A/N: Had a rough week (for those who follow me on FB or tumblr, you know why) and we still have family in from out of town. Weekend might be busy, but I wanted to make sure that you got at least one more update for this month, and I had some extra time today. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews/comments here and on Ao3. They were so helpful in keeping my stress levels in check over the past week.

Chapter Eleven

July 21st, 1981

"Your family . . . loud," Draco mumbled incoherently.

Harry kept quiet, holding Draco while Hermione fought with the others about bringing him into the house. Sirius was the biggest hurdle, and Harry had known he would be once he saw Draco's mark. He had hoped, however, that it would be a long while before that fact was revealed. Still, he did not care what his godfather thought or said; Harry, in fact, tuned Sirius's angry shouting out completely, knowing already that Hermione would win. Not only was she in the right, she also had Remus on her side regardless of whether he agreed with her or not.

Eventually, it was James who came to Harry's side, using his wand to cast a series of binding charms on Draco—not to apprehend him but to secure him as he was lifted. Harry smiled gratefully at his father as he shared the weight, not trusting his magic to be gentle enough to carry Draco. The two walked right past Sirius and Hermione, who were still arguing. He wondered if that had been her motive all along—to create a distraction—because when he glanced back at his best friend, she smirked at him.

In and out of consciousness, Draco lolled his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at James. "Potter, I hate to be the one to . . . say it, but your dad is much better . . . looking . . . than you."

Draco then promptly passed out before Harry could make a rebuttal.

"Arsehole," Harry muttered under his breath, earning an uncomfortable laugh from James.

They carried Draco up the stairs, being careful when turning the corner. As they made their way down the hall, Harry saw the door to his parents' bedroom click shut. He assumed his mother was behind it, protecting her baby from an unknown Death Eater. He did not blame her. Peter was one thing, he supposed. They knew him. Draco was a stranger, vetted only by Harry and Hermione who were both—despite their newly formed relationships—strangers as well. Their word would not be enough to eliminate suspicion.

There was a phial of Blood-Replenishing Potion already waiting for them on the small dresser next to the bed in the spare room where Harry had been sleeping.

With what looked to be minimal unease, James released the bindings and handed Harry the potion. "Might need Moony to look at that arm. We're all good at patching up injuries from curses, but he's had the most experience with wounds."

Harry used a spell that Hermione once read in Magical Medicinal to get the potion into Draco's system while he was unconscious. They had once attempted the same procedure with an unconscious Ginny before they knew of the spell, massaging her throat and hoping for the best, but almost causing her to choke to death on Skele-Gro. Setting the empty phial aside, Harry breathed a sigh of relief when Draco's colour began to swiftly return.

"So he's . . . yours?"

Looking up at his father, Harry waited to see disappointment or even disgust. Vernon would have been disgusted—had been, in fact. When he saw nothing but worry, he scolded himself for thinking that his father could have been anything but accepting. "He's mine."

James smiled sadly. "I bet there's a story there."

Harry laughed uncomfortably. "A few."

"But you trust him?"

"With my life."

"With all of ours?" James asked cautiously but with quiet hope.

Harry nodded, squeezing the hand of Draco's uninjured side. The injured arm was the one showcasing his Dark Mark for all to see. "He can be trusted. He didn't want this," he said, looking at the Dark Mark. "Honestly, he's one of the reasons why I began thinking you might be right about Pettigrew. Not every Death Eater is there because they want to be or because they agree with him."

"You knew other Death Eaters? Some that can be trusted?"

Thinking about Snape, Harry dipped his head in silent confirmation. He knew better than to tell his father about the man now. It would only undo whatever progress he made with Draco to compare the two. Harry was well aware of how his father felt about Severus Snape.

"I'll send Remus up. See if Hermione's been successful at swaying Padfoot."

"Dad?" Harry said, making James pause as he reached the door. "Thank you."

Draco suddenly revived when the door closed. "Nice arse on him too."

"Fucking hell," Harry said on a stressed exhale, kneeling by Draco's side and resting his forehead against his shoulder. "You complete and utter twat. Where the hell have you been?"

Draco made a pained sound as he adjusted his position on the bed. "Having my trousers tailored. Where the fuck do you think? I was trying to escape Hogwarts. Heard McGonagall making a fuss saying that Dumbledore had been called away on urgent business, and I thought I'd make a run for it."

"Death Eaters are attacking somewhere. We got a fire-call just before you showed up."

"Well, the Order's fearless leader is running a tad late," Draco said coolly. "He was standing by the gates. Right where I needed to Disapparate. I think he knew it too. I couldn't double back to the room, so I stupidly went for the forest since I knew that the wards ended somewhere in the middle. Guess what else is in the middle?"

"Centaurs?" Harry deadpanned.

"Always knew you weren't as stupid as you look."

Harry laughed and leant forward, kissing Draco and feeling just a bit lost and found at the same time. He felt like somehow everything had finally caught up with him in this timeline and he was really himself again. He felt like his two worlds had been forcefully trying to collide and merge, shaking and cracking as they did so, but now—thankfully—it was one world and everything was settled. "I'm so glad you're here."

In a quiet, somewhat vulnerable voice, Draco whispered, "Me too."

The door opened, and they separated. Harry was relieved to see it was just Hermione and Remus.

She bolted for the bed, pushing Harry aside and gently hugging Draco. "You prat."

"Merlin, your hair is atrocious, Granger," Draco muttered bitterly. "If I escape the wrath of centaurs and blood loss only to be suffocated by this mess, I'm going to be cross with you." When she pulled back, dabbing at wet eyes, he rolled his own at her. "So dramatic."

Harry turned at the sound of Remus clearing his throat.

"That arm looks pretty bad," he said, frowning. "James thought I might be able to help. Did you already give him the Blood-Replenishing?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. And the bleeding seems to have stopped a bit."

"That will change," Remus said, gently lifting Draco's arm to look at the underside. "The end broke off."

"Surely, you're not just going to pull it out," Hermione said, looking uneasy.

"Do it," Draco said, teeth clenched. "I've been through worse."

"Hermione, would you please get another Blood-Replenishing Potion? If Lily's not outside yet, James will know where they are." When she hesitated, he looked at her with pleading eyes, causing her to sigh and stand.

She squeezed Draco's leg lightly before darting out the door.

Harry and Remus shared a look.

"Scourgify your hands. When I pull it out, cover the wound immediately." Remus gently lowered Draco's arm, reaching one hand into his pocket and removing a small phial. At Harry's curious glance, he said, "Dittany. Always keep some on hand. It won't heal the entirety of injury, but it'll close the wound. Unfortunately, we can't use a Pain Relief Potion until after. We need to make sure that there was no nerve damage, and pain level is the best indication."

Harry used the Cleaning Spell on his hands, nodding along with everything that Remus said. "How have I not had to treat an arrow wound yet?"

"Because the bloody centaurs were on your side," Draco ground out.

Sharing a look with Remus, they silently counted down. Remus removed the arrow with one swift motion, causing Draco to cry out in pain with an angry look on his face that Harry could sympathise with. Harry covered the wound with his hands, lifting Draco's arm so Remus could apply Dittany to the entry point, sealing the skin.

Harry pressed his forehead to Draco's, allowing Remus to pull his hand away from the wound to silently cast an array of Healing Charms to syphon off the blood as well as remove any potential remnants of the arrow shaft. Draco's hair was soaked with sweat.

"You're such a baby," the blond said. "Look at you getting all worked up over this."

Laughing, Harry sighed with relief, just happy to hear the sound of Draco's voice. "Arsehole. If you'd wanted, we could have just vanished the bones in your arm and dosed you with Skele-Gro. I think I know the spell."

"Idiot," Draco mumbled. "Can't believe you let that tosser try to heal your arm. Everyone knew he was a joke."

"Hermione didn't," Harry said with a laugh, meeting Remus's gaze when the man looked up at the mention of his mate. "She used to fancy our Defence professor second year. Complete git."

Draco eyed Remus, and Harry caught the look just as his boyfriend said, "Didn't she fancy our third year professor as well?"

"Shut it."

Looking uncomfortable and confused, Remus cleared his throat as he applied a final layer of Dittany over the exit wound. "That'll hold, but you'll not want to move it much over the next day or two. Were there any other injuries?"

Draco slowly shook his head. "Just . . . tired."

"I'll let you rest." He turned to leave but then stopped and hesitantly held out his left hand to the blond. "Oh, er, Remus Lupin."

Smirking, Draco chuckled. "I'm well aware." He took Remus's hand with his right. "Draco Malfoy."

Wide eyes fell on Harry, and he looked up at Remus with the most innocent expression he could muster. "I know. Believe me, I know."

"I won't say anything to Sirius," Remus muttered, looking at Harry like he was planning on getting himself and Hermione out of the house when Sirius eventually found out.

He figured that his godfather would be the worst when Draco's family name was revealed. Sirius hated his own family, and Harry remembered stories about just how much of a prick he thought Lucius Malfoy was. Still, Sirius and Draco were technically family; Harry hoped he could get the man to see reason with that.

When Remus left, closing the door, Harry kissed Draco again as though he had been holding back previously for the sake of propriety—what with an audience. He did not care that Draco tasted like sweat and smelled like blood, he was just happy that his boyfriend did not smell like he'd just escaped Fiendfyre. He was just happy that Draco was there and alive.

"Sap," Draco said, breaking the kiss. "How bad is it here?"

"Not very," Harry answered. "Hermione and I have told them enough to know that they should trust what we say about what needs to happen. They know about Pettigrew."

"And Black's not in Azkaban? Did you put a muzzle on him and chain him in the garden?"

"Just about."

"Anyone else know?"

Harry shook his head. "We hopefully saved some people who might've died during a Death Eater raid today, but they don't know who we are or why we asked them to not go. And everyone's been told not to say a word to Dumbledore or the rest of the Order. What about you? Any . . . ?" He trailed off, his eyes glued to the Dark Mark on Draco's arm.

"Doesn't even tingle," Draco said, glancing down at his forearm. "Kind of nice. At least this time he has no idea who I am. Can't torture me through this thing."

Frowning, Harry cleared his throat and tried not to remember the nights when Voldemort used to try and summon Draco through the mark just to hurt him. He knew that Draco would never go, so it was basically just a long-distance Cruciatus Curse and a way to take one of the sharpest arrows out of Harry's quiver—so to speak.

"Why are we here?" Harry tentatively asked. "Why did you send us back?"

Draco sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Can that wait? It's . . . I'd rather not have to tell it more than once, and Granger's likely already written a list of fucking questions she needs me to answer about this. Go deal with your . . . parents. Merlin, but your dad is fit."

"Shut up," Harry said, kissing Draco's forehead. "I'll come back with a Pain Relief Potion."

"Don't bother. Doesn't even hurt that bad, and you know that stuff makes me groggy. Plus, we're two decades back. I don't want to drink anything inferior because they might not know any of the advancements we've made in brewing. I'll be fine." When Harry hesitated, Draco used his good hand to squeeze Harry's arm. "I'm fine, Potter. I'm here. We're all together like we planned."

When he closed the door, Harry cast Silencing and Locking Charms to keep the others out and keep Draco from potentially overhearing should Sirius's stubbornness—and volume—reach up the stairs.

He turned around and leant his forehead against the wall, trying to remind himself that he had been through worse. That he had watched Cedric die, and he had lost Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus and Tonks, Fred . . . eventually all the Weasleys had either died or ended up in Azkaban along with what was left of the Order and Dumbledore's Army. Though he could not remember the details, Harry knew that he had lost Teddy and Andromeda. He should not be so affected emotionally when he had been through worse, and Draco was perfectly fine—if a bit injured.

But the stress of his life pressed down on him like it always seemed to, and he fought back angry tears as he took in gulps of air, trying to breathe slowly like Hermione taught him to during moments of panic. Fuck, he was just so tired of fighting and watching people he loved get hurt.

And now he had some of those people back.

He could not lose them all again.

Harry was sure that it would kill him this time.

"He doing all right?"

Straightening his spine at the sound of his father's voice, Harry scrubbed his hands down his face and exhaled, turning around whilst nodding. "Sure is. Can't keep the prat down long. Stubborn, that one."

James smiled softly. "I've got a few people like that. How long have you been together?"

"I don't really know," Harry admitted, awkwardly running his hand through his hair. "We didn't get along in school, and the war kind of . . . It wasn't until his family switched sides that we were even close enough to force our way through some issues. But, well, there are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and fighting a psychopath is one of them." He relaxed when his father grinned at him, but his gaze fell on the still-closed bedroom door that he figured his mother was still behind. "Is she . . . ?"

James's frown vanished, replaced by a sad look of sympathy. "She grew up Muggle. Things are different."

Harry did his best to not react to that, but he felt the way his jaw tensed as he thought about the Dursleys. "Yeah. I know."

He remembered how Dudley teased him, disparaging Harry's grief over Cedric's death by calling him his boyfriend in a mocking tone. He recalled multiple times being dragged to certain places when his aunt and uncle were unable to either leave him at home or with Mrs Figg, and how Vernon would sidestep certain people in public, muttering angrily under his breath. He remembered how his aunt would gasp and gossip about the neighbour's daughter from across the street who supposedly ran off with some "sapphic seductress." He remembered the way his uncle would bitch and moan about how he wished the bloody Prime Minister would make up her mind about what to do with those freaks.

Freak had been a common word uttered in the Dursley home. Harry knew it almost always applied to him. Even when Vernon used it when speaking about someone else—and Harry had not been sure why during those moments—he had always felt slighted in some way when he heard it.

"Should we leave?"

James blinked, looking surprised by the question. "What? What do you—? Harry, no. That's not what I meant. Bloody hell, I'm sorry. I only meant that your mum grew up hearing stories and . . . She worries, is all. Your mum's best friend is gay. Only time she ever got detention was when another Muggle-born said some unkind things about Marlene. She'll hex me if she knows I told you, but she punched that bloke right in the face," he said, his expression filled with pride. "Middle of the common room."

Harry forced a smile, still feeling that tightness of worry in his chest. "What did you do?"

Laughing, James ran a hand through his hair. "Knowing me, I probably proposed to her. Don't recall exactly what I said because Remus and I were too busy trying to keep her from killing the arsehole. Sirius pinned him to the ground and offered him a snog."

Letting out an exhale, unaware that he had been worried about what Sirius would think, Harry felt some of the tension vanish. "So everyone's okay with it?"

"I mean . . ." James cringed. "Remus mentioned he's a Malfoy? And of course there's the Death Eater thing but . . . we trust you."

Before Harry could say another word, the bedroom door cracked open and Lily peeked out, her eyes red. She made eye contact with him before looking away. "James, can I have a moment with him?"

James turned and kissed her forehead. Harry could hear him whisper, "Everything's going to be fine."

Feeling numb, Harry stepped into the room, looking at the crib where his younger self sat chewing on the corner of an old, red blanket. He wondered if she had been in here, looking at the baby and wondering if he was gay too. It made sense, Harry supposed, but then he did not want to say one thing and have his parents raise the kid to grow up with any assumptions.

"Am I not what you imagined?"

He heard her choke on a breath, but he could not bring himself to turn around. While she was beautiful and individual in her own way, there was no denying the blood relation between Lily Potter and Petunia Dursley, and he could not bring himself to potentially see his mother look at him the same look of disappointment that his aunt used to have.

He felt arms wrap around his chest, hugging him tight from behind.

"You're everything and more," Lily said firmly, turning him around and taking his face in her hands. He felt small even though she was shorter than he was. "I'm so so happy that you have someone who loves you. That's all I could ever ask for."

"So you're not—?"

"You're mine," she said in a tone that brokered no argument. "I know it's strange considering the circumstances, but you are my son. Mine and mine alone."

Harry chuckled, desperate to make light of the situation because he did not think he had it in him to start crying again. "Not dad's?"

"He helped a little," Lily said with a smile that perked up on one side more than the other. "You certainly got his bravery."

"I think you're plenty brave, Mum."

She let out a breath and brushed the fringe from his forehead. "I'm sorry I panicked. I just . . . Where I grew up, well, let's just say that I never want you to go there. Muggles are so very different, Harry. I came home from school one summer, and a boy that lived one street over . . . He died. I didn't know the people who did it, but my sister did. She wasn't friends with them but . . . God, and I saw you kiss that boy, and I remembered seeing the papers and hearing my mother cry over what had been done."

"If it helps," Harry said. "I prefer it in the Wizarding world. And I know things wouldn't be that great for Draco and me here if we lived in the Muggle world. It's not perfect where we're from either, but it's a little better last I checked. As long as you're not disappointed."

Lily smiled sadly, looking at him as though she were silently asking him if it would change anything if she were. "It's unexpected and surprising, but I don't care."

Relieved, because he needed her, Harry smiled. "You're unexpected and surprising too, you know. I never thought you'd be the swearing type, for instance. And Petunia . . ." He laughed just thinking about it. "Well, I'd always assumed you'd sound alike."

Rolling her eyes dramatically, Lily linked her arm with his and headed for the door. "Tuney started faking her accent when she began dating that . . . oaf. Mine just kind of wore down over the years at Hogwarts, I guess. Comes out when I'm angry or not thinking."

Grinning as he remembered how she unapologetically called Sirius a cunting twat basket, Harry leant against her. "I actually really like it."