Chapter One: Because You're Harry
Disclaimer: I own this no more than I own LoTR, or Narnia, or any of the many, many other fictional worlds that I adore.
Warnings: Language, frotting, handjobs
There you are
Holding her hand
I am lost
Dying to understand
Didn't I
Cherish you right
Don't you know
You were my life
Even though I try
I can't let go
Something in your eyes
Captured my soul
And every night
I see you in my dreams
You're all I know
I can't let go
Mariah Carey - Can't Let Go
June 3rd, 1998
The first time Harry saw Draco Malfoy was two days after his return to Hogwarts.
It was sheer coincidence.
On his first day back, Harry had received permission to visit Dumbledore's portrait anytime, as the former Headmaster had finally woken up. He was given the password to the Headmistress' office and told to go up whenever he wanted.
He spoke the password to the gargoyle, and headed up the curving staircase, halting at the top. Malfoy stood before Snape's sleeping portrait, head bowed, eyes closed as if in prayer.
Tears ran down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Professor," he said in a small voice. "I'm so sorry."
Harry was slightly surprised that he felt no animosity towards the boy in front of him. He stepped back, not wanting to intrude on what was obviously a very private moment. He must have made some sound, because Malfoy's head whipped up, and he turned.
Startled dove-grey eyes met bottle-green. They widened. They were red-rimmed.
Harry had never seen Malfoy look less put together.
"Potter." It was said without malice, and Malfoy's cheeks flamed as he realised he'd been caught crying by his former nemesis. He wiped at his eyes, looking away from Harry, cheeks still burning with shame.
"He was a good man," Harry said, softly. "The bravest man I ever knew."
Malfoy looked up then, and stared at Harry, as if to see if he was joking. He nodded slowly. "The best."
Harry gave him a sad smile. "Definitely one of them," he agreed.
"Why are you here?" Malfoy's voice held only genuine curiosity, which surprised Harry. He smiled crookedly.
"I came to see Dumbledore."
"Oh."
There a pause.
"Me too. But he's not here."
Harry smothered his surprise that Malfoy wanted to speak to the man he'd disarmed and held at wandpoint on the Astronomy Tower. He decided it was none of his business.
They stood in an awkward silence for a moment.
"Harry, my boy!" came Dumbledore's voice as he stepped into his portrait. He beamed at Harry. "I'm very glad to see you."
Harry saw the way Malfoy looked at Dumbledore – or rather, didn't look at him – and paused. "I need to come back later, Professor," he said. "There's someone else who needs to speak with you, first."
Malfoy looked at him in surprise.
Dumbledore smiled.
"Draco," he said kindly. "I'd like to talk to you, too."
Malfoy looked almost panicked, but nodded his head. He was shaking.
Harry turned and made his way back down the stairs.
June 4th, 1998
The second time Harry saw Malfoy was in front of the Room of Requirement.
Morbid curiosity drove him to check and see if the room was still there, still working. He headed off to the seventh floor on his break.
He stopped when he saw the figure sitting on the floor in front of the wall.
Malfoy sat there, legs crossed and head bowed.
Harry stepped forward cautiously. Malfoy didn't seem to hear him.
Harry sat beside him. He noticed tears were streaming down Malfoy's face. He cried silently, eyes closed, face open and unguarded. He looked impossibly young and lost.
Harry's heart went out to him. Even though it was Malfoy, even though they had hated one another for so much of their youth, he felt nothing but deep pity for the boy in front of him. He laid a hand on Malfoy's shoulder, and Malfoy didn't shrug it off.
He simply looked up at Harry, blinked, and stared at him, as if searching his face for something. He tried to smile but his face twisted in sorrow, and he quickly turned away again, bowing his head once more.
They sat together in silence for a long time.
Neither said a word when they parted.
June 5th, 1998
The third time Harry saw Draco Malfoy was in the Forbidden Forest.
He was heading out there for a walk, to clear his head. His magic was more than enough to handle any danger that might be lurking.
He spotted a shock of white-blond hair and stopped, frowning. Why was Malfoy turning up everywhere he went?
Of course, it wasn't like Malfoy was particularly bad anymore. In fact, he was quite polite to Harry in their interactions. But it struck him as odd that the Slytherin seemed to be everywhere he wanted to go.
Deciding to make the best of it, he figured they might as well walk together. Safety in numbers; and while Harry was confident that he'd be fine on his own, he wasn't entirely sure about Malfoy.
"Malfoy!" he called. "Wait up!"
Malfoy froze. Harry jogged over. He decided to be friendly.
"Potter." Malfoy frowned. "Why have you been following me?"
Harry chuckled. "I was just asking myself why you seem to be everywhere I go. Pure coincidence, Malfoy." He winked. "You know what they say about great minds."
Malfoy's brow furrowed, as if he was trying to work out whether he'd been complimented or insulted. "No, Potter, I don't."
"Oh." Harry felt slightly awkward. "I guess it's a muggle saying – 'Great minds think alike.'"
He decided to keep the additional, "And small ones seldom differ" to himself.
"Oh. Well in that case, thank you." Malfoy smiled – actually smiled – and Harry was dumbstruck. He'd never seen Malfoy smile before. Smirk – all the time. But never a genuine smile. The other boy was beautiful.
Harry swallowed and tore his eyes away. He felt so odd, looking at Malfoy and thinking him beautiful. It reminded him about how he used to feel about Ginny, and that was just… strange. Malfoy was a boy. Besides that, he was… well, Malfoy.
Harry cleared his throat. "So, what are you doing all the way out here in the forest?"
Malfoy laughed, a nervous sound that echoed in the stillness around them. "Haven't you worked it out yet? I'm facing my fears, Potter. Next is the Astronomy Tower." He looked down quickly, a flash of misery coming over his face. He shifted uncomfortably, scuffing his feet on the dirt. It was clear he regretted mentioning that.
"I've always been afraid of this place, since first year when we had detention out here. I figured I needed to grow up and get over it." He laughed again, without humour. "What better time to do it than my birthday?"
"Today's your birthday?" Harry couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "I didn't know." He paused. "Happy birthday, Malfoy."
Malfoy looked at him sharply. "You didn't know?"
"Well… no. We weren't exactly friends in school, you know," Harry pointed out.
"But I know yours." Malfoy looked somewhat sulky, as if Harry's ignorance of his birthday was an insult.
"Well," Harry paused. "I know a lot of other things about you. I know you take your tea with lots of milk and sugar – half tea, half milk, and five teaspoons of sugar, to be exact. I know your left eyebrow raises slightly when you're nervous, and you chew your bottom lip if you think nobody's looking. You bite your nails in private but you give yourself a manicure every day to cover it up. Your favourite colour is green."
Harry took a breath after his long speech. Malfoy stared at him in astonishment.
"Bloody hell, Potter. Have you been stalking me?" Malfoy smirked, quirking a brow at him.
"Sixth year, Malfoy," he said with a grin. The grin faded when Malfoy winced and his face fell.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up." Malfoy nodded, and they stood in awkward silence.
"So what brings the Saviour out here?" Malfoy smirked at him, but his tone was light and teasing.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I just fancied a walk, is all. Wanted to be alone."
"Oh." There was a pause. "Do you want me to go?" Malfoy looked hesitant, unsure.
"If I didn't want you around, would I have called out to you?" Harry asked.
Malfoy smiled again, and Harry's heart fluttered. He told it to be still and flushed.
"Why are you being nice to me?" he asked.
Malfoy looked surprised. "You saved my life, Potter. Twice. And you saved all of us from the Dark Lord. I'd be an idiot to keep tormenting you because of an old resentment. I've had much bigger things to worry about for a long time, now." He looked down. "Besides, I hoped that maybe, if I wasn't such a prat, you'd be willing to be my friend, this time."
He looked up nervously, and held out his hand. It shook slightly. Harry realised how much the gesture must have cost him, and it warmed him in a way he couldn't explain.
He reached out and clasped Malfoy's hand. He smiled warmly. "I'd be happy to be your friend – Draco."
Malfoy's smile rivaled the sun in its brilliance.
Harry realised as his heart sped and his stomach flipped over that he might be in trouble.
September 1st, 2017
Harry stood on Platform 9 and ¾'s with his wife and children. His heart simultaneously warmed to see them so excited, and ached to see James and Al off. Now two of his children would be leaving. All too soon, he thought, it would be Lily's turn.
Then it would be just him and Ginny, eight months out of the year. He supposed he should feel more excited about that, but instead there was merely dread at the thought. They had never lived together without a baby, or at least a pregnancy.
What on earth would they do with themselves?
He shook his head to clear it, and focused on now. Al was leaving.
"It's not fair!" Lily wailed. "I wanna go to Hogwarts, too!"
"It won't be long, and you'll be going too," Harry told her.
"Two years," sniffed Lily. "I want to go now!"
Harry shifted. The passers-by were giving them all some rather odd looks. Harry supposed it must be strange to see two boys pushing trolleys loaded up with trunks and owls in cages. He suppressed a grin, thinking of how Uncle Vernon would have reacted to it had he been there.
He started to respond to his daughter, but Al's voice interrupted him.
"I won't! I won't be a Slytherin!"
"James, give it a rest!" said Ginny.
"I only said he might be," said James, smirking. "There's nothing wrong with that. He might be in Slytherin."
Ginny glared and James quailed. Her glare could melt ice. And when she used it, it was best to just shut up and do whatever she wanted. Harry knew this from experience. James was on his own.
The boy in question smoothed his fine, sandy hair back from his pale forehead. He contained his excitement well, but Harry could see he was itching to push his cart through the barrier and get on with it already.
"Go ahead," Harry nodded to him. James grinned and sped through the barrier.
James out of the way, Al pounced on his parents. "You'll write to me, won't you?"
"Every day, if you want us to," said Ginny.
"Not every day," said Albus quickly. "James says most people only get letters from home about once a month."
"We wrote to James three times a week last year," said Ginny.
"And you don't want to believe everything he tells you about Hogwarts," Harry put in. "He likes a laugh, your brother."
Together they hurried the cart through the barrier, and stepped into a whoosh of steam from the Hogwarts Express. Al coughed.
The steam was thick around them. It was hard to see who anyone was.
"Where are they?" asked Albus, straining his neck to catch sight of his cousins.
"We'll find them," said Ginny reassuringly.
They walked through the mist, vapour from the train settling everywhere and making visibility difficult. Harry heard Percy droning on and thanked Merlin for the mist that saved him from a boring discourse on broomstick regulations.
"I think that's them, Al," said Ginny suddenly.
She gestured to four people coming out of the fog. Sure enough, it was them.
"Hi!" Al waved madly, and Rose grinned cheekily at him.
"Miss us?" she teased.
He stuck his tongue out. "Never!"
"Parked all right, then?" Ron asked Harry. He was practically bouncing in excitement. "I did. Hermione didn't believe I could pass a Muggle driving test, did you? She thought I'd have to Confound the examiner."
"No, I didn't," said Hermione. "I had complete faith in you."
"As a matter of fact, I did Confund him," Ron whispered to Harry, as together they lifted Albus's trunk and owl onto the train. "I only forgot to look in the wing mirror, and let's face it; I can use a Supersensory Charm for that."
Harry chuckled and agreed to keep his friend's secret. They headed back to the platform. Ron folded his arms across his chest and fixed the two new Hogwarts students with a glare.
"If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you," he said. "But no pressure."
"Ron!" Hermione rolled her eyes while Lily and Hugo burst into giggles. Rose's eyes grew impossibly wide and Al looked scared.
"He doesn't mean it," their mothers tried to reassure them.
"Honestly, Ronald," sighed Hermione. Ron ignored her, he nudged Harry.
"Look who it is."
Harry looked. His breath hitched.
Standing about fifty metres away stood Draco Malfoy. He was older – Harry hadn't seen him once in fifteen years, by intentional avoidance – and his hairline was receding slightly. Not enough to look unattractive; just enough to emphasize the years that had passed. He was still pointy, but nevertheless was as gorgeous as ever.
His wife stood beside him, fussing over a boy who looked like a miniature of his father. Just like Al was like a miniature of Harry. Harry desperately fought to maintain his composure. To look as if he felt nothing.
Because after all, there was nothing there.
Nothing left to feel.
Draco looked up and caught the group that was staring at him. He gave them a short, dismissive nod, and turned away. Harry tried to ignore the pain that flared in his heart.
He had no reason to expect any more than that from Draco. Not anymore.
Beside him, Ginny stiffened. Harry could feel her eyes on him; her gaze peircing him as if she could sense his traitorous emotions. For all he knew, she probably could.
"So that's little Scorpius," Ron muttered. "Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mother's brains."
"Ron, for heaven's sake," said Hermione, half stern, half amused. "Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!"
"You're right, sorry," said Ron. He was unable to help himself, however, and added, "Don't get too friendly with him, though, Rosie. Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pureblood."
"The sad part is, that might actually be true!" Ginny whispered to Harry, and he laughed, thinking of his muggle-loving father-in-law. Some of the pain in his heart eased.
"Hey!" It was James, practically bouncing with excitement.
"Teddy's back there," he squealed (though he would deny that later). He gestured erratically into the steam. "Just seen him! And guess what he's doing? Snogging Victoire!"
He stood back expectantly, but when no reaction was forthcoming, he scowled.
"Our Teddy! Teddy Lupin! Snogging our Victoire! Our cousin! And I asked Teddy what he was doing."
"It wasn't obvious?" muttered Ron. "He must not have been doing it right."
"You interrupted them?" said Ginny. "You are so like Ron."
"Hey!" the redhead in question protested.
"-and he said he'd come to see her off! And then he told me to go away. He's snogging her!" James was very clear on that point, as if expecting the adults to suddenly grasp the enormity of what he was saying.
"Oh, it would be lovely if they got married!" cried Lily. "Teddy would really be part of the family then!"
"He already comes round for dinner about four times a week," said Harry. "Why don't we just invite him to live with us and have done with it?"
"Yeah!" shouted James. "I don't mind sharing with Al - Teddy could have my room!"
"No," said Harry firmly. "You and Al will share a room only when I want the house demolished."
He glanced at the pocket-watch Mrs. Weasley had given him so long ago. "It's nearly eleven, you'd better get on board."
"Don't forget to give Neville our love!" Ginny reminded James, hugging him.
"Mum! I can't give a professor love!" he protested, horror stricken.
"But you know Neville!"
James gave her an exaggerated eye roll. "Outside, yeah, but at school he's Professor Longbottom, isn't he? I can't walk into Herbology and give him love..."
He shook his head. With a sudden smirk, he aimed a kick at Al, who squeaked and dodged. "See you later, Al. Watch out for the thestrals."
"I thought they were invisible? You said they were invisible!" Alpaled.
"Thestrals are nothing to worry about," Harry told Albus. "They're gentle things, there's nothing scare about them. Anyway, you won't be going up to school in the carriages, you'll be going in the boats."
Ginny hugged Al tight and kissed him goodbye. "See you at Christmas," she whispered, tearing up a little.
"Bye, Al." Harry gave him a tight hug. "Don't forget Hagrid's invited you to tea next Friday. Don't mess with Peeves. Don't duel anyone till you're learned how. And don't let James wind you up."
"What if I'm in Slytherin?" Al's quiet whisper into his father's ear made Harry's heart ache.
Not Slytherin, not Slytherin!
A sudden memory assailed him, of another little boy with messy black hair, bright green eyes, and glasses, sitting at his sorting, pleading with the Hat.
"Albus Severus," Harry said quietly. Ginny might be able to hear him, but she continued to wave at the train as though she couldn't. "You were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew." The words echoed something he had said once before, many years ago, to another Slytherin. One who had meant far, far more to him than Severus Snape ever could have. But he didn't say anything about that.
"But just say-" Al began.
"Then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent student, won't it? It doesn't matter to us, Al. But if it matter to you, you'll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account."
"Really?"
"It did for me," said Harry. Al's eyes widened in astonishment. Harry had only ever told one person that before, and Al was the first in his family to know. Pulling Al close again, he whispered. "Slytherin's not so bad, you know. Perhaps it just needs more people like you in it to improve its image."
Al's face took on a pensive expression, and Harry hoped he'd gotten through.
The steam lifted, and all eyes turned to Harry.
"Why are they all staring?" demanded Albus. He and Rose looked nervously at all the students gawking at them.
"Don't let it worry you," said Ron. "It's me, I'm extremely famous."
The children burst out laughing as Ron puffed out his chest and preened.
Al practically glowed with excitement as he boarded the train. He and Rose called out their goodbyes and waved as they disappeared from sight. Harry had to swallow around a lump in his throat, even as he plastered on a smile and waved farewell.
"He'll be alright," murmured Ginny, touching him arm.
Harry nodded, turning to flash her a grateful smile.
"I know he will."
As he dropped his arm he touched the scar on his forehead. It had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.
He closed his eyes and reminded himself. All is well.
However, that didn't stop his eyes from searching out Draco Malfoy as he, Ginny, and Lily made their way back to the car.
They lingered on the white-blond hair, on the retreating back of his one-time enemy. Then they closed in silent resignation as he moved to follow his family home.
"You don't- Merlin, Potter, you don't even know. You have no idea what you are. Or just how special you are. And I don't mean Boy-Who-Lived-special; I mean special like any one person on the planet could be special. Not because you're the Boy Who Lived. Because you're Harry."
The words echoed through his mind.
He shook his head to clear it from the ghosts of his past.
July 31st, 1998
Harry sighed as he walked away from the Quidditch pitch, towards the stands. Merlin, he missed that game. A voice called out to him, and he looked up, quickening his pace.
"Happy Birthday, Harry!"
"Draco." Harry smiled, waving greet his friend with genuine warmth as he pulled up to the stands where the blond was lounging. That was what they were now – friends. Good friends. Great friends. But Harry couldn't help wishing they were more.
Draco clapped him on the back, and smiled at him, and Harry's heart sang. He loved that smile.
"So, birthday boy, who's the favourite to win this season?"
Harry hesitated. "Well, the Canons have a new Keeper," he began, but Draco snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Right."
Harry bristled. "They're my favourite team!"
"Harry," Draco drapped an arm over his shoulders and his groin stirred at the contact. "I know for a fact that you only support them because Weasley does." It had taken several rows and sulky silences for Draco to give up calling Ron "Weasel" – though he still slipped from time to time.
Harry thought about lying, then shrugged. Draco knew him too well; there was no point. "Fine," he admitted, a trifle sulkily. "But they do have a new Keeper, and their chances are pretty good now."
Draco chuckled. "Harry, the day the Canons win the Cup is the day I beat you to the snitch. It could happen, but it's not bloody likely."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. He'd never expected to hear the blond make such an admission. He stared at Draco.
"What? I can state facts, can't I?"
"I just…" Harry's voice trailed off. He frowned. "Don't sell yourself short, Draco. You're good."
"Of course I am," the blond said loftily. "I can beat anyone – except you." He shook his head. "I may be good, but you're better. You beat me to the snitch every time, and you'll beat me again this year."
Harry flushed under the praise. Then he sighed. "If McGonagall even lets us play this year," he said gloomily.
Draco grinned at him, cheeky and carefree. Harry's heart skipped a beat.
"You honestly think your head of house will give up the youngest seeker in a century and the opportunity to keep the Quidditch Cup for another year?"
"She's not my head of house, anymore, Draco; she's the headmistress!" Harry protested.
Draco waved him away. "But she's still a Gryffindor, Harry; still a Gryffindor. And much as she'd like to be neutral, she won't be able to resist the temptation." He smirked. "Besides, if she doesn't let you play, your whole house will probably storm her office in protest."
Harry laughed. Draco laughed with him.
"I can see them now!" He grabbed Harry's shoulders and made a broad, sweeping gesture with his free arm. "March of the Gryffindors!" he declared in his usual dramatic style.
Harry burst into another fit of giggles. He swatted Draco's arm playfully. "Oh, shut it, you prat."
Draco just smirked in response.
Harry blushed. Once, he would have hexed anyone who suggested that Draco Malfoy's smirk could make him blush. Now, there wasn't much about the git that didn't make him struggle to control the bloodflow to his face. Among other areas of his anatomy.
"What?"
"What what?" Harry grinned.
"You blushed again. Why?" Draco's tone was light and teasing.
"No reason." Harry blushed yet again.
"No, Potter; you forget – I know you. There's a reason." Draco's eyes gleamed. "And you're going to tell me."
"Sorry, no."
Draco gave him a sly look. "Having naughty thoughts, were you, Harry?"
"No!" Harry's cheeks flamed.
Draco's smirk grew even cockier, if that were even possible.
"I think you were. What about?"
"I said, that's not it! Leave it alone, you big git!"
"Wanker." Draco chuckled. "Tell me, Potter, or I'll make you talk."
"You can't make me, Malfoy." Harry folded his arms across his chest.
Draco smirked again. "Oh, I think I can."
With that he grabbed Harry and began tickling him.
Harry let out an unmanly shriek and began laughing helplessly as Draco's fingers dug into his sides.
"Stop! Malfoy! Stop! Draco!" he howled.
"Never!" Draco grinned.
"Alright, I'll talk! I'll talk! Merlin, I give!" he wheezed. Draco released him, and he gasped in lungfuls of air, holding his sides.
"Merlin, Malfoy; you trying to kill me?"
"Of course not, Potter. Without you, who would I torment? Who would be left for me to compare my vast intellect and astounding good looks to so I can be reminded of my obvious superiority? I suppose I could always use the Weasel; but really, that's little better than comparing myself to an ape."
"Malfoy!" Harry glared.
"Sorry, sorry," Draco raised his hands in supplication. The gleam in his eyes, however, suggested he was anything but. "Now, are you going to talk, or do I have to tickle you again?" Draco expertly steered the conversation away from a subject he knew would get him into trouble.
Harry thought fast.
"I was just thinking of the rush."
"The rush?"
"Playing Quidditch. The rush it gives me." Harry sighed. "I really do hope we get to play this year. I missed out fifth because of Umbridge, and sixth because of… well. I missed out on sixth."
"Why didn't you play Quidditch sixth year, Potter?" Draco looked at him with undisguised curiosity. The subject of potential dirty thoughts was temporarily forgotten, or perhaps Draco believed him.
Harry snorted. "Too busy stalking you."
Draco threw back his head and laughed.
Harry grinned.
"Besides," he added. "I didn't want to play if you weren't."
"Really?" Draco looked stunned.
"Really," Harry smiled. "You're the only real competition I've ever had."
Draco preened. Harry smiled happily at the sight.
He really did hope he would have the opportunity to play again. He honestly regretted not playing in his sixth year. He had been busy stalking Draco – for all the good it did, in the end – and he really hadn'[t wanted to play without the prospect of facing the Slytherin on the pitch. He wished they'd had the opportunity to face off for the snitch one last time. After all, as he'd said – he'd been banned in his fifth year, and resigned in his sixth. He'd missed out on his seventh year altogether.
While the headmistress had agreed to let last year's seventh years come back to redo the year so that they'd have a chance at passing their NEWTs, there was no word yet on whether they'd be allowed to rejoin their Quidditch teams or not.
He wished again that he'd played in his sixth year. Giving up Quidditch had led to the Sectumsempra incident – which he had repeatedly apologised to Draco for, even though Draco waved him off and reminded him of his own attempt at Crucio – and to his getting together with Ginny. Which had been a mistake. A huge one.
Harry still didn't know how to tell his best mate's little sister that he saw her as more of a sister than a lover. For that matter, he had no idea how he would tell that to his best mate. Or to Mrs. Weasley; his surrogate mother – who was already planning the wedding.
He sighed.
Draco eyed him speculatively. "Spill," he demanded.
Harry just shook his head, mutely.
Draco planted his hands on his hips, feet apart. "Spill, Potter." His eyes narrowed.
"It's nothing."
"You went all maudlin on me. You forget; I know you. So spill."
Harry groaned and raked his fingers through his already messy hair.
"Ginny."
Draco stiffened. "The Weaselette."
Harry glared at him. "Don't call her that!"
Draco's shoulders slumped. He sighed. "Sorry… habit."
"Break it." Harry's voice was harsh.
"I'll try." Draco paused. "So what about the– Ginny." He grimaced when he said her name, as if it tasted bad in his mouth.
Harry overlooked that. At least he'd used her name.
"I don't know what to say to her. She's expecting us to get back together now that the war's done and I…" He fell silent.
"You don't want to."
"No."
"Why not?"
Harry barked out a laugh. "She's like my sister. I don't know why I ever wanted to be with her in the first place; except maybe that I wanted to be part of the Weasley family so badly. And anyone else would only want me because I'm the Boy Who Lived," he added bitterly. "I thought maybe she could love me for me, because she knew me."
Draco studied his face. "You really think the only reason anyone would want you is that Boy Who Lived nonsense?"
Harry snorted. "I don't think – I know."
Draco shook his head and laid a hand on Harry's arm. "You don't- Merlin, Potter, you don't even know." He shook his head again. "You have no idea what you are. Or just how special you are. And I don't mean Boy-Who-Lived-special," he put in quickly as Harry began rolling his eyes. "I mean special like any one person on the planet could be special. Not because you're the Boy Who Lived. Because you're Harry."
His grey eyes were so intense, they looked silver. Harry stared, lost in the intensity of his gaze.
Draco's tongue darted out, wetting his lips, and Harry nearly let out an involuntary moan.
Nearly.
He stopped himself just in time.
Draco moved closer. There was barely a hair's breadth between their bodies, and Harry's breath hitched.
"What do you want, Potter?" Draco's voice was low and dangerous; seductive. The sound went straight to Harry's groin.
"Oh, sod it all," he said, and closed the distance between them, crushing his lips to Draco's. Draco stiffened. Harry started to pull away, realising too late that he'd just made a colossal mistake. But Draco seized his arms and muttered, "Oh, thank Merlin!" and kissed him back.
Harry moaned and melted into the blond's arms. Kissing Draco was nothing like kissing Ginny, or Cho. His lips were soft and pliant, but they were firm, and unyielding at the same time. He kissed with authority. He kissed with passion.
He kissed Harry like he owned him.
And Harry loved it.
Draco's tongue sought entrance to his mouth and he gave it eagerly, his own tongue meeting the blond's in a dance of passion; a quest for control. They fought for dominance.
It was fire and ice and everything Harry had ever dreamed of. He'd never been kissed like that; never.
Draco groaned into his mouth and he realised the Slytherin was just as affected as he was.
He twined his arms around Draco's neck, pulling the taller boy down; pulling him in, deeper, further. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and closed the space between their bodies until there was none.
Harry was hard and aching and he felt an answering hardness against his hip. He ground against it and Draco let out a gasp.
"Oh, Merlin; fuck, Harry!" he moaned, and ground back. Harry's throbbing erection was caught between them and he let out a moan of his own, long and low.
Draco ground harder; faster.
They moved together; tongues dancing, hips seeking purchase against one another.
Draco pulled back a little, and Harry whimpered. Then Draco's hands were fumbling at Harry's fly; pulling at the zip of his muggle jeans, and in a moment Draco had them open and plunged his hand inside; grasping Harry's length, stroking it.
Harry let out a cry at the sensation of Draco's hand on his cock.
"Oh, Godric; Draco!"
Shaking, he moved his hands towards Draco's trousers. It took him several tries to get them open; his hands were shaking so badly. All the while, Draco's hand was on him, moving him towards completion.
At last he managed them, reaching inside and grasping Draco's own cock. It was silky soft and leaking precome.
He began stroking it in time with Draco's movements on himself.
"Oh, Harry," moaned Draco. "Harry." His breath was ragged.
Together they moved, together they brought one another to the edge.
Pleasure coiled and undulated like a snake writhing low in Harry's gut, and he cried out to it; slipping into parseltongue without even noticing.
Draco hissed and his movements grew erratic, frantic.
Pleasure rose in them, cresting like a wave; growing ever larger as it headed for the shore of bliss.
Harry cried out when he came, and Draco followed him a moment later; biting his lip, closing his eyes, and tossing his head back as he groaned aloud.
Then it was over.
They leaned against one another, panting.
They were both trembling in the afterglow.
"Merlin, Draco," murmured Harry. The first sexual experience of his life; and it was with a boy. With Draco Malfoy, of all people. And it had been brilliant. He'd loved it.
Draco kissed his neck, and Harry sighed contentedly.
They stood there, holding one another, for several long minutes.
Neither wanted to speak or move; to break the spell.
"Well," Draco drawled. "I guess that answers the question of whether or not you're interested."
Harry snorted his laughter into Draco's shoulder. Draco lay his head against Harry's, and Harry hummed happily. The gesture felt oddly intimate.
"Clean us up?" Draco asked.
Harry waved his hand, muttering a wandless cleaning charm. He yawned. Draco chuckled.
He turned Harry's face towards himself, and planted a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. Harry smiled.
Draco's eyes glowed, and his face relaxed into the happiest smile Harry had seen on it yet.
"Are we…"
"Dating, Potter? After that I should hope so." Draco smirked. "I'll have you know I'm not that kind of girl."
Harry laughed and kissed him again.
His heart felt so full, so light; even flying couldn't compare.
September 1st, 2017
Draco Malfoy returned to the Manor alone.
He walked swiftly to his rooms.
He needed to be alone.
He took a route he knew would let him avoid his parents.
He didn't have time or energy to play their games.
Not now.
Once he reached the sanctuary of his chambers, he closed his eyes and rubbed circles into his temples.
He had seen Harry today.
At the train station.
With the Weaselette.
Harry had stared at him without feeling.
Without a touch of regret, or longing, or – or anything.
It was harder than it should have been.
He was there seeing his sons off to Hogwarts – one of whom had looked like a mini-Potter; a carbon copy of the boy who had refused his hand and wounded his pride so many years ago.
Draco sighed deeply, leaning his head against the wall.
There was no doubt, much as he denied it to himself, why every man he'd taken to bed in the last fourteen years had black hair or green eyes or both.
Who they'd reminded him of.
No denying why he'd never stayed with any of them beyond a night.
None of them had been Harry.
None of them had been the man he'd loved.
The man he still loved.
The man fate or Merlin had seen fit to bring back into his life again; happily married, with three children.
The man who had wasted no time in moving on.
Baby James had been born a little less than nine months from the day he and Potter last spoke.
There had been no time for him to change his mind.
No time to apologise.
No time to win Harry back.
No second chance.
No choice but to go through with his own wedding, to produce the heir his parents wanted so badly.
To enter into the marriage that was now over; that had never been anything more than a sham, anyway.
"Fuck!" he cursed and punched the wall with his fist, hard.
Pain lanced through his heart, overshadowing the pain shooting through his fist. It was made worse by the fact that he had only himself to blame.