I am not J. K. Rowling.


The sharp crack of someone apparating cut through the still morning air in front of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and the bodies on the bed tensed. It was hard to blame them. The war was over, but it hadn't been long since the only people who felt safe to draw attention to themselves by apparating were Snatchers and outright Death Eaters. The people in bed grabbed at their wands before remembering that they were safe.

Their door-knocker pounded politely but firmly, and the blond man knew who was standing on their porch. He kissed the red-haired girl lying beside him, and pulled on his dressing gown.

Draco didn't put his wand away, though. He loved his mother, but he didn't trust her.

She stood on their stoop, regal as always, with a sense of urgency about her. "Draco."

"Mother."

"You will come home." It wasn't exactly an order. Lady Malfoy was far too polite to issue orders to anybody but house elves. But she did expect to be obeyed.

But Draco did not obey so easily anymore. He'd had enough, both of having toadies and of being one; he'd had enough long before the war came to an end and his father was given the Kiss. "I am home," he told her.

"You would destroy our family name?"

"Yes," said Draco. "After all, why not follow in Father's footsteps? At least, this way, I'll be obliterating it completely and not simply dragging it through the mud."

"You will be dragging yourself- Draco, be reasonable," she said. "You are being used."

"No, Mother, I'm not. I'm loved. For the first time in my life, I have nothing to offer but myself. That's all they want from me, either of them."

Harry made his way downstairs, and gave Draco a kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy," he said with a smile. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

"My mother was just leaving," said Draco coldly.

Harry looked between them and frowned. "Are.. Is there something wrong?"

"Just go start breakfast, Harry. I'll join you and Ginny in a minute."

Harry paused, but nodded and left with a polite, "Have a good day, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Good day, Mr. Potter," she replied, and frowned.

Draco waited, but she said nothing. "Mother, I'm happy. We're happy." She looked away. "Mother..."

"I really must be going, Draco," she said. "I... We will speak again."

"Soon," said Draco, nodding and rubbing his eyes tiredly. Perhaps not so early in the morning, next time, he added in the privacy of his mind. "I love you, Mother. Stay well."

Her shoulders stiffened; she didn't say another word before she apparated away. Draco trudged into the kitchen and dropped into his customary chair.

"Are you alright?" said Ginny, rubbing his shoulders.

"I will be," he said, but his words came out more miserable than he'd intended. "She wants me to leave you. I just... She just..."

"We don't mind if some of our children are called Malfoy, when we have them," Harry said. "If that'll make it easier for your mum."

"That's just an excuse," Draco said. "She just... she doesn't understand."

Harry came over too, and brought a plate of breakfast and a kiss for both of his lovers.

"Besides," said Draco. "I already told her. She'll have Potters for grandchildren or none at all."

Harry kissed him again. "She'll come to terms with us," he said. "Mrs. Weasley did."

"And if my mum could come to terms with us, so can yours," said Ginny, straddling Draco's lap. She kissed him, first on the lips, then the neck. "She loves you."

"And we love you," added Harry.

"And all you need is love?" said Draco, a shadow of his usual smirk coming across his face.

"We'll make a muggle of you yet," joked Harry.

"There's nothing you can make that can't be made," sang Ginny softly.

"No one you can save who can't be saved," Draco responded, still softer.

Harry finished the verse. "Nothing you can do but you can learn to be you in time."

"It's easy!" they sang together, and giggled as Harry waved his wand and made the air play backup.


It wasn't really - it wasn't easy, that is. People didn't understand. But they could hardly turn on the Savior of the Wizarding World for who he loved. And as much as they spent time in Muggle London for Draco's sake, they found people and places where they didn't have to hide.

And if, from time to time, Draco would sit in front of the empty fireplace, as though waiting for someone to floo in with open, accepting arms, then they said nothing about it. Nor did they mention if Ginny occasionally came home from George's place so drunk she was seeing double, or if Harry sometimes spent just a little too much time at the Ministry and came back with a little mirror clutched far too tightly in his hand.

They would simply love each other, however it was needed.

The love part - that, at least, was easy.