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They walk up the cobblestone path through the wild garden towards the towering home. One pair of tennis shoes crunching the loose gravel, a pair of oxfords clicking against the stones. Draco readjusts his grip on the neck of the bottle, feeling the foil at the top with the pad of his thumb, back and forth, back and forth.
A gnome darts across the path ahead of him, kicking Harry in the shins and just as quickly running off giggling madly into the geraniums. A grumbled comment including "fucking gnomes" escapes Harry and Draco sniggers, earning him a glare whipped back at him. Huffing, Harry turns his head back around and stomps his way up the steps to the Weasley home.
Sighing, Draco follows, putting on his best warm smile as he steps through the doorway into the overwhelmingly warm and cozy house he can never quite get used to.
"Uncle Harry!" comes a tiny scream, and a blur of turquoise collides into Harry. Draco ignores the twinge in his gut as he watches Teddy snuggle up into Harry's arms, his hair — already unruly — fading to jet black. Whenever he visits his aunt, Teddy is thrilled to see him. But if Harry is ever in the room there is no way he will get any attention. Jealous over a toddler. Ridiculous.
He greets Molly, handing over the bottle of wine and falling into their well-worn argument of not having to, but wanting to, and thank you, then silently asking himself why he actually bothers with picking decent vintages for these gatherings.
Draco turns to the scene in the living room. It's full and warm, all oranges and earth tones. Harry on the floor by the fire, Teddy gathered in his lap playing some nonsensical game only the two of them understand. On the couch Granger and Weas — Hermione and Ron — are snuggled up. She's just barely starting to show. Arthur sits in his chair, beaming king of his castle. Molly's rustling around in the kitchen behind him finishing dinner. Weaselette's intently reading something. The others must either be busy or on their way.
He looks at the scene in the living room. It's full and warm, and completely unlike any family gathering Draco has ever known. Even with family members missing it's still full. Even when there are more misfits gathered than technically family there is room for everyone. And he doesn't fit. He knows he doesn't fit. Standing there in his black trousers and charcoal grey sweater. This place is not who he is.
Yet as he watches Harry and Teddy, his heart aches. He's pierced from the inside, his heart slowly pulled towards his spine, crushing itself against his ribs. He feels inadequate to contain everything he's trying to cram inside himself, his chest collapsing while his heart expands, because he doesn't deserve this, any of this, but he wants it. Fiercely. He wants all of this so much it terrifies him and he can't stand to think about loosing it because he won't. He won't.
Harry looks up, catching Draco's focused gaze.
I'm sorry, Draco mouths.
Harry nods, and pulls his arms tighter around Teddy. Draco's eyes aren't stinging. His head coming down to rest on top of the little boy's, Harry whispers I love you and Draco's chest expands, allowing in air he had been denying himself. A half smile graces his face for just a moment before turning towards the squeaking front door that's ushering in another Weasley.
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