November 2012
"Uncle Harry!"
Five-year-old Tiberius Malfoy jumps at Harry, who scoops him up in his arms and swings him around in a fashion that makes Pansy nauseous from watching alone. Instinctively, she puts a hand on her rounded belly. At eight months along, she still feels sick nearly every morning, but she's almost glad about it. Draco has been fawning over her ever since they learnt that she was pregnant again - it's no different from the first pregnancy, and she relishes how for once, he'll play the doting husband.
Having arrived with her and Draco, Harry puts Tiberius down and ruffles his hair. "He's growing like a weed," he says before he leans in to kiss Pansy's cheek. "And you're beautiful as ever."
She smiles and suppresses a sigh – as strange as it is, it's good to see Harry again. Six months of hunting the last remaining Death Eaters abroad have been too long of an absence when usually, he'll be at the Manor for dinner and stay overnight three times a week. Tiberius has constantly been asking for him, and she knows perfectly well that part of the reason why Draco has been lavishing her with gifts and nightly attention was to distract himself.
Nothing could distract them now, though – already, Harry and Draco are looking at each other in a way that betrays the quick hug they exchanged as a greeting.
There's only a small pang of jealousy anymore; it's been eleven years of this love triangle, and seven years since Pansy allowed Harry into the Manor. For the most part, she and Harry have established a friendly relationship. He even is Tiberius's godfather – Pansy herself had suggested it. A small part of her still tells her that if Harry were truly decent, he would leave her husband alone, but it's not that easy. It's been years since she realised that she herself couldn't do it were she in Harry's place.
"Come along," Pansy tells Tiberius now, taking him by the hand. "Let's see if we can help Fancy with dinner. Father and Uncle Harry need to have some grown-up talk."
The boy's face falls and he shakes his head. "I want to hear stories about Uncle Harry hunting the Death Eaters!"
"Later at dinner, kid, I promise." Harry winks, and though still pouting, Tiberius nods and lets himself be led away by his mother.
Just when they're turning the corner from the entrance hall to the corridor that leads to the kitchen, Pansy looks back: the men are oblivious to it; they're in a world where only the two of them matter. Draco has pushed Harry against the next wall and is kissing him passionately, as he always does, in a way he has never kissed her after their wedding day.
Even that night, he'd spent more time with Harry than with her, and the one heated kiss after they'd been pronounced husband and wife had been surpassed by the countless stolen kisses with Harry during the party. She had never asked what they had done that evening while she had been entertaining the guests, but she has always been certain that away from the bride, the two of them had had their very own wedding night.
August 2005
"Can't you be a bit nicer to her?"
Draco rolls his eyes – so this is why Harry dragged him into the bathroom: to talk about Pansy. He hates how Harry seems to feel as if he had to protect her. Draco himself is doing a good enough job of feeling guilty, and the last thing he needs is for Harry to rub salt into the wound.
"I'm marrying her, aren't I? I mean, sometimes I think it would be easier to just leave her and come out of the closet. Pansy's nagging for love and attention is seriously annoying."
He doesn't mean it, and they both know it, but it's the only way he knows to react. All of this is just a tangled mess that will make none of them happy, but it's too late to back out now, on their wedding day, and it would do too much damage to all of them.
"You knowwe wouldn't be able to be together if we came out, and Pansy has kept this a secret. You should be more grateful to her."
Harry is right, and Draco is grateful. Pansy has been a good friend since they had started Hogwarts, and that she would do this for him, for them, only proves it once more. Wizarding society's rejection of homosexuality is ridiculous, and they are incredibly lucky that Pansy is less prejudiced than many others.
"She's only doing it for selfish reasons," he protests nevertheless, and although it's at least partially true, Draco can't blame her.
After the war, his family had got lucky – none of them had been charged due to Harry's fierce advocacy.
"It's the least I could do," Harry had explained. "Without your mother lying to Voldemort, who knows what would have happened. And you'd never really wanted to be a part of it all anyway."
Pansy was a whole different matter. She had clearly been on Voldemort's side, and after her father had been incarcerated at Azkaban for life for his crimes as a Death Eater, no respectable wizard in a post-war world would have wanted to associate with her. Seeing her disgraced like this, fondness and – although he would never mention it to her – also pity had driven Draco to pursue a relationship. Pansy would be a good wife and mother, and since he had never been in love, Draco hadn't imagined he would miss anything.
Then Harry had happened.
"So are we."
Draco blinks, focusing on Harry, who is looking at him intently as he's speaking.
"Either way, she deserves you to be kind to her, at the very least. Look, if you won't do it for her, will you at least do it for me?"
It's the wrong thing to do in Draco's book. The nicer he is, the more she will love him, and the more she will suffer from his infidelity. But it's impossible to deny Harry when he's asking like this, with such concern and sincerity.
"Fine. But I'm only doing it because I love you. Merlin, the things I do for you."
"That's nonsense." Harry covers the distance between them with two steps and brushes a stray strand of hair out of Draco's face. "I know you love her, and I know how hard it is for you to see that you're hurting her."
Harry's hand wanders down to his cheek, and Draco sighs and closes his eyes, leaning into the warm touch. It will end in a catastrophe one day. It might take some years, but eventually, all of them will grow tired of this – Pansy of being nothing but a cover for Draco's true desires, Harry of being an intruder in their marriage, and Draco of balancing the man he loves and the woman to whom he feels bound by friendship and duty. The only question is which of them will snap first and provoke the scandal.
Harry has pulled him in closer, and Draco takes a deep breath, focusing on the smell of Harry's after-shave. It's been the same for years – after Harry had realised that this particular scent on him made Draco half crazy with lust, he's never used another one again. It's no different now, and Draco arches closer, hands roaming Harry's back before they come to lie on his buttocks, his erection pressing against Harry's groin.
For a few moments, Harry complies, but then he shakes his head and takes a step back. "Not now. You should concentrate on the wedding, it's only another hour."
Draco groans in frustration. He still feels more like calling the wedding off at the last minute.
"At least promise me you'll celebrate the wedding night with me before I have to do it with Pansy. We can sneak away during the party; there'll be so many guests and so much champagne nobody will notice anyway."
"All right." For some seconds, there's a shadow of sadness on Harry's face, and Draco is tempted to say screw it all. They could just Apparate away and never come back. But the moment passes, and Harry grabs his arm and opens the door to the corridor.
"Now let's get you into the wedding suit. You'll look absolutely dashing."
Draco does look dashing, and so does Pansy in her dress, the white silk accentuating her breasts and slim waist, flowing around her hips and legs in a shimmering cascade. Her black hair is pinned up, and Draco can't help but notice the way his grandmother's sapphire necklace brings out the blue of her eyes.
The ceremony goes by in a blur. Both their voices are shaking as they say, "I do," then the rings are on their hands, and Draco is told that he may kiss the bride.
Pansy smiles, every bit the happy newlywed for all those who are watching, and Draco knows he is the only one who can see the pain in her eyes. Despite his conflicting emotions, at this moment he does love her, and when they kiss, he tries to tell her without words, tries to put all that he feels into this kiss. I love you. I'm sorry. Thank you. Forgive me.
After the ceremony, there's the first dance, and Draco makes sure to hold Pansy close, her head on his shoulder as they move slowly to the soft music. He owes her this much, Harry was right about that. She deserves all the affection he can muster.
But the night goes on, and it's harder and harder to keep pretending. There is a point when it becomes too much to have to smile and nod as guests tell them what a beautiful couple they are and how they'll be so happy, over and over again. Harry should be by his side, and he and Draco should receive these congratulations.
In the end, he finds himself sneaking off with Harry more than once. It's just kissing in another room at first, only a few minutes of respite from the celebration of a lie, but finally, he can't wait any longer.
"Let's go," he whispers into Harry's ear just after Pansy leaves Harry after dancing with him. He'd hated watching them, hated how she could openly do what he couldn't – now he needs Harry to himself, and for more than kisses. "You promised me a wedding night."
Harry smiles, and they steal out of the room and downstairs. The study is dark and silent, and it takes only moments before they're exchanging hard kisses, Draco backed against the heavy desk. Harry is fumbling with Draco's trousers already when Draco grabs his wrist.
"Wait!" This is not what he wants – a quick fuck on a desk, with the sounds of the party above them still in his ears. "Let's go to the garden. There's a pavilion out of sight of the Manor."
Harry sighs impatiently, and Draco leans in for a kiss, slow and gentle this time.
"Please," he says after he breaks the kiss. "I want thisfor tonight. I want something special." He wants the wedding night they can never have.
After a second kiss, just as soft as the previous one, Harry takes Draco's hand, and they leave the study through the double doors. They're almost running and yet, they can't wait and barely make it to the fountain before they kiss again. When they break apart, Harry brushes his fingers over Draco's forehead and flushed cheek, smiling.
"I'll give you a wedding night you'll never forget."
And Harry holds true to his word.
It's dark and silent at the pavilion; the sounds of the Manor don't reach here, and only some fireflies are hovering between the branches of the weeping willows surrounding the small clearing.
Harry takes his jacket off, transfiguring it into a thick blanket and his and Draco's pocket squares into large pillows before he casts a Lumos Charm with his wand and makes it hover under the ceiling of the pavilion.
Then he undresses Draco. Pansy has never done it this way, so slowly and with so much reverence, making Draco feel as though each bit of his exposed flesh were a precious gift that has to be kissed and caressed. It seems to take hours, and by the time he stands fully naked, his skin is tingling with desire, his cock achingly hard. Harry looks at him as if he wanted to devour Draco and quickly discards his own clothes with a flick of Draco's wand. After that, he pulls Draco down with him on the makeshift bed and quickly is all over him again, trailing kisses down his neck and chest.
Draco reciprocates with enthusiasm. As always, he cherishes the straight lines and angles of Harry's male body, much more beautiful than the soft breasts and curves of a woman. It's not that touching Pansy is unpleasant, but there is no comparison.
It doesn't take long before Draco realises that he can't go on like this – when they'd started, he had wanted for it to take forever, but now, Harry's teasing is driving him crazy. Luckily, Harry seems to be feeling the same, and soon, Draco is on his hands and knees, his back pressed tightly against Harry, both their bodies rocking in a slow, steady rhythm. Then Harry speaks, hot breath ghosting over Draco's ear and neck, making him shiver. More than that, though, it's what Harry says in breathless whispers between thrusts, voice choked with desire, that makes Draco's heart clench.
"I, Harry Potter, take you Draco Malfoy, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part."
Draco he can't hold back the tears pricking behind closed eyelids – this is what they should be able to tell each other for the entire world to see. He takes a few shuddering breaths, then he repeats the words, Harry's arms firmly wrapped around him. Draco wishes they never had to let go.
In the end, they lie together in the warm summer air for a long time, now and then exchanging a kiss or trailing the lines of each other's bodies in slow caresses.
"We've got to go back."
It's Harry who finally breaks the silence, and while all that Draco wants to do is to tell him to shut up, he only nods and sits up, reaching for his clothes.
They go back to the Manor without speaking, and once they arrive at the fountain, Harry lets go of Draco's hand.
"I'll go home now."
Draco nods, and Harry leans in for a last kiss.
When he's alone, Draco doesn't move for some minutes, listening to the music and laughter from inside the Manor. In a moment, he'll join Pansy and their guests, and soon enough he'll celebrate another wedding night. Pansy expects it, and he won't deny her.
"To love and to cherish" – he said it to her as well, and he meant it. He only wishes he could do it in the way she deserves.
November 2012
". . . but he was too slow, and by the time he'd managed to draw his wand, I was already casting a full body-bind on him. He couldn't move a finger." Harry decorates his narration with quick, sweeping movements for emphasis, and more than once Pansy fears for the china in front of him.
Tiberius is staring at Harry wide-eyed, hero-worship obvious on his flushed little face.
"When I'm grown-up, I'm going to be an Auror just like you!"
Harry looks amused, but answers him seriously. "You'll make a great Auror – I'll be lucky to work with you. But any good Auror knows that he needs his sleep so he can be alert and ready to get the bad guys in the morning."
It's 9pm already, they have arrived at after-dinner tea, and Tiberius has only been allowed to stay up so late because of Harry's return.
"Harry is right," Draco says, putting his cup down. "It's time for little Aurors to go to bed."
Reluctantly, Tiberius slides from his chair. "Can you tell me more at breakfast, Uncle Harry?"
"I will. Now go with your father."
After a kiss for his mother and Harry, Tiberius leaves the room with Draco, and Harry gets up as well, offering his arm to Pansy. They make for the blue salon, Pansy's favourite room, and once there, they settle on the couch in front of the flickering fire.
"I'm glad you came home safely." It's true, Pansy is happy to see Harry is uninjured, and not only because it would be hard on Draco if anything were to happen to him.
Harry shrugs dismissively. "It wasn't as dramatic, but you know how Tiberius loves the stories." His voice grows more serious as he goes on. "And how is the baby? How are you?"
The true question behind this is, "How is he treating you?" In the beginning, she'd been angry and embarrassed by Harry's worry, but she's come to realise that he truly does care, and now she appreciates it.
Periodically, she'll know that the men had a talk about her. Draco will be more attentive for a while, bringing flowers, touching her more gently. Every now and then, she will wonder if Draco would love her more if it were just the two of them, but that's never been more than wishful thinking, and Harry is a good influence on him. Without him, who knows if Draco wouldn't have tired of her years ago?
"The baby and I are fine, really. Draco can't stop fussing over me – remember how he was when I was pregnant with Tiberius."
Relief spreads over Harry's face. "That's good. He couldn't be prouder of his family, you know."
"I know." At least part of it is true. Draco is madly in love with his son and unborn child. Ever since she stopped breastfeeding him, Draco has insisted on bringing Tiberius to bed, and he never gets enough of playing with him. A few times, when he'd believed she was sleeping, Pansy has caught him talking to the baby inside her.
She and Harry talk for another half hour, about uncontroversial subjects like Tiberius and Harry's work. Then the door opens and Draco steps into the room.
"He's out like a candle," he says as he sits down in the armchair on the other side of the coffee table. There's enough space on the couch next to Harry, but one of the rules is not to put on a display in Pansy's presence. "You will have to fulfil that promise of more stories during breakfast, though, Harry; there's no way he'll forget about it."
Harry chuckles. "No problem, there's plenty more. I only told him about a third of the story tonight."
"And that was more than enough," Pansy says. "He was barely able to hold his eyes open by the end. Like me now." She gets up from the couch and touches her belly. "I'll leave you two alone and go to bed. The little one seems to be sucking out all my energy lately."
She's not particularly tired, but she doesn't want to be in the way any longer. The men would be polite and talk with her for a while longer, but already, she can see small signs of impatience in Draco, and she doesn't care for feeling like an intruder.
"Good night, Pansy. Sleep well." Harry smiles at her, and her husband gets up and kisses her cheek before she leaves the room. She has no doubt about what will happen as soon as the door closes behind her.
Harry's absence was a respite from the lie, a short while during which she could pretend, but this is what's normal – she'd better get used to it quickly again.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.
In the wee hours, Pansy is lying awake, listening to the monotonous ticking of the alarm clock on the bedside table. It's been two hours since she stopped reading and switched off the light, but sleep is eluding her.
She sighs and turns from her back to her side, facing the empty half of the bed where Draco should be. He's with Harry now, in another wing of the Manor far from their marital bedroom, Pansy had insisted on that. She doesn't want them to be near her, and more than anything, she doesn't want them near Tiberius. He can't know; it's too dangerous. A small child like him can't keep a secret.
It's a shame that it has to be a secret in the first place, although in the end, she's profiting from it: if Harry and Draco could be together openly, he would never have married her, she is certain.
She should stop brooding, Pansy decides, and calls Fancy to bring her warm milk with honey. Nothing will come of it. Nothing will change. All in all, her life is good. She and Draco are friends during their better times and polite roommates when things are difficult. There are no harsh words, for the most part, and Draco has never laid a hand on her or their son, very much unlike her father. In his own way, he loves her, she has to believe that. It's not the love she had hoped for, but she has long left those girlish dreams behind.
Pansy slowly sips the milk, leaning against the headboard of the bed. She's better off than many others, and it won't do to be anything but grateful.
"I couldn't watch her go on like this." That's what Draco had told Harry almost a year before the wedding, when he'd believed Pansy wasn't there to listen. "She's been my friend for so long, and I care for her. It's the only way I know how to help her."
In the wake of the war and the Dark Lord's downfall, Pansy had to experience her fair share of humiliation – her father disappearing into Azkaban forever, her mother drinking herself to death within barely a year, people she had believed to be friends severing ties in an attempt to save themselves. But nothing has come close to the knowledge that her fiancé had proposed to her out of pity.
Even then, though, she'd never seriously considered turning him down, and maybe that is what is truly pathetic.
Sometimes, she tries to imagine what her life would have been like had she done it – only to find that she can't. This is what she was raised to accomplish, to be a wife and a mother in a pureblood family. To make arrangements and keep up appearances, show the world a successful façade. She and Draco are good at it, and so is Harry, and in the end, that is all that matters.
Pansy might be living a lie, but admitting the truth would be so much worse.