She’s told me to expect things similar to legilimens, some pensieve work, and some different teas and potions. Today she pulled out a memory, for me to look at with her in a pensieve. Last time we just looked at some memories, but this time she had me replace myself in the memory. Told me to put someone I cared about in it instead, said it would help me to gain perspective I guess.” Draco looked fascinated, “memories of the battle?” he asked. Harry shook his head, “No, she said I’m not ready for that yet. Just other memories, earlier ones.” Draco gave an inquisitive look. “What kind of earlier memories?” at this Harry’s eyes shuttered. “Just - just stuff from my childhood, before Hogwarts.” Draco nodded. “Must have been hard, living with muggles” he said sympathetically. Harry shook his head again, “No! I mean yes, but not because they were muggles. Look, my aunt and uncle weren’t exactly the kindest people, but it had nothing to do with them being muggles.” Harry expected Draco to argue, and was surprised when he looked up to find him staring pensively, “I can imagine it would have been rather hard to live with my aunt – the Lestranges were…difficult” he said. Harry nodded, “yeah, they’re a bit like them, my relatives. Not exactly the warm and fuzzy type.” Draco snorted, “Yes I’d hardly call aunt Bellatrix fuzzy. She’d probably have crucioed me if I did.” Harry laughed.

They were left to trim featherwing bushes again at their next detention. After batting away a particularly determined branch Harry finally turned to Draco, clearing his throat. “Need a cough drop Potter or do you finally plan to say what’s on your mind?” Harry flushed. “I was just wondering, I mean, not to accuse you of anything, but why haven’t you gone to the press?”

Draco turned and gave Harry a severe look, “The press?”

“I just mean, you used to give Skeeter interviews on me all the time when we were younger, ‘Potter’s lost his head’ and all that rot. Now you know I really have lost it, what’s stopping you?”

Draco paused for a moment, which gave the featherwings branch a chance to tickle him. After some furious laughter and Harry’s assistance in batting it away he finally turned towards Harry. “I only did all that to be a nuisance to you, personal entertainment you know?” Harry rolled his eyes “I knew that much, but why not continue being a nuisance now?”

Draco paused, hesitating for a moment, before admitting, “I’m not much a fan of the press these days, not after what they’ve done to my mother, and besides, they aren’t exactly singing my praises or looking for the death eater scoop.”

“What exactly did they do to your mother?”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “I know you’re slow Potter but even you must have gathered the impact they’ve had.” Harry shook his head, ignoring the barb. “I haven’t been reading the paper. I know Hermione said something about an attack at the Manor, but I never really heard what happened.”

Draco’s face grew dark. After a long moment he spoke, “When the trial ended, not too many people were happy about my mother and I getting off without time in Azkaban. One of the members of the wizengamot in particular was unhappy, and spilled the full details of the trial to that knob Rita Skeeter. Once it reached print our old friends weren’t too happy with us either. They’d assumed, bribery or lies had granted us freedom, at least I’m guessing, but seeing in print that my mother was the reason the war turned south for us, it didn’t go over so well. Skeeter made sure to mention that we weren’t allowed our usual wards around the manor – part of the terms of our release. She made sure to add that anyone could just apparate in if they wanted to. Seemed like she was hoping for an attack.”

Harry stilled, listening, seeing the pain and anger as it moved across Malfoy’s pale face. Malfoy carried on speaking, almost as if he had forgotten Harry was there, that he just needed to get this out.

“Greyback was angry of course. The dark lord had promised him a lot of new freedoms, in the new world, things he couldn’t get otherwise. He came to the manor the day of the next full moon. Told me he was going to make my mother pay, that I was the price of her betrayal. He turned, and tried to attack me, but she came in, just in time, and put herself in my way. I stunned the bastard and he took off before I got the chance to kill him. And now she’s turned, and all because Rita Skeeter couldn’t wait to drag our names through the mud. We’ve hired guards, but it’s still only a matter of time before something happens. Every day I wait to hear the news of her death.” Draco looked up, suddenly seeming to realize who he was speaking to, his face shuttering immediately. “So no, Potter, I don’t plan to do the press any favors by giving them dirt on the golden boy.” He spat, angrily.

Harry’s hands shook as he reached out to touch Draco’s shoulders, and he stilled as Draco shrugged them off. “I’m so sorry Malfoy. I’m so sorry that this happened to your mother, and to you. She didn’t deserve that, neither of you did.” Draco shrugged, then picked up his clippers and carried on in silence.

…

Life at Hogwarts was improving, at least marginally, for Harry. He found that he could make it to his classes finally, and sit through them even without wishing he was dead. He was able to walk past the places that had haunted him his first week – past the spot Fred had died, or the spot he’d last seen Lupin’s body. He still found himself lost in thought in these moments, but it was becoming less painful. Other students seemed to be feeling similarly. The hushed tones of the first week, frequent panic attacks and tears, seemed to slowly be dissipating, as school got underway. Ron and Hermione had taken to checking on Harry diligently, not wanting to leave him on his own whenever they could help it, and Hermione frequently stopped between working on assignments to give Harry a hug or remind him how much they loved him, much to his embarrassment.

October was well underway when Ron reminded Harry that it was a Hogsmeade weekend. “We’re all going to the three broomsticks, and you’re coming” Ron informed him. “Err” Harry replied, thinking how nice it might be to have some time alone. “You have to go Harry, everyone will be there!” Hermione insisted. “Everyone?” Harry asked. “Yes mate, everyone, those friends of yours you’ve been ignoring all year – everyone” Ron insisted. “It would be good for you to get out again Harry” Hermione said softly, “isolating yourself will only make things worse.” Harry begrudgingly agreed. It was true, he’d barely noticed his friends all year, let alone spoken to them. The past few weeks had felt like coming out of a fog, and though it was still thick around him, he had a feeling that the only way out was forward.

So it was that the three of them, kitted up in Weasley sweaters to fight the early fall chill, made their way to the Three Broomsticks to be greeted by Dean, Seamus, Luna, Neville, and Ginny. A crowd of onlookers made to approach Harry at the table at once, but after a swift hex from Dean to one unlucky wizard, they warily departed, giving Harry a wide berth. There was the occasional flash of photography, but Rosmerta had soon shooed any rove reporters out of the bar, and Harry felt himself settling in.

“So nice to see that your wrackspurts are starting to clear up” Luna sang in greeting when they’d all sat down. Harry gave a wry smile, “Thanks Luna, ‘s good to see you.” Neville, who had been holding Ginny’s hand before their arrival immediately withdrew it and knocked over his butterbeer, sopping Ginny’s lap in the process and looking distinctly embarrassed. He went to mop it up, then stopped, staring at Harry in fear, before pulling his wand out of his pocket to dry it that way. “Don’t you dare,” Ginny laughed, “You’re so jumpy I’m sure you’ll vanish my robes right now instead of this mess.” Neville colored up, pocketing his wand. Seamus gave a wolf whistle, adding, “oooh in that case go right ahead Nev!” which prompted a laugh from Dean and a glower from Ron and a halfhearted punch in the arm from Ginny. “I’d prefer a lot less talk of my sister going without robes, thank you.” Harry nodded at everyone in greeting, feeling somewhat embarrassed himself. He had barely spoken to anyone in the last few weeks apart from requests to pass food in the great hall. Even when he’d been on motus he’d mostly just nodded along to whatever was said to him, finding conversation to not have much of a point.  

The group settled into easy chatter around him. Luna had missed most of her last year and was now retaking 6^th year with a combination of independent studies on magical beasts. “Hagrid will be back before the Halloween feast, we’ve been owling and he’s promised to take me on a tour of the forbidden forest to look for Nargles! Grawp and I have been looking together but I’m afraid he’s been scaring them all off. He’s lovely but a bit loud footed that one.” Dean rolled his eyes, “I still can’t believe you’re spending half your time with Grawp.” Luna smiled, “Oh but he’s so interesting, he’s taught me so much about life among the giants. Did you know that they host a ceremonial dance each Christmas? It’s quite special from what I can gather.” Ron laughed, “sounds terrifying to me.”

The day wore on in comfortable chatter, with each of them buying rounds of drinks for the table. Harry had just come back from the bathrooms when he spotted Neville alone at the bar counter, purchasing the next round. He steeled himself for an awkward conversation and made his way over. “Hey Neville.” Neville coughed, turning red, “Er, hey Harry. Look, I’m really sorry about-” but Harry cut him off, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, really. I’m happy for you two.” Neville looked up in surprise. “Really” Harry assured him, “It’s nice to see her happy again. You two are great for each other.” An invisible weight seemed to have lifted off of Neville’s shoulders. “Thank you” he croaked, “I really love her, you know, but I hated the idea of hurting you, not after everything you’ve done for us all.” Harry tensed, he didn’t want any more hero talk, but he didn’t want to give Neville the idea he was upset. “I’m not hurt Neville, not about that. Ginny’s wonderful but a lot’s gone on since we dated. She deserves to be happy, and so do you. Besides, we never would have worked, long term, she’s way too good with a bat bogey hex.” Neville laughed, “She’s terrifying, isn’t she?” he said admiringly, staring back at Ginny.

By the time night had fallen the group was rather drunk, and made their way back to Hogwarts with Seamus loudly singing very dirty renditions of Christmas carols while Ginny conducted, Dean leaning all of his weight against Seamus, head nuzzled into his neck, Neville and Ron in a near shouting match over quidditch teams, and Hermione and Luna giggling over some story involving Grawp that Harry was not sure he wanted to know. It was, Harry felt, a perfect night after all.

…

They’d moved on to Greenhouse 7 by their next detention, something Harry was decidedly sour about, as the pig snout orchids were much more finicky to deal with. Sprout had insisted that they collect their sneezes in glass vials but Harry found to his dismay that much of it was landing elsewhere. “You’re doing it all wrong Potter,” Malfoy snarked, waving a full vial in his hand, “it’s supposed to go in these you see, not all over your face.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t get the point of any of this, apart to torture us.” Malfoy sniffed bitterly, “of course you wouldn’t. Pig snout pollen is dead useful in just about a dozen different potions we’ll need for NEWTs but of course you’d find it useless. Guessing you’re just going to charm your way through those like you do with old Slughorn.” At this Harry frowned. Slughorn was rather useless when it came to teaching – he kept giving Harry house points for things like handing him a cauldron, and didn’t seem to care that half of Harry’s potions turned out more sludge than anything. Malfoy, seeming to notice Harry’s frustration, softened his voice, “I didn’t mean it” he began. “No” Harry said, “You’re right. I’m not learning much of anything in potions. Hermione won’t let me copy off of her this year either, says I need to learn myself if I’m ever going to be an Auror.” Malfoy laughed, “who would have thought that Granger and I would agree on something for once. What happened though, I thought in sixth year you turned into some sort of potions prodigy?” Harry gave a grim smile, “I had a copy of Snape’s old book, lots of tips in there.” He eyed Malfoy, suddenly remembering Sectumsepmra, and that day in the bathroom, and he hung his head, “learned a lot of things I wish I hadn’t with that book.” Malfoy glanced at him inquisitively, before saying, “Look Potter, why don’t I tutor you with potions?” Harry looked up, “You don’t have to do that.” Malfoy shook his head, “Of course I do, can’t have you go jumping off a tower when you fail your NEWTs, and besides, it’s infuriating seeing Slughorn fawn over you when you’re clearly an idiot – at least if you improve you’ll actually deserve some of the praise you get.” Harry chuckled, “Okay, thanks Malfoy.”

Mindhealing sessions were always difficult on Harry, but they were made better by the time spent afterwards, with Draco. Harry had convinced him to go to a muggle shopping center, and Draco was fascinated to find that they sold cashmere sweaters “almost as good as the wizarding ones” and insisted that Harry buy him one with his muggle money. He’d started to ask all sorts of questions about muggles, and Harry sometimes felt that he was actually speaking with Ron’s dad, explaining the functions of electric plugs and rubber ducks.

They had just come out of a muggle coffee shop, Draco laughing at Harry who’d managed to get foam on his nose, and helpfully wiping it off with his thumb, when suddenly Draco froze. “Interesting company you’re keeping these days, Draco” drawled a refined voice. Harry looked up to see a tall wizard with striking features, glaring at them from down his nose. “Blaise” Malfoy intoned in greeting, quickly withdrawing his hands from Harry’s face. Harry bristled, gripping his wand in his pocket. Blaise looked Harry up and down with a sneer, “Potter” he spat, “Nice to see our savior in all his glory.” Harry glowered, “Zabini, isn’t it?” Zabini smirked in answer, turning back to Malfoy. “You’ve always had unusual taste in the men you date, but even for you this is a bit low, isn’t it?” Draco had gone white at this, and his eyes looked glassy as he said, “fuck you Blaise” before taking off. Harry hurried after him.

Rounding the corner Harry managed to catch up and grabbed Malfoy’s arm, “Stop running or you’re going to miss the portkey back!” he shouted. Draco stopped, pulling his arm back out of Harry’s grip. “What was that about anyway?” Harry asked, “I thought you two were friends?” Malfoy shook his head, “I told you I’m not very popular these days.” He still wouldn’t look at Harry, staring at the ground as though he hoped it might open up and swallow him whole. “What did Zabini even mean by all that, taste in men?” Harry asked. At this Malfoy simply shook his head, refusing to answer. Harry pressed on, “Are you into blokes or something Malfoy?” Draco shook his head again, refusing to look up, and said in a quiet, bitter voice, “Purebloods can’t be gay.”

…

Harry couldn’t get the conversation out of his head. Was Malfoy gay or had he really meant what he said about purebloods, and Zabini was just insulting him. More to the matter, why did he, Harry, care so much? Why did it matter who Malfoy dated? It didn’t he told himself, but he still couldn’t stop thinking on it. That night by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room he decided to ask Hermione. He didn’t want to out Malfoy, but he hoped he could at least get some clarity on things. “Erm” Harry cleared his throat. This was more awkward than he expected, but after an inquisitive look from Hermione, who’d stopped her quill in midair, he decided to plod on. “Is it true that purebloods can’t be, you know, gay?”

Ron choked on the conjured tea he’d been drinking and began to laugh, “better not tell that to Charlie, he’s about as gay as they come.”

“Oh” said Harry, perplexed.

Hermione gave him an indecipherable look before answering, “Purebloods can be just as gay as any other wizard, although it’s very frowned upon by some types. That’s why Sirius was disowned, you know.”

At this Harry looked alarmed, “What? You mean he told you that and never said anything to me?”

Hermione colored, “well no, not exactly. When we were staying at Grimmauld place, last year during the war, I might have found one of his old diaries.”

Harry’s voice shot up, “you read his diary?”

Hermione looked distinctly put out, saying, “I was looking for clues about Regulus and the locket, I thought maybe there’d be something in there that could help us. I wasn’t trying to invade his privacy, really Harry.”

Ron turned to Hermione now, “makes sense old Walburga would kick him out for that, the hag. Not the most open minded family.”

Hermione nodded, “yes it was really quite awful, apparently she found out about him and professor Lupin and -”

But at this Harry and Ron both shouted, “LUPIN?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “yes, professor Lupin and Sirius dated all through their years at Hogwarts, and, I suspect, afterwards once Sirius escaped from prison.”

Harry looked dumbfounded, “but, but he was married to Tonks” he spluttered.

Hermione nodded slowly, “Well yes, after Sirius passed away he did marry Tonks. I suppose he was bisexual.” Harry must have looked confused because Hermione carried on, “lots of wizards are you know. Just look at Dean.” Harry stupidly turned around to look for him, asking, “what about Dean?”

Ron laughed, “you must need those glasses checked, he’s only been dating Seamus all year.”

Dean and Seamus? Harry pondered, well that would explain all the nuzzling and touching when they’d gone out the other night.

That night Harry lay awake for a long time. So Malfoy likes blokes…maybe. Harry thought. It would make sense that he’d feel uncomfortable, Harry got the feeling that Malfoy senior would be about as accepting as Walburga, and considering all the other pureblood nonsense he pushed on Malfoy it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that this was another part of it. But why did Harry care? He knew he liked girls. He’d kissed Cho and Ginny after all, it wasn’t like he was considering kissing Malfoy. Although, he thought, it probably wouldn’t be so awful if he did, Malfoy was awfully pretty. At this thought Harry’s face flushed in the dark. He lay there considering how he felt about blokes. He’d never felt the urge to kiss Ron, but then again he’d also never felt the urge to kiss Hermione. He supposed he had felt a bit fluttery around his old quidditch captain, Wood, but it hasn’t occurred to him at the time that it might be a crush. He pictured himself kissing Wood and the idea didn’t seem so awful to him. Maybe he was a bit like Lupin or Dean he considered, and Malfoy had just given him the idea, it wasn’t that he liked Malfoy, not like that at least. He cast around in his mind for who else he might find attractive now, if he were to consider it, but it was Malfoy’s face that kept resurfacing. I’ve just been spending a lot of time with him, Harry reassured himself, I couldn’t like him.

The next day in classes Malfoy very pointedly avoided eye contact with Harry, much to Harry’s frustration. The day after that he didn’t show up to detention, and professor Sprout informed Harry that Malfoy had taken ill and he’d have to collect sneezes on his own. Harry was becoming increasingly frustrated, and had taken to watching Malfoy on the marauders map. Harry scowled as he watched him pacing around the slytherin dungeons all evening. When it came time for Harry’s next mind healing session he collected the port key himself and took off for the dungeons in his cloak. Creeping in after a first year had opened the door, Harry stormed over to Malfoy who was lounging in the common room, staring silently at the fire. Harry grasped the port key in one hand and Malfoy’s arm in the other, much to his terror, and the two were whisked off before Malfoy could even begin to shout.

Chapter Text

“WHAT. THE. HELL. IS. WRONG. WITH. YOU. POTTER?” Malfoy shouted when they’d finally landed. Harry pulled off his invisibility cloak muttering, “Well it didn’t seem like you were coming.” Malfoy glared at him, “it doesn’t look as though you need me to escort you, you made it here without me just fine.” Harry blushed, “I dunno” he said, looking at his trainers, “thought I might pull a runner today, best if you came along just incase.” Malfoy scoffed. “You’re unbelievable. Well alright your highness, let’s go, the healers office is that way.”

Harry found himself rushing though his appointment, which consisted of him practicing breathing techniques with his magic meant to steady him. Healer Pomfrey kept looking at him inquisitively, “restless today aren’t we?” She asked, before finally letting him leave with the promise that he practice at home each night until their next session.

When Harry got to the waiting room he was relieved to see Malfoy still there, arguing with Minnie over the quality of the biscuits she’d offered him. Harry dragged Malfoy to the pub they’d visited on their first day, and it wasn’t till they’d sat that he suddenly found himself strangely nervous to look at Malfoy.

“So” he began, after clearing his throat several times. “That Zabini bloke’s a real gem, isn’t he?” Malfoy rolled his eyes, “Yes, Blaise isn’t very fond of me these days. Not since Crabbe, well, since that whole day in the room of hidden things.” He trailed off, eyes downturned. Harry frowned, wondering if Zabini held Malfoy responsible for what had happened to Crabbe. That hardly seemed to be Malfoy’s fault, Harry felt, he hadn’t been the one to start the fiendfyre after all. He paused for another long moment before carrying on. “So, what he said about you liking blokes -” Malfoy made to get up, “Stop, sit down, look don’t freak out Malfoy, I don’t care about any of that stuff.” This only seemed to make Malfoy angrier though, and Harry had to grab his arm to tug him back into his seat. “I mean it! It’s none of my business, and besides lots of wizards are gay, pureblood ones at that. Ron’s brother is, and my godfather, Sirius, well he was too apparently.” At this Malfoy’s mouth thinned, “Yes I’d heard about cousin Sirius, and look what happened to him.” Harry’s face darkened, but he continued. “I’m not saying that you are, but I’m guessing if you were gay your father would feel pretty similarly to Walburga.” Malfoy gave a sharp laugh at this. “Sirius had it easy, he just got to kip off and stay with friends.” Harry’s eyes narrowed, “What did your father do to you, Malfoy?” Malfoy squirmed in his seat and Harry realized he was still holding his arm to keep him seated, but he made no move to let it up. Finally Malfoy said in a small voice, “he only ever suspected, and he wasn’t...kind about it.” Harry frowned. “You shouldn’t have to hide who you are. You know Dean and Seamus are together, and, well I never really had much time to think about dating but, I think I’m probably bisexual.” This did get Malfoy’s attention, and he stared up at Harry, open mouthed. “You?” He said, and Harry gave a shy nod.

…

During their next potions class Harry approached Malfoy’s desk. “Budge over” he said, “You promised me you’d be helping me pass and I’m taking you up on it.” Malfoy raised his eyebrows but didn’t fight him on it, moving his cauldron to the left to make room. “Slumming it with the death eaters now Potter?” sniggered Terry Boot from the next table over. Harry’s shoulders squared as he whipped his head over to face Boot, but Malfoy muttered, “leave it, please” under his breath, and so with a great deal of will power Harry turned back.

They had just finished a practical on befuddlement potions and were set to choose one of three potions to work on for the next several weeks, wolfsbane, polyjuice, or veritaserum. “Might be easiest if we pick polyjuice” said Harry, “I did that one already in second year. Well, mostly Hermione did it, but it’ll at least be familiar.” Malfoy scoffed, “Even Granger couldn’t brew a proper Polyjuice as a second year.” Harry laughed, “she did” and at Malfoy’s inquisitive look he added, “I’ll have to save that story for another day.” Malfoy narrowed his eyes but didn’t press the issue. “Well that’s fine if that’s what you’d like to make but I’ll be working on wolfsbane.” Harry felt suddenly very stupid. Of course Malfoy would choose that potion. “Right” he said, feeling awkward, “well I’d rather not fail so I’ll just do the same then, you can help me if I’m mucking things up.” Malfoy rolled his eyes, “You’re all thumbs Potter, of course you’ll be mucking things up.” Harry laughed appreciatively, something about Malfoy’s constant barbs felt comforting in the midst of constant adulation from his peers.

…

Halloween was just around the corner and Harry was looking forward to the feast. He and Malfoy had been picking the rattling gourds in greenhouse three at Sprout’s request, as they were to be used as table décor. The task was proving more difficult than either had anticipated as the gourds kept slithering off in all directions, only staying put when they’d finally been plucked from the vine. “Maybe you can go as a muggle sports ball player” Malfoy teased when Harry had finally tacked one vine successfully. Harry laughed, “what about you, dressing up this year?” Malfoy rolled his eyes, “of course not.” Harry grinned, “I’m surprised, for someone as crafty as you.”

“Me? Crafty?”

“You made that dementor costume to scare me in third year, and those ‘Potter Stinks’ pins in fourth year, in fact now that I think of it, I must be your crafting muse.”

Draco’s ears burned so red Harry was reminded of Ron. “I am not crafty” he said tersely.

Harry smirked, “Okay, you’re not crafty. Just a very creative bully.”

“I prefer the term nemesis to bully, give credit where credit is due and all that.”

Harry laughed. “Okay, a creative nemesis. You know I am glad that we’ve something of a truce these days, but I hope its not blocking up your crafting spirit. I’d hate to get in the way of true artistry.” Draco tossed a rather boisterous vine at Harry in response.

…

Hagrid returned the day of the Halloween feast, and Harry found that he wasn’t the only student to make his way to the hut by the time the news got out. “Let me rest my feet at least, I’ve only just got back,” Hagrid bellowed as he was swarmed with hugs, but he seemed pleased. It was clear that Hagrid had become something of a pillar to the younger students at Hogwarts in the year that Harry was away. Grawp bounced on his heels happily outside the cabin, shaking the door on its hinges. “Harry!” Hagrid said, face cracking into a wide smile. “Hey Hagrid,” Harry smiled back, “you’ve been missed.” Hagrid chuckled, “Seems so! Now all you lot head back to the castle, I’ll be seeing you at the feast! Not you Harry, hold up a bit if you don’t mind.” Harry nodded and sat at the kitchen table, watching as Fang happily licked the students as they left. When they were finally alone and Hagrid had set tea on the table, and pulled some questionable looking sandwiches from out his pockets, he turned to Harry, “How’ve yeh been holdin’ up Harry?” Harry shrugged, “I’ve been fine.” Hagrid shook his head, “No need to pretend, Harry, I saw how yeh looked before I left. I’ve been worrying.” Harry bowed his head a little. “Things have been…difficult. They’re getting better though. I’ll be ok, even if I’m not there yet.” Harry admitted. Hagrid nodded, “Well I’m glad t’ hear it. Now what’s this I hear about you and Malfoy being friends?” Harry’s eyes widened. Hagrid laughed, “Some of my friends still owl me you know. Take that Luna – very perceptive girl that one.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, “I should have written.” Hagrid shook his head, “Don’ worry about that, yeh’ve got enough on yer plate. But yeh didn’t answer my question.” Harry chewed at his lip. “We’ve just been spending time together in detention, but he’s not all bad, Malfoy. I mean, he’s changed a lot. Or, well, he seems like he’s still changing. I think the war, the way things were with Voldemort” Hagrid shuddered at the name “kind of opened his eyes a little. He's still a prat, but not in the same ways.” Hagrid nodded knowingly, “Think a lot o’ folks changed their tunes when they saw what you-know-who was really like. Still, surprised to hear he’s one o’ them. Yeh should be careful with that one though” at this Harry frowned. “Malfoy’s not going to hurt me.”

“I’m not saying he is Harry, but he and his mum are both targets at this point, a lot of people aren’t happy with them, a lot of you-know-who’s people too. Heard a lot o’ things while I was traveling, and none o’ them too good.” Harry looked alarmed, “What did you hear Hagrid?” but Hagrid shook his head. “Nothing concrete, just a lot of anger. Especially with the werewolves. Greyback took it personally it seems to me, their betrayal. I don’t think we’ve heard the last of him, even if the ministry is poking about trying to catch him.”

Harry frowned. He knew things weren’t over, not even with Voldemort gone, but he had hoped he could at least have some peace. He didn’t like the idea of Malfoy being a target.

…

The feast was more marvelous than Harry had remembered. The tables were topped high with roast beef and chicken, roasted potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, mashed potatoes with gravy, and treacle tart. Peeves soared between house tables, knocking over goblets of pumpkin juice while singing a very bawdy tune about a top heavy hag, much to McGonagall’s chagrin. Hagrid had been greeted by a round of cheers and wolf whistles (those mainly coming from Seamus) when he entered the great hall, and professor Flitwick conducted a procession of levitated, dancing pumpkins around each table. Harry found himself thinking of his mum and dad, who’s lives had stopped short seventeen years ago this night, and wondered what they’d be doing if things had been different. He tried to reframe it, like his mindhealer had suggested. “Take the pain, sit with it, and then reframe it. What other story can it tell?” She’d asked him, again and again. He supposed that his parents would be happy to see him, alive, and free from Voldermort, free from the pain he’d endured. They’d be happy knowing that their sacrifices had been for something. Still, Harry felt tired. The feast was wonderful, but it was wearing on him to always have to plaster on a smile or pretend that things were fine. As he made his way out of the great hall at the end of the meal he was stopped by Malfoy. “Potter” Malfoy hissed from the doorway. Harry looked up. “Just thought you’d appreciate some of my crafting abilities today” he said, shoving a small box in Harry’s hand. Harry waited until he’d changed into pajamas and was laying in bed, curtains draw, when he opened the box. Inside were three “Potter stinks” pins, transfigured into the shape of little pumpkins. Harry laughed when he realized that the first said “potter drinks” and showed an old picture from the prophet of Harry spitting out his firewhiskey the one time he’d tried drinking in a wizard bar after the war. The next said “potter thinks” and showed a picture of a particularly blank looking Harry, scratching his head. The last said “potter slinks – away” and showed Harry trying rather badly to sneak away from reporters. Harry barked a laugh. They were brilliant.

…

Potions was marginally less difficult for Harry now that he had Draco helping him. True much of his help consisted of pointed remarks like, “have you considered that little tussle in the forest last spring may have addled your brains? Because there’s no other way to explain why you’d be dicing the moonwort instead of grinding it, you absolute dullard” and “how interesting that you’d choose to stir counterclockwise when the book specifically states it’s three stirs clockwise, but then again the rules don’t seem to ever apply to you do they?” Still, between the snarks Malfoy was surprisingly helpful in explaining the magical theory behind each step, and he did this with remarkable patience. Harry wondered if this came from years of tutoring Crabbe and Goyle in classes. Hermione had also chosen Wolfsbane for her project, and she and Draco often chatted across tables about articles they’d read with variations on how to improve the potion, including something to do with runes that Harry couldn’t make heads or tails of.

Mindhealing sessions were also beginning to be something that Harry looked forward to. He’d noticed that McGonagall had kept lengthening the time between portkeys, but he didn’t complain as it gave him more time with Draco. After Harry’s last session he’d take Draco to a muggle movie theatre to see Star Wars. Draco was fascinated, and kept shouting things at the screen like “just stupefy him already!” When they left he insisted that Harry bring him back to one again as soon as possible, and kept asking questions about muggle television shows and compoopters as he called them. He was also visibly frustrated to learn that muggle cell phones wouldn’t work inside Hogwarts grounds “but that would be so much faster than owling someone! There’s got to be some work around.”

At their next detention Harry and Malfoy were tasked with weeding the fanged geraniums. “Nice to see you getting along with Hermione these days” Harry said, pulling up a particularly thick weed.

“They’re not entirely terrible, her and the Weasel.” Malfoy said graciously.

Harry smiled, “Don’t know why you hated them so much in the first place.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, saying, “I only hated them because they were your friends.”

“Why’s that? I couldn’t have been all that awful” Harry teased.

Malfoy gave a serious look. “I tried, you know, to be your friend in first year. And you refused me. I didn’t get it, here I was, the wealthiest, best looking, most influential wizard in school” Harry snorted at this “And you turned your nose at me, and then went on to befriend the two biggest nobodies possible in the whole school – Weasley who was the opposite of everything I was, and Granger, a muggle born.” Harry bristled, but Malfoy continued. “I hated it, and hated them for being the ones you’d chosen to befriend. I spent a lot of time trying to get your attention even if I couldn’t have your respect. I didn’t get it then, but I do now. They were never nobodies, were they? They’ve proved that. It was me that was the nobody.”

Harry was stunned, never expecting that as a response. “Malfoy, you aren’t a nobody. A posh git, sure, but you could never be a nobody. I’m glad we’re friends now, even if it took some time for it to happen.”

Malfoy looked up at Harry, his eyes bright. The fanged geranium he’d been weeding took this as its opportune moment to sink a particularly ferocious bite into his hand. Malfoy startled, yanking his now bleeding hand away from the geranium’s teeth. Harry grabbed Malfoy’s hand in his, casting a spell to stop the bleeding and pocketing his wand. He realized he was still holding Malfoy’s hand in his, thumbing along his pale, elegant fingers, and clean, well-manicured nails. Malfoy gave a sharp intake of his breath and Harry looked up. Malfoy was standing so close, staring at Harry curiously, almost reverently, and his eyes kept darting to Harry’s lips. A lock of his long blonde hair swept in front of his face and Harry was suddenly taken by how beautiful Malfoy looked, how delicate his face was. With his other hand Harry swept the lock of hair out of Malfoy’s face, tucking it behind his ear. Just then a great clatter sounded from the doorway as Professor Sprout made her way back in, and both boys jumped apart. “Time to head on back boys” she sang, bustling in and carrying a load of pots on her hips.

Harry couldn’t get Malfoy’s face out of his mind that night. He could have sworn that they had been about to kiss before they’d been interrupted, but then Malfoy had gone all skittish on him, practically rushing back to the school without even looking at Harry. He wasn’t sure what the best course of action was now, but he knew two things. He was definitely bisexual, and he definitely wanted to kiss Draco Malfoy.

Chapter Text

The next day was another Hogsmeade day, and Harry had promised his friends he’d join again. Still, he was nearly late, staring at the Malfoy labeled dot on the Marauders map and willing it to move out of the Slytherin dungeons. At the three Broomsticks Harry met Ginny and Luna, along with Dean and Seamus who were practically sharing a seat, Ron, Hermione, and a few Ravenclaw students, including Sue Li and Terry Boot, who seemed to have also paired up. Harry supposed that Boot must have ended things with Romilda at some point. Neville had stayed behind to help Sprout with a project in one of the greenhouses that Harry and Malfoy were not permitted to enter in their detentions, but Ginny looked happy enough without him, and was loudly cheering along with Seamus as Ron and Terry chugged some sort of purple flaming drink. “Don’t embarrass the Weasley name now Ron! Faster!” She shouted, as Seamus clapped, “Boot! Boot! Boot! I’ve got a Galleon on this, don’t disappoint me!”

They were all decidedly very drunk when professors Flitwick and Slughorn made their way in with serious faces. “Awful news” Slughorn was saying. Harry felt himself sobering up quickly, and tried to listen in as they spoke. “What’s that Horace?” Rosmerta could be heard saying as she poured their drinks. “Oh dear, there’s been another werewolf attack, this time on a young family outside of Surrey” Slughorn said with a grim face. “One of the children survived, but he’ll never be the same of course.” “That is a shame” Rosmerta agreed. Harry noticed that Ginny had stilled beside him. “I think I’ll be going home now” she said, her voice gravelly. The rest of the group, still in the midst of a debate on quidditch captains, booed. “It’s alright,” Harry said, “I’ll take you back, I’m feeling a bit tired myself.” Hermione shot Harry a worried look but he feigned a yawn and a smile.

They walked back in silence, but by the time they’d reached the castle Ginny began to cry. Harry rested his hand on her back but didn’t speak. “I hate this” Ginny said bitterly. “After everything we’ve been through, after everything we’ve lost – we shouldn’t have to still keep losing people.” She began to shake and Harry found himself wrapping her in a hug. “I know” he said, “it isn’t fair.” Ginny sniffed, “You must think I’m pathetic, crying like this. If you can hold it together, I should be able to.” Harry shook his head, “Ginny I’m not holding it together, not at all. You don’t know how many bad days I’ve had since the war - since everything. You aren’t pathetic, none of us are. The world’s just fucked up, and even with Voldemort gone it’s still fucked.” Ginny laughed wetly. “Is it bad that I’m a little relieved to hear that you have bad days too? I was beginning to think you weren’t human.” Harry laughed, “Unfortunately I’m still just as human as ever.” Ginny smiled, wiping away the remaining streaks on her face. “I hope you’re having some happy days, in between the bad ones Harry.” “I am” Harry said, thinking to the day before with a smile, “Some of them are pretty good actually.” Ginny gave a knowing look, “Anyone special helping to make those days brighter?” and Harry chuckled, “Maybe, everything’s pretty new, but I think that there might be.” Ginny smiled, “Good, you deserve to be happy Harry. It’s nice seeing you smile again.” The two began to shiver as a gust of wind hit them and Ginny gestured at the door, “Go on in, I’ll be all right. I’m going to find Neville at the greenhouses before he falls asleep out there.” Harry walked in, smiling as he made his way towards Gryffindor tower.

…

The front page of the Prophet the following morning was a photo of Harry and Ginny marching back to the castle together. “Harry Potter spotted on midnight stroll with his ex: are the two back together again?” The headline read. Harry rolled his eyes before shooting Ginny and Neville an apologetic look from across the table. “Sorry about this rubbish” he said. Neville smiled awkwardly “Don’t worry about it.” “Yeah,” Ginny added, “At least they got a great photo of my ass.” Harry laughed. He glanced across the great hall to look at Malfoy, but he was staring fixedly at his breakfast and did not return Harry’s stare. By the time breakfast had ended Malfoy had disappeared, and to Harry’s disappointment he did not leave the Slytherin common rooms for the rest of the day. He kept slipping off just as Harry arrived wherever he was the following day. It seemed as though Malfoy was avoiding him again, and Harry began to wonder if he had horribly misread the situation in the greenhouse. His fears were confirmed when Malfoy approached Harry before his next mind healer session and said, “I’ve asked McGonagall if you can attend on your own now and she’s agreed.” “What’s this about?” Harry asked, desperately. “You seem happy enough these days” Malfoy sneered, “and the only reason I agreed to escort you was for me to repay my life debt to you. I don’t see you making any plans to jump off of towers these days, so I can assume we’re now even.” Harry stilled, and in a low voice he asked, “So that’s what this was all about for you – repaying a debt?” Malfoy gave Harry an icy look, “I don’t see what else it would be about.”

Harry was still in a bitter mood when he’d returned from his appointment, despite an hours worth of magically guided meditation and relaxing teas. It was in this state that Ginny came across him again, hurling rocks at the whomping willow. “Everything alright Harry?” She inquired, stepping back as the Willow swung a branch in their direction. “Fine” Harry said tersely. “Hmm” Ginny said, “Yes I was just thinking that you looked like the picture of happiness.” Harry sagged. “It’s nothing. Just, well, what I said to you before about seeing someone.” Ginny waited as Harry tossed another rock. “Yes?” She said finally. “Nothing, just - I was wrong, they aren’t, well they aren’t interested after all.” “I see” Ginny said, “and did the tree have anything to do with it? Or just an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire?” Harry scowled.

Several days had gone by and Harry’s mood continued to sour. He found that this was a different kind of hurt than the one that usually lived within him, but it spoke to the same part of him that felt unlovable and wrong.

Draco continued to ignore Harry, apart from giving him cold looks in class. Draco felt sick with embarrassment every time he looked at him. He’d almost convinced himself that there was something between him and Harry, that the way Harry had looked at him had meant something. But now, seeing him and the Weasley girl in the paper, and the way they laughed together at the Gryffindor table, it was clear. Draco was nothing to Harry but a pet project – someone new he could save, or change with his heroics. He’d thought that Harry was done with her – after all, wasn’t she meant to be dating Longbottom? But clearly they’d reconciled. And that was fine, perfectly fine, Draco told himself, but he couldn’t bear to play along as Harry’s friend. Not anymore. He’d spent years both hating Harry and desperately trying to seek his attention. Years fantasizing about making Harry squirm and beg for his friendship once the dark lord came into power and righted things, and then a year desperately wishing that Harry would survive the dark lord, that somehow Harry could save him, save all of them. Harry had permeated all of his thoughts and his fantasies for far too long, and now he’d gone and misread everything. Draco was miserable.

Draco had buried himself in his studies in the library when he spotted the Weasley girl again, breaking away from a long kiss with Longbottom. The two were pressed up against a bookshelf, Ginny staring at Longbottom with a lustful look, before finally turning on her heels to search for a book, while Longbottom grinned sloppily and sought out a table.

Draco finally snapped. He stood up, stalking after Ginny as she wandered on her own into the shelves. “Oh you miserable tramp!” Draco hissed. “I beg your pardon?” Ginny said, turning sharply towards Draco. “It’s not enough to date Potter again, you’ve got to carry on with Longbottom on the side?” Draco spat. “I knew you were a fame chasing little slag, but to trick Potter like that -” Draco found his voice raising and tried, desperately, to reel himself in. Ginny had raised her wand at him by this point and her face was flushed with anger. “Harry and I broke up ages ago, not that it’s any of your business, Malfoy” she spat venomously. Draco scoffed, “I’ve seen the way you two are together, you don’t look so broken up to me! And apparently not to the Prophet either!” Ginny raised her eyebrows, a look of comprehension dawning on her face, “Oh you idiot Malfoy, you absolute idiot. I was upset and Harry walked me home, like friends do, which you’d know if you had any of your own. You can ask Harry yourself, there hasn’t been anything between us in years. I’m not the one he’s interested in you know.” At this Malfoy’s face paled considerably. Were they really just friends? But that meant! “Oh no” Draco said softly, “Oh no I’ve ruined everything.” And with that he took off running, leaving a furious looking Ginny in the aisles.

Malfoy had scoured the castle for the rest of the evening, but he hadn’t seen Potter anywhere, and he could only assume that he was hiding out in Gryffindor tower. The next morning he woke as early as possible, waiting in an alcove halfway between the tower and the great hall. To his luck Harry had decided not to skip breakfast that morning, and was making his way down the hall, looking rather bleary eyed, with Ron and Hermione in tow. Malfoy stepped out of the alcove, suddenly embarrassed. “Um, Potter, do you mind if I speak to you?” He asked, looking at the floor. Harry made to shake his head but Ron pushed him forward, “Oh go on, we’ll save you some breakfast.” Malfoy waited until they’d left before leading Harry towards the alcove. “Look what’s this about Malfoy?” Harry said bitterly. “I wanted to apologize” Malfoy said, his voice hoarse with discomfort. “The thing is, I thought the other day I’d misunderstood something, but then it turned out I’d entirely misunderstood something else. And, well, I hope I’m not misunderstanding this.”

Harry looked at him quizzically, “Stop speaking in riddles, what are you talking about?” Malfoy hedged, unable to reply. “What did you misunderstand?” Harry demanded again. Malfoy took a deep breath, steeling himself, before taking a step forward and grabbing Harry’s hand, stroking it as Harry had in the greenhouse. Harry froze in place. Malfoy then, with a trembling hand, swept a lock of Harry’s hair back, gently tucking it behind his ear. Harry’s heartbeat thrummed at his chest, while his limbs stayed locked in place. “I was afraid I’d misunderstood this” Malfoy whispered, before leaning in to kiss Harry softly on the lips. Harry was too stunned to move at first, and Malfoy stopped suddenly, jerking back, “Oh no, oh I’m an idiot” he began, but at this Harry found his limbs began to work again and he reached forward and cupped Malfoy’s face with one hand, the other snaking itself around his back, pulling him closer. Harry leaned in to kiss Malfoy. Malfoy gave a soft moan of surprise and Harry deepened the kiss, pushing Malfoy so that his back was up against the stone wall and running his hands roughly through his hair as he did. It was several long minutes later that they stopped, breathing hard. Malfoy still had his hand on Harry’s chest, and he looked at him shyly, “Well, I guess you’d better head to breakfast before your friends send out a search party.” Harry, who could not stop grinning, nodded, “I guess so.” He kissed Draco again, gently this time, before pulling away. “See you later Draco.”

When Harry finally sat down to breakfast he was grinning ear to ear. “Did Malfoy give you some sort of cheering potion?” Ron asked, eyes narrowed. Harry laughed before hurrying to say, “No, just, er, good news about the weather.” Ginny, seated at Harry’s other side, nudged him and whispered, “I take it you’ve had a change of luck with that person we were talking about?” Harry blushed, feeling caught out, and nodded. Ginny gave a sly grin, “Well I approve, it’s nice to see you happy. Even if they are a bit of a histrionic git.” Harry chucked, “Thanks Gin.”

Chapter Text

In potions class that day Harry could hardly stop from staring at Malfoy. Every time their finger tips brushed while passing ingredients Harry would break into a lopsided grin and Malfoy would blush a deep shade of red. “Stop looking at me and start paying attention to your potion before you blow yourself up you dolt,” Malfoy whispered under his breath. Harry whipped his eyes back to his work, noticing that his potion was indeed bubbling ominously. “Right, sorry” he said. Still Harry couldn’t help but find his eyes wandering again, looking at Draco chopping his heartroot, his hands slightly trembling. Draco’s fingers were so long and graceful, and much softer than Harry’s. It had only been a few hours earlier that those same fingers had run through Harry’s hair, had traced their way along his chest and over his jaw. Draco Malfoy’s hand. Harry could hardly believe it. “Potter I swear to Merlin if you let your potion explode and it ruins mine I will hex you until you can’t remember your own name, do I make myself clear?” Draco hissed through clenched teeth. Harry grinned again, “right, right, sorry” and began stirring.

Harry had practically raced to detention that afternoon, and then, finding himself there alone, paced the length of the greenhouse several times while watching Malfoy on the marauder’s map, slowly making his way along to join him. Harry had been eager to get Malfoy alone again, but now that the prospect of time alone was quickly becoming a reality he found himself feeling suddenly awkward and wrong footed. There were a dozen things he wanted to ask Malfoy. What had the kiss meant to him? Was this another life debt thing or had he wanted to do it? Why had he stopped talking to Harry in the first place, only to kiss him? Did he want to kiss again? Was Harry supposed to ask him out on a proper date? What should he tell his friends, if anything at all?

“Hey!” he said stupidly when Malfoy had arrived, before coloring up immediately. Malfoy blushed and looked around the greenhouse. “Sprout is in greenhouse three, so just us here” Harry added, his blush deepening. “Oh” said Malfoy, still standing at the entrance, seemingly unable to move, and, if possible, more unsure of himself than even Harry was. “She’s asked us to move on to weeding the moondew plants” Harry said, gesturing to the potted plants beside him. “I see” Draco nodded. Harry couldn’t take it any longer, and he strode across the greenhouse until they were nearly nose to nose.

“You kissed me” Harry said plainly. Draco looked rather panicked. “Um, yes” he confirmed. “Did you want to?” Harry asked. Draco flushed, “I, uh” but Harry interrupted, “or was this a life debt thing?” At this Draco’s eyes widened. “No” he said, and then, more sure of himself, “I wanted to.” “Good” said Harry, “Because I’d like it to happen again.”

There was very little weeding done that afternoon, and Harry returned to the castle before dinnertime with a fluttering feeling in his chest and several bite marks along his neck. They still hadn’t discussed what this meant to either of them, and Draco had quickly stepped away from Harry the moment they had caught sight of other students, but he had caught Harry’s eyes in the great hall that evening and given such a warm smile that Harry could hardly doubt that he wasn’t feeling much the same as he was.

…

November was quickly coming to a close, and Harry had found himself spending nearly all his free time with Malfoy or thinking about Malfoy. “You know it’s a bit creepy how you always seem to know where to find me” Malfoy had whinged, when an invisible hand had grabbed the front of his robes and dragged him off into an alcove after his runes class. “Some would even go so far as to call it stalking.”

 Harry grinned, pulling off his cloak. “How did you know it wasn’t one of the ghosts grabbing at you?”

“Ghosts don’t stomp around like you do when they’re trying to be sneaky. Tell me, is there any troll in your ancestry?”

“Shut up Malfoy”

“Make me Potter”

“Gladly”

...

Harry had yet to tell Ron or Hermione about the way things had changed with Draco. They knew that they were friends of course, that much was impossible to hide, and they had even taken to making small talk with him themselves on occasion. Still, Malfoy had made no move to alert the public of their relationship, and Harry, guessing that his pureblood upbringings were at the root of it, followed suit.

Harry’s guesses were confirmed the first week of December, following a mindhealing session. He and Malfoy were tucked into the corner of a coffee shop, seated on a lumpy yellow couch, and Harry watched as Malfoy’s spoon stirred his cappuccino slowly, of its own volition. “Not supposed to practice magic in front of muggles” Harry said. Malfoy looked up confused. “Oh, right” he said, letting the spoon stop with a clatter. “Is everything alright?” Harry asked. Malfoy shrugged, his face shuttered. “It’s me, you know, you can save the ‘everything’s just fine’ act for the rest of the world” Harry added. Malfoy let out a deep sigh that he seemed to have been holding in for quite a while. “Sorry” he said, “it’s just, well my father is being released this weekend.” “Oh” said Harry, “it’s been six months already?” Malfoy nodded. “I know I should be happy. I mean, I am, it’s good news for our family that his sentence is over, but” he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. Harry touched his hand. “You don’t need to explain. Things are complicated, and from what I’ve gathered he’s not the easiest person to live with, even if he is your father and you love him.” Malfoy swallowed heavily. “I know I won’t be seeing him until the holidays, but even so, knowing he’s back, it makes me worry. Not just for me, but for my mother. He was furious when he found out what had happened to her – not because of greyback, but because it means she’s turned. She’s no longer pure” he said angrily. Harry bit back the litany of things he wanted to say about Lucius Malfoy at that. Draco continued, “And this” he gestured at Harry’s hand, which was wrapped firmly around his own, “If he knew, I’d be worse than dead to him.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. Lily and James had supported Sirius and Lupin when they were together, Hermione had gathered that much from Sirius’ journals – James had even taken Sirius in when his parents had kicked him out. He was sure that his parents would be happy for him to have found someone – witch or wizard, or even muggle for that matter. The Dursley’s on the other hand would have treated it much the same as they had when Harry had been told he was a wizard – with horror and disgust. Hate exists everywhere, Harry reasoned, but it’s a lot harder to stomach when it comes from the people that are meant to love you the most. He took Malfoy’s other hand in his, intertwining their fingers, and said nothing, holding them like that for a long time.  

…

Mindhealing sessions had become both more challenging and more effective. Healer Pomfrey had felt that Harry was ready to tackle some of his more difficult memories. He had learned enough grounding exercises and promised to pull back when things became too much for him to bear. They began to explore the loss of Sirius, Dumbledore, the fear Harry had felt on the run all last year, and the chaos of the battle at Hogwarts. “Can’t I just take something to make all of this stop hurting?” Harry had asked after one session, tears blurring his vision. “We cannot get rid of pain, only the suffering that we have attached to our pain” she had said in response.

Harry was working on a charms essay by the fire one evening, gritting his teeth to come up with another six inches of parchment’s worth of explanation on the mechanics of turning a cement bed into a garden, when it occurred to him suddenly that he no longer wanted to die. Not that he was happy to write the essay of course, that could go toss itself in the river for all he cared, but he’d begun to feel happy again. Between the mindhealing sessions, the warmth from Ron and Hermione, reconnecting with his friends, and whatever it was that he had with Malfoy - things were starting to improve for Harry. True he still felt deep anguish at the thought of all those he had lost, he still woke up from nightmares most nights, but somewhere along the way he had started to heal. He’d begun reaching out to those that he loved – he’d sent letters to Molly, muggle plugs and wiring to Arthur, invited Andromeda and Teddy to come by to visit over Christmas holidays, and owled a long letter to George (which, in return, had merited a howler with a supremely loud fart and nothing else), and had stopped in when he could to see Hagrid and Grawp, even joining along with Luna on some of her hunts through the forbidden forest. With all that he had lost there was still so much that he had left.

…

During the Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas Harry had finally persuaded Draco to go on a proper date with him. Harry had convinced Ron to sneak him some of the Polyjuice potion he’d brewed for his potions midterm under the guise of not wanting the Daily Prophet to spoil his Christmas shopping, and he’d snuck some hairs from unsuspecting muggles at his last mind healing session.

“Taking an illicit potion and turning into a muggle? I cant decide if you want me to end up in Azkaban or the madhouse” Draco had scoffed.

“Please” Harry laughed, “you’re the last one to talk about illegal potions, and besides, we both know you aren’t exactly anti muggle these days.”

“Fine, but you’re telling me the story of you and Granger brewing Polyjuice in second year if I do take some.”

“Deal” Harry smiled.

Draco had insisted on being taken to madame Puddifoots, much to Harry’s chagrin, and the two spent the afternoon there as two portly ginger women in their 60’s. “You could have at least found someone more attractive for us to turn into” Draco had complained, patting down his cloak, which had stretched to accommodate his new physique. Harry grinned, “Even as a middle aged woman you’re somehow attractive to me.” The tips of Draco’s ears turned nearly as red as his borrowed hair as he muttered, “suppose this might be an improvement to looking at your real hair now that I think on it.”

The potion lasted right up until they had paid the bill, when Draco, seized by panic, had grabbed Harry’s arm. “You’re turning back! Quick we need to get to the castle!” Harry hurried along, but it was no use, already he could see Draco’s hair turning from red to blonde, his nose shrinking and his limbs stretching out. “Follow me” he urged, and Draco gave chase.

The two jogged on in the snow and before Harry knew it they’d wound up in front of the shrieking shack. “You know this place is horribly haunted” Draco sniffed. Harry laughed, “the only person to haunt this was Professor Lupin and my dad back when they were in school, it’s actually a bit cozy inside.” Draco shook his head, “Of course you’ve been inside the shrieking shack you maniac.” Harry looked around, and, seeing that they were alone, wrapped his arms around Draco. “I could give you a tour, you know.” Draco smiled, “Sure, touring the shrieking shack seems on par with the full Potter experience.” He paused, adding shyly, “It’s nice seeing your real face again.”  Harry leaned in to kiss him in answer.

The Shrieking shack was smaller than Harry had remembered it. Malfoy sat perched on the edge of the musty twin bed in the corner, as though afraid to touch anything that might dirty his robes, while Harry lay sprawled out on it, one hand absentmindedly mussing up his hair. “You know, this place was actually built for Lupin to hide out in when he turned on the full moon” Harry said. “Dumbledore set it up for him so that he could come to Hogwarts. Apparently my dad, Sirius, and Pettigrew learned how to become animagi so they could spend time with him while he was turned.” Malfoy looked thoughtful at this. “I used to think it was outrageous of Dumbledore, letting a werewolf come teach at Hogwarts, but after my mother…well, I guess I see things differently now.” Harry nodded. “What does she do when the moon comes, your mother?” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You really don’t pay attention in any of our classes do you?” he asked, before adding in a tense voice, “She goes to the ministry of course. That’s the policy. All registered werewolves are supposed to be placed under strict ministry supervision when they turn, she has to go in each month to get chained up a full 24 hours before the full moon and isn’t released until 24 hours after the moon has passed.” Harry shook his head, “But that’s barbaric! Why couldn’t she just take wolfsbane and stay home?” Draco looked down, and said in a tight voice, “My father helped to pass that legislation, a few years ago, after Professor Lupin was found out actually. Ironic, isn’t it? Mother won’t even be home for Christmas day this year – it falls on the full moon. I suppose you think we deserve it though.” Harry was stunned. The Malfoy that he once knew may have deserved it – to suffer the consequences of his own prejudice – but Harry couldn’t reconcile the Malfoy he was getting to know with the same boy that had parroted his father’s narrow minded beliefs. The mindless violence Voldemort had wrought had long shattered any illusions of superiority Malfoy may once have had, and it was out of this cavern of ignorance and hate that the true Draco had shakily emerged, slowly building his own beliefs. Harry shook his head, “No one deserves to suffer, especially not you.” Harry pulled Draco towards him, Draco squawking about mussing up his robes, until he was laying down, head on Harry’s chest while Harry stroked his hair. They lay like that for a long time.

Chapter Text

Harry found that he was actually looking forward to Christmas holidays at the Burrow. The house was nearly bursting at the seams on Christmas eve – Neville had come for dinner with his grandmother, who was eyeing the hemline of Ginny’s dress with a stern look; George had brought Angelina and Lee and the three of them had immediately snuck off with Charlie and his boyfriend Michael to look at something in the attic that Harry was sure Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t approve of. Bill and Fleur were helping Molly in the kitchen, Fleur rolling her eyes as Celestina Warbeck blared from the radio, and Ron, Hermione, and the Grangers were out in the garden searching for gnomes. Kingsley and Arthur were lightheartedly debating a recent piece of legislation while Percy hovered, interjecting every few moments to say “I agree” and “excellent point Minister.” Harry, meanwhile, sat comfortably in a round squashy chair in the living room, eating treacle tart and listening to Luna and her father discuss her progress in locating a Nargle colony within the Hogwarts grounds.

 Dinner was a noisy affair. Even with the table bewitched to fit all of the guests there was still a great deal of knocking elbows and bumping into one another as dishes got passed around. As the meal was coming to a close Percy tapped on his wine glass several times to draw attention, which went largely unnoticed in the din of conversation. “Ahem” he said loudly, before finally standing to his feet. Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’d like to give a toast if I may” Percy said, and the clamor at the table diminished fractionally. “All of you quiet and let Percy speak!” Mrs. Weasley bellowed. Percy flushed but nodded a thanks to her and carried on. He made a show of waving his wand at all the glasses and topping off everyone’s wine before he spoke. “This Christmas is an unusual one” he began, “and one that many of us thought might never happen again. To be surrounded by those we love, to be safe and warm – it’s something that seemed impossible this time last year.” Fleur began to tear up, and Molly leaned heavily against Arthur. “We have so much to be thankful for this Christmas. But we also can’t forget those that should be at the table with us this year.” Arthur honked loudly into a handkerchief at this, dabbing his eyes. “This is the first Christmas my family will have without Fred, and although he is not at the table, I know he is still here" Percy gestured at his heart, “with all of us. I’d like to ask that we all raise a toast to him tonight.”

Everyone raised their glasses, “To Fred!” they chanted, and took a large drink. As Harry took a sip he felt himself suddenly braying like a donkey, and looking around he could see that he was not the only one. The table was a clamor of honking and neighing sounds. Neville’s grandmother in particular was making an angry series of moos, her face looking stunned as she did so. It took a full minute before the table settled down into a shocked silence. Percy gave a nervous smile, “I thought a prank was in order, in Fred’s honor” he said, gesturing to the spiked drinks before them as he glanced nervously between Fleur and Mrs. Longbottom, both of whom looked livid. George, tears running down his face, rumbled with laughter, “Well done Percy, Fred would be right proud of you,” and soon the rest of the house began to laugh as well. Even Mrs. Longbottom gave a wry smile.

…

Harry was hungover the next morning when he awoke to Hermione rapping at the door. He rolled over in protest, covering his head with a pillow, as Ron snored theatrically. “Oh stop pretending to sleep the both of you! Yes YOU Ronald with the fake snores. If I have to help Mrs. Weasley with making breakfast then the two of you had better be helping me as well” she said shrilly. Harry groaned and batted off his pillow as Ron gave a sad, final snore.  

The kitchen was already bustling, with sausage frying in a pan and pancakes flipping themselves smartly. Mrs. Weasley shoved a stack of plates into Harry’s hands in greeting. “Set the table dear, and Ronald go pay that daily prophet owl at the window, it’s been tapping at the glass for the last half hour!” Harry had just begun to set the plates down when Ron could be heard shouting “HARRY what is this about you snogging Draco bloody MALFOY?” Harry stilled. “What?” He said, at the same time as George, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley. Ron thundered over to the table, tapping his wand at the front page of the daily prophet, his mouth comically hung in a wide O. Everyone grabbed for the paper, but Harry had got to it first. True enough, the front page was splashed with a photograph of Harry and Draco, kissing in front of the Shrieking Shack. Clearly they had not been as alone as Harry had thought. The headline jumped out in bold letters, “Savior of the Wizarding World secretly dating Death Eater: Has Potter been turned to the dark side or is he under the imperious curse?” Before Harry could catch a glimpse at the article the paper was ripped out of his hands by George, and quickly tugged out of those by Hermione and finally Mrs. Weasley herself. “Harry what is this all about?” She said, her face in shock.

A rap came at the door and peering out the window Harry could see a queue of reporters lined up on the lawn, clearly waiting to ask just the same thing. A sick heavy feeling hit Harry square in the chest – Draco’s father was home alone with him, and would have received the same paper. “I have to go” he said. “But Harry – wait!” cried Ron. Ignoring the clamor of voices around him Harry quickly turned on his heels and apparated.

He arrived in front of Malfoy manor with a loud crack, running up to the entryway. “Now wait just a moment” a pair of guards shouted. Frantically Harry pointed his wand at them, “either let me in or get out of my way!”

“Is that Harry Potter?”

“Now wait just a minute young man you can’t go in there, we’re on strict orders to check all guests-“

With a wave of his wand Harry bowled the guards over, pounding on the entrance door. It was answered by an ancient looking house elf, whose ears were flattened nervously to her head. “Where‘s Draco?” Harry shouted. The elf looked up and, recognizing Harry, pointed a shaking hand into the manor. “The dining room sir, hurry!” She trembled.

Harry hardly need have asked, for as soon as he’d entered the manor he could hear Lucius’s high, cold voice bellowing out “You vile, loathsome vermin- CRUCIO!”

Harry tore into the dining room, blasting the doors open. “Expelliarmus!” He shouted, knocking the wand out of Lucius’ hand. “YOU” Lucius shouted, making to approach. Harry knocked him back with a leg locking jinx and ran to Draco, who was crumpled on the floor, tear streaked, bleeding, and nearly unconscious. “Harry?” he said, looking up. “Don’t you dare!” Lucius commanded from the floor, but Harry had already scooped Draco up in his arms and was apparating away. They landed with a thud in front of Grimmauld place, and Draco fainted into Harry’s arms.

…

Draco fainting made it a bit of a chore for Harry to drag him in, but he managed to get him to the couch. Kreacher appeared instantaneously, a bottle of dittany already on hand. “I need to get him to St. Mungos” Harry said, still in a state of disbelief. “Mungos won’t be helping with this curse Master Potter - there’s nothing we can do but wait and see” Kreacher said morosely. How long had Lucius crucioed him, Harry wondered, trembling. Would Draco turn mad like Nevillle’s parents had? Would he develop a twitch like Sirius had, from his own parents?

Harry lay on the couch, his arms wrapped possessively around Draco as he slept on, nestled onto Harry’s chest, his breathing labored. Kreacher sat solemnly by, as though guarding the two. It was late in the afternoon when a sharp knock came at the door. “Let us in Harry!” Hermione called. Harry sighed and gave a dull nod to Kreacher to let her in.

“So it’s true” Ron said when they’d come into the living room.

“What’s happened to him Harry?” Hermione asked, looking shocked at Malfoy’s ghostly pale face.

 “His father” Harry said flatly. Hermione gave a small gasp while Ron muttered, “I see Azkaban hasn’t improved his temperament.” Harry shook his head grimly.

An uncomfortable silence stretched out before them, before Ron, rubbing the back of his neck asked awkwardly, “So, erm…you’re gay with Malfoy?”

Hermione elbowed him sharply, hissing, “Ronald!”

“I’m just asking!”

“Oh shut up Ron! Harry, we support you and we love you”

“Even if it is with a git like Malfoy”

“Ronald!”

“Just saying, of all the blokes to go gay for”

“Ronald Weasley I swear to Merlin if you don’t shut up! We practiced this on the way over and -”

“Right, sorry, Harry we love you and we support you, even if you are dating a giant twat like, OW! Stop kicking my shin Hermione!”

Harry cut them off before they could continue and whispered “Both of you, stop! I don’t want to wake him until he’s ready. I appreciate the support, really, but right now isn’t the time.”

“What did Lucius do to him Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Crucioed him” Harry said, his voice shaking. Ron’s face went pale. “Will he be…?” he asked. Harry knew what he meant, it was the same question he was wondering himself. Would Malfoy be okay after this? “I don’t know” he said. “Oh Harry!” Hermione cried, and she sat down on the floor next to him and leaned against the couch. Ron joined her after a minute, and the three of them sat there quietly for a long time.

It was nearly growing dark when Kreacher brought out sandwiches and tea. “Your mum must be looking for you” Harry said, suddenly realizing that it was still Christmas day. Ron snorted, “if she’s not in Azkaban herself. Not a pretty sight seeing her take on all the reporters on the lawn with her frying pan. ‘Spect that’ll be tomorrow’s headline in the Prophet.” Harry laughed, “Right, sorry about all that.” Ron shook his head, “Just glad you took some of the heat off me, I forgot to get about half the family a gift this year.”

Malfoy began to stir and with a pained expression opened his eyes. “Harry?” He said, looking confused. “Draco!” Harry breathed in relief. Malfoy made to sit up, but stopped, holding his head. “My father – the paper” he began, before noticing the wide eyed audience on the floor. “Granger? And Weasley?” Hermione coughed, “Ahem, we were just leaving! Send us an owl later Harry!” she said, grabbing Ron by the robes and dragging him out of the room. “Are you alright?” Harry asked, cupping Draco’s face in his hand. Draco nodded. “My head hurts, but I think I’m okay. You came for me?” “Always” Harry said fiercely. “Draco I will never let anyone hurt you again.” Draco looked away, his eyes misting.

Kreacher appeared, as if on cue, with a large pot of tea for Draco. “Young lord Malfoy” he said, bowing deeply. “Where are we Potter?” Draco asked, suddenly taking in his surroundings. “My place” Harry said, “Sirius left it to me. Apparently it used to belong to your great Aunt.” Draco smirked, “That explains why the décor is actually bearable, I half expected your home to be some sort of tribute to the Gryffindor common room.” Harry laughed. The two sat up in the couch to drink their tea, and after they’d finished and Draco had seemed well enough to stand, Kreacher urged them into the dining room, where he’d laid out a Christmas feast unlike any meal he’d ever prepared for Harry. Draco nattered on for half the meal, correcting Harry’s table manners and remarking on his atrocious appetite. “What?” he said finally, looking at Harry sharply. Harry, who had been beaming at Draco throughout his lecture on the correct use of soup spoons, smiled and said, “it’s just good to see that you’re okay.”

…

It wasn’t until they were walking up the stairs to go to bed that Harry realized that they’d be sleeping under the same roof. “Erm” he said, suddenly feeling shy, “I can set up one of the bedrooms for you, unless you’d prefer to..” he scratched his head, trailing off. Between living at Hogwarts and hiding their relationship from the public, they hadn’t had much time alone. True they spent a lot of their detention sessions snogging in the greenhouses, but there was always the concern that Sprout would pop her head in. The last thing Harry wanted was to make Draco uncomfortable after the ordeal he’d just gone through, but at the same time he felt odd about letting him out of his sight.  Draco rolled his eyes. “Obviously I’ll be sleeping in your room Potter” he said. Harry grinned.

They changed into pajamas, Harry stealing a shy glimpse at Draco’s back as he changed, before the two of them crawled into bed. Moonlight streamed in from the window, reflecting off of Draco’s pale hair. Harry could see a weary look on his face underneath the poised façade. He reached out tentatively, brushing his hands through Draco’s hair. “I’m sorry about your father” he said. “Me too” Draco replied. Harry kissed him gingerly, before wrapping his arms around him and holding him in a tight embrace. He could feel the beat of Draco’s heart, drumming against his chest, and it was this noise that carried him gently into sleep.

Chapter Text

Sunlight was streaming in the next morning when Harry awoke. “You snore” complained Draco from under the covers. “Rubbish” said Harry, “I sleep like an angel.” Draco snorted, “more like a troll.” Harry laughed, nuzzling his nose into Draco’s collarbone. “Well this troll has you in his lair now” he said. “Not sure I like the idea of this role play” Draco teased, running his hands through Harry’s curls. Harry ignored him, breathing in. “Mmm you always smell so nice.” “Well I should hope so, my cologne is very expensive.” Harry laughed, “You’re so wonderfully humble too.” Harry pulled the blanket over both of their heads and began to explore Draco’s body, kissing him gently along his head, his neck, and down his chest.

“Harry” Draco sighed, and at the sound of his name Harry’s body responded. He ran his hands along Draco’s torso, pausing at the hem of his pajama pants as he kissed along Draco’s neck and back up to his ear. “You have no idea how much I want you right now” he whispered. A soft moan escaped from Draco’s lips, and he whispered “God I love you” before suddenly opening his eyes in fear at what he’d just said. “I mean” he panicked, moving to sit up, “I didn’t mean to say that.” Harry, still straddling Draco, moved to face him, his nose inches from Draco’s own. “I love you too Draco” he said, staring at him brazenly. Draco squirmed, still moving to get up, “I should go” he started to say, but Harry pinned him down, holding his arms back above his head. “Don’t” he said. Draco squirmed some more “Potter! This – I –” he sputtered. “Oh shut up, don’t be weird about this. I know you feel the way I do” Harry said, kissing Draco roughly. Draco leaned into the kiss, and when Harry released his hands he scratched his nails down Harry’s back, arching into him. They kissed and moved against one another as though devouring each other, all nails and teeth, pulled hair and rough moans. Before they’d managed to do more than get their shirts off it was over; both of them breathing heavily, Harry still laying on top of Draco. “You’re so beautiful” he said, staring into the grey depths of Draco’s eyes. Draco ran his hands lazily through Harry’s curls again, “I can’t believe you’re really mine” he said.

…

Several hours later the two came down to the kitchen, lips sore and bodies covered in bite marks. Kreacher rolled his eyes and muttered something rude under his breath as he laid out a late breakfast for the two. Draco was wearing one of Harry’s oversized sweaters -knitted by Molly – and was absent mindedly tugging at the sleeves. As they ate Draco gazed at Harry curiously. “How did you know to come find me yesterday?” Harry looked at him softly. “It wasn’t hard to guess how your father might react. I needed to know you were okay.”

Draco pursed his lips, considering. “Still, you always seem to know when I’m in trouble, or to know what I’m up to. Sixth year you were the first person to realize I was marked, even before my friends did.” Harry considered. “I guess I’ve always been very…aware of you. ‘Course I used to think it was a ‘keep your enemies closer’ type of thing but, I think some part of me was just interested in watching you.” Draco smiled at that, and Harry added, “I meant what I said upstairs. I didn’t know it for sure until last night, when I thought I might lose you, but I think I’ve felt that way for a long time. Longer than I realized.” Draco looked thoughtfully at his toast. “I’ve felt that way for a long time too Harry” he said.

After they’d eaten Draco sighed, “I supposed I really do need to go home” and Harry sat up in alarm. “Absolutely not!” He said, “Draco your father nearly killed you yesterday!” Draco’s shoulders tensed at the memory. “Yes Potter but I need my things – my school robes, my wand, it’s all back at the manor.” Harry shook his head “I’ll buy you new ones, you’re not going back there.” Draco looked at Harry sadly, “I have to Potter, my mother will be returning this evening. Can’t buy me a new one of those you know.” Kreacher cleared his throat from across the kitchen. “If I may suggest” he said, bowing his head as he turned towards Malfoy, “Kreacher may ask Master Malfoy’s house elf to gather his items and Kreacher may bring them here.” Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Yes Kreacher, excellent idea!” Malfoy’s lips thinned but he gave a quick nod, and before they could discuss the matter further Kreacher had disappeared from where he’d stood with a loud crack. “Potter” he said, “I still need to see my mother, I need to make sure she’s alright. Father will be very angry, it’s not safe for her to be there alone.” Harry shook his head. “Then she won’t be returning there. I‘ll go get her at the ministry now myself.” Draco rolled his eyes, “you can’t just go marching into the ministry and dragging her off with you” he began, but Harry was already on his feet, tugging on his trainers and as a last thought wrapping a scarf around his neck to cover the bite marks. “Potter!” Malfoy shouted, but Harry only said, “don’t go anywhere!” before he turned on his heels and disappeared with a crack himself.

It wasn’t until he’d reached the ministry that Harry realized he didn’t know which department he was even headed to, or that he’d left the house wearing his Chudley Cannons shirt on backwards. “I need the department that deals with werewolf regulations” he said to a stunned looking witch. The woman pointed at the elevator – “creature containment - basement level” she said, eyes bulging. Already a whisper of “is that Harry Potter” had begun to spring up in the ministry atrium, and Harry, deciding he’d better move along quickly, hurried towards the closest set of elevator doors.

He nearly got lost along the basement level, and it was several left turns before he found himself in the right place. An aging wizard with a rather pinched face sat stooped over a pile of paperwork on his desk  as Harry entered the office.  “I need to see Narcissa Malfoy” he said. “She’s not to be released until 8 this evening I’m afraid,” said the wizard without looking up. “Well you’ll need to make an exception,” Harry said. He hated to pull the savior card but even more than that he was afraid to turn up at grimmauld place empty handed, or worse - to find that Draco had left while he waited hours for Narcissa to be released. “No can do” the Wizard said, glancing up from his paperwork before doing a double take. “Oh! Mr. Potter! Yes, erm, yes let me see I think we can make an exception this time!” Harry grinned, “Thank you, I owe you one.” “Oh no it’s nothing at all, happy to help sir!” said the wizard.

Harry was led down a series of corridors until he was sat in front of a white door, marked “werewolf number 0017.” With a few taps of his wand the wizard unlocked the door and Harry was faced with Mrs. Malfoy, sat haughtily on a bench, one leg chained up. “Erm, do you mind if you undo that as well?” Harry said, and the man quickly obliged. “Right, thanks, I just need a minute alone with her.”  Narcissa was looking curiously at Harry. “Mr. Potter” she said, “is everything alright?” Harry nodded, realizing suddenly that she obviously hadn’t read the paper yet. He felt suddenly very unsure of how to proceed. “Well” he said, avoiding  Narcissa’s piercing gaze, “erm, so as it happens I’ve been, erm, well I’ve been dating your son.” Narcissa’s eyes widened. “It’s become a bit of, er, public news, unfortunately, and your husband wasn’t too thrilled.” Narcissa’s face went through several stages, from shock to disbelief to fear as Harry spoke. “Draco” she said, “is he alright?” Harry nodded. “He’s fine, he’s staying with me. I don’t plan on letting him go back to the manor, but he’s worried about you.” Narcissa gave Harry a curious look. “You care about him?” “Yes” Harry said simply, “I love him.” Narcissa’s face softened. “Oh” she said. Harry carried on, “If you aren’t planning to hurt him, for dating me, I’d like to take you back with me.” Narcissa’s nostrils flared. “I would never hurt Draco.” Harry shook his head, “I know you would do anything for him, I’ve seen that. But I also know how pureblood families feel about breaking from tradition.” Narcissa jutted out her chin angrily, “I’ve known that Draco was gay since he was a little boy. I don’t care about that, Mr.Potter. He is my son, and he is everything to me.” Harry let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. He stepped towards Narcissa and offered her his hand. “Let’s go see him then.”

Leaving the Ministry proved to be more of a challenge. The helpful werewolf regulation wizard nervously hopped behind Harry. “Mr. Potter,” he quavered, “er it’s against policy to let her kind leave early.” Harry walked on “the full moon is over, and the policy is rubbish anyhow” he said brusquely. “But Mr. Potter sir” the man trilled, following them out into the corridor. “Take it up with Kingsley” Harry said, “He’s been planning to change that policy soon enough anyway, I’ve asked him myself just the other night.” The atrium was filled with onlookers, and Kingsley himself was there, eyeing Harry and Narcissa with raised brows, but he made no move to stop them. Outside the ministry at the apparition point a flock of reporters huddled round, cameras raised. “Mr. Potter is it true that the Malfoy family has been feeding you love potions?” “How long have you known you were gay Mr.Potter?” "Are you bisexual? Any witches still stand a chance?" “Is it true you had an affair with Albus Dumbledore?” “Is it true you’ve been marked a death eater?” Harry ignored them all, and, grabbing Narcissa’s hand, apparated back to the front door of Grimmauld place.

“Aunt Walburga’s home?” Narcissa said in shock as Harry opened the door for them. It was to both of their surprise that Andromeda met them in the entry way, Teddy clenched tightly in her arms as she gave Harry a funny look. “Oh no” Harry said, “Andromeda I forgot to owl you.” “Yes I can see you forgot about our plans for today” she said, staring past Harry to her sister. “My nephew just let me in.” “Oh” Harry said dumbly. Malfoy gave Harry a panicked look from down the other end of the hall. In a high voice Harry heard himself saying, “Right, well, let’s all come inside and have some tea, shall we?”

It was the most awkward tea of Harry’s life. Kreacher had thankfully returned before Harry had and so Malfoy was at least no longer wearing pajamas or a sweater with an H knitted into it, but he was still sporting several love marks that he hadn’t had the chance to hide. Teddy squirmed in Andromedas arms as she carried him into the dining room, and managed to latch on to Kreacher. He screamed every time they tried to pry his little hands off the house elf and refused to settle down until Kreacher held him - which he did at arms length with an affronted look. When they’d all been seated Harry said, “So, I guess introductions aren’t necessary seeing as you’re all related” which prompted several angry glares in his direction. There was a tense silence before Harry tried again, “Seems like the cannons have a good chance of landing the cup this year,” and it was a mark of how uncomfortable they all were that this was met with nods rather than frosty glares. Harry was saved thankfully by Ron’s voice bellowing from the grate in the living room. “Fire call! Better get that, it sounds important!” he said, tripping over his feet as he stood up. “I’ll go with you” Malfoy said tersely, the two dashing out of the room.

“If you’re trying to stay out of the papers storming the ministry might not be the best way to go about it Mate” Ron said in greeting, adding, “Oi! Malfoy, what’s that on your neck?” Malfoy shot his hand to his neck, face blooming with embarrassment, “I’m just going to run to the restroom for a moment” he said, dashing off. Harry leaned close to the grate and whispered to Ron about the situation in the next room. Ron, in turn, informed him of the series of howlers that had barraged the burrow in search of Harry, and George’s ill advised attempt to blow them up. “Still can’t hear a thing” Ron said, “He keeps tromping around the house shouting at full volume, Ginny only just shut him up with a silencing spell.” Harry bit back a grin. He stayed there for a long time, asking about each member of the household, until he could no longer put off returning to tea. Malfoy had slunk back from fixing his neck, and he and Harry set off to the dining room. When they entered the room both sisters had red rimmed eyes and were smiling at one another fondly. Andromeda’s hand rested on Narcissa’s injured arm and Narcissa was petting Teddy, who was still firmly in Kreacher’s arms. Harry and Malfoy gave one another bewildered stares. “So” said Andromeda, patting the chair next to her, “Come tell me all about yourself Draco, we’ve a lot of years to catch up on.”

…

The evening was tense, with so many conversational minefields to avoid, but it was not altogether unpleasant. Andromeda and Narcissa were given a tour of the house by a beleaguered Kreacher, who carted Teddy around heavily. “Oh the tapestry’s still there!” “And there’s that cursed cabinet! Do you remember when Reggie locked us in there?” “How could I forget, I’ve still got the scar on my elbow to show for it!” The night ended with promises for Andromeda to return soon to visit Harry.

Harry insisted that Narcissa stay, offering her the master suite. Kreacher looked teary eyed with joy at the prospect of getting to make up the bed for her, and Narcissa hugged Draco tightly before she went, calling him “my darling boy.”

Harry could see the worry on Draco’s face as the door closed behind her. “Will she be alright?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded, “things have been difficulty between them for a long time, she’ll be alright.”

Harry shook his head. “Has he always been like this, your father?”

“Not exactly. Things were…more tense, when the dark lord lived with us, but ever since Azkaban, he’s been…” Draco trailed off.

“Angry?” Harry offered.

“Unstable.”

“She’s welcome to stay here as long as she likes, you know?”

“What, are you going to move my whole family in?” Malfoy scoffed.

“If that’s what it takes” Harry said.

...

Narcissa was up early the next morning, sitting at the breakfast table. Harry had begun to notice  the tension and fear behind the haughty expression she wore like a mask. He grabbed an apple before leaving her with Draco, using the excuse that he needed to give Ron a call.

“Mums going to have your head if you don’t come back at some point over the Holidays” Ron answered in greeting to Harry’s head poked through the grate. “Is that Harry?” He could hear George calling from somewhere in the Burrow. “I take it George has his hearing back” Harry said, adding “I’ll come by soon I promise, just trying to get things sorted out here first.” Ron snorted “more like just trying to get some alone time with Malfoy if those hickeys of his are any indication.” Harry laughed, “okay yeah, that too.” “Well you’ll want to keep your pants on this morning, I’m pretty sure Hermione’s on her way over any minute now to talk game plan.” “Game plan?” Harry asked. “You’ve got to do something - after that photo got out about half the Wizarding world thinks you’re under some kind of dark love spell, and the other half thinks you’ve gone evil.” Harry shrugged “let them think what they want” he said, but Ron shook his head, “Harry if you sit on your hands and say nothing then it’s only a matter of time before someone tries to take matters into their own hands, and Malfoy winds up hurt. I don’t mind that outcome so much myself but I imagine that you might.” Harry scowled. “Sorry Mate,” Ron said, “I know you hate the fame thing but you’ve got to come to terms with it at some point. People are going to be invested in your life whether you want them to be or not.”

True enough Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place before noon, just as Narcissa was heading up the staircase. The two gave one another curt nods in the entryway, their mutual dislike palpable. Draco made to head upstairs as well but Hermione stopped him short, “oh no you don’t! I need to speak with both of you” she said, before adding kindly “nice to see you’ve recovered Malfoy.”

Harry waved his wand and pulled up chairs for them all to sit at in the living room. “Ron tells me you’ve some sort of PR idea” Harry said. Draco’s eyebrows raised sharply although he didn’t speak. “Yes, Harry, I’ve arranged for a couple reporters to meet you this afternoon and”

“What?” Squawked Harry and Malfoy at the same time.

Hermione scowled, “you’ve gone about this all wrong I’m afraid, the public’s in an uproar about the two of you.” Harry frowned “we weren’t meant to be public in the first place.” Hermione rolled her eyes, “be that as it may the two of you are in the public eye now, whether you like it or not. We need to do damage control before things get out of hand. You’ll be giving interviews to the quibbler and the daily prophet, we need to reach a large audience. Now let’s go over some talking points before we meet with them and then please do me a favor and change out of that cannons shirt and into something presentable.”

“Hermione I’m not spending my day with reporters” Harry began, but he was cut off this time by Draco.

“She’s right” Draco said, “that shirt is an abomination, but she’s also right that we need to take control of the story, before we both wind up cursed or worse.”

Harry grit his teeth, but he listened, and the three of them spent the next hour reviewing a diagram of talking points that Hermione had brought over. Hermione came with them to the interview- in the back of a nearly empty muggle diner, (neutral ground she had called it), and she oversaw all the questions. “We’ll not be taking any questions on that at this time” she said, any time the two were asked about Harry’s emotional well being or Draco’s involvement in the war. By the end she’d thoroughly spun a narrative of two star crossed lovers on opposite sides of a war, and the reporters had snapped several smart photos of the two of them holding hands.

“Well” she said, brushing some lint off of her as she stood up, “that ought to do it for now. Harry I’ll be back at the Burrow if you need me.” Draco jumped to his feet. “Wait” he said. “Look, Granger, I know we haven’t always got on” Hermione snorted at this understatement of the facts “But” Draco said, face flushing, “I’m glad that I know you now. You’re not so bad.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “thank you Malfoy.”

“I’m sorry Granger. For everything. I don’t deserve all your help.”

“My help is for Harry” she said sharply, but then, softening, “but I appreciate the apology. If Harry says you’ve changed then I have to believe him, and that means that you deserve to be happy as well.”

Draco smiled.

…

Narcissa stayed several more days, fawning over Draco and even eyeing Harry rather kindly at times, before she announced that she had plans to visit to their vacation home in France. When they’d gone to bed that night Harry had pressed Draco on the subject. “Does this mean she’s leaving your father for good?” Malfoy shook his head. “They aren’t separating. I don’t think they ever will, even if my father killed me – the estate is too messy to just divide up between them and neither of them are willing to cut the family fortune in half” he said bitterly, “of course she says that things are fine and that she just needs a change of scenery. She’d prefer to pretend we’re all still one happy family.” Harry shook his head, “she’d choose you, if it came down to it. She chose you over Voldemort and all the death eaters. She loves you.”

The rest of winter break went by rather quickly. Harry returned to the Burrow a few more times, receiving a tearful hug from Mrs. Weasley, who had clearly read the article on Harry and Draco, and a lot of questions from George like, “Do you think you could convince Malfoy to pose for an advert for the shop? Only I reckon our new line of love potions would see like mad if we had him promoting them. ‘Bag yourself the golden boy of the wizarding world for only 2 galleons a pop’ – sounds catchy doesn’t it?”

Harry and Draco spent a lot of time curled up on the couch in Grimmauld place, occasionally venturing out into muggle London to meet Ron and Hermione for drinks. Draco and Ron still struggled to exchange more than a few words between one another, although he and Hermione had quickly become friends. Often the two of them would get deep into conversations on magical theory that neither Ron nor Harry could follow, and would both roll their eyes when asked to explain. “If I didn’t know he was gay I’d be a little worried about him stealing Hermione from me” Ron had joked, and privately Harry agreed.

The night before they were due to return to Hogwarts for start of term, Draco and Harry lay in bed. “It’s going to be weird going back to sleeping without you” Harry mused, “I’ve gotten so used to it.” Draco snorted, “Yes I don’t know what I’ll do without your snores lulling me to sleep” but he looked sad at the prospect.

Chapter Text

Even though he’d expected it, Harry was still uncomfortable with the amount of staring he and Draco received when they’d returned to Hogwarts. There was a great deal of pointing and whispering as they entered the great hall together, and Harry was immediately surrounded once he’d sat at the Gryffindor table. “Budge up and let him breathe or I’ll bat bogey you all – you too Seamus!” Ginny had said, sliding into the seat next to Harry. “Thanks” Harry said gratefully. Ginny smiled, “Of course, besides, I’ve had lots of time to practice my hexes on all the reporters that kept popping up on our lawn. Pretty sure I can send a bat bogey with my eyes shut at this point.” Harry laughed.

As the week wore on the stares hardly let up. “I’ve had two people try to curse me, another beg to find out where I’d bought my love potions and ask if I’d be willing to share you, and three others ask for autographs” Malfoy complained in potions class, adding, “If you weren’t such a good kisser I’d start to rethink this relationship.” Harry smirked, “So I’m a good kisser?” and Malfoy kicked his shin under the table, “Obviously you’re embarrassingly good at everything you do Potter. You’re lucky to be with someone as perfect as I am, anyone else would start to develop a complex.”

Harry was reaching his limit as well. He’d received a barrage of owls each day, some from interested wizards who sent rather lewd photos and notes with inquiries about a threesome, but many more from people offended that he’d chosen Draco. “He should be in prison, not your bedroom” one such letter had read, and Harry crumpled it angrily. “Maybe it’s time to take a break from the post for a bit” Hermione suggested, “hire someone to screen your mail before it comes, that sort of thing.” Harry nodded, shoving the pile of mail that was cluttering his breakfast tray aside.

Seamus scoffed from across the table, “Upset that your death eater isn’t being welcomed with open arms?” He sneered.

Harry looked up in surprise, “What’s your problem Seamus?”

“My problem?” said Seamus loudly, “Is that you’re sleeping with a death eater.”

Ron, who had been working his way through a large plate of sausage, looked up. “Oi Seamus, he’s not that bad these days. Lay off Harry.”

“Why should I? Did Malfoy ‘lay off’ when his family had Dean locked in their dungeons? Did he ‘lay off’ when he sent death eaters into Hogwarts?”

Dean made to quiet Seamus, muttering, “Stop, this isn’t your battle” but Seamus continued on, pointing a finger at Ron, “How can you stomach being friends with a traitor?”

“Fuck off Seamus” Ron said, “in case you’ve forgotten Harry is why Dean is alive today.”

"Because of Malfoy and his family nearly killing him!" Seamus shouted.

“Draco had no say in any of what happened to Dean and you know that as well as I do” Harry said angrily, “what was he supposed to do, go ask Voldemort nicely to let everyone go? You’re the one who doesn’t know what things were like, you weren’t out on the run like half of us last year. And things have changed. Draco’s changed. Maybe it’s time you grew up and changed a little yourself.”

“Looks like you’re the one who’s changed, what are you going to do next, go out and get a matching death eater tattoo with your boyfriend?” Seamus sneered.

Harry had punched him in the face before he’d even realized his hand was moving, and there was a great deal of scuffling at the table until he found himself being held back by Ron just as Dean held Seamus back. “Harry Potter my office IMEDIATELY!” McGonagall shouted, striding across the great hall quickly.  “Mr. Finnigan, you get that nose checked out by Madam Pomfrey and then head straight to my office as well when you’re done. I will NOT tolerate fighting at Hogwarts!”

…

Harry sat sullenly in McGonagall’s office while he waited for her. “Always had a nasty temper didn’t you Potter?” Snape sneered from his portrait. “Oh shut up!” Harry grumbled, adding sullenly "Professor." Dumbledore’s portrait smiled warmly at him from over his glasses, “Ahh young love brings with it a great deal of passion Severus, you must remember so yourself.” Harry looked up at him, “You’re not upset I’m dating Malfoy?” He asked. “Oh no,” Dumbledore beamed, “The two of you have always been drawn to one another, it was only a matter of time. And besides, enemies to lovers is always a great deal pleasanter than the opposite, I ought to know myself.” Harry gazed at him curiously while Snape muttered, “Grindelwald” in an annoyed tone. “You dated Grindelwald?” Harry asked, shocked. “I’m afraid so, though we both know how that story ended. I have a great deal of confidence that things will be very different for you and Mr. Malfoy though.”

Harry was interrupted by Professor McGonagall entering before he could ask any further questions. “Potter” she said angrily, “Please do not make me add on to your already extensive detention time by getting into fisticuffs with everyone that insults Draco Malfoy.” Harry hung his head, “Yes professor.” She sniffed angrily. “As it is I plan to dock you and Mr. Finnegan both 30 house points for fighting, and I ask that you learn to resolve your differences like adults.” Harry nodded. “I mean it” she continued, “Making more enemies for yourself will do nothing to endear Mr. Malfoy to the public. Learn to resolve your differences with your words.” Harry nodded in agreement and quickly hurried out before she reconsidered adding to his detention time.

 He met an irate looking Malfoy lingering by the stairwell. “Punching Finnigan in my honor are you?” Malfoy said irritability. “He got under my skin” Harry muttered. “Harry everyone gets under your skin. You don’t need to go around defending me all the time or trying to make people like me. I’ve spent the past seven years making enemies of all your friends, you can hardly expect us all to get along now that you’ve decided you like me.” Harry huffed in irritation. “You and Hermione get on, I don’t see why the rest of them can’t give you a chance.” Draco rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to be friends with the ‘rest of them’, I don’t need them to like me. Besides, Granger and I get on because she’s the most Slytherin of you lot.” Harry scoffed at this. “Hermione a Slytherin?” Malfoy smirked, “from the stories you’ve told me she certainly seems to be. Trapping skeeter in a jar, brewing illegal potions at the age of 12? Fairly cunning if you ask me.” Harry couldn’t think of an argument for that, so he scowled at Malfoy instead. “Just promise to stop going around punching everyone who insults me. I don’t need them to like me, it’s only you that I need” Malfoy said, his voice softening. Harry released some of the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders and nodded. “Fine, no more punching.”

…

Hagrid was also upset with Harry’s choice of partner. “The Malfoy boy? Harry if he’s blackmailing yeh or using’ dark magic -” Harry cut him off shortly, “it’s nothing like that Hagrid. He’s changed. He’s not – he hasn’t spouted any of that pureblood crap all year, he’s spent time around muggles with me and enjoyed it, he’s helped me out when I’ve needed it, and he sees me for who I actually am.” Hagrid gave Harry a pitying look. “I didn’t want to have to tell yer this but the rumor is that his father is in deep with greyback and his crew these days. Malfoy might be using’ yeh to lure yer to them.” Harry rolled his eyes. “He isn’t using me” he said emphatically, “Draco doesn’t speak with his father these days. Lucius doesn’t exactly approve of his son being gay, especially when me he’s dating.” Hagrid nodded but he didn’t look convinced. “Jus’ be careful with that family, that’s all I’m sayin’.”

Draco had screwed his face up in anger when Harry had asked him about it later. “It’s possible” he said tightly, “I would think given what Greyback’s done to Mother that father wouldn’t want anything to do with him, but then again father’s always prioritized power above family.” Harry gave a stunned look, “But what could he even gain? Greyback can’t have any power of his own that Lucius doesn’t.” Malfoy shook his head. “Father lost his power- he has his wealth, of course, but that only goes so far. He’s lost his connections in the ministry, in business, in the media - they’re all dried up now that he’s lost the war. The only influence he still has is with the death eaters that have gone to ground or kept out of Azkaban, and seeing as mother and I are considered traitors he’s bound to be back to groveling to earn their respect and prove that he isn't a traitor as well. Greyback is influential with them. I wouldn’t put it past father to try to curry his favor.” Malfoy knocked over the potions books he’d been studying and stood up. Harry put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’ll reach out to my house elf, maybe she knows something that could help the aurors catch him,” Draco said after a while, “though rotting in Azkaban is too good for Greyback after what he’s done.”

Harry was grateful when his mind healing sessions had finally resumed. An hour of magical meditation did a lot to calm his frayed nerves, and he and Malfoy still had another hour to spare to get lunch together. “Hermione’s already got me on a study schedule for NEWTS” Harry complained, “it’s only January!”

Malfoy shifted guiltily in his seat, “I might have helped her with that.”

Harry looked affronted, “you two are mental!” 

“Well your NEWTS are important- you’ll need top marks if you still plan to be an auror.”

Harry nodded glumly. “What about you – already on a study schedule yourself?”

Malfoy nodded. “I’m thinking of taking a double apprenticeship in potions and transfiguration so I’m primarily focusing on those NEWTS, though of course I’ll still need decent marks in the rest -charms, astronomy, defense, runes.”

“A double apprenticeship? Why? I thought you were just planning to run the Malfoy estate and all that.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I don’t think my father has any intention of letting me touch the estate. He hasn’t cut off my trust fund of course but I’ve been effectively cut out of everything else. Besides, I’ve been giving it some thought and I’d actually like to do something useful.”

“Useful? Like what?”

Malfoy colored, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I’ve been thinking of trying to get in to the study of experimental potions. After what happened to my mother, well there haven’t been any new developments in treating lycanthropy since wolfsbane came around. I thought I could study alternative cures for it, to keep people like her from being shut out of society. And I keep thinking about what you said about your father becoming an animagi to help professor Lupin. Maybe there’s something to that, to combining the two in some way. There’s been no funding for it, but that’s hardly a problem in my case, so why not me?” Draco looked up at Harry with a steely sense of determination. “Don’t tell me it’s stupid, I already know how it looks, me caring about this now, after all this time” he said.

Harry shook his head, “Draco I think it’s brilliant” he said, leaning in and kissing him.

…

Classes were more difficult than ever that semester, and it seemed that Hermione and Draco were not the only ones preparing for NEWTS. The professors laid on extra homework each night and several students had nervous breakdowns before February had even begun. Illegal study aids were making the rounds in full force and Madam Pomfrey was heard complaining that she was nearly out of her stores of calming draughts. Harry and Ron had even resorted to using the study planner Hermione had bought them for Christmas, a true mark of desperation.

Peeves spent much of his time lingering outside the library, knocking books out of exhausted students’ hands and dumping ink on any recently finished assignments. After one such incident Hermione had threatened to research how to perform an exorcism of his spirit and he’d soared off, singing a rude tune about a bushy haired banshee, but finally left the library door in peace.

Draco had continued to tutor Harry in potions, and spent much of their time in detention quizzing him on potions theory and which ingredients to add to various draughts. “I liked detention a lot better when we spent most of our time kissing,” Harry complained. “You’ll thank me when you pass your exams,” Draco tutted, “and besides I’m personally invested in this, I have a feeling you’re going to look quite sexy in your auror robes, but we’ll never know if you flunk out.”

…

February had arrived and with it some exciting news – Luna had discovered a small colony of Nargles in the forbidden forest. There’d been a feature article in the Quibbler and even a page devoted to her discovery in the Prophet, complete with a photo of a beaming Luna and a rather ugly looking creature with purple skin and spindly arms and legs. “Well” said Hermione in an alarmed voice, “I supposed I owe her an apology for doubting her all these years.”

Harry had been invited to a celebratory luncheon at the Hogs Head, and Luna had even invited Malfoy personally, rather than as Harry’s date. It was quite easy to spot their table when Harry had arrived, for Grawp was in there as well, sitting cross legged on the floor, his head stooped to keep from hitting the ceiling as Aberforth nervously carted him a tankard of lager to sip on. Students filtered in, Dean and Seamus, Ginny and Neville, Ron and Hermione, and a small handful of Ravenclaw 6^th years that had taken to Luna. “Oh good Harry and Draco you’ve come!” Luna said enthusiastically. “Grawp was just telling us the funniest joke about a centaur." Dean and Neville exchanged nervous looks that said they were pretty sure Grawp had been discussing eating a centaur if anything.

“It’s so nice to see you Draco” Luna said as they’d settled in at the table, “I’m glad to see you’ve finally made your escape too. You seem much happier these days.” Draco raised his eyebrows a bit and offered her a fumbling thanks before the conversation continued on. “A naturalist is coming out to help me study Nargle communication patterns for the journal of magical creatures, Rolf Scamander” Luna told them excitedly, “he’s offered me an apprenticeship as an exploratory naturalist when I’ve finished up the school year.” “Wow that’s great Luna” Ginny said, thumping her on the back, “always knew you’d be off doing something cool.” Grawp gave her a toothy smile of admiration.

The luncheon had stretched until nearly dinner time, and it was with a full stomach and a few too many butterbeers that Harry and Draco trudged home to Hogwarts. “Hang on” Ron called, “Mione’s fixing us a mobile heating charm for the walk.” The group tromped through the icy path that cut back to campus, Grawp lumbering up ahead of them with a giggling Ginny and Luna on either shoulder. “Wild that one” Neville said, gesturing at Ginny. “He’s a decent bloke, Grawp, but I still don’t think I’d let him carry me around.” Seamus snorted “Doubt he’d want to carry you either Neville.” Neville laughed, lobbing a snowball at Seamus as he said, “hey, I’m very portable!” There was some friendly scuffling before Seamus turned his attention to Draco. “I’m surprised you bothered to come, thought cowards like you wouldn’t want to be around a giant.” Malfoy’s face stilled, “I’m not a coward, Finnigan.” Harry turned angrily towards Seamus, saying “sod off.” This only seemed to embolden Seamus though, as he said, “See? Have to get your boyfriend to fight your battles for you, just like you had Crabbe and Goyle do all through school, and you-know-who during the war. Smells like cowardice to me.” Malfoy’s hands shook with anger but he composed himself, saying icily, “say what you’d like Finnigan, you’ve never been one to tell the difference between bravery and stupidity” before turning to Dean and saying, “I’m sorry for what my family did to you during the war, and I’m sorry I didn’t do anything to stop them. I really am. But your boyfriend is an idiot.” He then turned on his heels and marched off ahead of them. Harry raced after him, shooting an angry look at Seamus as he left.

“Draco wait up!” He called. Draco kept walking and as Harry finally managed to reach him he noticed that there were hot tear tracks streaming down his face. “Draco?” He said softly. Draco shook his head. “He’s right, I am a coward. I knew, once the dark lord was back I knew that his plans were sick. I knew that everything my father had ever taught me to be was a lie. But I still did nothing. I just stood back and let everything happen around me – to me. I let Crabbe die in the fire, I stood back while Greyback attacked my mother, and that day my father attacked me I did nothing to defend myself.” Harry pulled Draco towards him, kissing him softly on his forehead. “You aren’t a coward Draco,” he said. Draco shook him off and kept walking. “I mean it!” Harry said, walking quickly to keep up, “Seamus is an idiot, he doesn’t know what things were really like at the manor. Voldemort would have killed you before you could even finish the thought of letting anyone go. Don’t let Seamus get under your skin.” Draco scoffed. “Don’t bother Harry, we both know what I am.”

…

The next morning Luna’s news of discovering Nargles was quickly forgotten when a flurry of owls brought the day’s paper. “Mass disappearance of muggle primary school – suspected foul play” the headline read. Draco hurried over to Harry. “It’s werewolves” he said. Hermione grabbed the paper from Harry’s hands. “How can you be sure?” She asked Malfoy in alarm, “it happened during daylight and besides the full moon isn’t until tonight!” Malfoy’s voice was tense, “Our house elf wrote to me that father and his friends were out hunting, I’m positive it’s them.” “But what would they want muggle children for?” Hermione persisted, “everyone knows they can’t be turned, they’ll just be killed.” “A meal” Draco said solemnly, “once the full moon comes.” Harry looked up at Draco in alarm. “I think I know where they’ve taken them” Draco continued, “my family has a hunting lodge right outside of that town. I’ll bet my father is with them.” Hermione’s mouth hung open. “We need to tell McGonagall, have her reach out to Kingsley and the Aurors” Ron said. Hermione closed her mouth and nodded in agreement. “I know Greyback” Malfoy said solemnly, “there isn’t time to wait for aurors to go check it out, he’s probably already torturing them, getting himself worked up before he feasts.” Hermione looked sick. “They’re just children” she said with a sniff. “I’ll go find McGonagall now” Harry said, “and I’ll make sure the Aurors hurry if I have to go and tell Kingsley myself. What’s the address Draco?” “17 Surry lane” Draco said, “but it’s heavily warded.”

Harry was off before Draco could finish. He spent a long while outside McGonagall’s office, the stone gargoyle guarding her door refusing to grant him entry without a password. “You let me in before!” Harry shouted. “Only by the headmistress’s invitation. You’ve no such invite now.” Harry was still cursing when McGonagall exited. “Language Mr. Potter” she said sharply. “Sorry professor but it’s urgent – we need to go see Kingsley.”

Speaking with Kingsley proved to be another hurtle. “I can’t just send off a team of Aurors because Malfoy has a hunch” he’d said sternly through his side of the fire grate. “It’s not a hunch!” Harry had shouted. It had taken a great deal of back and forth before Kingsley agreed to send a team of Aurors, adding, “I trust your instincts Potter even if I don’t trust the Malfoy family, but our resources are stretched thin as they are. I’ll have it checked out though.”

Harry gritted his teeth, storming back to look for Draco. He’d searched the library and the potions classroom before he gave up and went back to Gryffindor tower for his map. Pulling it out he strained his eyes to find Draco’s dot, scanning the Slytherin dungeons and the classrooms Draco liked to sit in, before scouring the entire map in increasing panic. Draco was nowhere to be found on Hogwarts grounds. “He’s gone himself, hasn’t he?” Hermione said, coming in to find Harry.

Chapter Text

Harry was in a state of panic. He’d just found Malfoy, just fallen in love with him, and now he was about to lose him too, like he had everyone else. Harry’s ears were ringing and his vision blurred as he stared past the map. Hermione’s voice sounded far away, like she was speaking under water. “HARRY!” she said, shaking him. Harry looked up, suddenly realizing that she was there. “I need to go find him.”

“Obviously, but you’re not going alone. Ron’s gone to get some of the others. They’ll be here shortly and then we need to get off the grounds so we can apparate the rest of the way.”

“Right” said Harry weakly, “No apparating on Hogwarts grounds.”

“Yes, now get yourself together Harry, they’ll be here any minute.”

It was a hodgepodge group of students that Ron had managed to assemble, and Harry was struck that nearly all of the eighth years had volunteered, as well as Luna and Ginny. He raised his eyebrows noting that even Seamus and Terry Boot had come. “You’re all here to rescue Malfoy?” Harry said faintly. “I’m here for Greyback” Terry said tightly, “Lavender was my friend.”

Ernie McMillan puffed out his chest self importantly, saying, “I’m here to fight the dark forces and to do what’s right!” Ron rolled his eyes at that, muttering “wanker” under his breath.

“I feel bad about calling him a coward, alright, but I’m not going for him, I’m going for the children” Seamus said, looking at the ground.

“I’m here for Draco” sang Luna, “and the muggle children of course.”

“Yes, we’re all here for important reasons, now lets get going please before it gets dark!” Hermione ordered.

The group made their way to the whomping willow. It had already been spelled still, which Harry took in with a gulp. Draco really had gone then, hadn’t he. Clambering up the pathway to the shrieking shack was a lot harder with so many students behind them, but they made good time, and once the last of them had arrived – a red faced Ernie, breathing heavily – Hermione insisted that they all apparate in pairs. “Remember, 17 Surry Lane! Harry and I will go first!” she said.

…

They arrived with a crunch on the hardened February snow, just outside of a winding drive surrounded on either side by thickset trees. “Looks like Malfoy already took care of their lookout” Ron said as he landed, gesturing to several scuffmarks in the snow that led to a gruff looking man stunned and bound on the ground. “Let’s see if there’s a spot where he broke through the wards” Hermione said. “Terry, you’re in my runes class, you know what to look for, the rest of you stay back for a bit.” Hermione and Terry paced the entrance to the drive with their wands, waving them around and tapping at what appeared to be thin air, before Terry said, “Ah ha! Hermione come look at this!” The two of them crouched down at where Terry had pointed, discussing in hushed tones the best way to make it through. The sky was getting darker and Harry was growing impatient. “Hermione, we need to hurry!” He said. “Yes” said Hermione crossly, “but it’ll do you no good if you get blasted to bits trying to tromp your way in there.” Harry bit his tongue. Hermione and Terry inspected the area a while longer, before drawing strange figures in the air with their wands, which swirled and stretched until they’d made a glowing white door way. “I think that should do it” Hermione finally said. “You think?” said Ernie nervously. “Well, nothing to it but to try” said Ginny, stepping forward. “I’ll go first” Harry said quickly, and he stepped through the opening. There was a sharp intake of breath from the group, and then, when nothing had happened, the rest of them came rushing through, as though afraid the doorway might shut itself.

They crept down the drive as quietly as they could, keeping to the trees along the edge. It seemed to take ages to get there, the drive was long and winding, and Harry regretted that they hadn’t thought to bring broomsticks. Finally a looming house came into sight. Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes – of course Malfoy’s ‘hunting lodge’ was bigger than three of the Dursley’s house put together. Sticking to the shadows they crept around the back of the house. Ginny, spotting an open window on the ground floor, tugged on Harry’s sleeve and pointed. “We can get in through there” she whispered.  

Harry went first, and made his way quietly through the window and into the darkened room, which seemed to be a study. He nearly fainted when he saw a pair of beady eyes staring directly at him from across the room, which turned out to be the head of an enormous welsh green dragon, framed and mounted on the wall. “Poor thing” Hermione said softly when she’s spotted it. “Poor thing?” Ron said, his eyes boggling, “I’m a bit more worried about us at the moment – imagine Lucius would love to have our heads up there as well.” Harry held up a finger to shush them, he could hear voices coming from the next room. “The moon has nearly risen” Lucius’s cold voice could be heard saying, “I’ll head back to the manor at let you get on with things.” “And leave us to pick up after your mess?” Replied a greasy voice that Harry didn’t recognize. “Silence Rookwood” came Greyback’s gravelly rasp, “Lucius, you have provided well for us this evening, and the impromptu gift of your son serves as further proof of your allegiance.” “I have no son” Lucius spat, “Do what you wish with the lot of them.” Harry felt sick. Draco had been found then, of course. Whether he was still alive Harry did not know, though he had to hope that he was.

“Right” whispered Ron, “let’s stick to the plan.” They had decided to go in groups of three, one to cast protego which left the other two free to attack. Pulling their hoods up, Harry gave a curt nod. Seamus blasted the door off its hinges. It went flying into the next room, toppling Rookwood over with it. “Going so soon?” Harry said, aiming his wand at Lucius’s stunned face. “Potter” he spat, but before he could reach for his wand Harry had lifted him in the air, flinging him against the wall. He could see the flash of spells going off on either side of him, crackling in the air as the students behind him poured into the room. “Where’s Draco?” Harry snarled, smashing Lucius against the wall again. Lucius’ face contorted in rage as he grappled for his wand. “Expelliarmus” Harry said easily, grabbing Lucius’ wand in midair. “Answer me! WHERE IS DRACO?” But Lucius’ face had suddenly gone slack with horror. “Harry!” cried Hermione, and Harry turned to see Greyback, with a triumphant grin as his body snapped and contorted, long claws busting out of where his hands had once been. “Found Draco and the kids!” Seamus and Luna could be heard calling from down the hall. “Seal them in” Ginny shouted, “And hold the door!”

Lucius made a dash for his wand in the confusion, ripping it out of Harry’s pocket as he swung his elbow hard at his face. Harry could feel blood streaming down his nose and as he righted himself he looked up to see over a dozen bristling werewolves staring back at him. For a moment everyone was still, before Ernie said “fuck this” and took off towards the door in a run. The noise seemed to spur the werewolves into action and they lunged forward. Lucius made to run as well but Ginny had been too quick, hitting him with a leg locking jinx as he went to move. He toppled over, and seeing a wolf advancing on him he cried “not me – there, there’s your meal” blasting open the door to the next room, where Draco stood protectively in front of a group of children, crying and huddled behind him. Harry felt relief flooding him at the sight of Draco. Dean, Seamus and Luna flanked Draco, wands out as they surrounded the children. Neville pointed his wand at Lucius, just as he’d turned it towards Ginny, and bound him in rope before he could cast.

Harry was casting spells left and right at the wolves, but they seemed to bounce off their hides easily, doing little more than to sting them. The others were scrambling to cast as well, but the wolves continued in their advance. Ginny set fire to one that was neatly poised to take a bite out of her, and it howled in rage, retreating. Harry gave her a quick nod and called “Incendio!” at another, and the wolf, whining in pain, took off, crashing into a bookshelf and lighting it up as it did. Together Neville and Terry had managed to bind another wolf in rope, and it thrashed angrily on the ground. Still the wolves were pushing forward, and Greyback, with a ferocious snarl, advanced on Draco. It was at that moment that a loud crash was heard as a sleek white wolf, missing it’s front paw, leapt in through the window, snarling as it placed itself between Draco and Greyback. “Narcissa” Harry breathed, and the wolf snapped its jaws. Greyback lunged, biting into the flank of the wolf. The two were moving with such rapid speed that for a moment Harry was afraid to cast and risk hitting Narcissa. He circled them, and, seeing an opening, shouted “Sectumsempra!” Greyback howled in rage and pain, slumping to the ground.

A pair of terrified looking Aurors came tumbling in to the room, chased by a wolf. “Incendio!” Harry called at the wolf chasing them, and it stopped in its tracks, rolling on the ground to put out the fire clinging to its fur. One of the Aurors pointed his wand at another wolf and bound it in chains, and his partner quickly pointed to another to do the same.

Draco and Luna were still standing side to side, stretched out in front of the children. Flames licked the walls around them and Draco trembled as he spoke, “I need my wand to get the apparition wards down and get them out of here.” Luna accioed Draco’s wand, which came flying from the other room. Draco grabbed it out of the air and slashed it in front of them. “Grab the children and go!” he cried. Luna, holding on to as many children as she could, twisted with a loud crack and disapparated. Ginny and Neville came running forward to do the same, and behind them the others followed.

Lucius had managed to free himself from the ropes and advanced on Draco as the last of the children were taken away. “You disgusting, pathetic disappointment” he sneered in a low voice, pointing his wand at Draco. “You’re the disappointment” Draco said, “All my life I tried to gain your approval - tried to be exactly what you wanted. But you know what father? I’m nothing like you, and for that I’m proud.” Lucius tossed his head back with a sneer and raised his wand, “Av-” but before he could cast the white wolf had leapt up, sinking its teeth into his neck. The Aurors ran forward, casting chains at her, but she pulled her head back with a wrench, blood spattering her mane as she ran off. Harry cleared the space between him and Draco, and, grabbing his hand, apparated away.

They arrived at Grimmauld place with a jolt. Harry sent a quick patronus to Hermione, who replied immediately. “Everyone’s alive” said her Otter grimly, “Children are being taken to St. Mungos now.” Draco was trembling, “my mother” he stuttered. “She’ll be alright” Harry said, taking him in his arms, “she got away, she’ll be alright.” Draco continued to shake, tears streaking down his face. “And my father-” “I know, I’m sorry Draco” Harry whispered. Harry held Draco tightly, his voice choking as he spoke. “Don’t ever leave me again Draco. I need you. I love you.” Draco stifled a sob. “I love you too Harry.” They stayed there for a long time, Harry’s arms wrapped around Draco as he trembled with pain and horror.

...

They made their way back to Hogwarts as dawn was approaching, a grey light cast in the sky. Harry refused to let Draco go back to his room in Slytherin, and he moved slowly with him up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. The rest of the students were awake in the common room, looking grey themselves. “Kingsley reached out – the Aurors managed to arrest most of the werewolves. They’re all detained now. They got Greyback.” Said Hermione as they entered. Harry nodded numbly. “Lucius is still alive” said Seamus, looking at Draco. “He’ll be sent back to Azkaban, but, he’s alive.” Draco gulped. “Thank you Seamus” he said, his voice cracking. Seamus nodded, “About before -” he began. “No” said Draco. “You were right. I was a coward.” Seamus shook his head, “Not from where I’m standing you’re not.”

Chapter Text

By the following morning the rest of the castle had learned what had happened. When Harry and Draco entered the great hall for breakfast they were met with cheers, and even a whistle from Seamus. Harry had insisted that Draco sit with him, not wanting to leave his side again for even a moment. “I’m not going to be running off and performing heroics again any time soon” Draco had sniffed, “I’ll leave that to you from now on Potter,” but he’d sat with him anyway.

…

The rest of the school year passed in a haze. Draco had earned top marks in his NEWTS, scoring just below Hermione, and Harry had even managed to scrape by with an Acceptable in his potions NEWT, and several Outstanding marks in his other subjects. Luna left for her apprenticeship as soon as exams had wrapped up, and Grawp could be heard crying loudly as he waved her off at the gates.

Harry and Ron had the summer off before their Auror training would begin, but Draco and Hermione had entered their respective apprenticeships right away – Draco to train in potions and transfiguration, and Hermione to train as an unspeakable. Even with Ron prying and wheedling she refused to tell him what her apprenticeship work entailed.

While Narcissa had moved back into the Manor once Lucius was convicted, Harry refused to let Draco move back with her. “Your mum’s great but you’re still staying with me,” he said firmly, “it’s bad enough I have to let you out of my sight every day you head to the potions lab.” Draco had rolled his eyes, “I’m never going to get a good night’s sleep again am I? Not with your snoring,” but he’d agreed to move in to Grimmauld place. Harry had overheard Kreacher hiding in the kitchen storeroom weeping tears of joy when Draco moved in, and privately he wondered which of them was happier about Draco's move. 

Harry continued with his mindhealing sessions each week even after he’d graduated. Old wounds slowly started to close, and as the years went by Harry found that he was finally, truly happy.