Harry stood still, nearly ready to fall asleep on his feet. He was glad for the wall next to him, since he could use it to prop himself up as he looked at the people all around him in the Great Hall. His eyes flitted from one group to another, too afraid someone would look up and see him to continue watching anyone for too long.
The tears were overwhelming too.
Later, he knew, his tears would come. Anger. Relief. He would feel it all. Between Ron and Hermione, there would be an abundance of talking and reliving, and then, eventually moving on.
He looked up then, and his gaze fell on the Malfoy family.
Lucius looked haggard, his face drawn and his eyes shut. He sat on a bench at the table that, under normal circumstances, would typically be surrounded by silver and green. His back was to the table itself, his hands folded in his lap, shaking slightly. Narcissa sat to his left, her own shoulders shaking. Draco sat on the table itself in between his parents, the sole member still upright, with a hand on his mother's shoulder. His face was hard to read, but it was dry, and his eyes… His eyes were fierce.
They were young, and so different, but Harry felt like they had never been so similar. At seventeen, they had seen more destruction than most people their age had - even their friends. Here in this moment, they had nothing left to be afraid of.
Harry sighed and pushed himself off the wall, his hand shooting to the pocket of his robes to pull out the hawthorn wand he'd been using. With uncertain steps, he walked toward the table, trying to beat down the envy and bitterness he felt coursing through him. Lucius had done what he felt he had to in order to protect his family. Narcissa had lied to save him, because it meant saving her son.
I wish I could have that.
Draco had a family and Harry had none, but that family came with a price.
"What is it, Potter?" Draco's voice was haunted, at least to Harry's ears. "I'll wait until the real aurors get here to be arrested, so if that's what you're after... "
"It's not." Harry lifted the wand and held it out until Malfoy took it. They stared at each other for a moment, then, saying more than they could with words.
"'Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please.' Mark Twain was wise, Potter, and I suggest you follow that advice." Draco smirked as the dark-haired man sitting next to him at the table rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath about the injustice of being forced to celebrate Christmas Eve with the Malfoy familly. "If you don't, I'll get out a stick and prod you until you cooperate."
"Fine. Draco, you have a collection of newspaper clippings about everyone I consider a friend, but you hate them." Harry glared at him.
"Now, now. I don't hate them. I don't keep up with people that I hate."
That, Harry knew, was most definitely not a true statement. Just last month he'd found an entire desk drawer full of parchment with tabs on himself in Draco's office. The notes were from their time at Hogwarts, when they most certainly did not get along.
His boyfriend had been doing better about being civil toward everyone, he had to admit. Mrs. Weasley actually invited them both to the Burrow for Sunday dinner now, and Ron was asking Draco to come around for drinks. Hermione had started talking to him about books and laws, and a variety of educational decrees that put Harry to sleep.
It was more than he'd ever thought possible.
"Congratulations, Harry! And Draco!"
Harry leaned forward to push his firewhiskey against against Hermione's. The soft clink was echoed down the length of their booth, modified to fit their whole party with the permission of Madam Rosmerta. The drink burned as it slid down Harry's throat, but it spread warmth through him and he was having a hard time keeping his hand off Draco's leg. He turned his head to kiss him lightly, his heart pounding.
It wasn't just their engagement that had him excited.
They'd both accepted positions teaching at Hogwarts - Defense Against the Dark Arts for Harry and Charms for Draco. They'd been asked the day after Christmas and neither had hesitated in their responses. Harry was tired of the Ministry and Draco was tired of following in Lucius's footsteps.
Life, Harry Potter thought, had quite the sense of humor.
He couldn't wait to begin teaching, even if he was terrified. Years after the war, complications were still trying to snare him. People wanted to talk to him everywhere, to take his picture. The newspapers were constantly running the latest news in his life. He couldn't wait to see this headline - "Famous War Hero Takes Up Teaching, Has Gone Soft."
Had he? Maybe. Did he care? Not really.
"Hey, mate, do us all a favor though, alright?" Ron gave Harry a level look. "Don't give McGonagall a heart attack with all your snogging. She probably still can't believe you're not cursing each other to the next decade."
Everyone laughed.
"I thought you were going to ask me to make it through the year. I was going to say, I can't make any promises."
Draco raised a brow. "I think for me, you can."
Harry smiled.
a/n;;
This was written for Round 13 of the Fanfiction Quidditch League.
I write as beater1 for the Montrose Magpies.
For this round I had to "throw back" to a previous round and was assigned romance. From the list of available characters, I chose Harry and Draco.
My additional prompts were:
- 6 (word) - collection
- 8 (quote) - "Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please." -Mark Twain
- 15 (word) - prod
