Seth did not wake them during the night, but the little bugger sure was an early riser. And he had a way of materializing into doorways.

"Good morning!" He cried, startling Harry out of his wits, who was performing his morning ritual of staring at Draco and waiting for him to awaken. Said beast rose from his sleep in an instant, sitting up and gasping.

"Who? What? Where?" He mumbled, or something along those lines, as it was mostly incomprehensible.

"Why're you in the same bed?" Seth asked them, still leaning in the doorframe and staring at them curiously. The top of his head probably didn't even reach the top of the mattress, Harry thought.

"Oh. Hi, kiddo." Draco groaned, slumping back into his spot against Harry. "We're sleeping," he added.

"You're awake now!" Seth cried, jaunting over to Harry's side of the bed.

"Good morning, Seth." Harry grumbled, rolling away from Draco. "We're not really morning people. Could you give us a minute?" He asked.

"I can count to a hundred," Seth informed him, plopping himself onto the ground. "One, two, three, four..."

"Why is he so loud?" Draco groaned, stuffing a pillow over his head.

"Eight, nine, ten, eleven..."

"He's a child, Draco. This is what they're like. Wonderful, aren't they?" Harry replied, smiling in spite of himself, staring at the small redheaded, bed-headed child sitting cross-legged on his floor.

"Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen..."

"I wasn't..." Draco muttered.

"Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five..."

"Like you would remember," Harry chortled, rolling back over to Draco. He rubbed his back lightly from under the covers, hoping the touch would motivate him like it did last night.

"Oh. What's after twenty-nine? It starts with a t again."

"Thirty!" Draco cried. "It's thirty. Thirty in the morning," he groaned. "Thirty is to early to be awake, let's just go back to sleep!" His voice sounded like he was singing, and Harry found himself laughing again.

"I'm always up at thirty." Seth chirped, trying to find a way to crawl up onto the bed.

"No." Draco snapped. "No one is up at thirty. Ever."

Harry kept on laughing, hysterical from the joy of having his two favorite people in the room at once being so ridiculous. He wasn't used to Draco being so un-soppy in the morning, and he had no idea Seth was this chipper when he first woke up.

"I am." Seth insisted, gripping Harry's arm and hoisting himself up onto the bed. "I want breakfast."

Draco groaned again, sitting up completely. "This is worse than Los Angeles," he sighed. "No, scratch that. I haven't had this much noise this early since the hostel in Delhi."

Seth blinked at them. "You don't got shirts on." He commented, staring at them curiously. "You're really weird."

"So are you." Draco countered, but Harry saw that he was smiling, so it was okay.

"Are you two like Mum and Dad?" Seth asked, tilting his head. Harry sat up, and his eyes widened in alarm.

"What do you mean, buddy?" He asked. He hoped the boy wasn't thinking they would drop him off at the orphanage and never come back...

"Do you love each other?" He inquired. "You kiss and hold hands, and you were all wrapped together. So, do you love each other?" He was watching them completely innocently.

Draco smiled at Seth again. "Why, yes, we do." He replied. "See?" He asked, grabbing Harry's head and placing three loud, smacking kisses on his face.

Seth giggled and fell over. Only looking up at him with his eyes, he hummed, "Are you a family?"

Harry froze, and looked over at Draco. "No, Seth, we're not. We don't have any kids, you see." He cast a meaningful glance at Draco, hoping he still meant what he'd said last night.

"Oh." Seth mumbled, rolling onto his back. He didn't say anything else, and he had that sad look on his face. Harry nudged Draco, who grunted.

"But Harry was thinking we might want one someday," he added. "And we like you an awful lot."

Seth sat up immediately. "You do?" He asked.

"We do," Harry assured him.

"You didn't want me to stay yesterday," Seth mumbled, but a smile was spread wide on his face.

Draco took a cautious glance at Harry. "We were still thinking yesterday," he replied. "And Harry can't keep you just yet. We still have to work things out with Madam."

"So..." Seth's face scrunched up in thought. "We will be a family?"

Harry burst out laughing again. "Yes." He said. "We will be."

Seth beamed. "So... Now can we have breakfast?"


Draco and Harry had thrown on some clothes and met Seth downstairs in the kitchen. Draco was extremely grateful he was so short, otherwise he thought the little pollywog might have started one of his 'cooking experiments' that Draco knew he was prone to try. Instead, he had waited for them on the floor.

"You make something, I'll read the paper." Draco told him. Yes, he liked to cook, too... But it was Harry's kitchen, and as far as he was concerned, Harry's kid.

"It's gonna be kid food," Harry warned him.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Pancakes," Harry clarified, picking Seth up off the floor and hoisting him onto his shoulders. It was such a natural movement, and Draco knew Harry had been doing it for longer than he had dated him...

He frowned, realizing that Seth, as young as he was, could be considered a more permanent fixture in Harry's life than Draco. He could be here now, but in a few months, who knew? But Seth would still be there.

"Do you like pancakes?" Seth asked, peering from behind Harry's hair, his hands all tangled in its mess.

Draco's eyes widened, realizing the boy must have seen him frown. "Yes, I like pancakes," he replied. "Carry on. I was lost in thought." He stared down at the table, wondering if Harry and him were really as tied together as he thought.

He's my lightning boy. I'm his Slytherin. We learned that last night. I've nothing to worry about.

He wasn't sure he believed it, but he had to if he wanted to keep the wolves at bay. He didn't want to collapse in front of Seth, and he didn't want to ruin a perfectly good day.

Just then, there was a rustling from the sitting room. Draco snapped to attention, slightly worried that there would be another Weasley surprise attack. There wasn't though-it was just an owl. Seth had woken them early enough that they beat the morning post.

It unceremoniously dumped The Prophet and Witch Weekly on the table, and then made its way back to fly out of the chimney. Draco picked up the latter news venue. He never thought he would be reading a gossip magazine over an actual newspaper, but there he was.

A picture of him in his shop was the front cover. He was leaning over his piece of parchment-Harry's coming out article-before he looked up and raised an eyebrow at Skeeter and her camera. He knew the words forming on his lips were What do you want, Skeeter? But somehow they'd managed to make it look more dramatic, friendly, and... flirtatious.

He turned a little green at the idea of that.

The cover read: Words With Draco Malfoy: Love Who You Love

He looked up at Harry, who had conjured a step stool for Seth and was helping him measure the flour for the pancakes.

"Harry." Draco held up the magazine. "I'm on the cover of Witch Weekly. I'm a celebrity now!" He exclaimed, feeling genuinely excited. And silly.

Harry smirked at him from over his shoulder, cracking an egg into a bowl separate of the flour that Seth was aimlessly stirring. "Congrats. I think my first time was when I was twelve." He turned back to the cooking.

"'Oh, congratulations, Draco. That's an excellent picture of you, Draco. You're so inspiring, Draco.'" Draco muttered in an exaggerated, deep voice that made Seth giggle. "Oh, Harry, no need to compliment me. We all know I'm amazing."

Harry chuckled. "Glad you don't need me to remind you."

Draco huffed. "Don't you even want to read it? Skeeter just fixed our Gallows problem."

Harry dropped his whisk and stopped beating the eggs. "I'd forgot about Gallows," he confessed. "Thanks, Sethers," he added, pouring the egg mixture into the flour. Draco thought he was thanking him both for the stirring and for helping distract him.

"She interviewed me, and she added some comments about me being 'every man's secret dream' and threw in some gibberish about my philanthropy efforts with the orphans and with the charity we're doing." He explained, looking over the inside article. The page was purple and with gray text, and Draco wondered if she was onto something.

"Oh, congratulations, Draco. You're so inspiring, Draco." Harry mimicked Draco's mimicking, which really wasn't fair at all. He cast a spell on the skillet that was on the stove so it was the right temperature, and poured the batter on.

"Thanks, love." Draco purred, acting as if it didn't get to him.

"That's an egg-sellent picture of you, Draco!" Seth pitched, and Draco found himself chuckling.

"What do you think, Harry? Is he a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin?" Draco asked.

"Gryffindor." Harry snapped, at the same time that seth cried, "Slytherin!"


They brought Seth back to the orphanage before noon, and he hardly protested, though he made them promise to come back for him soon. Harry went in to talk with Madam Humpop about adoption. She could only legally make Harry his guardian, unless they got married, which they both vehemently protested against, and couldn't technically legally do in wizarding society.

Harry saw a slight insecurity in Draco's eyes all the same. When they were leaving the orphanage, Harry took his arm to side-apparate him away. They walked for a few minutes before they did apparate though, and they walked like they did that first morning on the way to Hogwarts.

"You'll still be part of his life, Draco." Harry smiled. "We have plenty of time to make things official."

Draco looked at him with raised eyebrows. "You think so?" He whispered. There was some kind of shock and concern in his eyes.

Harry just winked at him, and apparated them back to Cobalt Records.

When they were solidly back on his feet, Harry broke away and flipped the sign open. "I think you'll have plenty of extra visitors today." He grinned. "With your cover-photo and all."

Draco smirked. "I suppose I will." He sauntered over to his spot behind his counter. "And I've an article to write," he added.

Harry took his spot sitting on the staircase. "Oh?" He inquired. "What about?"

"You. If you agree that it's time, of course," Draco added hastily, picking up the parchment all the same.

The door rang open, so Harry couldn't answer as deeply as he would have liked to. Instead, he just muttered, "Go for it, Malfoy."

Draco waved a greeting at the customer, and began humming to himself as he wrote. Harry stood up to sift through the records and find something to play that would annoy Draco.

It took him a while, choosing a new record ever few minutes and placing it on the player, to find something in the shop that Draco didn't like that wasn't Celestina Warbeck.

He crumpled up the paper he was writing. "Dammit, Harry," he muttered. "That's on the 'banned shelf' for a reason." He threw the paper ball into the air and Vanished it.

"Considering I made these shelves," Harry retorted, "I wouldn't call that shelf 'banned'. And I didn't, because I don't name my pieces." He smirked. "And it's not anywhere near the Warbeck."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's where I put all the records I hate. They're cheaper than the others." He added.

"So, the sale shelf?"

"No. The banned shelf." Draco sighed, and pulled out another piece of parchment. "Just... chat with customers or something. I really want to get this right."

Harry grinned, because Auror Michaels just walked in. "Fair enough," he smiled, standing up to greet the man, who was looking cheerful to be in Draco's shop.

"Hullo." He said, looking out of the corner of his eye to see that Draco had stopped writing and was pretending not to pay attention.

"Hullo, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy." Micheals returned, and waved excitedly at Draco.

"Just wanted you to know that the publisher who called for that recent Prophet article on your gala got arrested. For other reasons, of course, but he's been arrested." Michaels was grinning like a fool.

Harry also had a feeling that the publisher wouldn't have been arrested if he hadn't called for that article.

"That's good for us, then." Harry replied, glancing at Draco, who was smirking down at his parchment as if his like got way easier.

"And Mr. Aterneus wanted me to inform you that Calla Gallows has been fired. Additonally, a certain Pansy Parkinson is planning on making sure she ever gets employed again." His grin had turned slightly wicked, and Harry found himself gaping.

Draco had given up on pretending not to eavesdrop. "Can she even do that?" He questioned, gaping as well. He shook his head and regained his composure. "I mean... As Head Auror... would you consider that legal?"

Michaels winked at them. "There's nothing wrong with Ms. Parkinson speaking with corporate directors." He said innocently.

Harry blinked. "Well, that's good for us, too, then."

"I'm not done," Michaels twinkled. "Ms. Granger and Ms. Parkinson have asked me for help on passing a something by the Wizangamot that would legally protect us all from anti gay propaganda."

"That sounds too good to be true..." Harry whispered. "Thank you, Auror Michaels."

The man simply shrugged. "I expect I can call a favor from you when werewolf rights get brought back onto the table." He said solemnly.

Draco's head popped back up from his article. "What about marriage?" He asked. "Could you... bring that up?"

Michaels raised an eyebrow. "Any plans, Mr. Malfoy?" He inquired. Draco just blushed.

"Just in case. For Seth," he added, giving Harry a meaningful look that made his hear swell. He could have gone and snogged him then and there, but there were other customers in the room besides Michaels.

Michaels looked like he didn't completely understand, but he shrugged. "That's a long way away, Mr. Malfoy. Give it a decade." He sighed, and looked remiss to say it.

"It's more than I could have asked for a a year ago." Draco replied. "Thank you, Auror Michaels. Is there anything I can do for you?" He asked, looking courteous and grateful.

Michaels smiled brightly. "Is the record you've got playing for sale?"

Draco's pleasant expression dropped to his Malfoy death glare. "Take it. For free. And don't give it back."

Auror Michaels laughed, taking the record and putting it back into its sleeve. "Generous and noble as always, Mr. Malfoy." He turned to leave the shop.

Draco scowled. "I can testify for werewolves, too, you know!" He called after him as the door slammed shut. "I'm a famous reporter! I'm more than just a shopkeeper!" He cried, to no avail.

Harry chuckled. "He likes you, Draco. Be grateful." He realized Draco might not even know that Michaels was a werewolf.

Draco just slumped back to his parchment. "I need to write this article." He muttered. "And as soon as it's written, I'll stand in front of the entire staff of Witch Weekly and The Prophet and let Skeeter write an exposé article on our secret gay affair."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "What did you just say?"

Draco smiled cooly at him, and in that moment, Harry saw a man without any wolves, without anxiety. A picture of the future. "If you've taught me anything, Potter, it's that I don't need to worry so much."

And that time, Harry really did cross over the counter to kiss him, much to the surprise of the middle-aged witch dawdling by the Celestina Warbeck corner of shame. She let out a squawk.

Draco made a surprised noise, but gave in for a few moments before breaking away, ignoring the woman. "And that I'm secretly an attention whore. If it weren't for you, Malfoy and Pennom would still be separate entities." He added with a grin.

Harry kissed him again. "You're brilliant."

"Mmhmm. Keep preening my feathers, Potter." He looked over the Harry's shoulder to the woman who was clutching a copy of A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love to her chest, looking scandalized.

"Are you going to buy that, ma'am?"


Draco was tired of rewriting the article. He wanted to storm upstairs and shove that copy of Is It A Choice? Coming Out to Misinformed People into the rubbish bin. It was just making things more complicated.

And then he realized it didn't have to be complicated. He was Adam Pennom. Or, more realistically, Draco Malfoy. There was nothing in his way to writing this article. He had nothing to be afraid of.

There had once been a time when, somewhere, in the back of his mind, he had worried that Harry would be done with him the moment he finished the article. There had been an even longer time where he thought Hermione might murder him if he made a single mistake. There was yet the longest period where he had just simply believed that the world might stop spinning if he wrote it and he and Harry would never live normal lives again.

But this would pass, too. It would even help push his agenda along, now with Skeeter's Witch Weekly article's positive spin on him and all. Hell, Hermione was right-they'd reached a point in the press that no one would even be that surprised. They'd caused enough chaos already.

Huh. He thought with a wry smile. Hermione's plan seemed like it was falling apart, but her ultimatum ended up winning out.

He didn't think he'd tell her that, though. She'd probably figured it out on her own.

He took a deep breath, and a twinge of anxiety snapped at the back of his brain regardless. He told himself that along with all those ridiculous things he'd promised Harry he'd do after he published this article, he might go to therapy at St. Mungo's. It would be more effective than his old plan of going there to learn how to be a Healer.

He chuckled quietly to himself, and from his spot on the stairs, Harry shot him a curious look. How silly he'd been back then, thinking he had to cure the world to make himself whole again. That's why he'd jumped on this article, hadn't he?

Harry Potter is gay. Will anyone even be surprised, after all we've done since this started?

He picked up his quill and began writing, occasionally glancing up to ask Harry questions for the content.

Harry Potter Likes Men and He's Tired of Your Ignorance

By Draco Malfoy

In late January, not long before the Muggleborn Attacks, Harry Potter and I sat down at the kitchen table above my record shop. He presented me with a proposition to write an article for him. He said he was ready to come out as gay, and he thought it would do good for the 'gay rights agenda' I had just begun pushing the week before.

Despite the fact it would be anything unlike my then-anonymous persona would write, I agreed to it. Now, as Draco Malfoy, I see no problem with writing this article, with Harry Potter sitting just a meter away from me.

Not long after that initial conversation, we determined that Harry is not gay, but asexual. He is attracted to men, but not sexually.

"And I just like women as friends." He pipes up from his spot on my staircase. He is relaxed there; several visitors to my shop might recognize him sitting there, as we often do.

I ask him to comment on any thoughts he might think people have on his (a)sexuality.

"Sod off. It's none of their business. And to everyone else who's dealing with the same problem... Tell them the Boy Who Lived thinks they're terrible."

When we first sat down to discuss this article, we decided that I, as Pennom, would write it as a political statement. To rile the crowds, to inspire people. We expected this article to be the news of the year.

Different events humbled us. Our orphanage work, for example. We also grew used to making headlines.

To some clever readers, it may come as no surprise that Harry Potter and I, Draco Malfoy, former and unwilling Death Eater, are in a romantic relationship. And we've come to think that it shouldn't be a political statement. It's normal. It shouldn't be revolutionary.

And to anyone who has a problem with it, I give you this inspiring, political quote from Harry Potter:

"Sod off."

And if you still have a problem with it, just remember that the Boy Who Lived thinks you're terrible.

-DM

Draco couldn't help but permit himself a smirk when he was done. It was childish, and not Pennom material, but he was tired of thinking of this article as some grandeur means to an end. It was just a coming out article. He passed it to Harry like it was any ordinary piece of parchment. Because that was all it was, in the end.

He wouldn't even march into the Prophet's office to give it to Cassius. He would owl it. With a post owl.

Harry looked it over with a smug expression. "We'll leave the political shit to the Ministry," Harry muttered. "We'll just work with the kids and raise the money."

Draco nodded. "And I'll continue writing, of course. And other people will start to take initiative, too."

Harry set the parchment on the staircase, and he used his wand to lock the shop door and flip the sign closed. "I feel like it needs a finishing touch," he muttered.

"Skeeter's pictures. We'll release those, too, in case they don't believe us." Draco smirked. He was envisioning the image of the two of them kissing softly, looking ridiculous, Harry in his bright red suit with the dragon spine, and Draco in the white and red 'vampire' suit. It would be perfect to remind everyone that they were nothing more than two fools in love.

Two gorgeous, famous fools in love. He allowed himself the compliment.

Harry looked surprised. "Are you sure? Isn't that risky?"

Draco laughed. "Didn't you tell me that you liked taking risks?"

Harry chuckled at that, too, probably remembering his awkward flirting in the furniture store. "I do." He assured him. "Just... you aren't worried about coming across as too forward with this? Just this morning you were acting like you didn't know if we'd even stay together."

"I had hours of thinking time staring at that parchment, Potter." Draco muttered. "And along with realizing I need to quit worrying and that I love attention, I realized that I practically signed myself a binding contract to you the minute I agreed to write you this article. There's no going back."

"Risky." Harry replied with the quirk of an eyebrow.

"Like you care. You're the one coming out of the closet."

Harry sighed dramatically. "I suppose I am. Now, go mail that bloody article so we can get on with our lives."

Draco agreed wholeheartedly with that statement.

And Harry will never have to live in a closet ever again.

And hopefully, eventually, no one else would have to either.