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Harry looked at the howler, Its bright red envelope seemed to taunt him. In gold lettering, the gold lettering read:
To: Mr. H. Potter
From: The Ministry of Magic
Harry opened the letter with shaky hands.
“Dear Mr. H. Potter,” a woman started, voice sweet as honey, although firm and orderly, similar to Umbridge.
“It has come to our attention that you have not found your life partner yet. We send this letter to remind you of the fact that August 16th is in 3 days. We highly recommend finding a partner before then, otherwise, we will take care of it for you. If we do not receive a response by tomorrow morning, we will send a list of 3 options to marry.
Sincerely,
Margot Magpie,
Head of the Department of Marriage of the Ministry of Magic,”
Harry stared at the red envelope, trying to solve it. Why was the ministry so obsessed with people getting married anyway? It didn’t matter. Harry picked up the envelope to make sure there wasn’t anything else in it. There was. He grabbed the paper inside, carefully unfolding it. It was a document that reminded him of all the details attached to the marriage law. His mind raced at the thought of marriage. In neat font, the long paper read:
DECRET 1;
Any wizards, male or female, between the ages of 17 and 40 see themselves in the obligation to find a life partner before the AUGUST 16TH.
In a case where a sorcerer can’t find a match by himself before the 16th of AUGUST, the Ministry of Magic will provide a list of three possible matches that are still available with a pre-calculated level of compatibility. The sorcerer can ask for a meet-up with their match if they wish. But once the list is out, they have to pick quickly between those three or they will have their life taken care of by the Ministry. (decret 6) Any complaints after the attribution of the list will be ignored.
DECRET 2;
The new couple can be either straight or homosexual but any other mating is refused.
The Ministry of Magic would like to remember anyone that had any doubts that a couple is composed of two singular beings, no more or less will be accepted.
DECRET 3;
Every couple must get a certificate of approval by the new department of marriage of the Ministry of Magic. To get the certificate the two members of the couple have to pass a test that will determine their level of compatibility. If the results are inconclusive, both of the members have to find a different mate. Each wizard is limited to three different tries at passing the Test. If the third try fails, the wizard will be assigned a mate by the Ministry of Magic.
DECRET 4;
After the obtention of the certificate, the new couple has obligations. If they fail to accomplish any of them, both of the wizards will see themselves be severely punished and amended. Here is the official list of obligations;
- The couple must share a living area.
- The couple must formalize their arrangement by the act of intercourse within three months after obtaining the certificate of approval.
- The couple must stay faithful to each other.
DECRET 5;
After a year of commune living and shared life, the couple has to face a decision. Two options are offered to them. Whether they decided to pursue their relation with an official matrimonial arrangement or to put a stop to it. If the second option is chosen, the couple must explain their choice to their intervenant. If the intervenant allows them to break their relation, both wizards must agree to have their life taken care of by the Ministry. (decret 6)
DECRET 6;
If the Ministry of Magic take a wizard in charge, the wizard will have to:
-accomplish any tasks any member of the Ministry ask,
-live in the new living area of the Ministry, alone,
-File a request to get out.
He had never been interested in marrying anybody, nor sex and anything related to it. He didn’t feel romantic or sexual attraction, so how was he supposed to get married? He had never felt romantic or sexual feelings for anyone at all, in fact. Wasn’t romance all marriage was?
Harry was terrified, because he knew that if he didn’t marry, then he would be held prisoner by the Ministry of Magic, and there would be no getting out of it. He’d be all alone, and he didn’t want to be alone ever again. He’d have to get married and explain to them that he couldn’t love them like he was supposed to. Did this mean he was abnormal, inhumane? That he couldn’t feel what everyone else felt?
Harry ran up the stairs of Grimmauld Place and into Sirius’s bedroom, tears rolling down his face. He collapsed onto Sirius’s bed, clutching his godfather's pillow in his arms. He took in a deep breath, the smell of it. It still smelled like Sirius, surprisingly enough. Harry closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of the man he considered his father. God, he missed him.
—
Harry woke up the next morning to a tapping on the window. A small barn owl with a tiny slip of parchment tied around its leg nearly glared at Harry through the window. Harry hurried toward the window, opening it to the summer air. The owl swept in and landed on the nightstand, waiting for Harry. Harry walked over, collecting the letter from its leg.
He unrolled the parchment, reading the 3 names on the small paper:
‘Mentiliel Chortlint (Female; age 25)
Veronica Schmutz (Female; age 28)
Draco Malfoy (Male; age 18)’
Harry's eyes went wide, he figured Malfoy was already married, what with his precious pureblood family. Malfoy was surprisingly the best idea, as he was in his age group, and he knows more about Malfoy than the others. He would talk to Malfoy about how it would be purely platonic, and nothing more than that.
He was actually really looking forward to getting to know Malfoy, along with getting closer to him. He’d only ever disliked Malfoy, he had just hated him in the beginning, and his bad attitude towards him was so normal, he didn’t notice he had any attitude toward him.
He grabbed a piece of parchment paper, Harry sniffed the paper, it was new. Harry loved the smell of new parchment paper. He began to write to Malfoy.
Dear Malfoy,
I am writing to you in hopes that you understand. I really need to get married to you. Damn it, I sound desperate. Which I kind of am. I am writing to you because the other 2 options the ministry gave me are 5 years older than me. and I don’t know them well.
I apologize for everything that happened in past years. I won’t give any feeble excuses, because I know you wouldn’t believe them. I have always felt a sort of fondness for you, and you’ve always treated me as Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived or The Chosen One, which I can’t say about anyone else. Point is, I hope you don’t let the past years get in the way of your decision.
Once you get this letter, you must floo to ‘Number 12 Grimmauld Place’ immediately, so we can talk in person, and discuss.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter
Harry went upstairs to his room, walking to his replacement owl's cage, who he named Tonx. He wrapped his letter around the tiny owl's leg, tying it off with a green ribbon, to possibly appease Malfoy, him being Slytherin.
“Deliver this to Draco Malfoy as soon as possible, Tonx. Please.” Harry whispered, gently stroking the owl. He hoped he was comforting her.
Harry started to cry. Would Draco even forgive him? Would Draco hurt him like the other people supposed to love him did? Would he leave him all alone, as Ron and Hermione did? Would he ignore him, as Aunt Petunia did? Would he treat him as Harry or the Chosen One?
Harry could only hope he could finally get the love he always wished for.
—
Draco jerked his head at the window, surprised to hear the pecking of an owl on the window. He opened it, letting a petite barn owl fly in. It landed on the coffee table, preening its feathers. Draco rushed over, untying the small green ribbon that kept the piece of parchment paper to its foot. Whoever sent the letter had good taste. It was a small, silky green ribbon, tied in a bow.
He read through it, Harry goddamn Potter, proposing to him? Pigs must have started flying. Yet, there was no reason to decline. He would also be imprisoned by the ministry if he didn’t marry anyone soon. Plus, Harry was the only one who would willingly marry him. No one would want to marry a death-eater's son, especially one as notorious as Lucious Malfoy. Harry was his only choice.
Draco walked to his mothers room. Opening the door to find her reading a lengthy book about herbology, one she had already read millions of times.
“Mother,” Draco said, formal. Narcissa looked up at Draco from her chair, frail hands setting down her book. She had become so weak since father left for Azkaban, not long ago. He was quite worried about her.
“Yes?” She asked, she may have lost her strength, but her voice was still firm, yet kind.
“I got a marriage proposal, and I need to leave immediately.” Draco said. “I’m afraid if we don’t meet now, we may not be able to marry by the deadline. Will you be able to stay here by yourself?”
“Yes, Draco. I’m still able to protect myself, Darling.” Narcissa asserted, an affectionate smile on her face. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
“Harry Potter.” Draco said, squaring his shoulders, preparing for anything that could come.
Shock filled Narcissa's face. The woman held in a giggle, at the irony.
“Go ahead,” She said, absentmindedly. She turned back to her book.
Draco brought her into a hug, going downstairs to where the floo powder was. Draco stepped into the fire, grabbing a handful of green floo powder.
“Number 12 Grimmauld Place.” Draco asserted, throwing the floo powder at his feet.
—
Draco walked into a small, cluttered living room, a strong contrast to the manor. He saw Harry fast asleep on the small, disheveled, sofa. Draco was torn between waking Harry up, and leaving Harry to sleep. Harry looked like he needed it, for he had big, dark circles under his eyes, and tear streaks running down Harry's face. Although Draco needed to talk to Harry desperately, and there wasn’t much time to spare. He walked forward to Harry, nudging his shoulder.
“Potter, we need to talk.” Draco said, very gentle. Harry stirred, jerking into a sitting position, back straight, hands resting on his lap.
“Alright, Malfoy.” Harry said. he had expected the visitor, although was still distraught about what he was there for. He didn’t want to marry Malfoy.
“Would you like some water, or tea, or something?” Harry asked.
“I’ll have some tea” Draco said, following a short nod. Harry stood up, gripping the arm of the small sofa so as to not lose his balance. He limped over to the stove, turning the kettle on. He hated to look so weak in front of Malfoy, although he was left with a limp after the war, where he was stabbed. He could only hope he wouldn’t have a Cruciatus attack in front of Malfoy, where he feels the Cruciatus all over again, only to become weak and pale. It was generally due to stressful situations, and this was very much one.
He opened his cupboard where the tea was, only to find it barren.
“Malfoy, I’m afraid I have no more tea, so we will have to go without.” Draco nodded, confirming he can have water instead. Harry poured small glasses of water and brought them to the coffee table, gesturing to Malfoy to take a seat on the sofa. Harry took a seat at the sofa directly across.
Harry picked up his cup of water, hands shaking. He had suffered from severe nerve damage after he was 'killed' by Voldemort. The sheer power of the curses meeting almost blew his hands off.
“So,” Draco said, hesitating, thinking over his words. “Are we going to send a letter, or go to the ministry? To approve the marriage.” Draco inquired.
“I was hoping to write a letter, and go to the ministry if needed.” Harry said, shaky. “But Draco, although I did want to clarify something with- with you.” Harry added, stuttering along the way.
“And what is that?” Draco asked. “You can tell me anything, no strings attached. It is all I could do after you saved the wizarding world last year.” Harry started to shake, he really wished Draco wouldn’t feel indebted to him. He continued to speak, although ever more shaky.
“I want you to know,” Harry said, taking a deep long breath, “that I will not be able to satisfy you when it comes to romance or sex n’ stuff. I was hoping we could just be roommates, and do whatever the ministry says or whatever so as to not be taken in by them. I really hope you understand, I can’t be taken by the ministry, they’d treat me as the savior and I would be all alone.” Harry took a pause, tears rolling down his face. Biting his finger nail, he repeated, “All alone. Very alone.”
Draco was shocked. He had never considered Harry to be a lonely man, especially after defeating Voldemort. He also assumed that he was the type of man who would enjoy the praise, although those opinions were seemingly very wrong.
Draco also completely understood Harry's feelings on sex and romance. Draco had never taken a liking to that sort of thing, especially when there were much better things to do and places to be. Draco never understood why people would want to participate in romance, while platonic relationships were seemingly very similar?
“I completely understand, Harry.” Draco said. “I don’t plan on having any relationships of those kinds anyway.”
Harry seemed to relax, almost relieved. A small grin reached Harry's Face.
“That’s a relief,” Harry sighed. Harry proceeded, “Which of our houses will we stay in?”
“I’ve been looking for an excuse to leave Malfoy Manor, I would much prefer here.” Draco replied. “Unless you don’t want to live here, in Grimmauld place,” Harry nodded. Harry wasn’t too fond of Malfoy Manor himself, and he would much prefer staying in Grimmauld.
“I’d like to stay here.” Harry answered. This home, although a very sad and dusty place, was his only connection to his godfather.
“I’ll write a letter to the ministry.” Draco proceeded. “Do you have any parchment?”
Harry nodded. He walked to a grand bookshelf and grabbed a piece of paper and a quill. He handed it to Draco. Dracos thin hand picked up the quill, and he started to write. His handwriting was thin, narrow and loopy. His hand glided across the page as if he were born to write.
Dear Ministry of Magic, It read;
Me and one Harry Potter have come to the decision that we will be married. We wish to do this privately and anonymously. We will be staying at Number 12, Grimmauld Place; Harry's ancestral home. We will abide by any rules and expectations from the Ministry.
Sincerely,
Draco Lucius Malfoy and Harry James Potter
Draco set down the quill, and grabbed an envelope laying on the table. He carefully folded the letter and enfolded it in the envelope. Harry called for Tonx, and she flew to the coffee table on command. Put the envelope in the bird's beak, and sent her off. Harry thanked the owl.
“Now I must inform my mother.” Draco continued. He waved goodbye to Harry, and apparated back to Malfoy Manor.
Harry was glad to be in the privacy of himself. He let out a cold sigh, and laid down on the couch, resting his head on a pillow. Tears slid down his face, and his lip quivered. He wished he didn’t have to abide by these rules. He wished that he could have command over these simple things in his life. He had never had such freedoms as who he stayed with, or what he could do. It was always decided for him.
Harry felt used, and wished there was a way to simply escape the mess of a world he was in. He wished there was a way to just be Harry.
Harry contemplated simply giving up; which, after much thinking, didn’t sound too bad after all. Nobody was there to care if he died anyway. People would care about the death of the Boy Who Lived, but not Harry. Nobody even knew Harry. Draco was only there for convenience, Ron and Hermione parted from him after he didn’t provide them fame anymore, and everyone else was gone.
His arms throb, self-inflicted scars taunt him. Come for more they seem to say, It’ll help…
There were many ways he could escape. There were many ways to die, which seemed like the only way out. He could overdose, or stab himself, or die by hanging, or even just drown.
And so; Harry fell asleep.
—
Malfoy arrived at the Manor. He spotted his mother, still in the same spot, reading the same book.
“Mother,” Draco greeted, Narcissa looked up, “Me and Harry are to be married in the privacy of our own home. I will be moving in with him at Number 12, Grimmauld Place.”
Draco looked worried as he spoke those words. He was scared for Narcissa, how she would react. Draco was worried about her well-being, with himself gone.
“I’m happy for you, Draco.” Narcissa responded, smiling. “Now go.”
Draco nodded, and headed to his room to pack his bags. He brought a large suitcase that was much larger on the inside than it appeared on the inside. It had black, velvet vine-like figures traced into the green silk of the suitcase. It was quite pretty.
Draco neatly folded his clothing, and grabbed his personal belongings. He could keep much of his stuff here, and if he needed anything, he could simply apparate.
And so he did.
—
Draco came home to Harry sleeping on the couch. Draco feared the other man was dead, yet was comforted by the rise and fall of his chest.
Draco picked up a maroon, fluffy blanket from the couch, and draped it over Harry's worryingly thin body.
Draco wondered at why Harry had seemed so sad. It hurt to see the normally joyful man so gloomy and empty. It made Draco wonder, was Harry ever happy at all? Draco only wished to be there for Harry. Draco didn’t know what to do in this situation, and walked up to a room with a label on the door: Guest Room. Draco assumed he could stay here. He set his stuff down.
Draco decided to walk back down stairs to check on the other man. He kneeled on the floor next to the couch, and brushed the hair out of Harry's sleeping face. He looked so peaceful, yet he knew the truth.
Draco sat on the armchair beside the couch.
Harry slept restlessly. His eyes shut tight, and he let out a small whimper. Draco wondered what went on inside the other man's head. Merlin knew the horrors Harry had faced all those years, that nobody acknowledged for what they truly were: traumatizing days, weeks, and months filled with nothing but fear.
Draco could barely imagine what it must be like for the other man.
The man was sucked out of his thoughts as Harry let out a scream, he writhed on the couch. He gripped the blanket in his hands. His hands went white at how tightly he held on. His whole body shook. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, as if he were a ghost.
Draco hurried to the man's side. Holding the other mans’ hand. He gave it a gentle massage. The black-haired man's breath came out in short, tight gasps. His breath quaked and shook. The man spluttered, trying to speak, yet he struggled to breathe still.
Draco shushed the man, like a mother putting her child to bed.
“Breathe, Harry.” Draco said. He remembered a method Pansy had used on him when he would wake from night terrors.
“Name 5 things you can see, Harry.” Draco was gentle, caring.
Harry could barely speak the words, yet he managed to speak.
“You. Hands. Um- w- wall. Painting. Blanket.” Harry could barely make it through each word, he stuttered so much.
“Name 4 things you can feel.”
“Hands, blanket, couch, scars.” Harry seemed to choke on the last word. Harry was still struggling to breathe a bit.
“Name 3 things you can hear.”
“Your heart, clock ticking, you.” Harry started to breathe a small bit easier, although not much.
“2 things you can smell.” Draco was quite calm, though he wasn’t used to this.
“Firewood. Mahogany.” Draco smelled like mahogany.
“1 thing you can taste.”
“Tears.” Harry took a long breath.
“Thanks, Draco.” Draco nodded.
“No problem. You want toast?”
Harry nodded. Draco smiled.
Harry knew now he could be happy with Draco, and that he was safe. Harry was no longer the Boy who Lived.