The trial in courtroom B on the twenty-third of September lasted six hours.
The people on trial, a mother and son, wore twin expressions of apprehension. Neither were chained, though they were not allowed wands, and four guards stood behind their chairs. Every once in a while, the son's arm moved, his sleeve revealing a black mark, and the jury held their breath. But all he did was reach over to squeeze his mother's hand.
Words as impersonal as brick and steel were tossed back and forth in the black marble chamber. Indentureship. Demise. Sentence.
The Wizengamot called three Hogwarts alumni to the stand, their names familiar to the pale young man at the center of attention. Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, and Theodore Nott. Their speeches were impassioned and thorough, and several of the court members nodded approvingly. Even the mother, her figure waifish and near-motionless, looked pleased. But her son could only watch the man barred from bearing witness due to personal bias, his green eyes flicking restlessly across the room.
At one point, a stranger cloaked in midnight-blue came forward and uttered a command. Both the mother and son pulled up their left sleeves. The standing wizard pressed a wand to their forearms in turn. The mother's mark was flat, pale, and unresponsive. The son's writhed and smoked, and he winced, but he spoke through the pain.
"I'm fighting it as best I can."
The blue-cloaked wizard said nothing to him but whispered to the judge.
More words flowed over the crowd. Service. Probation. Freedom.
A gavel banged, and the judge issued her final statement. The tension broke, and the jury surged, all chattering amongst themselves with volatile opinions. Several figures spilled onto the main floor, surrounding the son with handshakes, hugs, words of congratulations. The green-eyed man from the sidelines took him into his arms, and they stayed that way for a long while, tears of relief edging onto their faces.
• • •
10 years later
Blossoms colored in orange, yellow, and pink erupted in two-dimensional splendor on the surface of the potion. Draco slipped on a pair of dragon gloves and held the cauldron's sides, swirling the liquid as quickly as he dared. It was today's fourth attempt at perfecting the Confidence Draught, a subtle yet effective potion that rendered the user proud of their accomplishments and trusting in themself. At least, that's what Draco hoped it would do. He wafted the golden-colored steam towards him, sniffing it cautiously. A hint of cloves… This is the best potion I've ever made! Draco thought triumphantly. I'm the greatest potioner of all time.
He frowned, stepped away from the steam to clear his head, and recorded his observations on parchment. "No good," he muttered and wrote down, too strong.
A tapping noise on the glass startled Draco, and he looked up to see Astoria Greengrass, another Hogwarts alumni he'd recently promoted to be assistant manager of his independent potions shop, The Sparrow's Elixir. The employee's workshops in the back were separated by unbreakable glass - total transparency in case anyone needed help.
"I'm in the middle of something!" Draco called, gaze flicking between her and the detailed step-by-step list he'd written down.
Astoria made an apologetic face, then tapped her wrist. Draco looked at his own watch, then cursed. He gestured for Astoria to come in, pulling off his gloves.
"I know, I lost track of time," Draco groaned.
"Once a year, that's all you have to remember," Astoria teased. "I'll clean up; go on."
"No, please…" Draco hesitated as Astoria ignored him and vanished the contents of the cauldron. "Oh, fine." He flicked his wand, and his satchel flew into his hand. "You're an angel, Greengrass!" Draco called over his shoulder as he headed out the back entrance.
"Don't I know it," she replied, voice fading as the door closed behind him. Draco turned on the spot, and when the blackness faded away, he emerged in a crowd.
Parents in robes and Muggle clothes wandered around Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters, greeting the students that spilled from the Hogwarts Express. Clouds of steam puffed overhead, and the enormous locomotive engine ticked as it cooled.
A few eyes strayed to Draco's left forearm, visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves. He didn't blame them; moving images of colorful, swaying flowers wasn't something he'd expected to tattoo on his skin, either. But it was preferable to the alternative, and this way, he could carry a little bit of the Malfoy garden with him.
"Hey." A familiar hand slid warmly over Draco's shoulder, and he jumped.
"Merlin! Don't sneak up on me like that."
"I didn't do it on purpose," Harry replied. At his appearance, Draco realized that a lot more eyes were on them - on us. Awed whispers, especially from some of the younger students, passed through the throng.
"Does Teddy know we're coming?" Draco asked. Taller than Harry, he could peer over the crowd better, but he didn't spot a shock of bright hair. Although he wasn't sure what color Teddy had decided to sport.
"I told them a week ago, but they didn't write back," Harry said, brow furrowed.
"What a surprise."
Then Draco saw someone very strange. One of the students, wearing the yellow-edged robes of a Hufflepuff, strolled in front of them. The student had platinum-blond hair, pale, sharp features, and piercing blue eyes. They stopped as they reached Harry, looked down the length of their nose, and said, in a scathingly London accent, "Scared, Potter?"
Harry crumpled to his knees in laughter. Teddy grinned, then schooled their features and began to strut back and forth. "My father will hear about this! Watch your back, Potter." Teddy exaggeratedly popped the P, slicking back their hair, and Harry wiped at his eyes, unable to stop chortling.
"You've been telling them too many stories," Draco scolded, glaring at his lover before pulling Teddy from their imaginary stage by the scruff of their robes. "You got my eye color wrong, by the way."
Teddy squinted into Draco's face. "Oh, damn, I did." They scrunched their nose, and the blue faded to a pearly silver.
Draco shuddered. "That's eerie. Get up; you're hooting like an owl," he said to Harry, who struggled upright, still giggling.
Teddy shook their head, and their hair lengthened, darkening to a chestnut. Freckles emerged across their nose, skin settling in a shade between Draco's and Harry's. They blinked, their left eye a wolfish yellow, and their right a dark brown.
"Eye color is the only thing I'm allowed to change at school," Teddy grumbled. "Winterwood keeps tabs on me."
"Professor Winterwood," Harry corrected. "Where are your things?"
"It's so annoying. Oh, they're over there." Teddy skipped ahead, arms gleefully swinging by their sides.
Draco and Harry followed at a much slower pace, shoulders touching every other step. Draco no longer felt the impulse to slip his hand into Harry's in public, as if daring those watching to say something. The unadulterated passion from their youth, the furtive looks, the touches under the table, had fallen beneath the surface, giving way to something… different. Not better, nor worse, though not quite the same, either.
Harry hadn't stopped smiling since Teddy's antics. Draco could perfectly read his lips, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
"Something happened," Draco guessed.
Harry only winked and strode ahead to help his godchild with their bags.
• • •
The Burrow never seemed to tire of being filled to the brim with children. Harry marveled at the familiarity of this first day of summer holiday, identical to the ones the Weasleys had experienced so many years ago. The only difference was the colors of hair present.
"Uncle George, Uncle George!" Teddy shouted, sprinting to the kitchen table, where most of the grown Weasleys and their partners had gathered. "Did you bring me a present?"
George patted the pockets of his plum-colored robes then made an exaggerated face of dismay. "Darn it, Ted, I think I left it at home."
"You think me a fool?" Teddy gasped, then held out their hand with a wide grin.
"Never," George replied with a grin. He procured from thin air a small hourglass filled with colored dust and handed it to Teddy.
"Awesome, thanks!" Teddy held it up to a puzzled Hermione, then gasped in delight as the dust began to move downward, turning a violent shade of purple. "Bewilderment," Teddy stated to no one in particular, then rushed off to the living room to join the collective Weasley-Granger-Delacour kids.
Harry was surprised to see that Fleur and Bill had come; they usually kept to themselves at Shell Cottage. With Angelina and Fred, Ron and Hermione, Percy and Penelope Clearwater, Draco and Harry, and Ginny accompanying her fiancée, Lily, it was a tight squeeze in the kitchen. Charlie was the only Weasley brother absent, once again tied up with dragons.
"Dears, there's lemonade and plenty of chairs outside," said Molly Weasley, emerging from the pantry with a basket of potatoes. "Oh - Harry, Draco, you just got here? I believe this lot was talking about the big announcement."
"The what?" Draco gave Harry a questioning look, but Harry only shook his head, trying not to grin.
"Out, out," Molly insisted, shooing the gaggle of adults towards the back door.
Summer had sunk its teeth into the back garden, the flowerbeds a riot of color and aroma. Harry touched the silky petals of the pink roses, pointedly avoiding Draco's intense stare as the others wandered to the wicker table and chairs Molly had set up.
"Is this 'announcement' what you were grinning about earlier?" Draco demanded.
Harry slipped a folded newspaper from his robes. "Special edition of the Prophet from this morning. Thought you might be interested." He handed it to Draco, his other hand dipping back into his pocket.
Draco flipped open the paper, eyes widening at the headline. Harry must have read it a hundred times. Ministry Finally Approves Same-Sex Marriage: Slew of Gay Rights Laws Slated For 2013.
Harry had expected Draco to curse or exclaim. But he was silent, unblinking, mouth open.
"You okay?" Harry ventured as Draco's eyes rapidly ran through the article.
"Uh-huh."
"Good. Because I have something else for you, too."
The newspaper fell to the ground as Harry lifted his hand and opened it. Two silver rings laid in his palm.
Draco pressed his hands to his face, covering his eyes. Then he peeked through his fingers. Then he shook his head. "Oh, my god."
"Draco Malfoy…"
"Am I dreaming?" Draco blinked hard.
"I love you." Harry's voice shook.
"Yes! Yes, I'll marry you, you dolt." Draco let out a sound between a laugh and a sob, and he threw his arms around Harry, nearly knocking the rings from his grip.
"I didn't ask you yet," Harry said, laughing. "I thought you wanted candles and flowers and…."
"Fuck flowers," Draco whispered, and he kissed him.
And his hair smelled of gardenias.
And he felt as warm and safe as any home.
And the rings were pressed between their intertwined hands, almost forgotten.
Because both of them had known, for a long time, that this was all they'd ever wanted.
Harry felt so happy that he could die - but he didn't want to. He wanted to live forever, not just at this moment, but in the minutes and hours and decades after and before, in the garden, in the kitchen, at Hogwarts, over bridges, and under the stairs, by the window as the sun shone and thunder raged.
• • •
Firelight gilded nearby leaves in soft yellow as the garden gate creaked open. Voices and the clattering of plates and utensils grew louder as Joey approached, her footsteps deliberately audible on the grass. The party dining outside quieted as she approached, and several faces turned in her direction.
"Glad you made it, love." Mrs. Weasley stood to greet her, and Joey allowed a lingering hug; Mrs. Weasley's motherly aura was one she welcomed. A chorus of voices saying hello, good evening, felt a little overwhelming. Joey recognized most of the extended family sitting around the table, but she gave them only a nod and a brief smile before resting her gaze on Harry. His brow furrowed.
"I can't stay," Joey said apologetically. "It all looks delicious, Molly." Mashed potatoes, caramelized onions, blanched greens, beef Wellington, roasted peppers, cucumber salad, even jollof rice. She was glad to see Mrs. Weasley had used her recipe. "I'm afraid Harry and I have work to do."
"Would you like to take anything?" Mrs. Weasley offered.
"No, thank you. We only have a short window of time." Joey tilted her head to Harry, who sighed and nodded. He muttered something to Teddy, who frowned and shoveled a large scoop of mashed potatoes into their mouth. Harry kissed Draco's temple and rose from the table. "Nice to see you, everyone," Joey said as Harry walked over, expression grim. Joey met Draco's eyes, and a silent promise passed between them. Take care of each other, he seemed to plead, and Joey nodded.
The two Aurors walked into the silent darkness past the garden gate. Harry removed his everyday robes, and Joey tossed him the charcoal-colored uniform to drape over his clothes. Following the routine they'd built up over the years, Joey offered her arm, and Harry took it; with a snap, they appeared at the Cambridge portal, the sparkling blue circle activated.
"We'll be close to Kainji Lake," Harry muttered to Joey as they took their places.
"Yes."
The pair Apparated twice more before they reached their destination, a quiet town drenched in moonlight, turning the earthen walls, thatched and concrete roofs, all the same shade of silver. Trees rustled in a summer breeze, their gnarled roots beckoning and human-like in the shadows.
Harry flicked his wrist, and his wand slid into his hand. Joey didn't follow suit just yet - she looked back and forth down the unpaved road, stepping into the shade of a roof behind them when she saw two silhouettes about a hundred feet away. She could not see their faces.
"Half a kilometer from here," Joey began, "Is the ambassador we've been instructed to escort. Commander Danjuma is expecting him in an hour, accompanied by at least one Auror."
"At least one," Harry repeated. "Right. And who are they?" He nodded to the shadowed figures.
"Fireless supremacists."
"Do you know them?"
"Not personally. It doesn't matter." Something tugged in Joey's stomach. A hunger. She clenched her fist, then relaxed it.
"So, this is why you brought me." Harry's expression was calm, his gaze meeting Joey's in a gesture of understanding. "You have a half-hour," Harry continued. "A half-hour, unless you're planning not to come back."
"I'm not planning on anything," Joey said honestly, and her wand slipped into her ready palm.
"I trust you to do what's right," Harry replied. "If you do leave the force, I can't help you. But if you need a way back home…." He tapped his chest and smiled, and Joey's hand went to the vial hanging beneath her shirt.
"This is probably my only chance to change anything," Joey mused. "I could kill them."
Harry shrugged.
"Or break in from the inside," she said.
"I trust you," Harry said again. He laid a hand on her shoulder, a brief, reassuring touch. Then he turned on the spot and disappeared with a pop.
The sound had alerted the two figures down the road. Both turned, muttering, metal flashing at their waists. Joey stepped into a lake of moonlight, her wand visible. The two men's scowls were closer. She could count the bullets slung across their torsos. Warning sparks flew from the tip of her wand, and the soldiers raised their guns.
Somewhere between now and 1995, riddled bodies lay abandoned in the mud, the survivors bleeding as they sprinted out of reach. The children that ran were defenseless. I am not. And she never again would be.
Joey raised her wand as gunfire rang out.