It was mornings like this that Harry cursed the continued presence of the dragons.
Sharp claws dug into the thin sheets, and Harry opened his eyes to glare blearily at the damned thing lying heavily on his chest.
"Auriga," he hissed. "Get off me."
The black Horntail chirped, "Off. Off."
It had come as quite the horrid surprise when he realized that Teddy was entirely serious about teaching the dragons Parsel.
"Egg and Rhae have dragons, but I'll be the one to translate, Papa," he had said proudly. "Adam thinks we can do it."
Unsurprisingly, the little things took to parselmouth as easily as they did to walking. It had been touch and go for some time, but Harry had been ordered by his eldest to speak only in Parsel to the dragons, and they were slowly learning the language. Teddy had been exceedingly pleased at the thought of communicating with the dragons; Harry and Elia had exchanged relieved glances at the knowledge that at least he would be able to speak to them if they got out of hand. They were still babies, even though they weighed a fair amount by now, and exuberantly followed after their respect riders.
Auriga reached as high as his hip when on her haunches, able to fly low to the ground and had started breathing fire well over a month ago. Iacomus was larger, the grey scales glinting silver in the right lighting, and had stubbornly learned to breathe fire soon after Auriga though he was grasping the parselmouth faster. That Egg had named his dragon after his father had left the man boasting for all to hear, exceedingly pleased with the thought.
"Rhae!" he called, hearing the pitter-patter of her footsteps as she ran down the hall.
The dark-haired princess flew into his room, leaping easily onto his bed as Auriga's talons clenched tightly to the sheet.
"What have your mother and I told you about the dragons?" he asked.
"But Dad, Auri just wanted to say happy birthday," she said with exasperation, and Harry felt his heart melt a little. The little girl had only begun to call him that the day they found the dragons, and Harry was well aware she knew exactly what effect that had on him.
Sly little girl, he thought fondly.
"My birthday was yesterday," he pointed out, poking her in the side as she squirmed into place next to her companion. He couldn't outright call the dragons a pet; they were far too intelligent to be considered such, nor did it feel right when the bond clearly went both ways.
Rhaenys sat cross-legged next to him, her expression determined, and Harry was reminded of the little girl who had demanded an oath from him all those years ago.
"Dad, do you not like Mama?"
Blinking, Harry stared up at the little girl in astonishment. Rhae's purple eyes were steely, though he could see a slight spark of hesitance and mischief. Gesturing to Auriga, Harry waited until she had moved the dragon before pushing himself up against the headboard.
"What brought this on?" he stalled.
"You're not going to ignore my question, Dad," she told him.
"You've been talking to the portraits," he stated wryly.
He should have known they would have a hand in this. His grandmother had been making increasingly odd statements the past few months, and Aunt Dorea had taken every opportunity to tease him. Even his mother had gotten in on the fun, casually mentioning how much she adored Elia.
Of course they would, he thought.
Elia was Elia; she was the same woman she had been from the day Harry had met her, wary over the unknown man so close to her children. They had eventually grown closer, and every day Harry counted himself lucky to have her in his life – much as she was unwilling to simply stand by as he did what he wanted.
They had fought countless times, had argued over inane things and more serious issues. He'd seen her at her best and her worst, just as she'd seen him, and still Harry would not change it for the world.
"It's not that hard. Do you love her?"
"Yes," he answered. It had happened so gradually, that between one heartbeat and the next, Harry knew he had fallen completely for her – and he couldn't force himself to be upset at the realization.
"Oh," she said, a flash of relief in her eyes. "Good. That's good."
"You were guessing," he accused, a sheepish look coming over Rhaenys's face at his words.
"Was not," she insisted. "I knew you loved Mama, just like she loves you. So why are you waiting?"
Sighing, Harry lightly picked at the thread on his sheet. "It's not as easy as you think, Rhae," he said quietly.
She gave him a look that said she thought he was being particularly dense, and Harry nearly laughed at the accompanying eye roll.
"Honestly," he told her. "There are things to consider. Important things."
"Why must adults make everything so difficult, Auriga?" she asked rhetorically, staring at the black dragon as she attempted to fly around the room.
"You'll be returning to Westeros," he pointed out, ignoring the ache at that thought.
"Not if you tell Mama how you feel," she said matter-of-factly.
"Oh?" he drawled, brow raised as he stared at the little princess. "Tell me then, Your Grace. How are you so certain?"
"Because I am," she stated.
"Fine, then," he agreed. "Let's say I believe you. How do you expect me to do so?"
"You have to be a dragon," she said solemnly, and had it not been for the serious look on her face Harry might have laughed.
"A dragon," he said sceptically, ignoring Auriga's hissed echo.
"Yes, Dad. A dragon," she huffed. "I was reading a book in the library. Dragons don't shy away when picking mates an—"
"Where in the world did you hear that?"
"I read it," she sniffed. "Julius's portrait showed me."
"Julius is a trickster. Nobody listens to his portrait," Harry retorted. The man was forever grinning, plotting another prank, and Harry had not been so surprised to realize it had been Julius who had taught a young and impressionable James Potter the joys of pranking.
"The point is, Dad," Rhaenys stressed. "You have to be a dragon and tell Mama how you feel."
Sighing, Harry leaned back against the headboard as he faced the ceiling.
Relationship advice from a seven-year-old, he thought humorously. What has the world come to?
"Maybe they have it right in Westeros, Auri," the little girl huffed, purple eyes glaring at him.
"In a few years, you won't be saying that," he quipped.
In a few years – he might not see them by then. Aunt Cassiopeia insisted he was nearly there, going over several more rune sequences before she thought he would be able to move on to understanding how to create a ritual like that. A few years, and they might no longer be at Potter Hall with him and Teddy.
You knew this was coming Potter, he reminded himself.
Cursing his feelings in his head, Harry reached an arm out to wrap around Rhae as the little girl moved to sit next to him.
"I want you and Mama to be happy," she said quietly.
"We are happy," he told her, pressing a kiss to her hair.
"The wedding is today," she said. "I'm sure Mama will look extra nice."
"Are you done?" he asked sardonically.
Rhaenys sat up, staring intently at him with determined purple eyes. "Be a dragon, Dad. Gryffindors charge in, remember," she added with an impish smile.
Laughing, Harry mussed her hair even as she swatted his hand away. "If you end up anywhere other than Slytherin, I'll eat my hat."
Shooing her out of the room, Harry stood to get ready for Neville's wedding. He would be standing next to his friend, and the last thing he needed was to be late for that.
"Dragon," Auriga chirped, her claws curled around the bedpost.
"Oh, get out of here," Harry hissed, lifting Auriga to let her out of the room. "I don't need you on my case as well."
Stood in front of the mirror in the washroom, Harry cursed the meddling portraits that had sent Rhaenys after him.
He could admit – if only to himself – that he was afraid of ruining the amicable relationship they had. Feared that taking a step in that direction would make things awkward between them, even if he knew Elia felt something for him.
He closed his eyes in annoyance, leaning his head against the sink as the cool breeze from the splashes of water hit his face.
Were his godfather or mum still alive, he was certain they would be pushing him to do something, damn the noble hero act.
Fuck it, he thought.
