"Stop fidgeting! And for Merlin's sake, fix your tie!" Draco hissed. "It's bad enough I have to face these people, who have every right to AK me where I stand, but I will be damned if I have to do it with you looking like you've been trampled by a herd of wild hippogriffs!"
Potter glanced down at his shirt and trousers, both impeccably crisp. He reached a hand to tug at his collar.
"Touch your collar again and I will rip those fangs out of your face and owl them to Granger as a parting gift." Potter's hand dropped to his side.
Draco swore under his breath and knocked on the door. It opened seconds later and Arthur Weasley's face broke into a bright smile. "Harry, Draco! So glad you're here!" He stepped aside and held open the door. "Come in, come in! Molly's been climbing the walls waiting for you."
"Mr. Weasley," Draco said smoothly as he crossed the threshold.
"We don't stand on ceremony at the Burrow, Draco. It's Arthur to you."
He fought back the urge to gape at the overt friendliness. Was it possible that the age-old feud had withered and died along with Lucius Malfoy and his prejudices?
"Very well," Draco supplied. "Arthur, it is." He held out a slightly shaky hand, which Arthur took without the slightest reservation. They shook warmly and he ushered Draco further inside.
Arthur braced Harry with an open, inviting face and stuck his hand out. "Harry, it's good to see you."
Draco held his breath as Potter offered his in return and shook Arthur's hand with a measure of familiarity. And he was just as surprised as Potter when Arthur pulled him and wrapped an arm around Potter's back and clapped him hard.
"We've missed you, son."
Son.
Potter's face tensed and a myriad of conflicting emotions danced in his eyes. An unmistakable yearning coupled with anger and regret. In that moment, Draco felt for Potter. And he knew that no matter how much of a bastard Lucius Malfoy had been, he would have given anything for an embrace and declaration of affection like that. Potter pulled back.
"Yes, it has been a while."
They stepped further inside and Draco looked up at the bounding of footsteps down the stairs. Granger smiled and headed toward him, with Weasley behind her, calling out, "They're here!"
Granger's face was warm and pleased as she took Draco's hands and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. "Draco, you're here."
All his years of pureblood training kicked in and he bowed formally before kissing the back of her hand. "Hermione. You look lovely this evening."
"Oi! That's my wife, Ferret!" Weasley bellowed.
When Draco raised his head, he was surprised to find a twinkle in the Auror's eye. "That she is, Weasley. You're a very lucky man."
Weasley stepped forward and offered him his hand. Draco took it and smiled as they shook hands.
"I'm still going to call you 'Ferret', you know. Old habits."
"Perhaps we can relegate 'Ferret' and 'Weasel' to the manliest of jibes? However, the occasional 'Draco' or 'Ronald' wouldn't be amiss, don't you think?" Draco replied.
Weasley grinned. "Whatever you say, Ferret."
Draco turned to find Granger staring at Potter with trepidation. He stood straight, mouth pinched in a tight line. They stood that way for a moment before she sighed, "Oh, Harry!" and flung her arms around his neck. Potter didn't move, but then his eyes closed and his arms slid around her in return. Weasley let out a small gasp of surprise. Granger's body shook in Potter's arms and the unmistakable sound of muffled tears filtered from their embrace.
She pulled back and swiped the back of her hand over her face, stepping back to take a long look at Potter. Her hands came up to smooth over the line of his shoulders in a nervous, fluttery gesture, and then over his tie, as if she had to keep touching him in order to convince herself he was real. Weasley gently brushed her aside and took up her place in front of Potter. His face had softened, and he stared at Ron with the same pinched expression and held out his hand.
"Ron," Potter said, his voice clipped.
Ron frowned and bypassed Potter's hand, dragging the man into a full-body hug. "You'll not shake my hand like a bloody stranger, Harry Potter."
Potter managed to hold out his resistance for a beat longer than with Hermione, but soon, he was returning Ron's hug. Two more sets of footsteps sounded on the stairs and Potter's eyes shot up over Ron's shoulder and he stiffened. Ron turned and waved over the newcomers, oblivious of Potter's wariness.
Draco only turned when a shadow crossed his vision and looked up. Again, the age-old Malfoy lineage reared its head, cool and polite, as Draco's eyes passed right over the scarred face and to rest on the haunted blue eyes. He offered a broad smile and a steady hand. "Draco Malfoy."
The handshake was perfunctory. "Bill Weasley."
Potter cleared his throat beside him, and the sound came out as more of a warning than anything else.
"Bill."
Bill's eyes shifted, but he didn't move from in front of Draco. "Harry."
There was silence, but only brief before Potter offered, "Good to see you."
Bill smiled, though it looked more of a grimace. "Welcome home."
Suddenly, Bill was shoved unceremoniously to the side and Draco found himself staring face-to-face with the last Weasley he wanted to see.
George Weasley glowered down at him. "I suppose you think you can walk in here like nothing's happened?"
"George!" Hermione and Ron both shouted.
Draco held up a hand, having anticipated this reaction from the moment he accepted the invitation. "It's all right."
George's fists clenched by his side, and Draco swore he heard Potter growl from his right. But he spared no glance, keeping his attention on George.
"I expected nothing of the sort."
"I lost my brother," George spat. "And I should hate you for it." Draco saw the rage swimming in George's eyes temper and soften as he cast a glance at Potter. "But I can't," he said, softer this time. "Because I may have lost a brother, but you've returned another. And there isn't anything I can do but thank you for it." With that, George swept Draco into a forceful hug. It lasted only a second or two before he reached out and grabbed for Potter, pulling him into the embrace.
"Harry! Draco! You're here! George, let them breathe!" Molly Weasley's voice preceded her entrance, presumably from the kitchen, if the aroma that followed her was any indication.
George let go and they stumbled back, Potter's hand reaching out to steady his elbow.
Her eyes were bright and full of nothing but Potter as she came forward, stopping in front of him with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The smile that graced her face was apprehensive, yet warm and full of love.
"Mrs. Weasley," Potter said, tension pulling his voice tight.
Her restraint faltered and she pulled Potter into a hug. "Harry," she whispered. "We've missed you so much."
At his stiffening, she let Potter go and turned her eyes on Draco, sniffing delicately. "And you, Draco, how good of you to come."
"I was delighted to receive the invitation, Mrs. Weasley," Draco replied with a formal bow.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, waving a hand in the air. "Coats off! Supper's about ready!"
Draco shrugged off his coat and pulled out the beribboned bottle from the inside, offering it to Molly with a smile.
"What's this?" she asked.
His lips curled higher into a grin and he replied with mock seriousness, "Mother would never forgive me if I neglected to bring a hostess gift, and since Potter refused to wear the bow, I'm afraid the Ogden's will have to do."
Potter's head swiveled to glare at him while the others stifled bright chirps of laughter. Molly took the bottle and Draco's coat, holding out a hand for Potter's as well. The frown on his face dissipated somewhat as he handed it over.
"Into the dining room, everyone! Arthur, help me bring everything out," Molly said briskly, turning to hand the coats over to Ron.
The beginnings of dinner went off with the clatter of dishes and cutlery as Potter sat quietly next to him, looking sorely out of place. Draco cast a glance around the table, noting that no one seemed to mind tucking in to the food while Potter's plate sat empty in front of him.
Molly looked up at that moment. "Harry, dear, you're welcome to retire to the sitting area and open up that Ogden's until dessert if you would be more comfortable."
"Yeah," George piped up. "You're the only one who doesn't have to be subjected to watching Ron shovel it in."
"Oi!" Ron protested, mouth gaping.
"Close your mouth!" Hermione hissed, elbowing him from the side. "We've talked about this."
Draco felt Potter stiffen, but he managed a smile for Molly. "No, thank you, Molly. I'm rather enjoying the company."
She beamed and nodded, continuing her meal.
"Where is Percy?" Potter added.
Bill shook his head. "Percy doesn't come to Sunday supper. Charlie's still in Romania. He doesn't get home much, but when he does, you can count on him at the table."
There was some grumbling around the table at the mention of Percy, but it died out quickly.
"And Ginny? Where is she?"
Bill opened his mouth again as Ron's brows shot into his hairline.
"Not here," Molly said with authority.
Potter glanced at Ron, who, despite chewing with enthusiasm, shot Potter a look that left no doubt to Draco's mind that there was a story behind her absence.
Draco chatted amicably with Hermione, and exchanged a few words with Bill and George when he noticed Potter becoming increasingly more agitated next to him. He was wound so tight, Draco thought he might snap under the strain at any moment. He made a show of smoothing his napkin and let his left hand drift under the table to rest on Potter's thigh. Potter visibly tensed as Draco squeezed to remind him of his presence. A cool hand gripped his and made to push it aside, but Draco thrummed his fingers and Potter froze.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
After a few seconds, Potter relaxed, and the grip he had on Draco's hand loosened considerably.
Dinner plates were cleared as everyone finished and Molly returned from the kitchen, her hands full.
"Dessert, Draco?" she asked.
Draco smiled and sat back in his chair, letting his right hand rest on his abdomen. "Merlin, Molly, you're a menace to my waistline! If you keep feeding me like this, I'll put on two stone by the end of the year, and Potter will have to roll me wherever we go."
The good-natured chuckling from the rest of the table was encouraging. Potter, however, wasn't amused.
"Treacle tart," she proclaimed, "Harry's favorite."
Draco smiled winningly. "Well, then, let's have it." He turned the grin on Potter. "You've got strong arms, don't you, Potter?"
"Shut it."
Draco laughed along with the rest of the table.
"Harry?" Molly asked softly. "Can I cut you a piece?"
He knew Potter wanted to tell her no, to be left out the conversation entirely, but Draco squeezed lightly on his thigh again, and his breath caught as Potter squeezed back and turned his face to Molly.
"Yes. That would be lovely."
Molly's joy was palpable as she placed the tart on the table and began to slice.