AN: I'm back!? Good news y'all! My muse finally seems to have returned on a semi-permanent basis! I've got the next two chapters roughly outlined, and we're nearing the end. Thank you a million times to everyone who has miraculously stuck around for this long, I'm really hoping to have another chapter out in the next couple weeks. Sparkly rainbow hugs (Happy Pride!) for all of you!


Changing Scenery

Chapter 29: Bittersweet

Harry was a little surprised to wake up before Hermione the next morning, but he happily took the opportunity to trace over the familiar lines of her face in the grey light leaking through the curtains.

He wasn't sure he'd ever felt this way before. He loved her, more than he'd ever thought he could love anyone. When he thought back to those early feelings he'd had for Cho, which had felt so all-consuming at the time, they seemed shallow in comparison. Even Ginny – he'd loved her, had cared for her enough to try again after the war, but it had eventually become clear that they were much better as friends.

But he felt almost the same way about Draco. Well, it wasn't quite the same, really. Being with Hermione felt like coming home, the way he used to feel about being at Hogwarts, like he'd found someplace he could really call home. Being with Draco felt like being on a broom, that sense of rightness mixed with danger and exhilaration. He didn't want to live without either feeling. And hopefully I won't have to.

He looked back down at Hermione, her face relaxed in sleep in a way it rarely was when she was awake, her mind always moving so quickly.

As quietly as possible, he climbed out of bed, waiting a moment to make sure she stayed asleep before pulling on a pair of shorts and slipping out of the room.

He headed to the kitchen and then, after casting Muffliato, set about making breakfast. He was just finishing up frying the bacon when he felt his spell pop.

Hermione leaned against the doorway, wearing a shirt she must have nicked from him. He almost dropped the spatula he was holding. Merlin's balls.

He cleared his throat. "Morning, Hermione."

She grinned at him. "Morning, Harry. Smells good."

For a long moment he was tempted to say forget the breakfast and take her back to the bedroom and stay there the rest of the day.

"Thanks," he said instead. "It'll be ready in a minute. There's tea, if you'd like it." He nodded his head at the kettle.

Hermione came in and then sidled right up next to him to get to the cupboard. She had to reach up to find a clean one and he had to look away from the very tempting sight of her mostly bare legs before he forgot what he was doing and burned the bacon.

He could hear her making a cuppa as he took the bacon off the stove and finished laying out the food. They settled down at the table together once everything was ready. Harry didn't realize how hungry he was until he started eating. He dug in, making sure to leave enough that Hermione would have plenty.

They ate quietly for a few minutes before Hermione paused after a sip of tea. "This is really great, but I thought you hated cooking?"

Harry hesitated. Thoughts of mornings with the Dursleys, waking up hungry and cooking meals he didn't always get to eat, watching Dudley stuff his face while he waited for whatever was leftover – usually not much – flashed through his mind. He almost never cooked now. There was a reason he had a drawer full of takeaway menus. "I don't, not really. But I wanted to cook for you." He smiled at her. It was true. He'd felt happy cooking for her. Those dark memories hadn't crept in at all.

She smiled softly back at him. "Thank you, it really is wonderful."

They finished eating and then Hermione insisted on helping with the dishes.

"You cooked, I clean, that's how it works!"

Harry snorted. "Try telling Ron that."

"As I recall, I did," Hermione said dryly. "More than once."

He shook his head. "He hated that. Complained about it constantly whenever we went to the pub." He put away the dish he'd been drying. "Did you ever think, back then, that we'd end up here?"

"Here?" Hermione said thoughtfully, scrubbing at a pan. "Did I think that I'd be dating my best friend while being courted by the boy who spent all of our school years tormenting me? I would have to say no."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

"But I also didn't think I'd be in love with my best friend, or that the boy who tormented me would turn out to be a decent, maybe even good man." She paused. "Or that he'd turn out to be a Veela and we'd turn out to be his mates."

"Bit of a shock," Harry agreed.

They finished washing the dishes in silence, Hermione staring off into space.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, when she began slowly wiping her hands with a dish towel, her mind clearly elsewhere.

She glanced up, blinking. "Fine."

He gently took the towel from her hands. "You're not fine. What're you thinking about?"

She walked over to the table, picking up her now-cold cup of tea. He was pretty sure she was just delaying trying to answer.

"We never talked about it," she finally said, her back to him.

"About what?"

"About you shutting me out," she replied quietly, setting down the teacup. "And why you reacted so badly and all the rest. I don't know what went wrong, not really. And I don't want to live with an axe over my head waiting for it to happen again if I say something wrong."

If Harry had ever felt like a prat, it was at that moment. He felt like the scum of the earth. "It wasn't you. I was horrible. I got jealous and irrational and –"

She spun around. "But why, Harry? What happened? I don't understand."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. It's, I just felt vulnerable, I guess. I felt like I just wanted it to be special, private. Something just between me and Draco. And I know that wasn't fair to you, keeping secrets and lashing out. You'd done nothing wrong. You were just trying to be my friend. My best friend."

"Yes, your friend," she echoed. "Is that how you're always going to think of me? As a friend first and a lover second?"

"You are my friend," he said, baffled.

"I am. And I always will be. But you think of Draco as a lover, a partner, first. Can you think of me that way? Or will you wake up one day and realize that we're 'just friends?' That what we have is just a spark, easily kindled but easily snuffed too."

"Why can't you be both? Good lord, Hermione, we slept together last night!"

"Friends sleep together all the time," she said. "It doesn't mean they last when they try to make it work."

She's talking about Ron again. And it finally hit him. She was talking about him, yes, but she was also speaking from experience. She'd already been snuffed out once.

He took the two steps to stand in front of her, reaching out to take her too-cold hands. "I'm not going to get tired of you. I'm not going to wake up one day and wish that you weren't beside me. I love you, Hermione. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, including Draco. Maybe one day I'll love him as much as I love you, but never more. And I know I probably can't convince you, not yet. But I'm staying, Hermione. I'll do whatever you want to prove it to you."

She looked down at their joined hands. "You don't have to prove anything, Harry. I just don't want you to have any regrets. I want you to be happy. Draco too."

"You make me happy."

She smiled wanly up at him. "It seems like we've mostly made each other miserable since we started being more than friends."

"Maybe," he acknowledged, thinking of the agony of the past month. "But that was my fault, not yours. You didn't do anything wrong. And I'm going to make it up to you. Every day for the rest of our lives."

"We are wizards, Harry. That's a long time." But her eyes were smiling.

"Well I want forever with you, but I'll settle for a lifetime."

Hermione went home shortly before lunch. She'd still seemed subdued, especially compared to the giddiness that had overtaken them both the night before, but she'd kissed him goodbye and promised to meet him for lunch on Monday, as they used to.

The moment she vanished into the Floo, he grabbed some parchment and wrote her a note, sending it off with his owl. Hopefully she would get it not too long after she got home. He'd meant it when he said he was going to make it up to her.

On Sunday morning, he sent her a posy of flowers. He knew she was seeing Draco that night, but he wanted her to know that he was still thinking of her. He had a plan to make up for how much a prat he'd been and show her how he felt. And he also knew that he needed to make up for never responding to her letter. And I will.

Work passed achingly slowly on Monday morning, despite how much he had to do. The last-minute details for the trial needed to be arranged, and he still had his other, regular cases to work on as well. By the time lunchtime came, he was more than ready to get out of his office.

He made his way eagerly up to Hermione's office, taking a moment outside her door to try and neaten his hair, even though he knew it was a lost cause. He could see her assistant, Felicity, eyeing him from her desk and flushed.

He knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

He entered, swinging the door closed behind him. "Hi, Hermione."

She smiled brightly. "Harry! I'm just finishing up these papers and then I'll be ready."

"No problem." He leaned against the door jamb, trying to imitate that negligent slouch that Draco seemed to have mastered, but he was pretty sure he just looked like he was tired. He'd never been so self-conscious about the positioning of his arms.

He watched as she quickly went through the stack of papers on her desk, signing a few and putting the others into a file.

"Ready!" She stood, grabbed her cloak off the hook on the wall, and then swung it around her shoulders.

Harry straightened up, blocking the door. Before she could reach for the knob, he leaned in to give her a kiss. He could tell he'd surprised her, but she quickly sank into it, her eyes sliding shut. He slid one arm around her waist, pulling her up against him. He traced her lower lip with his tongue but didn't push further when her mouth parted beneath his. He pulled back, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, before straightening up.

He smiled at her softly. I love her. "Now I'm ready, too."

She blushed and he felt quite proud of himself.

They didn't attract much more attention than they usually did on their walk to their favorite café, though Harry waited until they were outside the Ministry before taking Hermione's hand. She gave him a look as he did, but she didn't try to pull away. If she asked, he could always blame it on the chilly weather.

They placed their orders at the counter before finding seats at a table tucked away in a corner.

"Busy morning?" Harry asked, taking off his cloak.

"Very," Hermione replied, slipping off her cloak as well. As she turned to drape it over the back of the chair, Harry noticed the marks on her neck just below the collar of her shirt.

He flushed thinking of how she could have gotten marks there. "What are you working on?"

Hermione sighed, leaning back. "The usual, although more than that as well. I sent off the updated case file to Robards this morning for the trial on Thursday. And then I've got loads left to do before the end of the week."

He noted the way her voice changed. "The end of the week? Is that…is that it? Your last day?"

Hermione nodded. "I'll be confirming with Kingsley this afternoon, but it was always the plan to leave after the case was finished. And now, more than ever, I think it's the right move."

He wanted to ask what exactly she meant, but wasn't sure how to without sounding like he thought it was because of him and Draco – that her whole life revolved around them.

"Have you given any thought to after? I know it's been a bit mad lately." He wanted to roll his eyes at his own wording.

She snorted. "You could say that." She hesitated. "Do you remember how Draco was looking for a liaison? For his company?"

He frowned thoughtfully. "Vaguely. Are you considering doing that?"

"Maybe. Draco brought it up last night, and it does sound interesting. He said the position is mine if I want it, but I don't know if I feel comfortable with that right now."

Harry cleared his throat. "How was it? Your, uh, your date last night?"

Hermione looked down, smiling softly. "It was good."

He resisted the urge to make a comment on how good it must have been by the state of her neck. Do not ask if they shagged. It is not your business. "I'm glad."

"He seems better, but I know he's looking forward to the trial being over."

"I think we all are," Harry said. "And if Dunham doesn't get sent to Azkaban, I'll eat my cloak."

Harry walked her back to her office after lunch and kissed her, on the mouth, in front of her whole office. Not that there were that many people paying attention, but it was the principle of the thing. Hermione gave him a small smile. They didn't make plans to have lunch again because they both had busy weeks, but Harry knew they'd see each other again soon.

Draco owled him late that afternoon to say that he was available to come in the next morning to provide his testimony for the trial. Harry couldn't help but wonder, even as he sent off a reply scheduling their meeting for ten o'clock, if he was so late in owling because Hermione had stayed over. Although Hermione was at work this morning. He couldn't help but imagine Draco lounging in bed, shirtless, the sheets pooled around his waist. His hair would be tousled, like it had been on Samhain…

He pulled back, forcing himself out of what would have been a very inappropriate daydream to have in the workplace.

Harry had felt very strange about it, but he'd sent a note along with the flowers to Hermione on Sunday morning, saying that he, too, was okay if she and Draco did more than drink tea on the sofa or snog on the doorstep. It felt exceedingly odd to give his girlfriend permission to shag another bloke, even if they were both dating that bloke, but it felt even stranger because it felt wrong implying that Hermione needed his permission to do anything. And strangest of all, he really wasn't much bothered by the idea of Hermione and Draco shagging. A tad jealous, maybe, but if anything, he wished he could be there with them.

He went to sleep that night dreaming of wings and chestnut curls.

Harry felt distracted all morning on Tuesday. He'd woken at dawn with an erection that wouldn't go away, and then when he'd finally managed to fall asleep again after taking care of it, he'd overslept his wand alarm.

He was five minutes late coming into the office, though fortunately Robards didn't notice. He worked on finished up some paperwork and looked up at the clock on the wall to realize Draco was set to arrive in five minutes. He tried desperately to straighten up his office and neaten his robes before Draco arrived. He was running his fingers through his hair, trying to flatten it down, when there was a knock on his door.

Why did he have to pick today to be so bloody punctual? "Come in!"

Harry almost swallowed his tongue when the door opened.

Draco walked in looking the picture of a wizarding aristocrat. His fine blonde hair was elegantly tousled, his dark blue robes hung in perfect folds, and his black shoes shined so much they were practically mirrors. Somehow, the silver wings tucked against his back, the upper curves arching over his shoulders, only added to the effect.

"Good morning, Auror Potter."

"Morning. Have a seat," Harry managed to say, sounding only slightly strangled. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk, taking his own seat.

Draco swept his robes up and perched on the chair, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm well, thank you." He was pleased that his voice sounded normal again. "How are you?"

Draco smirked. "Feeling quite well, thank you."

Harry cleared his throat. He tried desperately not to think about why he looked so damned pleased with himself. Don't think about it. Don't bloody think about it. He failed. "That's, uh, that's good."

"Yes, it is," he said in a voice dripping with insinuation.

Harry cleared his throat again. "Right, well. Thank you for coming in today," he said, trying to bring some formality back to the conversation.

"You're welcome."

Harry gave him a look. "So today you'll be giving your statement about what happened during the hearing last Monday, 14 November, and what transpired afterwards."

Draco straightened, his levity falling away. "Right."

He felt inordinately saddened by the loss of the smirk he normally found annoying.

"Just start with the trial," Harry said when Draco seemed at a loss for words. He picked up his Quick Quotes quill – specially modified by the department for note-taking during interviews – and set it on the parchment he'd already laid out.

Draco took a deep breath and then began. "During the trial, when Hermione was testifying, I saw the Unspeakable come up and I thought he was coming up to deal with Dunham since he'd been acting up. I felt him touch my shoulder and then I saw that he was also touching Dunham but I couldn't do anything to stop what was happening. The Portkey – I don't know what it was, but I assume that the Unspeakable was carrying it – took us to a clearing."

"Did Dunham know about the Portkey?"

"I believe so. He didn't seem surprised, anyway, because both of them cast spells at me as soon as we landed. I don't know who cast which spell, but I know one of them was Stupefy because it knocked me unconscious. When I woke up, I was tied up in a storage room – the one you found me in."

Harry pushed down the anger that rose up at the thought of Draco being bound and helpless. "You weren't tied up when we found you. How did you get out of the ropes?"

Draco smirked, though it was more subdued. He held up a hand and after a moment, his fingers were suddenly tipped in sharp nails. Harry blinked in surprise. Without thinking, he leaned forward, reaching out to touch.

Draco pulled his hand back. "They're very sharp."

Harry pulled back, a bit embarrassed. "I'm sure. So you used your…claws to cut the ropes?"

"Talons, but yes."

"Okay. Then what?"

Draco gave a brief but detailed account of the three days he spent waiting in the small storage room in the Carrow Manor until Harry and the Aurors rescued him. Beneath Draco's blasé attitude, Harry could hear the lingering fear and disquiet, and despite his mostly-restored appearance, there were still dark circles beneath his eyes.

Harry's own heart started beating too fast, as though he were trapped in that room, feeling the walls close in. With a jolt, seeing Draco's pale skin grow pallid, Harry realized that he was experiencing what Draco was feeling.

"Draco, are you alright?"

Draco's face pulled into a grim smile. "Fine."

Harry frowned, remembering Hermione saying the same thing. "You're not." He stood up and came around to the front of the desk. He gently took one of Draco's hands, ice-cold and clammy. "I'm sorry to have to dredge things up. I wish none of this had happened and we'd been able to properly protect you. I wish you'd never been kidnapped in the first place."

Draco looked at their hands. "I did get something out of it, I suppose."

"Oh?"

Draco looked up at him from beneath his eyelashes in a way that made Harry glad he was half-leaning back against the desk and that his Auror robes were quite voluminous. "I found my mates."

Harry blushed. "I'm not sure how much of a consolation prize that is."

"Trust me, you are not a consolation prize. But if you'd like, I can think of several ways you can make me feel better."

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm at work, Draco."

Draco smirked. "And I'd be happy for you to search me anytime, Auror Potter."

Harry couldn't help but picture searching Draco, and then bending him over his desk, lifting up his robe and…

"Maybe another time," he muttered.

Draco grinned sharply. "I'll keep that in mind."

Draco left just before eleven o'clock, and despite the fact that nothing had actually happened, Harry knew that he would never be able to look at his desk quite the same way again.