His kids are grown, and Harry takes the time to look at some pictures.
Pursuit
Quiet
It was quiet now. It was too quiet. His life had never been quiet before, and it felt like wet latex; too sticky and too tight. Not comfortable at all. He walked to the mantle where pictures reminded him of the noise and happiness that used to fill his life everyday. First was his dear wife. Harry picked up the frame and fingered the image of her red-hair. She smiled up at him softly. As always, his eyes watered up slightly. She had been so strong, so fiery. Not only was she gone, she had taken their fourth child with her. But he didn't blame her for dying. You could never blame anyone for dying. He put the frame back on the mantle.
Next was a picture of his dear sweet Lily. Smiling brightly, glowing in that white dress. His Lily had gotten married almost a year ago. She had been the last to leave him to his... solitude. Harry had to concede that it wasn't as though they never visited. She hadn't left to hurt him. She had left to get married and be happy. Somewhere where he couldn't see. Harry sighed and looked at the next frame.
Albus was standing proudly, his eyes smiling where his mouth did not. In the background stood Hogwart's castle, where Albus taught. It was fitting that Snape's namesake should be the Potion's Master. If the letters from him where any indication, he was nicely situated in the job. Harry had offered that, during the summer, Albus come home. But Albus had only shaken his head, saying that he was in charge of a summer school program for Muggle Borns, so that they could understand the traditions and culture of the Wizarding World. Harry had suggested it himself. But that had been before Albus was working there.
In the second to last frame was his oldest son. James was grinning broadly, despite the snow that was rushing around him. James had moved to Antarctica. He had moved there with Luna's oldest son, Lorcan. It didn't bother Harry that his son was in love with another man. It did bother him that that man had isolated his son in a location they couldn't disclose. So Harry couldn't visit. They were working on something up there, something that required secrecy. Something that only allowed James to write him once, maybe twice a year. He hadn't seen his son in nearly 5 years! He hadn't even come for Lily's wedding. Harry took a deep breath to dissipate his agitation. He knew James would have visited him if he could.
Harry was just turning to look at the last frame, a picture of two men, far more recent, when a flash of green lit the room from behind him. But Harry didn't turn. He knew who it was, and he didn't want to be mocked for his self-pity. But the person walked up behind him, and wrapped their arms around Harry's waist, their chin nestled on his right shoulder. "Hello Love."
Harry had no doubt in him mind about this person's love for him; or, he smirked, their physical attraction to him. He held out as long as he could, before a huff left him and he turned and attached himself to their lips. A distinctly masculine groan vibrated from his partner's mouth. Harry opened his eyes with a grin, and the sight of a lust-filled Draco Malfoy took his breath again. But than those grey eyes lightened into a look of love, and Harry felt a pang in his heart. But Draco said nothing. Just pulled Harry closer so that their embrace became a gentle hug. Draco then kissed Harry's head. And there was silence. But Harry could deal with this soft and comfortable quiet.
