Once again thank you for the reviews, they keep me going! Thanks to - HowlingRain, Ern Estine 13624, CaelynAilene and singintheshower.

Sorry this chapter is a little behind my usual weekend update time I've been SO busy. So, because of that, sorry if I've missed any typos in my rush to get this out to you all :)

Note: I don't know if the explanations I've used about magical ability and being a metamorphogus are in line with the world of HP but please go along with it for this story.

Chapter Six

Real Magic

Harry had been surprised how easy it had been to begin calling Draco by his given name. Somehow, it felt right.

What hadn't been so easy, however, was becoming used to Draco using his given name in return.

Harry had returned to work, amongst the constraints and formalities of the Ministry, finding himself answering to nothing but "Auror Potter." Of course, he couldn't complain; it was his dream job and the title that came with it was much preferable to those The Prophet had chosen in its time. Even Ron, his oldest friend, called him "Auror Potter" in the line of duty as he called him Auror Weasley in return. He rarely saw him outside of work. Soon, he knew, Ron would be leaving the Auror's and rarely outside work would become rarely, if at all. He only heard from Hermione through the owls she occasionally remembered to send around her and Ron's frantic baby preparations.

Of course, the name "Harry" written at the foot of parchment, however elegantly scrolled, was not the same as hearing it slide like silk from Draco's lips.

He remembered the first time.

Harry had arrived home from work; his first day back as an Auror. It had been two days since their agreement and, although they had refrained from calling each other 'Malfoy' and 'Potter', they hadn't chosen to use their given names in return. He had stepped through the Floo, beyond exhausted, mentally drained and physically spent. He had forgotten the strains of the demands the job made, the toll it took. As Teddy had greeted him at the fireplace he had sunk into a chair and allowed him to clamber on his lap, gently stroking his hair as he lay contently against him. He had understood, in that moment, why Ron had made his choice to leave. He had been so distracted in his thoughts he hadn't heard Draco creep into the room, hadn't heard the voice that softly announced;

"I made dinner."

Harry had looked up, startled by both the words and the way Teddy sprung from his lap in delight, racing toward the kitchen. Harry had followed to find a delicious meal waiting on the kitchen table and he had lapped it down with a hunger that had been masked by his fatigue. Once his plate was clear, he looked up to catch Draco's gaze.

"Thank you." He had said.

"No problem, Harry." Draco had replied.

Harry had been taken by surprise by the way the breath had caught in his throat, the way his heart beat seemed to falter, if only for a minute. He had been taken surprise by the way his name sounded on Draco's lips, like Harry never wanted to hear it that way from anyone else.

Then he had firmly pushed that thought to the back of his mind, burying it along with the memory he kept locked away of the wet, pale, naked skin he'd caught a glimpse of in the corridor.

They had continued this way for weeks. Harry working, Draco cooking and both of them caring for Teddy.

Then arrived the gold gilt invitation that came every year. Harry recognised the formal ministry owl and the elaborate decoration of its mail before it had even made its way through the kitchen window. It sat proudly on the wooden table and allowed Teddy to pet its feathers as Harry untied the parchment from its leg, already aware of the words inside. They had been the same for the last two years, after all. Harry unrolled the parchment and withdrew his wand, accio-ing a quill and ink and immediately penning his response. He knew, from the previous years' experience, that the owls sent by the ministry would not leave without a response.

On the first anniversary of the war, he'd had seven owls in his house before he had given in.

The second year, he'd only reached two.

This year, the third year, he knew attempts to resist were pointless.

He tied his response back to the owls leg, gave Teddy a crumb of toast to feed the bird then watched him fly from the window. Teddy went back to his breakfast, chattering excitedly about how beautiful the owl had been, and when was he allowed an owl too? Draco, however, gazed silently across at Harry, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"The ministry." He replied flatly. "I've learnt from experience those owls don't leave until you reply."

He knew, however, that his words didn't answer the full question behind Draco's raised brow. He sighed as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "On Friday it's the third anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. I'll be expected to attend a ceremony."

Draco's brow lowered and he nodded, a small, almost completely invisible gesture, before he appeared extremely interested in his toast. Harry thought back to Andromeda's funeral, to the reasons Draco had given when he asked Harry to call him by his given name. He thought of how, with the funeral as an exception, Draco had not left Number 12 since he arrived.

"You should come."

Draco's head snapped up in surprise. His grey eyes flashed with alarm for the briefest of moments before the regained their cool composure. "Somehow, I doubt I'll receive an invitation."

"You don't need one. I always get "Mr Potter and guest". I never have anyone to invite." He made sure his gaze bore into Draco's, giving him no reason to look away. "I do now."

He watched Draco's reaction; the way he swallowed the lump which Harry knew must have risen in his throat, the way his emotions – fear, almost as if he was corned, trapped – flashed through his eyes. He shook his head, once again being the one to break their gaze.

"Don't be an idiot." He muttered, pushing back his chair and rising from the table. Harry chanced a glance toward Teddy; he, thankfully, was completely immersed in feeding his stuffed pet dragon the crumbs from his plate. His glance at Teddy almost cost him Draco's presence.

An instant reflex – in a lighter mood, Harry would have been glad his seekers instinct was still there – allowed Harry to reach out and grab Draco's wrist as he stalked past. He felt an undeniable spark as skin touched skin and fought not to drop his grasp in surprise. Instead, he stood, steeling his gaze, hard and determined, toward Draco.

"I'm not an idiot. The wizarding world agreed to pardon you. They should honour that agreement." He hardly recognised the voice which escaped him; a low growl, vibrating deep within his chest.

"They did. I have the parchment which pardons me. I look at it every day. On paper, they have forgiven. But forgiving doesn't mean forgetting." Draco's voice was equally low, yet it wasn't a growl. It was a hushed, almost shamed whisper.

"I've forgiven. But you're right, I've not forgotten. I'll never forget, because that would be an injustice to those who died." Harry continued with a fierce determination, boring his dark green eyes into Draco's, refusing to back down. "But those who are gone are gone. We cannot bring them back. It's time to look forward. Please, Draco." He whispered the blonde's name, the syllables caressing his tongue. He watched the way his tone made Draco's eyelids flutter before his gaze returned.

"With a speech like that… I almost believe you." He breathed, tugging his wrist from Harry's now limp grasp and disappearing soundlessly, leaving Harry to gape at the empty space he left behind.

-o-

The days following their confrontation were tense. Their routine still continued; Harry worked, Draco cooked and they both cared for Teddy. Yet no more words were exchanged, no more glances were held. It was Thursday night and the three sat in the kitchen, plates empty, after another meal from Draco's hand. Harry had wondered to himself how he even knew to cook; he had always envisioned him waited on hand and foot by a legion of house elves. Before, he hadn't thought to ask and now, the mood between them wasn't right.

"Take your plate to the sink please Teddy." Harry said to his godson, standing to clear his own. Of course the plates could be sent over with a simple flick of his wand and, with another, the sink could be charmed to soap and scrub each one sparkling clean. Harry, however, found the muggle way of washing up – perhaps, because of the hours spent doing the task in his youth – relaxing. He also wanted to teach his godson the values of muggle ways of life; yes, magic was powerful, but he knew in this new world it was more important than ever to teach Teddy that it wasn't everything.

He knew, however, all too well, that this was one chore Teddy particularly disliked.

He watched the usual huff escape his lips, then the hand reach out to take the plate.

Pop!

With a faint noise, the plate disappeared. Teddy's eyes were wide as saucers, staring at the empty table before him.

"Did you?" Harry gasped, looking at Draco as he spoke. The blonde shook his head, although Harry didn't need his answer, the look of utter astonishment on his face was enough.

"Teddy?" Harry gasped, returning his gaze to his godson who was still frozen in surprise. His own experience of the magic he'd performed before Hogwarts was limited and had always been explained away by his Aunt and Uncle. He didn't know what to do.

Thankfully, Draco reacted.

"Teddy… What were you thinking?" He asked softly, reaching across to take the hand which still hovered in mid-air to grasp the now absent plate.

"I was just thinking how I hate taking my plate, especially when it's all dirty, and how I just wish Uncle Harry would use magic to put it in the sink." Teddy breathed, his eyes still not leaving the wooden table top.

Harry instantly flickered his eyes to the sink. There, atop of pile of dirty pots and pans waiting to be washed was Teddy's plate.

"It's there!" He exclaimed, a grin breaking out across his face. Of course, it was basic magic, but it was magic. Teddy's first display of magic.

"I put it there?" Teddy asked in a whisper, his eyes still wide with disbelief.

"Yes, Teddy." Draco smiled, his hand now holding Teddy's comfortingly. "You put it there. You did magic!"

"I did magic?" Teddy repeated questioningly, his voice now rising with excitement. "I did real magic?" He repeated, leaping up from his seat and racing to the sink to see it with his own eyes.

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, tears of happiness brimming his eyes. At first, he felt slightly silly – then he caught Draco's gaze and saw them there too. "Well done!"

Teddy turned back from the sink to where Harry and Draco now both stood and threw himself around their legs, hugging tightly. They both patted Teddy's soft hair and their fingers brushed. Harry glanced over at Draco and gave him a smile which he returned.

Once Teddy let go of their legs he gave a long, drawn out yawn. "I'm tired." He said softly as he rubbed his eyes.

Alarm whipped across Harry's features. Seconds ago Teddy had been jumping around with excitement at his first display of magic and now he was yawning with obvious fatigue. Had the magic harmed him? Was he too young? Too weak? The questions whirled in Harry's mind, panic flooding him. He noted, however, that Draco simply chuckled, leaning down to lift Teddy into his arms.

"I'm not surprised, that was big magic for a little man. You'll sleep well tonight." He murmured, tucking his arms around the boy's small frame. His calm demeanour relaxed Harry and he instantly felt his shoulders loosen. Draco had been brought up around magic, born into a wizarding family. He knew much more of young, raw magic than Harry would ever know.

Teddy waved sleepily at Harry as he was carried past and, although he waved in return, he followed. He trusted Draco, he knew that now, but he had to see with his own eyes that Teddy was ok. He followed him up the stairs to Teddy's room, hanging back in the doorway as he slid the boy beneath his bedcovers. Although his intention had been to watch Teddy, Harry could help but notice the way the hard lines of Draco's back rippled under his white shirt – Harry had always thought it strange how Draco dressed so formally at home, a pure-blood thing, he had assumed – and the way it rode up ever so slightly as he leant over to tuck Teddy in, exposing a patch of bare skin above the line of Draco's belt. Harry tried once again to push the thoughts away but found himself unable. They were simply too strong and, if he were honest with himself, happening too often.

He knew he found his gaze lingered on Draco a little too long when he thought he wasn't looking.

He knew he stared just a little too long when the angular features of his face softened with a smile for Teddy.

He knew he watched just a little too intently as his body moved with grace around the kitchen preparing whatever meal he was dishing up that evening.

He knew he- well, there was no other word – ogled blatantly whenever he caught Draco half-naked as he moved from the shower to his bedroom.

He had long since stopped trying to deny the memories of his body when they visited him at night.

With determination he swallowed the stirrings that struck him; allowing himself to think was one thing. Acting was another. This wasn't some man Harry could experiment with, like the others before. It wasn't someone he could take on a few dates and have a nice time with. This was a man who was living in his house. This was a man who would forever be attached to his life through Teddy. This was Draco Malfoy.

And, very suddenly, Draco Malfoy was the man standing face to face with Harry as he attempted to step outside Teddy's door.

"Oh – er – sorry." Harry instantly felt his cheeks heat with a flush; he was very aware that this was not the first time he'd been caught prying outside Teddy's room when Draco was inside. He was also very aware of the thoughts he'd been allowing himself to indulge in whilst prying.

Before Harry could muster his reasons for standing there Draco had given a soft shake of his head and then gestured toward the staircase. "A drink?" He asked, before adding, just as Harry had done on the night of Andromeda's funeral "something stronger than tea?" Harry merely nodded in response, just as Draco had that night, and followed him down the stairs. He found himself wondering for a moment at the strangeness of the situation, of being offered a drink by a guest in his own home. Then again, Harry reasoned, Draco had been here much longer than any normal guest would and, well, was it his home now, too? It certainly was no longer just for Harry. It had become Teddy's home from the moment Harry and Draco had brought him back from St Mungo's . Was it slowly, somehow, becoming Draco's home too?

These thoughts carried Harry to the comfort of the sofa and the cool, hard press of a glass against his hand.

"Don't worry." Draco began with a faint smile, reading the deep look of thought on Harry's face as concern for Teddy. "He'll be fine. The first big burst of magic can tire a child, especially as young as Teddy."

"I suppose, well.. What with him being a metamorphmagi and all, I just assumed he'd have magic anyway." Harry explained with a shrug of his shoulders as Draco shook his head in response.

"It would be expected, yes, but at this point Teddy has no way to control his metamorphmagi… " He explained "Children can still be born squibs and take on magical traits of their families, metamorphmagi, veela, werewolf…"

As Draco's voice trailed off with the last suggestion, Harry felt a slight shiver run down his spine. Of course, that had been Lupin's worry in bringing Teddy into the world but thankfully he was clear of any indications he'd inherited his father's… furry little problem. Harry smiled to himself as he thought of the way Lupin and Sirius had so often joked with the reference, glad he could now think of both of them with happiness rather than grief.

"I just didn't know what to expect, I suppose. It makes sense that he would be tired, but…"

"Did the same not happen to you when you realised your raw magic?" Draco asked, raising a brow toward Harry.

Instantly Harry dropped his gaze, becoming very interested in the glass he was holding. To think back to his first experiences of magic meant to think back to the Durselys; to a life where his… outbursts were not met with the joy or excitement that Teddy's had been, but with hushed stories, cover ups and accusations that he were abnormal.

"I didn't really know magic existed." Harry explained, somewhat uncomfortably. If someone were to have told him just a few months ago that he would be sitting with his former school rival on first name terms, discussing the deepest elements of his past he would have personally escorted them to a bed in St Mungo's. Now, although he felt a little uneasy, he knew he could trust Draco to listen without scorn. "My aunt and uncle would always make some excuse about the things I did and tell me how abnormal I was before sending me back to my cupboard."

Draco's lip curled in an expression Harry found difficult to read at first; it wasn't disgust, or superiority it was… was it anger? Yes. Anger. At the way Harry had been treated by his muggle family? Why would that be his reaction?

Feeling the more uncomfortable with the questions that Draco's expression raised than with the conversation itself Harry pressed forward, changing the flow of conversation. "But now I look back, I can spot times where it must have been magic. Real magic. On my cousin's birthday we went to the zoo… I spoke to a snake and accidently released it. Ended up locking my cousin back in the cage." Harry's eyes twinkled with mirth at the memory and –

"Did you just snort?" Harry asked, completely taken by surprise at the sound which had escaped his companion who was, quite clearly, very amused by the tale.

"It's not every day you find out the saviour of the wizarding world sets snakes loose amongst a whole bunch of muggles." He said, still smirking with amusement. The smirk softened into a smile as the blonde called up his own memory "I was around six, I think, the first time I displayed magical ability which couldn't be explained away. Father had instructed the house elves to cut my hair but I wanted to grow it like his. I was so upset, not only did my magic manage to cut most of his hair off it also dyed it bright green. I remembered I was terrified for him to look in a mirror, but he just laughed and bought be a practise wand. I think he'd been worrying his only heir would turn out to be a squib."

Harry took in Draco's words carefully, both the light and the dark, trying to piece together Draco's childhood. Surprise, of course, that Lucius would respond so light heartedly to his sons magic harming his appearance in such a way. Then a prickle of sadness; what had Draco's life been like that he'd feared his father's reaction to his first display of magic? How had he felt before, clearly feeling the pressure that his father was convinced he had a squib for an heir?

Neither of their childhoods had been perfect.

All that did was convince Harry that, between them, they would make sure that Teddy's was.

Silence passed between them for moments, each lost in memories of their childhoods or – perhaps more likely, certainly on Harry's part – imagining the childhood the other had experienced.

"I know that you're right." Draco murmured, his quiet voice breaking the silence. Harry raised his head and cast a questioning glance over toward him; Draco's head, however, was down as he stared into the flames flickering in the marble fireplace. Harry waited, choosing not to replace his lost glance with words, giving Draco the time to speak for himself. "I know that it's time to look forward. When Teddy talks about the first time he performed magic I want him to be able to say I was there, to talk about me with pride." Draco's voice was little more than a whisper yet it was resolute, firm, determined. It let anyone who was listening know that Draco was a man who meant, with unyielding certainty, every word he said.

"He will, he loves you." Harry said, dropping his voice to match Draco's. Soft, yes and quiet – yet with the assurance and determination the words needed. He didn't stop to think about how, mere months ago, he would have revelled in the doubt Draco was experiencing yet he now wasted no time in offering the support and comfort he needed.

"That's not enough." As Draco replied, he lifted his gaze. He sought out Harry's eyes and the expression Harry saw was strange; his grey eyes were tinged with sadness yet a smile tugged across his lips. "Love is an emotion. So are disgust, and revulsion and hatred. Perceptions can change. I don't want others to be able to change the way Teddy thinks about me because I did nothing to change their opinions."

The flames continued to flicker as Draco grew silent, their crackles sounding through the room as the bright, hot light began to dim.

"Does your invitation still stand?"

This time it was Harry's turn to pull his eyes from the flames. For a moment he said nothing, taken aback by Draco's change of heart. "Of course." He replied in the same heartbeat in which he realised he'd left Draco waiting far too long.

"Thank you." Draco said, at first addressing the flames which were slowly dying out before he turned back to Harry. His gaze was as hard as steel, determined and strong, even if his voice cracked as he spoke, betraying the nerves behind his words. "For everything. For Teddy, for helping me face up to who I need to be. For believing in me."

He rose without a word more, giving Harry no chance to respond. He swept forward with a grace and a determination which told Harry that Draco didn't want his words, just his ears. Harry was happy to afford him that request. Draco paused, only for a moment as he passed Harry's chair, brushing a hand across his shoulder. Harry allowed himself the response of lifting his hand to meet Draco's, gently brushing their fingers together before Draco withdrew and left the room.

As Harry sat he thought about their conversation and the events of that day. He thought about Teddy's excitement at his real magic, and Harry's admittance of his first real magic of his own. He thought about Draco, the braveness in his words, the courage he had displayed in facing his vulnerabilities. His shoulder tingled where Draco's hand had been, as if its presence was still a ghost holding him there.

His lips curved, softly and slowly into a smile.

That, as far as Harry was concerned, was real magic.