Chapter 2: Draco

Summary:Draco can accept many things in his life, can accept the punishments and the restrictions levelled against him, but he will not accept anything threatening his family or their happiness. Be it Harry's ghosts, his own indoctrination or the lingering remains of the Dark Lord's followers.

As a child, Draco had been told everything had a place and an order. A category, if you will. Rich and poor, pureborn and muggleborn. There were times to eat, to be polite, to impress. There were lessons to learn and secrets to guard and weaknesses were to be closely hidden. And, as a child, he'd thought the world revolved around his father and Lucius had certainly intended for it to be so.

The body was buried in the Malfoy graveyard and only himself and his mother were in attendance. Harry had offered but Draco wasn't entirely sure that Harry wouldn't also decide on the spur of the moment to simply incinerate the remains and use the flames to set light to a few shots.

Beside him, his mother stared at the coffin being lowered into the grave without expression, and he hadn't managed to get from her how she felt about the entire ordeal. He barely managed to discuss feelings with her anyway, certainly not since the end of the war and the start of reparations. Academically, he knew the risks she'd taken for him, and part of him suspected that she'd almost drained herself dry looking after him.

He felt…nothing.

Xxx

Scorpius' room would probably have sent Harry running for the hills…in fact most of the manor would with the overly large and grand bedrooms, the cool beauty and pristine whites. It was a stark contrast to the house that Harry kept where his youngest son simply grabbed a colouring pencil or pen and went from room to room, scrawling because Harry had claimed a few rooms as his own and then left the rest to rot or grow mould or, as he confessed one night, simply disappear.

Harry had asked the question sincerely, Draco remembered. "But they can, right? It's a wizarding house. Some of those rooms will just go poof."

The saviour of the wizarding world, ladies and gentlemen.

"Dad?" Scorpius whispered as Draco tucked him in, smoothing down the bed and covertly checking his son's vitals and magic levels and everything that he needed to know to feel secure that Scorpius was thriving as he should be. "Do you think he'll come back as a ghost?"

"Who?" Draco asked, trying to keep his voice calm and nonchalant.

"Grandfather."

"No," Draco said firmly. "There are no ghosts in the manor, Scorpius. You know that."

His son nodded slowly, but at four years old, he still looked like that tiny baby that his mother had placed into his arms and the one that Draco had barely dared to breathe over.

"Can Felix come over then?" Scorpius asked quietly. "And Harry?"

Nothing would give him greater pleasure than to have his youngest son in the Malfoy ancestral home, just as he'd felt the fierce burn of pride the day Harry had put his name on Felix's birth records and announced to their entire world that he was Felix's father. His youngest could finally see his history, share the family's knowledge-

But Harry…Harry was both so very strong and so worryingly fragile. He could unravel spells and capture Avada Kedavra and yet he couldn't sleep in a bed without Draco present and would start cooking the minute something terrible happened and then try to feed Felix like some gut reflex which would be funny if Draco hadn't put a few odd comments together about Harry's childhood. And Harry had only been to the manor twice; once as a prisoner and once when Draco had given him stony silence and Harry had entered into some sort of pissing contest with Lucius.

"I'm not sure," Draco said honestly to his son. "We'll see."

Xxx

We'll see happened almost seven hours later when Harry tenuously arrived via the floor with Felix, sneered at the grand reception room, flopped down on a chaise lounge that was almost three hundred years old and groaned into the silk loudly while Felix had taken one look around the place, seen the white colours and had turned to Draco to demand a crayon, whatever that was.

Potters.

Lifting Felix into his arms in the hopes of protecting ancient and priceless artefacts from Harry 2.0, Draco resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "What?" he asked.

"Trial…" Harry sat up. "The discussion about my unauthorised use of a new spell begins tomorrow," he complained. "It's a waste of time."

It was. "You did walk into a court room for your own murder and kill a man in front of witnesses."

Harry waved that off with his normal aplomb, as if harnessing an Avada Kedavra and hurling it back was a typical Wednesday afternoon chore. "They want to check my magical levels and physiology," he complained.

"You should have it checked." Draco was almost certain that he wasn't about to be suddenly killed whenever Harry sneezed, but quite honestly, no-one could say that life dating Harry Potter was anything like predictable. In his arms, Felix was twisting and turning and Draco sighed, almost used to the child's refusal to stay still. "Must you?" he asked the boy.

Felix twisted once more, stared at Harry and then let out the world's most frustrated noise, as if being told to stay put was tantamount to being handed a death sentence. "I want Scorpius," he complained.

"I don't want to go tomorrow," Harry added.

Sweet Merlin help them all if he and Harry ever had another child.

Xxx

The first problem they came across was that it quite honestly was not worth it to have Harry cook. The house-elves, still unsettled from Lucius' death and the horrified knowledge that they were now under the control of the man Lucius had ordered them all to frequently beat, almost started having fits when Harry wandered into the kitchen.

"You do it when you're nervous," Draco pointed out from his desk as he continued to check over the estate that the ministry had kindly allowed him to keep running when they had realised the potential financial destabilisation of withdrawing the Malfoy family businesses and jobs. Draco was almost sure that Harry helping at the trials all those years ago had only been possible because of the ministry's realisation that they couldn't get rid of the purebloods without having to scrap the entire economics of the wizarding world and start again.

"What?" Harry asked, pacing and examining an ivory sculpture in his hands.

"Cook."

"If I dropped this, would you throw me out?"

Which was Harry speak for 'I will not discuss that matter right now'. "It can be repaired," Draco dismissed. "I do have to actually do this," he added when Harry continued to pace and mutter under his breath. "People do rely on me to give them a wage."

Xxx

The second problem was actually eating the food. Harry walked into the dining room holding Scorpius' arm and stopped dead at the grand table, then turned to Draco with wide pleading eyes.

"We eat at one end," Draco said as Felix let out a small gasp in his arms. Harry however, was staring at the silverware before he nodded very slowly.

Strange. His father had hosted the Dark Lord at this very table. They'd taken evening meals and once or twice it had been the stage for some macabre torture scene. But it had also hosted heroes over the ages and wizarding royalty and Draco was not about to let one bad period of the Malfoy family strip the entire manor of its contents.

The house-elves had arranged a feast fit for Kings and seemed desperate to impress. Felix stubbornly refused to sit on anyone's lap and knelt up on a chair, eyes scanning the food and Draco wondered for a moment if his son had ever eaten anything that he hadn't seen cooked directly in front of him. Scorpius, with far more manners, ate his dinner neatly and tidily while Harry picked at his food, oddly quiet.

Xxx

They decided to have the boys sleep together and Felix for once actually looked like the youngest when he was placed in Scorpius's bed and snuggled up to his brother, big green eyes staring up at Draco.

There was something fluttering in his chest at having both his boys in his childhood room. He could raise both of them at the Manor, he could pass on the Malfoy heritage to these two perfect children and rest easy one day knowing the family was in safe hands. And perhaps, if he were absolutely honest with himself, there was a relief that Scorpius was the eldest, that the one without muggleborn ancestry would take the Manor and he hated that the thought even existed, but he supposed there were some fundamental facets of indoctrination that no-one could fully shake off.

But he'd helped. The next Lord Malfoy's brother had a muggleborn grandmother and a muggleborn godmother and perhaps in the next generation he would see an heir…

His thoughts trailed off when he walked into his own room where he had left Harry and saw the man was still standing where Draco had left him.

"Harry?"

"I genuinely think Hermione and Ron's first flat would fit in this," Harry said slowly, nervously. "And that bed…orgies right? I mean that's why that bed is so huge. You've had like twenty people in it."

"My great grandfather had that bed made," Draco said quietly, shuddering at the idea.

Harry grinned looking all the world like he was a thirteen-year-old giggling at the back of Binn's classroom because the word 'phallic' had been used. Then something seemed to occur to him and he sobered quickly. "Is this…is this the master bedroom?"

Draco nodded and waited. Almost instantly, Harry paled and then almost dived for the door.

"It's a room," he said, catching the man by the arm. "I have given up so much because of him. I will not let him take every aspect of my family. This is where the head of the house sleeps."

"You can sleep there as much as you like. I'm not-"

It was like reeling in a fish. Slowly, he encouraged Harry towards him until the man was almost in his arms and Draco could feel him quivering like a bird about to have its head snapped as an act of mercy. "Please," Draco asked because if the past ten years had taught him anything it was how to swallow his pride and beg.

"I…" Harry rested his head on Draco's collarbone and let out an exhausted sigh. Then, because he was Harry Potter, turned and headed towards the bed like he was about to go into battle with it, stripping off his shirt as he went.

Amused, Draco transfigured his own clothes into pyjamas and followed him. He felt his lips twitch when Harry, rather than sitting or climbing into the bed simply stepped onto it and stood, glaring down at the expanse. "Where do you usually sleep?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Ignoring him, Draco climbed in and shifted so that he was towards the left of the grand bed. Turning on his back, he opened his arms and looked expectantly at Harry.

They curled up together and Draco felt the nervousness he felt every night before he went to sleep quiet a little with Harry simply being there. There was something powerful about knowing that he was the only person that the Boy Who Lived could sleep with, the only person who could get that stubborn man in a bed.

When he woke to the nightmares, Harry was gone.

Xxx

That also was expected. If someone had asked Draco to describe Harry, he would have conjured a powerful wild magical beast to mind; awe inspiring and thrilling, but also utterly unable to be fully tamed.

Draco let him come and please as he wanted.

He deserved so much less than what he had.

Xxx

What surprised him was that Harry left Felix. And a note saying he'd pick up their demon spawn at the end of the day.

Felix genuinely seemed to think the epithet was a compliment.

His sons were vastly different, Draco thought as he watched them play. Felix had worked out that if he ran in his socks, he could skid across the grand hall and the ballroom and Scorpius had looked terrified of the idea until Draco had waved them on, remembering his own desperation to do that exact same thing as a child.

Felix, at first glance, looked like the oldest. He was more confident, demanding, he looked stockier and bigger than his fey brother. But he was absolutely Harry's son and was an idealistic little soul. The world had been so good to him as a Potter and Draco would watch, half terrified as to how he would react to being treated now that everyone knew he was Draco's son too. Like Harry, he could be fragile. A harsh word spoken in a callous tone and Felix would back away looking lost. He had no concept of how to hide himself away and wore everything he felt on his face. Spoilt, probably, but Harry had endured a childhood of depravation and an adolescence of war and responsibility far too heavy for a grown adult let alone a teenager. Draco certainly wasn't about to curb Harry's parenting.

Scorpius on the other hand still looked as if a blast of wind might knock him over. He was thinner and pale compared to Felix's golden appearance. The wisp of silver by his side, but Draco's heir was strong. A fighter. He'd fought when he'd been too small to come into this world and when his lungs had to be magically pumped in order to grow so he could draw breath. His little heart had fluttered too often and then could pause for too long and his feet had needed to be fully regrown. His immune system had been practically non-existent and Draco had spent so many nights convinced he would infect Scorpius and be the one to kill his child. But his boy had survived, had fought and battled and now cautiously stepped up next to his brother, cast unsure grey eyes over at Draco and hesitantly did a little skid.

He knew how to hide himself, how to monitor his expression even at four. Living with Lucius would teach anyone that and Draco wasn't entirely sure how much of Lucius's punishments and threats he'd managed to keep from the boy.

The idea that Lucius was dead still didn't seem real.

Felix skidded over to him, cheeks flushed and eyes delighted. "Come play," he asked, holding out a hand and, strangely, all Draco could see was Harry at eleven on a boat to Hogwarts looking awed and longing all at once.

Cupping the child's face, he smiled down at him. "I have to work," he said gently and Felix looked confused because the only people he had probably ever seen work were Harry and the Weasley misfits which consisted of people in a joke shop or probably just talking with Harry about auror or ministry business. "But you can keep playing."

"Where's daddy?"

"He's at work." Draco didn't have a clue where Harry was, but that seemed like a safe bet. He'd be going to the trial later on in the day and it rankled slightly that he hadn't had a chance to wish Harry luck or soothe his nerves.

Or remind him not to threaten to kill more people just because they annoyed him.

Felix groused a little and then wanted to be held which Draco allowed because the boy fell asleep quite easily when he was held. Scorpius came creeping in and Draco pulled a chair over to place his sleeping youngest in. His eldest, he sat in his lap and talked through a little of what he was doing.

Scorpius didn't fall asleep.

Xxx

Harry stayed away until Draco was jolted awake at night, the moon streaming in through the curtains and silhouetting the man as he stood by the window, staring out at the manor's beautiful grounds.

"How did it go?" Draco asked quietly, sitting up in bed.

Harry shrugged. "They were satisfied that it wasn't first degree murder but rather an accident."

Accident? Dear Merlin, the people that ran their world were idiots. "Will they speak to me?"

Harry shook his head. "Case closed."

Good. "So how long had you planned it for?" Draco asked, curious now that he could ask the question without fearing he may have to repeat the answer at a later date.

"Mm, generally after the first time I saw your back and realised if you died, I couldn't protect Scorpius."

Something warmed inside Draco and he stood, padding over to Harry quietly. "And specifically?"

"After I came here," Harry said and that wasn't unexpected.

"How?" Draco asked, wrapping his arms around the man. "How did you-"

"I baited him-"

"Harry," Draco scolded gently, "I'm aware of what you did. And I'm aware that you knew how to get that reaction. I'm talking about the spell. How did you…you realise you've practically countered an Unforgivable. The one that cannot be stopped."

Harry shrugged. "Not sure about that. Part of the reason it worked was because I still have the hallows…" he groaned and tipped his head back to Draco's shoulder, staring at the ceiling. "I threw one away, broke the other and they won't leave me alone. Do you have any idea how often I've snapped that bloody wand?"

What? Draco ducked his head to Harry's exposed shoulder and hummed against the clean, sweet skin there. "The hallows. You have all three?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Against my will."

The master of death. Draco didn't know if it made him hard or terrified. Probably both, he'd never had a good boundary between the two when it came to Harry. "And the rebound?"

That had Harry launch into an excited rendition of what Draco came to realise had been mostly guess work, Potter luck and, horrifyingly, him battling not to stay alive, but to keep the curse inside himself which had made it more likely he would simply die.

"So," Draco said, feeling the lust become dead-weight stone. "You were cleared today because to plan to commit this murder would have been suicidal?"

Harry shrugged again. Then: "What did you have for dinner? Are there leftovers?"

No.

Whirling Harry around, Draco stared at him. "You didn't know it would work," he hissed. "You had no idea that you would survive it."

"I was eight-five percent sure-"

"Not fucking good enough," Draco hissed. "What if you had died? What if they hadn't found evidence to convict him? Because they were looking and there was nothing; my father knows how to cover his tracks. Felix would have ended up under my roof, my father's roof, at his mercy. And we would have been hated for what had happened-"

"I took a risk, it paid off."

"How can you so flippant with your own life?"

The curse came from no-where and Draco found himself slammed backwards and staring at the spot that Harry had been stood at, at the spot that he shouldn't have been able to apparate from.

Interesting.

Xxx

The next morning, Harry was downstairs with the boys when Draco dragged himself out of bed, the nightmares particularly difficult to deal with that night. They were outside and Harry was racing with them across the side lawn which separated the herbs for cooking from the roses. Draco stood and watched as Harry let the boys find ways to handicap him with their scarves and snorted in amusement at Harry deliberately falling and then tugging the boy's down to tickle them, completely missing the point of the race.

He loved him so much.

The thought didn't shock him. It wasn't the first time he had thought it, but perhaps the first time he could almost enjoy the feeling without fear or caution. Harry could fill any place with joy and life and it was a talent that Draco craved with everything he had.

It took a minute or so for him to be aware of his mother standing by his side, watching the spectacle too.

"He interacts well with Scorpius," his mother said quietly.

"…the first time I saw your back and realised if you died, I couldn't protect Scorpius."

Draco nodded. "That's because he's still a child himself," he said, trying to keep the scorn in his voice.

Xxx

Harry took Felix back to Grimmauld place for a few days which was both a relief and a cause of sorrow. But all seemed normal of Saturday when Draco and Scorpius arrived by floo and the place was its usual borrow of noise and mess and strange things suddenly popping up. Harry was cooking and it looked complex so Draco took that hint.

That night, once the boys were asleep, Draco tried again. "Harry, we need to discuss last night-"

"Do you think we'll ever have sex?"

Whoever had encouraged Harry to seek out his Slytherin side was a bloody menace. Folding his arms, Draco frowned. "Are we negotiating? I'll answer yours once you answer mine."

"Or, you answer mine and then-"

"Harry."

The man slumped. "I don't…what is there to talk about?"

"We are not at war," Draco said, stepping forward, "you are no longer Dumbledore's sacrificial pawn. Stop acting as if you are." He took one of Harry's hands. "You are worth so much more than that. As a father, as a friend, as a leader-" He broke off when Harry snorted. "You could be," Draco said softly.

Harry stared at his hand in Draco's. "I couldn't…I can't just sit and watch. I'm not you, I don't have the patience for whatever long game you had in mind."

"I know. And I know why you couldn't discuss it with me, but…" he stroked his thumb over the back of Harry's hand. "You are precious to me. I dislike…you should treat yourself with more care and worth."

He wouldn't. Draco wasn't a fool, but Harry squirmed at the words and nodded, as if to do anything for the conversation to be over.

"And," Draco said, his own nerves rising, "as for sex…I may have an idea."

Xxx

The next few weeks were what Draco would come to refer to as their trial period.

Ideally, he would have been more succinct and calm about explaining his issues to Harry and Harry might actually have listened carefully rather than zeroing in on one thing and then going at broom speed about it all.

He explained it was about control. He had so little control and those days when he had been captured had experienced such a complete destruction of his own personal control that the idea of giving it up was…unpleasant.

Harry agreed to be bound and Draco didn't feel the usual worry that he was forcing someone because if Harry didn't want to be there then Draco was likely to be shoved across the room and no-one would call Harry passive. But Harry hesitantly tried Sir and that had made Draco wince because of Snape and before he could explain to the idiot that he simply wanted Harry bound so that there were no unexpected touches, Harry said master and Draco had stormed off in disgust.

The following attempt had seen Harry offer to be gagged which Draco had plain refused and then he'd attempted for what had to be third time to explain that all he wanted was for Harry to simply not touch him yet.

Harry had stretched, naked and gorgeous and then rolled his eyes. "But…so I just lay here?"

"Just be you but with your hands bound."

Draco had never met anyone who could tap their toes the same way that most could drum their fingers. "Are you gonna…use things?" Harry asked, peering around.

"Things?"

"Like…is this a pain thing?"

Draco groaned into the idiot's stomach.

Xxx

"We've had sex," Draco said, sitting up against the bed and amused that Harry was still naked and still had his hands bound to the headboard. The man had shaken his head when Draco had offered to untie him and Draco suspected that the part of Harry that could sleep when Draco practically wrapped him up like a present was probably enjoying this too.

"Very drunk sex," Harry replied absently. "Against a wall."

A wall? Draco turned, interested. "Tell me."

"We…kissed. We discussed briefly why we shouldn't while undoing our trousers. You sucked me off then I bent over one of those half wall things…do they exist for any other reason than to have sex over?"

"Aesthetic value," Draco replied absently. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Blow job was nice," Harry said, turning a little. "Wall was a bit scratchy, but yeah."

What a glowing review and how…crass. That was how their son, their beautiful boy had been conceived; over a wall at the Zabini estate during 'scratchy' sex.

Frowning, Draco lowered his lips to Harry's. They'd done this so many times now, that it barely took effort to know how to make Harry gasp and moan. "I'd redo it," Draco whispered against the man's ear, nipping at it. "You should have had a bed. You should have been screaming my name."

Harry stared at him with big wide eyes, looking unsure, but curious. Tracing the lines of him with his tongue, Draco smiled against the golden skin as Harry started to pant and whine and twist under Draco's hands. Giving him pleasure was like a balm against Draco's soul, relief that he could do good things rather than relive the crimes over and over again.

Harry could make him good.

It was a dangerous thought, one that Draco needed to temper to avoid destroying their relationship, but Harry was so good, pure and sweet when you scratched the surface of the wounded child that lashed out whenever he was faced with something that didn't make sense to him.

"I can look after you," Draco whispered to the man as Harry shook and gasped into Draco's neck as Draco's hand worked carefully, stroking Harry to completion but guiding it so that the orgasm built beautifully. "Trust me."

"I do," Harry whispered back. "Merlin help me, I do."

Xxx

Harry had been thoroughly put out that Draco wouldn't accept reciprocation and then had looked thoughtful, clearly deciding to plot something.

By that point, they were living in two houses, Harry still vanished at odd hours of the day and night, but Draco found that Felix was staying at the manor more and more.

Watching Felix interact with Draco's mother was interesting. His mother loved the boy, he was sure of it, it had been the sole stand that she'd made after the war, that he go and see the child he'd unknowingly conceived with his school nemesis. She'd asked for pictures and had wanted stories, but now that he was here, she seemed fascinated with the loud little boy, but also deeply nervous.

So when Felix's birthday came around it was difficult for so many reasons.

Harry took Felix to the Weasley's as he had every year and invited Scorpius and Draco spend days trying to work out if he could persuade Harry to invite the Weasley's to the manor but Harry had said quietly that Hermione would never allow Rose near the place and Ron would never let Hermione hear it.

It took everything that Draco had that day to send his eldest off to that birthday party and not go himself. And he sat with his mother, staring out at the grounds and feeling her slowly guide his head to her lap because his eldest was out in the world for the first time and his baby was, once again, not spending his birthday with Draco.

Xxx

Life skipped on. Felix was too ambitious and broke his first bone climbing a tree that he'd been told numerous times to avoid. Draco soothed his tears, mended the bone and he was trying to balance on the balcony rails when Harry came home and for the first time yelled at their son. Felix's little face crumpled in confusion and he'd spent the night sulking in Draco's arms.

Harry and Felix went to visit his parents' grave at Halloween which was a tradition Harry had started when Felix was little more than a month old and Draco left them to it. Harry had Teddy over a few times to the manor and Draco wished he were a better person and didn't keep half an eye on the boy's teeth. The child seemed perfectly charming for someone of muddled heritage and he felt another ideal quake and waver, like his father's grip on him was slowly crumbling to ash.

He made a big production at Christmas, taking his sons to the grounds to choose the Christmas trees and then letting them decorate one in their room and he let Harry have full artistic control in their little sitting room that he'd created in the first of many alterations to keep his promise to Harry. The boys used every charmed decoration they could while Harry eyed his tree up for almost two weeks before he slowly started to decorate it. It was such a mishmash that Draco would stare at the thing and then walk away before he was overcome with the urge to fix it. Felix solved the unspoken question by pointing out that this was from Auntie Hermione's tree and that was Grandma Weasley's decoration and this was that star they'd found in storage at Harry's parent's house. And this was from Uncle Sirius' bedroom and so on.

Harry stole items from Draco's tree in the main hall too.

It made him smile.

Xxx

Sex progressed as it did and by new years, Draco stared down at the man underneath him who tilted his face to the moonlight and Draco quite honestly couldn't remember seeing anything so beautiful as he entered Harry.

"You okay," he asked, tilting Harry's head gently back to him. The words 'look at me' wanted to pour from his lips, but Harry had violently reacted to that the few times Draco had asked and Draco couldn't prise the reason why from Harry.

Yet.

Harry nodded and shifted making Draco want to groan and thrust, but he kept still and silent, waiting for the man he loved to respond. "What are you thinking?" Draco asked when Harry remained…distant.

"This is…I…it's tricky," Harry confessed and Draco moved to pull out then nearly rolled his eyes when Harry's strong legs octopused around him. "You can go harder," Harry offered.

"I don't want to," Draco said quietly. "I don't want to be rough or hard or anything else that you've suggested a thousand times. Why do you think I do?"

"You did at the party."

"I didn't love you at the party."

In hindsight, that was always going to be a mistake. Soft words, gentle caresses, whispers of love. Harry apparated on the spot.

Xxx

He came back twenty minutes later, moving quietly to sit at the foot of the bed. Draco stared out across the bed where he lay and to the open balcony doors that let in the freezing wind and bitter snow.

"Sorry," Harry said awkwardly. "That was…that was really stupid of me."

Draco said nothing.

"I…love used to be…a um…like a myth? Or Hermione stepping in front of me and Ron taking a curse. Or a woman screaming for her child to be spared and a man telling his family to run. Love…I only ever saw it when there was a threat or violence or decisions to be made that would end in death. Even Snape…" Harry trailed off awkwardly and Draco turned, a little baffled by what Snape had to do with any of that. "It's not…it wasn't silk sheets and someone waiting and giving. Or decorating a house or…" Harry's voice started to tremble. "I was…I was literally born for death, Malfoy. I wasn't made for this.

"And it's shit because, between us, you need…I should be more supportive of you. You were assaulted and your father hurt you and you once had to live with Voldemort and that psycho-bitch aunt of yours and I don't get how…I am so jealous of you and your ability to at least look like you're not a complete freak."

He'd heard the word before and scowled at the use of it from Harry's lips. Gently moving forward, he stopped until he was knelt opposite Harry who was still sitting at the edge of the bed and staring at his lap.

"I can't give you that," Draco whispered. "I can't be rough or quick. I can't use you for my own pleasure. I can't give you a quick relief. And even if I could, I wouldn't want to. I want to give you…pastries and sweets. Dinners and wine that makes you ask me if there's whatever a skittle is in it. I want to give you armchairs to curl up in and books to read and gloves and warm fires. And I want to take back that first time and replace that callous lust with softness and pleasure." He touched Harry's jaw gently. "You are the greatest treasure I have."

He could almost feel the way that Harry vibrated with fear.

"Come to bed," Draco encouraged. "Just to sleep."

Harry did. But he was gone by the time Draco woke from his nightmare.

Xxx

"Why are you here?" Ginny Thomas asked Draco when he walked into the Quidditch training pitch and asked to see her.

"I… I would like to discuss Harry. Your coach said the session was over."

The woman glared at him. "What about Harry?"

In the end, it took Draco being sat in the Weasleys' house with Granger having sent her two children off to their grandparents and the three of them sitting at a table and glaring at him.

"I would…what do you know of Harry's childhood?"

Granger sat back and glanced at her husband. They seemed to have some wordless exchange before Weasley groaned and shook his head. "I cannot believe we're about to have this discussion," he complained. "How come you want it?"

"I told Harry I loved him and he ran. He will not discuss anything other than summarising events without emotion. He is careless with his own life and health and…" he hesitated and glanced at Thomas. "I…he wishes to only engage in sex that is…rough? Perhaps not quite the right word for it but-"

Thomas nodded. "Lust rather than love," she said after a moment. "He wants release and passion, but not the closeness."

Draco inclined his head and then amused himself by looking at how red Weasley had become. "You wished to be here," he reminded the man.

Granger had stood and opened a cupboard, her wand waving to undo wards. "Here," she said placing a pensive in front of Draco and selecting a vial.

"Harry's memories?"

Granger snorted, "As if. No, this is..i collected this for the day…in case Harry ever gets so out of control that we need a trial."

What?

Weasley, surprisingly, was the one who softened. "We did it when Harry was being examined for Malfoy's death. And then kept it because if anyone goes after you and those boys, Harry will…" Weasley shuddered. "And also, in case Harry ever wants to discuss these things. But we all know that he won't. So…" Weasley gestured.

"Into the breach," Granger murmured.

Xxx

He was in a muggle house. Small and boring and even the sight of it was enough to make Draco want to leave, his magic recoiling at such a sanitised, hideous dearth of magic. He made his way across a floor that was made of cheap imitation wood and stepped into a somewhat larger room that was both kitchen and dining room.

There was a little boy on a stool, cooking. Dark hair sprouting wildly and Draco would guess he was about nine years old. He stepped close, hand reaching out and then ghosting through Harry as he'd known it would.

The boy was cooking breakfast, Draco would assume and he was barely paying attention so it had to have been something he had done often. And it was strange, hearing it and seeing it were two different things. Unsupervised, the child was alone in the kitchen and Draco slowly realised that it was because they were getting dressed and ready upstairs.

The man who came into the kitchen first was huge and red faced, sweating already and Draco took a step inbetween the child and the man, knowing ultimately it was useless. Harry's little shoulders tensed and he seemed to let go of whatever daydreams he was having, becoming focused on the omelette and the bacon once more.

There was no greeting. The man picked up the paper and sat down. His wife, a stick thin, sharp looking woman joined him, also without comment to the child and then the cousin who was greeted with love and interest and Harry watched and then looked away, serving up the breakfast. Three plates.

Draco leaned against the counter as the boy served his relatives, running back and forth with tea and toast and butter and there was a gruff comment that the butter should have been on the table and-

He saw it. That moment when a comment was directed at Harry and his little face almost lit up, despite the gruff words.

"You could get it yourself."

Draco closed his eyes as Vernon Dursley leapt to the bait and yelled at the boy, towering over him and he could see the baffled confusion on Harry's little face; delight in finally having some attention warring with fear of what he had released. Heard the list of chores that the man gave Harry and the promise of consequences if they weren't done.

They left him alone in the house. And Draco watched as Harry self-sabotaged everything he could to get attention. The list wasn't quite done right, he didn't eat the left overs. He constantly battled within himself to avoid getting into trouble and engineering exactly that so that his relatives would say something to him.

Anything.

And when Dursley came in at the end of the day and roared at Harry, the confusion showed on both their faces. Dursley too thick to understand why Harry was acting in such a way and possibly too scared of Harry's potential magic to think through any other method of raising the boy than trying to tire him out and keep him at arm's length.

Draco was a slytherin. It was personal pride to work out what made people tick and what motivated them. Harry Potter had been a baffling mystery because he didn't conform to any standard patterns, had never had a secure enough childhood to start plotting out those patterns properly.

And he had never felt such blinding, impotent anger as he did when Dursley, at a loss it seemed, reached out and backhanded Harry into a wall, then half dragged the boy to the cupboard.

Xxx

There were other moments. Violence was rare, but Harry spoiling for a fight was not. And the more Draco watched, the more he realised Harry was completely wrong in his assessment that the cupboard had become a place of safety.

It had been a place of isolation and the sofa wasn't. Harry wouldn't miss out when he slept on the sofa. His confusion and reticence to sleep in the same bed as Draco was more likely born from Harry refusing to trust the contact would be consistent and testing Draco to see if he would come after Harry.

Xxx

The next sat of memories were from Granger herself, there was no doubt. Them as children and Harry looking at her and Weasley as if they'd hung the moon and then throwing himself head first into danger. Of whispered conversations as three eleven-year-old children were manipulated to believe that they alone could save the wizarding world.

It went on. Weasley's memories of Lockheart, Ginny Thomas' memories of the Chamber of Secrets. Granger and the godfather saga. By that point, Harry, Weasley and Granger had all been conditioned to protect and serve first and then look after each other. And all piled upon the shoulders of a little boy who associated attention and love with violence and death.

Xxx

Draco greeted Harry whenever he entered a room and noticed that Harry always did the same with Scorpius and Felix. He talked to Harry when he cooked rather than leave Harry to it as he previously had, believing that Harry wanted to be alone when he cooked.

When Harry left the bed at night, Draco started to go and find him downstairs or even in another house. Once he found Harry at his parents' grave which had been uncomfortable in all sorts of ways. And when Harry said he was unsure how he felt, Draco offered his own confusion between two emotions and saw Harry blink and consider he was allowed to feel more than one emotion at once.

It was slow going and not always successful. Scorpius turned five, Draco turned twenty eight and Harry followed a month after.

He and Harry both lay in bed and Harry's eyes fixed upon an old watch as the hands slowly ticked to midnight on the 30th July.

"Happy Birthday," Draco whispered in his ear.

Harry turned, burrowing into Draco the way their son did sometimes and Draco gathered him close.

"You won't leave," Harry whispered, so quiet that it almost might have just been breath ghosting over Draco's heart.

Draco shook his head. "No."

It wasn't the first or the second time they had sex, but it was the first time Harry started to accept that sometimes, they could be gentle and quiet and whisper if not words of love, then at least words of trust.

And afterwards, Draco managed to let Harry skim his hands over Draco's back, heart pounding.

Xxx

In August it was ten years since the trials and they were reviewed and Draco found himself in the unenviable position of meeting with his former…colleagues again, such as they were as they discussed the potential new terms.

"But Potter is fucking Malfoy," Carrow sneered, all nineteen and full of bluster. "We can get what we want."

Draco raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. Opposite him, his mother was equally impassive. Selwyn's younger brother watched them both very carefully.

"Lestrange hasn't helped," Theodore said quietly. "His escape puts pressure on the ministry to clamp down on us."

Gregory folded his arms. "I want defensive charms allowed again," he said quietly. "My son…I should be able to protect him."

"They won't let that happen," Pansy said. She'd refused to sit and kept a little away from them all. "They'd have us suffer for our crimes. If Draco is still under them-"

Theodore glanced over at Draco. Then leaned forward. "We are pureblood'" he said firmly. "And the ministry wants us to feel shame, to fade away. Our culture, our heritage, our way of life. Surely, you want to protect that."

Draco nodded slowly.

Carrow smiled. "Then we need to be released. We can show them-"

Draco held up a hand. "I will protect it," he said firmly. "But there will be no showing or bowing and displays of power. Our children will inherit our estates and be accepted into wizarding society-"

"They should bow to us," Carrow said on his feet. "We have a millennia of knowledge, of magic. Those muggleborns come to us and tell us what to think, how to feel? Us, who can trace our heritage back to the days of merlin and beyond? I will not be ashamed of that-"

"We killed."

"So did they."

Draco sighed.

"They won," Pansy said stonily.

Draco stood. "We would not have showed such mercy," he said, trying not to imagine it, "and the Dark lord would not have shown such mercy."

"Then they are weak," Carrow said, apparently too young and too impetuous to see how stupid he was being.

Draco slammed out before he could say something he'd regret.

Xxx

"What's a Deaf -Eater?" Felix asked him a few days later.

Draco paused and looked out the window. Harry and Scorpius were gardening of all things and Draco was still working out how to manage Harry with that. Turning, he stroked a hand down Felix's hair. "Where did you hear that?"

"At Rose's house," Felix answered, taking the hair stroking as an invitation to clamber into Draco's lap. "I like eating. Can I be one."

"No," Draco said, a little too sharply because Felix blinked in hurt. "No…they…" he frowned, unsure of how to explain it to a boy who would be five next week. "They hurt people," he said slowly.

"But…I thought," Felix tilted his head. "Are you one?"

"I was," Draco said and sweet merlin if he'd known what the shame of having to explain this to his son would feel like, he'd have taken the curses instead. "I…" he frowned, trying to work out what to say. "A very bad man came to my house and convinced my father that we should fight for him. And…for a while, I did."

Felix seemed to think about this. "But then you stopped?" he asked, sounding a little unsure.

"Yes. And then I fell in love with your father and there was you and now I would never join that man again. I'd fight him."

"Is the bad man still out there?"

"No. Your Dad…he saved us all. That's one of the reasons everyone wants him to help them."

Felix seemed to be satisfied by that, but he soon wriggled off Draco's lap and went searching for Harry and it seemed as if he avoided Draco for the rest of the evening.

That hurt.

Xxx

Felix's birthday came and went and the negotiations started in earnest and when he'd become the unofficial leader, Draco had no idea. But it felt good to be in control, to have some degree of power again.

Harry went quiet in October and Draco was honest with him and said that he needed to focus on the negotiations and he'd listen to Harry if he wanted to speak, but he couldn't give Harry his full attention which Harry sulked at and then two days later apologised for and nodded in understanding.

In November, Draco killed Runcorn.

He'd overlooked him in the meetings; Runcorn had always curried favour with Draco's father so, in his mind, Runcorn was nothing more than a minion. But by November it was clear someone was whispering into pureblood's ears. Encouraging them to plot and plan and Runcorn overplayed his hand one night when he asked Draco how the mongrel compared to the thoroughbred both in terms of lovers and sons.

In the middle of a meeting, Draco cut the man's throat where he stood, relatively certain he'd found the culprit for the plots.

There was absolute silence.

"I will make this exceedingly clear," Draco said as he cleaned the knife. "Harry Potter is not part of some elongated plot. And, despite the rumours, Felix truly is my child. If I hear one word about a plot to kill those with mixed blood you will be wishing the aurors had you. And I speak as the only one in this room who was trained by the Dark Lord himself. Is that clear?"

There were some nods and wide eyes and Carrow looked sick because, despite his blustering, he was still a boy and had no concept of what war was truly like.

"Bury him," Draco suggested. "Or tell. Entirely up to you."

No-one told. The official story was that Runcorn had given up magic and run off to life with the muggles he despised.

When Harry heard it, he eyed Draco up suspiciously. "And you say I take chances," he muttered.

Xxx

Negotiations went faster with Runcorn out of the way and most of the members of the group clear on the fact that there would not be a third rising and there was no grand Malfoy scheme at work. Draco found himself deeply uninterested in the terms once he has secured that the next generation would be freed of the conditions he lived with. He had Harry, he had the manor and he had his children. Harry's old charm around Felix was offered up in lieu of allowing them to cast battle spells and some agreed to greater monitoring in exchange for more freedoms.

"And you?" Shacklebolt asked quietly. "You know you could ask for more than they have?"

Draco smiled and Shacklebolt sat back looking oddly disappointed. "I want magical freedom," Draco said simply. "To cast as I please."

"I cannot grant that-"

"To defend my son and the man I love. I would like the ability to cast on purebloods."

Shacklebolt froze.

"and I would like that to remain quiet. You want to avoid a war, I can help you. But they will be governed by me. Any interference from you will be seen as interference from muggleborns."

"I could be creating a second dark lord," Shacklebolt said quietly.

"I had to explain to my youngest son that I was a Death Eater. And one day I will have to explain to him that I wanted to hunt down those who had the same blood as him because I believed they were inferior. That I still have to shake myself free of some of those thoughts. I will have to explain to him that I tried to kill his father, the man I love more than I thought possible.

"Harry is powerful, but he is also human and so very fragile. I will protect my family from Death Eaters to the end of the earth, Minister. I'd prefer to do it with your knowledge, but you saying no to my request will do very little to limit me."

Shacklebolt sat back. "I can't get a read on you," he said slowly. "Draco Malfoy was a spoilt, little coward who could be vicious. Draco Malfoy the husband was cold and aloof, the single father was forgiving and philosophical. As Harry's partner you've been…surprisingly sane. And now this?"

"Minister, I am a Malfoy. We are what we need to be at the time," Draco stood. "I am not a good man. I did terrible things and I accept that I will never escape it, nor should I. But I protect my own and if that means staying quiet or making deals or taking a punishment to ensure my children grow free, then I have no issue with it."

"You could give up the manor," the minister said, "the name, everything and walk free. You know that Hermione Granger fought for that condition."

"Some things," Draco said with a sigh, "are too ingrained. Perhaps one day someone will tear that place down, but it won't be me and I will not give permission while there is breath in my body. Family above all, Minister, that's what I was raised to believe."

Shacklebolt nodded. "Then it appears we have some extra negotiations to make."

Xxx

"Were you hoping I'd take Granger's offer?" Draco asked as he lay in bed with Harry, deliciously warm.

"You weren't going to," Harry said with a sigh. "I told her that."

"But you hoped for it?"

Harry turned. "Why do you think that? I've…I don't always hate being here," he offered brightly and Draco snorted.

"You were quiet," he said. "Have been for a while."

"Mm," Harry said. "So the negotiations are all over with?"

"Yes." Draco rolled over and looked down at Harry. "Tell me," he said, nosing into Harry's jaw, hands sweeping up his sides. And then he flinched when Harry took hold of one of his hands.

"Harry…" he trailed off when Harry placed Draco's hand firmly on his stomach. For a moment, he just stared, thumb slowly brushing over the soft skin there before he raised his eyes, an overwhelming hope crashing over him. "Is it…are you?"

"Preggo?" Harry asked without concern. "Seems like."

Xxx

He was almost three months along and Draco found himself entering what might genuinely be the most frustrating six months of his life. Harry's eating habits were appalling he realised; Harry might stuff food down the boys at every opportunity but he pecked at his own like he was rationing up. And he had no understanding of danger or caution and his job with spell craft had Draco nervously pacing every other day.

"But I'm not on the field," Harry pointed out looking a little baffled.

Sex was still a minefield and they were getting better still, but Draco wanted to worship the little growing bump and Harry was a little more wary about apparating and they had wonderful nights and others that were less wonderful.

Their son was born, of all days on the anniversary of the battle of Hogwarts. And Draco was actually able to witness one of his boys coming into the world in the old fashioned way and the baby was perfectly healthy and had a shock of black hair that stuck up all over his head.

Draco was entranced. Felix was supremely unimpressed and climbed up to Harry to have a cuddle with him instead so Draco found himself sitting with Scorpius in his lap who held the baby in his arms.

Later, Draco smiled as on his bed was Harry feeding the baby with a bottle, Felix edging closer and Scorpius snuggled up close and watching his new baby brother as if he too was the parent.

"What's his name?" Scorpius asked quietly and looking wary which was understandable given the epic fights he and Harry had entertained over the past few months.

"John," Harry muttered mulishly.

"We are not calling him that," Draco said for the hundredth time. "You don't even want to call him that. You're being stubborn."

Harry huffed and then grinned when the baby squirmed. "I know, he's a git sometimes, isn't he?" Harry whispered to the baby. "And a hypocrite."

"Besides," Draco said, lying onto the pillow and watching his family. "I already registered him."

Scorpius winced. Thankfully, Harry had a newborn infant in his arms and was limited. "As?"

"Valentine Potter."

Harry stared at him for the longest time. "Not Malfoy?"

"It's easier," Draco said, stroking Scorpius' hair, "besides, one of them will likely take on the Black surname so…"

Harry nodded slowly. And then sighed and looked back at their son. "Valentine," he said quietly and then looked around at their little family, almost perplexed with what he was seeing. "You do understand that I will never call him by his full name?"

"You understand why I gave him that name?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah," he said with a long sigh. "Fine. Love you too. You great prat."

There will be Scorpius and Felix's chapters coming up.