AN I don't own HP or any of the characters!

Draco got panic attacks rather infrequently but, when they did happen, they were bad. No one but Harry was allowed near him in those moments because no one but Harry knew how to calm him down or ease the fear. Minnie had tried, once. In his panic Draco had given her a black eye. She'd insisted it was not a big deal, and healed it immediately, but Draco still felt bad about it and became even more determined to isolate himself whenever it happened.

Harry had to leave, though—just for a few hours, a day at most, he insisted. He was going before the muggle courts to allow MInnie to take custody of him. It wasn't supposed to be much of a scene. The Dursleys didn't even want custody of Harry in the first place and were glad to give it up—unlike Lucius, who Draco knew would fight tooth and nail to keep him as a legal dependent. Harry wasn't even nervous, or so he said, and Draco honestly wasn't worried for him. Minnie had become the ultimate protective mother figure and he trusted her to take care of his lion for a short while.

But he was worried. It would be the first time he'd been without Harry since going into hiding and he was more than afraid he'd have a panic attack and forget where they were or what was going on. If that happened, he was sure he would go running back to his father's feet, begging for forgiveness. Harry briefly suggested Hagrid or Dumbledore, but Minnie had refused both and insisted that there was only one person she trusted enough to take care of Draco while they were gone. Molly Weasley.

She tutted in through the entryway, greeting Minnie and hugging Harry. She told them how proud she was and how happy she would be when the whole affair was just over and done with. Both smiled politely and agreed. As she puttered around the small kitchen and set out various food items which Draco assumed she was planning to cook with, Harry took him aside.

"I know you don't trust her, little dragon." Draco snorted because that was an understatement if he'd ever heard one. "She loves me, though, just as much as her other sons and she knows how much I love you. She's safe, even if you don't feel like she is. I wouldn't leave you with her if I thought for even a second she would do anything but love you, okay? It's gonna be okay." Draco nodded, but he curled his hands into anxious fists at his sides and Harry noticed. Slowly, the brunet took each fist in his own and smoothed them flat, forcing the muscles to relax until Draco just sighed.

"What if it happens?" He didn't have to say what it was because Harry knew how terrified he was of panicking in front of other people. And yet, he was even more afraid of panicking alone. Briefly, Harry glanced behind him to check if Minnie and Mrs. Weasley were paying attention—which they weren't. He pulled Draco into a quick, gentle kiss.

"I know this is new for you, little dragon, it was new for me too. But she will take care of you. She'll protect you while I'm gone and I promise you it'll be okay. You trust me, right?" Draco nodded, but the warm fingers tracing patterns on his cheek were more distracting than the fear. Honestly, he just wanted Harry to stay. Screw the muggles and their custody laws he just wanted Harry to stay here, with him, where they were both safe and where Draco could still lean on him if things got bad.

"I trust you lion." He did, which was the only thing that let his arms not cinch impossibly tight around Harry's midsection in an attempt to keep him there. Harry kissed his forehead with a little smile. Before he even realized, Harry had hugged him goodbye and left with Minnie. In a muggle car, of all things. But rather than let himself worry about his lion and all the things that could possibly go wrong, he focused on his own situation.

"Draco, dear, do you like casserole?" He wanted to say no, or say he was allergic, just to be a pain in the ass but Harry's voice talked him down.

"Never had it." That wasn't a lie, either, because he'd never had anything but the most decadent meals at home—or no food at all—and Hogwarts never served casserole. Mrs. Weasley just smiled at him, though, and motioned towards the counter.

"Here, I'll show you how to chop up the carrots into little squares." Draco was not at all interested in learning how to chop carrots but he couldn't deny that she was a stranger and he was slightly afraid of her now that Harry was gone. So, begrudgingly, he grabbed a knife and approached the counter. She showed him how to do it right. It took a very long time because Draco had never even cut carrots normally, let alone into fucking cubes—which was just unnecessary, he was convinced—but Molly Weasley never once lost patience with him. Not once.

She didn't push him or interrogate him either, even when he tried to give her little openings to. He'd start a sentence and trail off but she just let him, for some reason, and didn't even make a comment under her breath about mumbling or being impolite. Draco didn't really know what to do with that. Even with Minnie, he still put himself on guard because adults seemed to quickly get a no-nonsense vibe from him and be blunt. They treated him like an adult because he acted like an adult. He had the dark, sallow eyes and the tight, pinched expression that reeked of trauma and pain and age—he acted like an old war veteran, so they treated him like one. But Molly refused to do that, and even went so far as to change his bedsheets for him.

But she wasn't condescending, either. She never once made him feel stupid for not knowing how to do something and he figured that he owed her the same. He didn't laugh or jeer when she didn't know how to work the muggle oven. Truth be told, he still wasn't completely sure because Harry never let him near the damn thing but, even when he told her that, she just laughed and said they'd figure it out together. Draco had never heard those words in his life, and especially not in response to his own shortcomings.

Molly made some casual effort at small talk. She asked him about his favorite foods, about his classes, and about his favorite hobbies. When he said he liked Quidditch, it was like a light went on in her face and she happily told him all about Fred and George, the Gryffindor beaters, and about Harry and Ron. It managed to shock him—not how much she could talk, but how proud she seemed. Harry wasn't even her son and she practically glowed whenever she talked about him and his various accomplishments. She didn't talk about his death-defying heroics, though. Instead, she talked about Quidditch and about grades and how she was so proud that Harry had managed to keep in touch despite being so busy. It was… strange.

Draco wasn't really sure what to do with that information other than just nod along, but she didn't seem to mind. Molly had a rather frazzled, but rather disarming way of just talking to him. Like she didn't expect him to respond or even care, but she still wanted to talk to him because they were both there. It was really nice, actually, and it let him relax a bit. But not talking about the trial or about Harry or any of the stories he was sure she had to have heard was wearing on him. Finally, he just snapped.

"Harry trusts you." Molly stopped, mid-explanation of how she was going to cook the beef and the potatoes at the same time, and just turned to him. Draco knew this was it, this was when she would turn into some kind of veela-like creature and destroy him. But she just offered him an apple slice.

"I'm glad to hear it, dear." She seemed prepared to leave it at that, but Draco wasn't. He didn't know what to do with the dears and the sweethearts and the patience and it was honestly putting him on edge.

"Why are you being nice to me?" She offered him another apple slice but he didn't take this one, given that the first was still in his hand uneaten. Not even a hint of anger flashed across her face, though. Unperturbed, she just ate it herself and went back to stirring whatever was in her bowl.

"Because your father may have been cruel to us, but you weren't."

"I bullied Ron." He was on a roll, determined to make her angry with him if it was the last thing he did, but she simply shrugged.

"Yes, but you protected Harry when none of us could." Draco stopped dead where he was standing, letting the knife clatter to the counter and the carrots go ignored as he stared at her. It wasn't dignified to stare, but she just stared right back. He felt like he was in some kind of alternative timeline or something because he could have sworn he'd just heard a hint of gratitude in her voice.

"That matters to you?" Molly scoffed and continued to bustle around the kitchen. She was immune, it seemed, to Draco's sudden shock and was much more concerned with her casserole than with how his face was currently contorting.

"Of course it matters to me! Don't be ridiculous. I'm sure if any of us had had any clue of what those muggles were doing to him all this time, someone would be going to Azkaban. Charlie practically rode in on a dragon when we told him. They all know you, of course, and Ronald was never your biggest fan but we all love Harry and what you did for him? It doesn't cancel out, of course, but it means something."

Draco felt like he'd just been slapped in the face. He'd never thought anyone would ever know about his and Harry's relationship, let alone the Weasleys, but here Molly was telling him that he was on the path to redemption. Simply by protecting his lion. He wanted to cry, suddenly, because he was overwhelmed by the realization that this was real. The mother of the boy he'd hated and tormented since they were eleven years old, telling him that his actions meant something. That maybe, someday, he could mean something too.

"You'd better not be crying on my carrots, dear. If you add the salt too soon they don't turn out right, you know." But Draco could only laugh. He hadn't even realized tears were starting down his cheeks and he hurriedly wiped them away and went back to chopping. It was with a smile, though, because he'd cried in front of Molly Weasley. And he hadn't panicked.

"Hey we're home!" Draco felt more than heard Harry's presence behind him but didn't stop chopping carrots. Molly hugged both Harry and Minnie before returning to her cooking, but Harry stepped up behind him again and wrapped his arms around his waist. Normally, Harry was reserved about physical contact in front of people. Minnie had become a safe person, though they still avoided anything but platonic touching, but with Molly here Draco had assumed it was off the table. Not so, apparently, because Harry kissed the back of his neck.

"Whatcha makin'?" The English was intentional, because Minnie didn't like it when she couldn't understand what they were saying, but Draco didn't mind. He smiled and offered Harry a piece of carrot.

"It's called casserole. Ever heard of it?" Harry accepted the carrot cube—it was one of the imperfect ones, so Draco didn't sweat the loss—and hummed in some kind of positive sentiment.

"Mmm Mrs. Weasley's casseroles are to die for!" Molly laughed and threw a piece of celery at them, but accepted the compliment. She also told them both to call her Molly, but Harry seemed pretty dead set on not following that rule so Draco did his best to follow suit. He could guess that Molly was too close to mom, and Harry was afraid of slipping.

"How was the trial, Minerva?" Minnie answered, giving some basic summary of it went well but then going into details. Draco, however, was distracted from listening by the lips on his neck. He tried desperately to ignore the warmth that flooded all over his body at the sheer proximity to Harry but he couldn't help it—and Harry knew that. The brunet smiled against his skin and took another carrot cube.

"How did it go, little dragon? You seem alright." Draco couldn't hold back a smile, which only seemed to relax Harry even more. Clearly, the brunet had been worried about him rather than himself and, though Draco rolled his eyes, it was still a nice feeling.

"I'm… good. I'm good, actually. How was the trial, my lion?" Harry chuckled against his shoulder but didn't let him go. Draco knew by now that it wasn't because he was worried, but because he'd been so anxious before that now Harry just needed something to hold onto. Some concrete sort of proof that Draco was alright. He never minded, though, and merely wiggled back into the embrace.

"It went well. No problems. The judge didn't like the fact that Minnie wasn't related to me on the same side of the family but he went with it. You're okay, though? Truly?" Molly and Minnie were deep in conversation at the kitchen table, now, no doubt discussing muggles and their strange law procedures, but Draco didn't really care to listen. He just wanted to check that they weren't paying attention. Quickly, he turned in Harry's arms. With a quick, barely-there kiss he pulled his lion into a tight hug and finally let himself relax.

"I'm good, I promise lion. She really loves you." Their hissing had become obvious, now, and drawn the attention of the two women. Minnie was used to their secret conversations and had actually been getting rather good at reading their body language and tone rather than words, but Molly looked slightly shocked. She'd probably never heard parseltongue, Draco realized. Quickly, he switched back to English in an effort to make her more comfortable.

"Sorry, we were just catching up." Molly gave him a little nod, but there was a smile hidden in there that Draco caught. "When do I add the carrots?"

"What do you..? Oh for Merlin's sake!" Molly shot up, evidently displeased that the carrots had not already been added, and began bustling to fix whatever had happened. She'd forgotten to tell him to add the carrots, apparently. Her voice managed to rise an octave or so as she fretted and attempted to add the carrots in again but, when she reached for a wooden spoon, Draco recoiled. Just for a second, pure terror flooded through him and he was sure it was a wand. He braced for the cruciatus curse, but nothing happened. Why had nothing happened?

Confused, Draco finally looked up to see Molly quickly mixing small carrot cubes into a layer of the casserole. She looked flustered, but not angry. He'd messed up, though, and he didn't understand why she wasn't getting her wand out or yelling at him. Harry, though, must have recognized the look on his face. Quickly, he snaked an arm around the blond's waist and placed himself between Draco and the commotion. Instantly, it was like a spell had been cast.

"Hey, you're okay, you're okay she isn't angry and she won't hurt you. I've got you, little dragon." He nodded, burying his face in Harry's chest, but thankfully Minnie knew them well enough by now to know their routine. She could tell that Harry was shielding him and moved to distract Molly.

"Here, let me help you with that. Muggle things can be hard to get used to." While they were distracted, Harry took the opening to lead him into the living room where they were alone. Draco had to resist the urge to just collapse completely. But, Harry tangled a hand in his hair and suddenly Draco felt steady again. It was miraculous.

"We're gonna be okay, little dragon. I promise you." Draco nodded, but he couldn't stop his mind from churning over that sentence. They were not going to be okay. Harry would be, he hoped, because Minnie had made him a vow and he knew she would protect him. But as for Draco? Lucius was closing in on them by the second, he was sure, and would fall onto them like a vulture on its last meal. He'd seen his father be cruel, and he knew what was coming.

"Hey, I love you little dragon." But, just for those precious few moments, Draco let himself forget. Fuck his father, fuck all the ministry rules and regulations and every person who had ever sided with Lucius Malfoy in life. For the moment, he had his lion. Just for a moment—and he was sure it would only be a moment, at most—there was no sadness or fear. He was content.

"I love you too, Lion." Draco now knew the muggle word for what he and Harry both struggled with on a daily basis. They called it depression, though Draco didn't understand why. Harry had been seeing a muggle counselor and was doing incredibly well, given everything that had happened. Draco, however, barely trusted Harry and was not about to see a counselor or therapist. Not yet, at least, he told Harry. For him, it was enough to just stay in hiding and have his lion with him.

He wasn't cured, of course, but ever since he'd started working with Harry he'd been having more good moments than he'd had in his entire life. Before, his life had been like a sheet of ink-stained parchment. So drenched in ink that it almost seemed to bleed darkness and it smeared that suffocating color onto everything it touched. Now, though, there were bright spots. It'd been just a few, at first, but Draco could now say with absolute certainty that he'd had more good days than bad in the last few weeks. It felt surreal, but it was true.

"You think the casserole is ready yet?" Draco laughed, and kissed Harry one last time before leading them back into the kitchen. Almost all of those good days had been because of Harry. Because his lion was there to hold his hand through things that were too hard and to pick him up when he fell, but also because Harry was there to teach him. He'd done more things for himself in the last month than he had in his entire life and it felt empowering, honestly. He was making his own good days. Or, at least that was what Harry kept telling him. And, in the meantime, Draco didn't really mind falling back on his lion to give him a reason to smile every now and then. It was a process. That was what everyone said and Draco was starting to believe it.

"Stupid Gryffindor appetite." Harry snorted, though, as they rejoined the women and began serving up portions of casserole.

"You're just bitter because that hunger is for casserole and not you." Draco felt his jaw drop, but Harry just laughed at him and passed him his plate of potatoes. There was no way. Harry had not just said that—Draco was hallucinating, that was it, right? Those emerald green rings danced over him, though, and Harry smirked in a way that said he'd meant that exactly how he'd said it and didn't plan on taking it back. Draco could only gape at him.

"Shut your mouth, little dragon, or you'll start catching flies." He almost dropped his plate.

"Shut your mouth, little lion, or you'll be swallowing my cock next." Harry choked and spat out his bite of casserole but Draco just smirked and sipped his water. The blush that was starting to creep up Harry's face was delicious. Minnie and Molly looked cautiously between them, obviously not sure what was going on, but he'd succeeded in making Harry turn bright red so he didn't mind the staring.

"Don't make empty promises, little dragon." Even if he was blushing, Harry managed to make his voice sound firm and damn near authoritative in a way Draco was not prepared for. It was his turn to choke, and Harry just smirked. He couldn't leave it at that, though, because Harry looked far too smug and far too proud of himself.

"Who said it was empty?"

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