A/N: If you've read this far, please let me know what you thought of this story. Like all authors, I love reviews :)

Thank you for joining the ride and enjoy the last chapter! (the explicit version of this chapter can be found from Ao3)

Chapter 10: But after all, why not?

Hogwarts, 12 January 2022

"Potter." Draco says mutedly, appearing to Harry's side.

Harry turns to look at him, his mouth pulling into a smile on its own accord. "Harry." he says meaningfully, knowing that after everything that has happened, the blonde wizard cannot be allowed to call him by anything else but his first name. His eyes move across Draco's face, and all he can think of, is that everything between them is different. A good different. A brilliant different, even.

A muscle in Draco's jaw jumps, but he gives Harry a small nod, seemingly unaffected. Harry, however, sees right through him. "Harry," Draco mutters.

They watch the crowd on the other side of the hall in silence, as their boss nods rapidly at the Minister for Magic while two of his secretaries write down each word. There are likely putting up a statement for the press. They watch at Mr and Mrs Travers who discuss with the Headmistress in the corner, looking both detached from the people surrounding them and overcome by grief. They watch and acknowledge, as one by one, the Aurors come to say their goodbyes to Harry, before returning to their homes and the Ministry.

Harry feels relieved, but at the same time, he's burdened by the past days' events. The case is solved. A young girl, as young as his own children are, has passed away, and Harry knows exactly how easily it could've been prevented. He thinks of the girl, wondering if she had known how the potions were going to affect her. If she had intended it to happen. If she had wanted end her life.

The thoughts and the feeling fade away, and then, Harry is calm again, thanking Merlin that his own children are in one piece. He looks at Draco from the corner of his eye: the other man stands stiffly in place, his posture perfect, his face expressionless, but his eyes – his eyes watch the grieving parents who have lost a child, and something close to compassion flickers in them. Harry knows he must be thinking of his son.

Harry also knows that he needs to sit down with his own sons, that he needs to figure out what is going on in their lives. If Harry has learned something from the past three days, it is taking a responsibility, and being a parent when it is needed. He and Ginny together will have to do something that is long due: be honest to their children. And in return, perhaps, they will do the same.

Harry looks at Hermione again, sees how strained her expression is, as she speaks to the Minister, before glancing at Harry and Draco. She says something and then excuses herself, making her way towards them.

Hermione lets out a long, weary sigh as soon as she stops in front of them. "Thank Godric we can soon put this behind us," she says, her tone distressed. She then eyes both Harry and Draco with a scrutinising look.

"You do make a good team, after all," Hermione says slowly, her mouth curving up slightly. "I did have my doubts."

One of Draco's eyebrows lifts up. "Oh? Do tell." He drawls in a narked manner, as if he's offended that there were any doubts regarding his or Harry's professionalism in the first place.

"Well, I wasn't sure if you two could keep your hands away from each other, considering what happened the last time you met," Hermione says to Draco in a saccharine tone, her smile wide.

Harry quickly suppresses a snort, while Draco simply rolls his eyes, even though his cheeks flush with pink.

Hermione tells Harry that they need him for the statement, and then says her goodbyes to Draco, telling him that she will be expecting a full report on her desk next morning. Draco merely nods at her.

They are alone once more. They look at each other, but neither of them speaks. Harry knows what the reserve in Draco's grey eyes means: they have a lot of talking to be done. Apologies, forgiveness, acceptance – and Harry knows it will not be uncomplicated, and that it will be bloody frustrating, and dreadful, and it might not even work out between them. But at the same time, he thinks…that it if he does not see it through, he will regret it for the rest of his life.

Then, the blonde wizard gives him a sharp nod and turns on his heels without a word, sweeping his robes at Harry as he turns away and walks out of the Great Hall, his head held high.

Harry stares at his back, watching the infuriating and impossibly handsome wizard, feeling bewildered, feeling light, and wonders, if they will make it through without strangling one another in the process.

With a little shake of his head, he suppresses a grin before accompanying Hermione and the Minister for Magic.

"You be good, Rose," Ron says pointedly at his daughter.

Rose rolls her eyes. "Dad – when have I been something else than good?" She asks, innocently.

Lily stifles a laugh next to Harry, who gives his daughter an inquisitive look. "Something to add?" He asks from her, but Lily merely shrugs back, walking away from Rose and Ron, leading Harry towards the Quidditch pitch.

"You're gonna be okay, dad, right?" She asks, her gaze on the frozen field, as their walk slows down into a stop.

Harry frowns at Lily. "Of course. Of course, I'll be okay. And so will your mum."

After the Minister had left, followed by Hermione, Harry had met with Ginny, and together, they had decided to talk to their children about their divorce. In order to preserve some privacy, they had taken up one of the small classrooms on the second floor. It had been uncomfortable, quiet and painful, had left Harry feeling raw and concerned. He reckoned Ginny was feeling quite along the same lines.

The children had taken it as well as one would, when hearing that their parents were going to split up – even though Harry suspected that both James and Albus already knew. Harry and Ginny had assured James, Albus and Lily that they would still be in their lives, and that their love for their children had not changed. But that their love for each other had changed, into a different sort of love.

James had watched Harry and Ginny closely, listening carefully, while occasionally chewing the inside of his cheek. Lily had burrowed herself against Ginny's side, and had cried silently. Albus – well, Albus had mostly stared out of the window. Which made Harry's chest ache.

Lily turns to Harry, and levels him with a serious look, making Harry nearly stumble backwards. She looks so like her mother, looking straight through Harry, in a way that is almost scary. "I knew about you and mum. Before today."

Harry's eyes widen, and he swallows tightly. "H-How?"

A small frown takes place between her brows, and she looks away, her eyes moving from one goal-post to another.

"Al – he…knew. He had found it out. He told James and me all about it yesterday," She says, and then adds with a bitter tone in her voice, "and, well, he told Travers. When they dated, Albus had told Travers that his parents are getting a divorce. Amongst other things," Lily says, scrunching up her nose in distaste. "She really didn't have any respect for him." She says quietly, and gives Harry a sad half smile.

Harry is utterly amazed and taken aback by his fourteen-year-old girl. He's astonished how bright she is, how – how mature she is, as well as surprised by her insightfulness. At the same time, he feels mortified, that Albus…that Albus had known so long. And hadn't said anything to Harry or Ginny – or his brother or sister, for that matter, until yesterday. But he had opened up to a girl he had been dating at that time.

Harry feels equally ashamed that he didn't – that he and Ginny kept it from their children in the first place. They had the right to know. "I'm sorry. We should've told you," He says letting out a long breath. "You deserved the truth. At least, at the point when we had made our decision."

Lily looks at him carefully. "So, it's happening, then?" Harry detects a mixture of dread and panic in her eyes.

He nods at her. "Yes." He says calmly, brushing away a few stray hairs from Lily's face. He stays silent for a moment, thinking his words carefully. "Some things will change, but you will not lose either of us. You will still see us, whenever you like," he says, giving her an assuring look.

Lily frowns, and then, presses against Harry, her head tight against his chest. And Harry, he feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest, only to be replaced by another – the worry for his children, the worry about the future. He'll keep his word to her, of course he will, but…but that doesn't mean he's not scared about what will happen to them.

"Whatever happens between Ginny and me, we are both still going to be in your life, like we always have. And in Albus's and James's," Harry murmurs, hugging Lily tighter against him. "Even though your mother and I will not be married nor live together, that doesn't mean that we don't care for each other."

He feels Lily nodding against him, before she speaks, very quietly. "Okay."

Albus sits alone on the side of a silent courtyard, listening the distant voices of laughter, chatter, and goodbyes. Many parents have stopped by at the school to see their children, after the Headmistress cancelled the lessons for the day. He reckons that what went on the last three days, had been quite stressful, for many people – the students, their parents, the teachers – and that it was probably only sensible to let everyone take a moment before resuming to normal.

He sighs, casting another warming charm around him. He only wants to be alone. He doesn't want to go to enjoy the day without school, doesn't want to go to say goodbye to his mum or dad. He wants the day to be over, and the next. And the one after that.

But, what he wants often does not happen. Which is clear, as his brother plops down to sit next to him on the bench.

"I told her," James says quietly, letting out a deep sigh. "She…didn't take it well."

Albus turns to look at his brother in surprise, wondering, if Charlotte will keep the information to herself, wondering, if they'll break up over it, wondering, why James had told her? Because – because of…Scorpius? He pushes those thoughts back into the far corner of his mind, and merely nods at his brother. "It's the right thing, I suppose."

James looks ahead, at the white courtyard, at the untouched snow in front of them. "Yeah." He says quietly, a small frown between his brows. "Don't know if there'll be a future for us…"

Albus digests his words. "Because she thinks that? Because you think that?" He asks, not really sure if he's ready to hear James's answer.

James looks at Albus, chewing the inside of his cheek, looking somewhat regretful. "Both, I think."

Albus clenches his jaw, looking away. Of fucking course. Of course, James will break up with his long-time girlfriend and go after Scorpius instead. Of course, he'll endanger his whole Quidditch career – or at least, that is what he said it would do, for a – a – what? One, drunken night of necking? Albus shakes his head in frustration. Of course, he'd do so. Because this is Albus's life, and when has Albus ever got what he wanted? When has James not got everything he wanted?

Albus sighs wearily, knowing there's nothing he can say about it, knowing that everything he wants to say, would be a very dickish thing to say, to both James and Scorpius. Because, deep down, Albus knows that James wouldn't – he wouldn't do anything, if Albus said he'd minded.

And even without actually saying anything, Albus thinks that James knows what Albus wants to say. What he forbids himself to say.

He knows that James knows, by the way his brother keeps fidgeting.

"Look, Al…I knew, yeah. That…you fancy him, or something," James says quietly, a grimace on his lips. "I wasn't sure then, but I had my doubts, and I didn't mean it to happen, I swear it – you know we were both plastered," James mutters, a strained look on his face. "I regret it happened, because after…I knew you'd be hurt." He sighs, and adds with a small incline of his head, "You and Char both."

Albus processes his words. "And if I didn't? If I wasn't hurt? Would you have regretted it?" He asks blankly, his eyes moving over James's anguished face.

James is silent, looking at his lap. "I'm sorry, Albus."

Albus presses his teeth together, feeling angry, feeling betrayed. The unfairness of the situation is making his stomach roil. He moves his gaze away from his brother. Because he might take a swing at him.

"Nothing's going to happen, Al, I kno –"

"Don't bother, James," Albus says firmly, swallowing hard. He doesn't want that – that blame – he doesn't want to be a reason for something, whatever it is. He shakes his head, feeling his eyes stinging. "Don't do anything for my benefit."

James sighs desperately, running a hand through his hair.

They sit in silence for a long moment.

There're footsteps coming closer to them, and both Albus and James turn around to glance behind them.

"Hey," Scorpius speaks, his voice hesitant. "Can we, uh, talk?" He asks from James, glancing briefly at Albus.

For once, he can't read Scorpius. For once, Albus doesn't outright see what goes on in his friend's mind. But he doesn't have to see to know exactly what.

Albus stands up from the bench, right as James mutters a quiet "Yeah."

Albus and Scorpius exchange a look, before Albus turns away, taking a couple steps back towards the castle, swallowing down the frustration and ache that presses against his chest, that twists his stomach. He stills and closes his eyes as Scorpius says his name behind him, as if asking where Albus is going, but at the same time, like he's merely acknowledging Albus taking his leave.

He walks to the castle, and doesn't look back, even though he wants – even though he wants to run back and demand both James and Scorpius to say it aloud, to tell him what the hell is going on, so that he can prepare himself for what will happen. Instead, he runs into his dad as soon as he steps into the Entrance Hall.

"Hey dad," Albus says blankly.

His father gives him a tired smile. "Hey Al. You okay?" He asks, nudging his jaw towards one of the seats lining the walls. "Do you have a moment?"

They sit down side by side, and Albus shrugs, knowing that his father is waiting for an answer. "I'm fine. I'll be fine," he adds, after seeing the inquisitive look in his eyes. Trust his father to know all about the fucking embarrassing drama between Albus, James and Scorpius.

Albus looks away and sighs, leaning forward with his elbows against his knees, his hands hanging between his legs. "Can we just forget the whole thing?" He asks faintly, not wanting to discuss it, or even think of it. He looks at his father, who places a soothing hand on his shoulder, and squeezes slightly, as if to remind Albus that he's there.

"If you want to."

Albus is silent for a while, and nods, his eyes at the front doors, that remain closed. "Yeah. I want to."

His father is silent for a while. "Albus…why didn't you tell me you knew? About – about your mum and me?" He asks quietly, his voice thick.

Albus's lips twist into a rueful smile, but he doesn't look at his father. He keeps his eyes at the floor as he speaks. "I dunno, dad," He finally says, thinking back when he realised what was happening between his parents. It was last summer – which to Albus, feels like a lifetime ago. Everything had been different then. Scorpius had spent some of his holiday at the Potters, and everything had been…normal, between them. He wonders, if they will ever go back to that.

One night, during the holidays, they had snuck out at night, and when Scorpius had been a bit hesitant, Albus had assured him that his parents were only interested in their jobs – and at times in James's Quidditch – and wouldn't even notice that they had been away. Later that night, back in Albus's room, Scorpius had asked, quite simply, if Albus thought his parents were happy together.

The question had come out of the blue, and Albus had quickly disregarded the sudden feeling of apprehension, telling himself and Scorpius that that wasn't the case. But it had been. After Scorpius had left back to Wiltshire, Albus had watched his parents, had listened their conversations when they thought no one else was in the room. And he had realised what was happening between his parents. He had felt…betrayed. They had been planning it, agreeing to keep it between them, to lie to Albus, James and Lily.

He hadn't wanted to say anything, purely out of spite.

"I…I was, I guess I was angry at you and mum, keeping secrets from us…"

His father lets out a long breath. "Was that the only thing? Not –" He trails a hand through his hair, a bit frustrated, "Not that it wasn't the wrong thing to do to you, not that you don't have the right to be angry about it." He adds quickly, and continues, "I just…I'd like to know if there was something else…?" He speaks, almost silently.

Albus swallows hard. Of course, there bloody well was. Still is, some days. But…can he be mad to his own father, for being the Saviour? For making a better future for everyone? In his own mind, he can, and he was. But not – not so much anymore. He's tired of being angry about it, because it will not likely change. Albus will always look like his father. He will always be his father's son. The saviour's son. And he will always be outshined by James. And if that doesn't make him sound fucked up, he doesn't know what will.

He looks at his father, and sees the concern and protectiveness in his gaze. "It was not the only thing." He says faintly, tries to tell him with his gaze that it was, and not quite so much anymore.

His father lets out a wavering breath. There's a deep frown between his brows as he studies Albus's features, somewhat helpless.

Albus looks away, his lips pressing into a rigid line.

His father sighs, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he puts his hand over Albus's shoulders, and pulls him closer to him.

And Albus, he doesn't object – not even though they are in the middle of an empty Entrance Hall, where anyone could see them. He leans against his father's side, briefly marvelling how familiar and safe he feels. And for a moment, he closes his eyes, wishing he would be a young boy again, wishing that the world – his world – would be like he remembers it had been when he was younger.

"I'm sorry, Al," his father mutters, kissing the top of Albus's head.

Devon, 12 January 2022

Harry apparates home late in the afternoon, after saying his goodbyes to his children. As soon as he sees the familiar sitting room materialising around him, he checks the wards – a habit that is integrated deeply into his daily life, after witnessing so many break-ins to other people's homes during his long career as an Auror. However, nothing is out of order – not that Harry was expecting it to be, knowing that his wards are rather impenetrable.

With a sigh, he trudges upstairs into his bedroom, shucks away his Auror robes, and proceeds to take a long, scalding hot shower, determinedly keeping his mind blank. After washing up, he puts on a loose t-shirt and his tracksuit bottoms, and hesitates for a moment. Knowing that he needs to eat first, before his mind takes over and before he starts to go the case through in his head in order to write down the report his boss is surely expecting on her desk by the next morning, Harry walks quickly back downstairs to the kitchen.

After hastily putting together a couple of sandwiches, Harry slumps down on the comfortable sofa in his sitting room, flicking his wrist to summon a quill and a stack of parchment, as well as Quinn's and his notes.

He shoves one of the sandwiches down, as he starts to scribble down the report, occasionally glancing through his notes.

Two hours later, he's somewhat finished, at least for the day. Harry decides to review the report in the morning before sending it out to Hermione. He will be working the next day, of course he is, but he also needs a good rest, and that definitely means he will not be at the office at the hour Hermione is expecting Harry's report. He leans down against the sofa, his head falling to the backrest, feeling heavy. Harry stares at the ceiling, his mind still in the case: still going over the details, still checking that he has seen all the clues, that he has paid enough attention to the evidence. The result was clear, Harry is sure of it, but he still needs to go over the case in order to let it go – something he had to learn to do, as years went by and all his cases and all the people that were part of them, were all there, stuck in his head.

His thoughts linger in the girl's sad fate – how it all could've been prevented. Harry feels resigned as he thinks how something like that can happen by an accident. He thinks it wasn't an accident, though, which doesn't really make him feel any better about it.

Harry closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. He thinks about the previous night in the compartment. He thinks about drinking the potions, remembers the feeling of lightness surrounding him. He remembers the darkness, the emptiness and the blood, he remembers Draco's face: horrified, panicked, looming over him in the compartment. He remembers waking up in the hospital wing some hours after it had happened.

He thinks of Hermione and Ron, their distressed expressions, the gratitude in their eyes as they told Draco how incredibly thankful they were that Harry was okay, and that Draco had helped him. He remembers their shocked looks when Draco informed them with a crisp tone that Harry had decided to perform an experiment that nearly cost his life.

After promising the Headmistress, Madam Pomfrey, Quinn, and both Ron and Hermione, that everything was going to be explained the next day, and that he was not going to perform such a test in the future, without agreeing with someone about it beforehand, they finally leave the infirmary, letting Harry rest.

Draco is about to take his leave as well, but Harry calls out to him before he can follow the others outside.

"Draco." Harry says quietly. "Can I have a word?"

Draco stills at the door, then nods, his back still to Harry. He closes the door a moment later, walking back to Harry's bed, a blank look on his face.

"I want to thank you. For your help," Harry says earnestly, knowing that everything could have been a lot, lot worse if Draco hadn't been there – and if he hadn't brought Harry back to the castle.

Draco looks away from Harry, his face darkening. He is silent for a long time, looking like he is trying to restrain himself, but eventually, the words burst out from his lips. "Bloody lunatic, is what you are," Draco says with a biting tone. However, Harry sees the worry and softness in his grey eyes.

He smiles widely at Draco. "But I cracked the case."

Draco's jaw tightens, and he shakes his head, looking somewhat displeased, grumbling under his breath, "Your head is what you cracked…"

"Come here," Harry says, his voice soft now, watching carefully at Draco's reaction as Harry stretches out his arm for him.

Draco swallows, his throat bobbing, his eyes fixated at Harry's hand.

"Draco…" Harry murmurs intently, and Draco blinks, seeming uncertain and…vulnerable.

Harry lets out a relieved breath when the elegant, long fingers curl against his, as Draco steps closer to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Potter," Draco says mutedly.

"Harry." Harry says firmly, watching at the other man process it.

Draco nods slowly, his eyes moving over their entwined fingers. "You're married."

"Not for long," Harry says quietly. "And this isn't about Ginny, is it?" He asks, having seen the bitterness in Draco's eyes, every time he has pushed Harry away. He thinks it is something else than Ginny, but he doesn't know what.

Draco moves his gaze at Harry, his piercing grey eyes watching him closely. "I'm an adult, Harry. I don't have the energy, nor the time for – whatever complicated situation you are trying to drag me into. I'm not to be used whenever it is suitable for you. My pride would not stand it, however much I wanted it," he says with a cool voice, his eyes steely.

Harry's brows pull into a deep frown, and he shakes his head, feeling entirely confused. "I-I'm not trying to use you!" He says with a huff of earnestness. He wouldn't – he doesn't. He squeezes Draco's hand, before the other man can pull it away. "I wanted to – Merlin knows I did – but you told me to stay away from you!" He says, finally realising what Draco is on about.

He's talking about the pub, and what happened between them two years ago. When they'd had sex in the bathroom – and Harry had tried to keep his hands away from Draco, he really, really had. He'd seen the state the blonde wizard had been in, had known that Draco must have been hurting still, since it had been only months after Astoria's death. He had known it then, that it wasn't the right thing to do, not when Draco had been utterly pissed, still mourning his late wife, but…Harry had been powerless. Powerless, when Draco had spoken to him like he had: telling how he had sometimes dreamed of Harry, that he'd sometimes wanted Harry, so much it nearly hurt. Powerless, when Draco's touch had felt so good, when Draco had been something Harry had hoped for, had wanted for so long, and had not realised it until right that moment.

They had talked, a lot. And then they had kissed. A lot. At some point, they had dragged each other to the bathroom, where Draco had sunk to his knees in front of Harry, making him nearly explode with want and need before anything had even happened.

And Harry had wanted to talk to him, afterwards. He had. But Draco had, somehow…closed up as soon as they had stepped out of the bathroom. He had disapparated, only seconds after telling Harry to never talk to him again.

Harry blinks away the memories, and focuses on Draco, whose eyes are sharp and narrowed at Harry. "You told me to never speak to you again," Harry says very quietly.

Draco processes the words, and the muscle in his jaw tightens, before he lets out a frustrated noise, wrenching his hand away from Harry's, and trailing it through his hair. "Bloody hell, Potter," He then hisses, looking away, a tormented expression taking over his features.

There's a tense silence, but Harry remains quiet, waiting as Draco seemingly has an internal fight, most likely to decide which spiteful words to throw at Harry.

"How in the name of Salazar you cease to listen to me, when I ask you to not hit your bloody head on a bench, on purpose – but you do, in fact, listen, the one fucking time I don't want you to?!" Draco growls, his eyes blazing at Harry.

Harry blinks at him, and is unable to hide his grin. "I knew you'd save me," He says softly.

Draco outright blushes, but then fixes a scowl on his face. "You bloody idiot…"

Harry nods slowly. "Might've been. Now…can you forgive me for respecting your wishes? I promise not to do so the next time."

"You do not want to piss me off, Potter," Draco says with a threatening tint in his voice.

So close, but not close enough, Harry thinks, as his eyes roam over Draco's face, stopping at his lips. Harry moves his gaze to meet the darkened, grey eyes, and lifts to sit up, hissing slightly in pain as he feels pressure in the still healing wound in his head. Draco looks alarmed, for a second, but doesn't have time to react more, as Harry places a hand against his neck, and pulls him into a bruising kiss.

"I won't," Harry murmurs against Draco's lips, "As long as you come closer, since my head's killing me," He says and kisses Draco once more, ignoring the impatient huff he receives in reply, before he lowers himself back against his pillow, pulling Draco down with him.

They kiss for a long time, slowly and softly at first, but then, intensely, longingly, desperately. Harry needs to be close to him, needs to feel Draco, and doesn't want to stop kissing him, tasting him, to breathe in his scent. And finally, there are no interruptions, no words or looks of doubt from neither of them - and they let themselves get lost in the moment.

Some time later, as they lie side by side on the hospital bed, Harry speaks. "Pomfrey's probably coming to check upon us soon."

Draco grimaces, closing his eyes briefly. "Thank you, Potter, for nearly ruining it." He drawls.

Harry snorts, and watches at Draco, his eyes moving over the softened expression, over the beautiful, somewhat angled features. "Luckily I only nearly ruined it," He says lightly. "Does that mean I still have a chance?" He murmurs, pushing a lock of hair away from Draco's forehead.

The Slytherin lifts up a brow. "For what?" He asks blankly.

"To date you."

Draco rolls his eyes, but the effect is somewhat lessened by the small smile on his lips.

"Well?" Harry asks, as Draco finally moves to sit on the edge of the bed, after making sure his clothes are in a pristine condition.

Draco's eyes move over Harry's body, and with mild amusement in his features, he tucks Harry back into bed, under the covers. He surprises Harry by leaning forward, and pressing his lips against Harry's forehead, right next to his scar, murmuring, "I'll have to come back to you about that, Potter."

He picks up his robes from the chair, pulls them over his white shirt and black trousers, and then leaves without saying no more, unlocking the door with a flick of his wand, and leaving the room in a flurry of robes. Leaving Harry in the infirmary, alone.

Harry shakes his head slightly, letting out both an amused and frustrated huff. "…Bloody Slytherins."

And if thinking about the occurrence in the hospital wing doesn't make Harry hard and wanting, he doesn't know what does. He groans in frustration, digging the back of his head against the backrest of the sofa, until he feels a sharp pain in his skull.

"…Fuck…" He hisses at the reminder that the blow to his head is still not completely healed.

Then, there's a sharp knock on the kitchen window, and Harry nearly tumbles to the floor, as he jumps to stand up. He frowns and looks at the watch on his wrist; it is almost midnight, and Harry thinks it is rather late to owl someone. He walks into his kitchen, his throat tightening slightly as he sees the eagle owl standing outside of his window, a very familiar, condemning look on its eyes, as if knowing what Harry had been thinking in his sitting room.

It's the same look Harry has received from Draco multiple times. He snorts quietly, moving to open the window. The eagle owl drops the letter to Harry's head, turns swiftly around, flapping its wings to Harry's face as it does, before flying out of the window.

Harry splutters slightly, glares at the bird that is long gone from his sight, and sits down at the kitchen table, tearing the letter open with trembling fingers, somewhat dreading what Draco has written to him.

He stares at the parchment for a long moment, before letting out a huff of breath, feeling light, feeling a rush of excitement at the one word above Draco's signature.

Yes.

D.L.M

Harry quickly summons a quill and a parchment from his study, grinning wider than he has for a long time, before he leans over the parchment and starts to scribble his response.

It's the beginning.