HEROES' FESTIVAL

{1}

Hogwarts was spectacular.

Feeling as if his heart was bursting at the seams with awe, Draco could picture the wide main streets occupied with stalls and stores of different merchants selling various goods. Maybe if he just drowned the background noise just enough, he would be able to imagine the small kids running from their parents' grasps to look at the bright, dyed cloths being presented by a man standing outside his store or hear the bakers shouting about their freshly baked bread.

For now, though, the well-paved streets were taken over by the marchers, and all kinds of performers—all in a procession that had come together the moment King Harrison had passed the giant wrought iron gates. Some citizens who didn't join the parade were hanging from the windows of buildings or standing by sidewalks to watch, sing along, and wave colorful flags for the performers. Children and women were running to keep up with King Harrison, who was at the head of the parade towards the castle, to throw petals of different flowers for him and the soldiers. Garlands of lilies and daffodils were being distributed and hung around the homecoming soldiers' necks.

A little while after they have passed through the gates, Pansy had pulled Draco and Ron off the wagon so they could walk through the city instead. They agreed to meet with the other Weasleys' at the outer courts of Gryffindor's Castle.

They started weaving through the crowds of spectators and performers; Draco couldn't stop the laughter bubbling from his lips when he saw some men with elaborate body paint and golden bracelets breathe fire from their mouths. It was all so spectacular. He couldn't help looking left and right so fast, afraid that he might miss something as they followed the slow moving procession to the courts.

"This is more exciting than I imagined!" he burst out in Pansy's ear so that she might hear.

"I know! King Harrison and his court surely did go all out!"

Somehow, Ron had been able to get some candied apples for each one of them. As Draco took and let his first bite burst into sweet goodness, he couldn't help but think that this was definitely one of the best days of his life.

{2}

To say that Pansy was startled when Draco threw his arms around her was an understatement. The blond rarely showed his affection through actions like embraces or kisses; he always opted to do it in something more discreet, like cooking, helping her with chores, or any other seemingly mundane thing.

They had reached the outer courts of Gryffindor's Castle a few minutes ago, following the procession of citizens into a plaza filled with stalls of food and even more merchants and their goods. There were performers all around with their spectators clapping and cheering for them with awe. Pansy, on the other hand, had been waiting for Draco to get over whatever was inside his mind when he'd first seen the majestic castle up close. For the first time.

The sun had fully set by that time, and lanterns that hung in string above them lit the entire place. Also, for this special occasion, all the windows and torches inside Gryffindor's Castle were lit up. With the castle's lit-up high turrets, towers, and the gardens hanging from the rooftops, it certainly looked like the centerpiece in the huge celebration.

Pansy's breath had been stolen by the view around her; she knew, though, that what she felt was nothing compared to her childhood friend's. She didn't know why Draco had been feeling emotions deeply ever since they'd stepped foot in Hogwarts; maybe she'd never understand, and that was okay.

After a few moments of staring up at the sky and the castle in wide-eyed wonder, Draco had thrown his arms around the young woman and drew her closer to him. Bewildered, Pansy just patted him on the back awkwardly and asked, "What's the matter?"

"I- I don't know. I just felt so overwhelmed and happy, and I needed to anchor myself. Or else I'm going to faint or lose my sanity, Pansy," Draco answered with a sniff. That was then that Pansy realized that Draco was crying. Sure enough, when she pushed the blond away from her, there were tears in his quicksilver eyes.

"Hey, why are you crying?" she asked weakly. Draco was so different today.

Quickly, he furiously wiped his tears with the backs of his hands and said, "I don't know, Pansy. I don't understand, but" he looked up at the castle again and smiled tremulously up at it, "I feel like I'm close to this place—like my heart recognizes it. It's like I'm connected to this place, and I'm finally home."

"There you go again, Draco, spouting your spiritual and imaginative thoughts," was all Pansy could reply. She was smiling, though.

Draco just laughed, used to his friends ribbing of his tendency to believe in the supernatural, and just wiped the wetness from his cheeks.

"You've never changed since we were children, Dray. You've always been a crybaby," Pansy joked. She remembered how vulnerable Draco had seemed when he first came into their village. He had cried when they'd slaughtered cattle, or when Pansy's grandmother had died, despite not really knowing the old woman that well. He had best been able to sympathize with the children and elderly in the village and helped; it was one of the reasons why Draco was so loved in Hogsmeade.

The young Pansy had thought that the young Draco was very weak because of his feelings, and had befriended him with the intention of protecting him from bullies and his cousins. However, as she grew up to know him more, she had realized one important thing. Draco, even with his unusual beliefs and tendency to value the smallest and insignificant of things, was very kind-hearted, even in the midst of cruelty.

For that, he was one of the strongest people Pansy ever had the pleasure to know.

She might have picked on him for crying because of happiness, but if Draco was feeling some long-lost, deep connection with a place and a castle he'd never been, then she was happy for him.

{3}

The royal family's private library was the largest library in Gryffindor's Castle. This wasn't only because of the extensive collection of literature, journals, and scrolls that every member of the Gryffindor line had collected over the years, though. It was also where King Harrison had hung portraits of his parents and ancestors. Surrounded walls that also shelved books, faces of past kings and consorts looked down on him when he entered the library through the large double doors.

It's been quite some time since Harry had spent time in this room. He had hurried into the library after the welcoming procession not to stare at his ancestors' faces, nor to read books, but to look upon the face of the one that he'd been getting his strength from since he became king.

Draco's.

When Harry became king and had to move into the royal chambers, he had wanted to bring everything that had something to do with his childhood friend with him, including all paintings ever made of him and those that included the two of them. Severus had refused and argued that being surrounded with reminders of his lost love would make it harder for Harry to move on and deal with his grief.

Harry hadn't given up without a fight. It wasn't just any fight, though. He had shouted and resisted with all he had; he'd refused to listen to Remus and Severus, the only members of the council who supported him (during those times, though, Harry thought them to be overbearing). It wasn't until that Severus' patience had snapped and attempted to set fire on the stack of Draco's drawings did Harry relent.

The man wasn't overtly cruel, though. Even if he had hidden all Harry's mementos of Draco in the king's private treasury (It was because of Harry's insistence), Severus allowed Harry to keep one painting of the blonde to be put in the family library. No one else, aside from those invited by the King, was allowed inside the library. It was no surprise that Harry spent most of his spare time in the library, if not in the gardens, telling himself that he could feel the blonde closest in these places.

"Harrison, you're supposed to be outside the courts or in the great hall, mingling with your barons and dukes," a voice said behind him disapprovingly. Harry wasn't surprised. There was only one person who didn't call him King.

Harry turned around and met Severus' dark eyes levelly. In the few months that he had been away from the castle, he'd grown taller than the man. "I'd been away from my home for the most part of the year; now that the war is over, don't I deserve to do something for myself, Severus? Even for just a while?"

The man didn't answer; he just arched an eyebrow at him, and stepped beside him to look up at Draco's painting. It was one of the last pictures painted of the boy. It depicted Draco sitting on a stack of big tomes of fairy tales and legends in their favorite spot in the royal gardens. There were white rosebushes and lilies in the backdrop. Harry could still remember how hard Draco had pleaded to his mother and their family painter to allow him to wear the crown of snowdrops, lilies, and daisies that Harry had made for him. It was clumsily made, with some stems and branches falling out of the circle, but Draco had loved it.

"But!" Draco had stomped his foot, a rare of show of petulance to the always kind hearted boy. "I never complained when you refused to have a painting made of just Harry and I together. At least let me have this, Mom!"

A sheepish Harry had his eyes glued to his shoes, embarrassed that he had partly caused the outburst. Even if he couldn't see, he knew that Draco would have his puppy eye look on full force, with his pink bottom lip jutting out slightly. He heard Lady Narcissa sigh, and the painter say,

"Young Lord Malfoy, if you want to wear a flower crown, we can have a much prettier and cleaner one made for you. No offence to His Majesty, but this crown is hardly aesthetic at all."

Harry winced, completely agreeing inside. He reached for Draco's hand, threaded their fingers together and was about to convince him to just let the matter drop, but the blonde said,

"It's not about aesthetics! I can pose for a thousand more paintings in the future, but this—this—" he lifted the flower crown slightly, his voice becoming fonder, "this is the first crown that Harry made for me without my instructions. I want to wear it for this. Doesn't it make the painting more meaningful then, Mother? Don Angelo?"

Pale fingers squeezed Harry's hand then let go, when the painter acquiesced to Draco's request. The young blonde threw his arms around his mother in thanks and carefully placed and arranged the blossoms carefully on his head. He turned to Harry with a beatific smile.

"Thank you for this, Harry. It makes me so happy."

The painting had turned out beautifully. Draco's white shirt and his wide smile brought out the silver in his eyes. He looked so young and carefree, the leaves and petals stuck in his hair and fringe making him look like a young dryad. Harry's fingers itched to reach out and up to touch, but he kept himself in check; if Severus had the slightest inkling of what was going on inside his mind, he might have ordered to get the painting removed.

Instead, he settled on looking, no matter how the void inside him seemed to gape more than it had before.

Harry cleared his throat. "I met someone new when we were camping today. He looked so much like Draco."

Severus turned to look him, but said nothing. His eyes were intense, and Harry knew that his words and facial expressions were being carefully dissected and probed inside the other man's mind.

Harry continued, "They had the same facial features, Severus. Gods, when he stepped in the tent, I thought that my heart had stopped. But it wasn't him. The hair, the skin, it wasn't Draco."

"What's his name, Harrison?"

"Aster. Aster Black, and he's from Hogsmeade." Harry sighed, and turned to look back up at the portrait. "He had darker hair, and red marks on his neck and face—"

"Do you want me to look for information about him?"

Harry remembered the total unrecognition from Aster's eyes this afternoon. The man had been embarrassed, defensive and shy in front of the King. He'd convinced himself that he knew Draco more than anyone else; Harry had always imagined their reunion to be filled with happy tears, intense emotions—the culmination of and farewell to years of loneliness and longing. Two hearts coming together as one at last.

"I was tempted to do that at first," he said, shaking his head. "But… I don't know, Severus. I—"

"I remember that Narcissa Malfoy had come from a line of a rich, old family from the Northern Kingdoms. They were also called Black and they disappeared when the dictator Voldemort had taken over the throne; there were rumors that they were killed to eliminate competitors to the throne. It was never proven, however. Popular belief was that they were exiled and the line had died out.

"Maybe you've met a long lost cousin of Draco's. Don't you want to know more about him?"

Harry glared at the duke. "If you're trying to set me up again, Severus—"

"No, Harrison. What I meant was simply—wouldn't have Draco been thrilled to find out that he had a long lost cousin, after all? I know that you remember better than I do how much he wished that he had many relatives and had a bigger family."

Harry looked up at the portrait again. Draco did wish for a big family, when they were young. "He would have been happy. Well, go find more about Aster Black, then. Do what you want."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Severus murmured, bowing low before Harry. Harry reigned in his surprise; it was so rare to see the man bowing in front of the King. "You deserve your rest, Harrison. It's been a long eight years for you."

With that, Severus left the room.

{4}

Romilda quickly hid behind a nearby tapestry when he heard footsteps from Duke Snape coming nearer. She had followed the King to introduce herself, but had stopped when she discovered that he was headed to the royal private library. Everyone knew that only the royal family was allowed inside the library; she didn't want to offend the king in their first meeting by breaking that rule.

She determined to wait by the door until King Harrison had come out, but Severus Snape had entered, and Romilda wanted to know what they were talking about. She knew that the duke was one of the men who organized the Heroes' Ball and who was firm on the King taking a Consort. Maybe, maybe she would learn something that would increase her chances in winning the King.

Oh, how wrong she was.

Romilda seethed with anger behind that tapestry as she waited for the sound of the duke's footsteps to disappear. In love. King Harrison Potter was still deeply in love with Draco Malfoy. How was that even possible? How could he still love a memory—someone believed to be dead—for eight years? The King had many prospects and admirers from around the world—how could he settle for a stupid memory of a stupid boy? Unthinkable. Horrible.

What irked Romilda the most was that her greatest competitor was a memory. It was going to be really difficult, but… She smirked. That memory was stuck in their house back in Hogsmeade, still with no idea that he could have been the happiest man alive, if it weren't for his lost memories. Draco totally had no idea what was coming; while he'd been believing that he was the son of two useless farmers, Romilda was working on taking everything he had.

That was one hurdle down.

She didn't know who Aster Black was, but Earl Pettigrew might. He was a nobility without the property to show for it; he had a stroke of luck, however, when someone had offered him quite a bit of gold to hide the young Malfoy. He'd come to the Umbridges for help; Romilda's mother had accepted at a price.

They were collecting that price now. First, the Earl had secured them the quarters inside the castle to increase Romilda's chances of meeting the King. Second, he'd introduce the Umbridges to the King Harrison in two days. She hoped that it was enough to attract the interest of the King. Now, she was going to find out who Aster Black was.

{5}

Harry couldn't sleep.

If Severus was right about who Aster was… well. He didn't know what to think. His thoughts were warring inside his mind. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't hope for a moment that Aster could be… well, Draco.

But no. Harry had to stop entertaining thoughts like that.

A/N: Reviews, por favor? :)