A/N: I am having a lovely run of writing at the moment. It always seems that when I get scared about one thing ending something else comes along and grabs me by the shoulders and keeps me firmly lodged in an alternate reality. It's quite nice, really. The voices in my head just won't let go.
If you haven't had chance to check out Unbroken yet, I've just updated with another chapter.
Thank you all for being such wonderful readers!

Chapter 27- Kiss

The day of reckoning had arrived.

Officially, Harry was banned from calling it 'the day of reckoning' aloud because it was annoying the living daylights out of Draco, but he still used it in his head. Rita Skeeter had summoned them back to her office to "discuss his request," according to her owl. She'd given no further indication to whether or not she was going to do it.

He had promised to be on his best behaviour, but again, he couldn't make any promises.

"I have spoken with Mr Weasley," Rita started.

"Which one?" Harry interrupted, just to annoy her.

She frowned. "Mr Percy Weasley, manager of the Phoenix Orphanage-"

"Oh," Harry said nodding.

Rita ground her teeth together. "Who has informed me that if the orphaned children are unable to be placed with wizarding families the Minister is looking at plans to place them with Muggles."

"Yes," Harry said. "We know."

Draco slipped his hand onto Harry's knee under the table and squeezed it lightly. Rita looked like she was on the verge of exploding - there was no need to bait her further.

"So, how are you going to 'spin it'?" Harry asked, throwing Rita's own words back at her.

"Don't start with me, Potter," she growled. "If you want my help then you can take it in the way I want to give it. I'm not going to pander to your-"

"Okay, Rita," Draco said, interrupting her and holding his hands up. "He'll back off. Why don't you tell us what you've come up with?"

Rita sat back and considered the notepad on her desk. "From what I've been told, we're at risk of sending magical children off into non- magical families. Quite beyond the implications this may have to the Statute of Secrecy, which will, of course, be of great interest to our readers, there is the obvious public interest in making sure these children are raised in an environment where their magical abilities are embraced and nurtured, rather than repressed by parents who have no idea of how to deal with the way magic may present itself in childhood."

She took a deep breath at the end of her speech. Draco's eyebrows looked like they were about to disappear into his hairline.

"Well, that's certainly one way to put it," he said.

"There's more," Rita said. "If there is the possibility of these children being introduced to families of magical parents, even if these parents are same sex couples, then surely this is in the interest of the child's wellbeing over and above being placed with heterosexual Muggle parents. Then we go on to use your relationship as a successful case study. After all, the Ministry themselves decided to place your child with two homosexuals rather than-"

"I wasn't gay when we-"

"Sweetheart," Draco said, rubbing Harry's knee lightly. "We can work out the details later. Look at the bigger picture here for a moment."

Harry frowned and huffed, but let Rita continue.

"As I was saying," she said acidly, "Even when the Ministry agreed childcare arrangement came under threat, it was again to you that the child was delivered for care and safekeeping. All the Ministry has done, over the past year, is demonstrate their support of not only your relationship but your right to raise a child together. Why will they now not offer this same privilege to other same sex couples? And why will they not allow you to adopt the child you consider to be your son and make the arrangement formal?"

"I have to admit, you've got a good angle," Draco said.

"It's a human interest piece," Rita said, shrugging. "It's controversial but the grounding is secure. It's going to be difficult for the Ministry to argue with me. And I might have another couple lined up to speak to me, and one of them is an Auror. I mean, one of the Ministry's finest is raising children with his gay partner. Come on."

"I don't suppose you'll give us his name?" Harry asked, thinking, as he did, about Craig Morningside.

"No chance," she scoffed.

"It's just that we might know him already," Draco said. "We might be able to convince him to talk to you."

Peering over the top of her rhinestone spectacles, Rita surveyed him curiously. "I'll think about it," she said.

"So, where do we go from here?" Draco asked.

Suddenly, Rita's expression changed.

"Well," she said, smiling widely. "The best way to kick all of this off would be with a nice long interview with the two stars of the story…"

Draco's grip on Harry's knee tightened in warning.

"We'll give you a few quotes to use in the article, but no interview," Draco said.

Rita pouted.

"I can guarantee you a full two page spread exclusive…"

"I don't see how that benefits us," Harry said.

"If I may remind you, Mr Potter, it was you who came to me for help," Rita said, clearly at the end of her patience. "If you don't want it I can run another story completely."

"Harry, just go," Draco said in a low voice. "I'll make an appointment and meet you outside. Go," he said as Harry ground his teeth together.

"Thank you for your time, Ms Skeeter," he said, standing.

Rita rolled her eyes as he left the room.

Harry stormed through to the reception area and threw himself into a squishy armchair in a sulk.

"Oh dear," Polly said from behind her desk. "Do you want one of my cupcakes?"

She licked a swirl of frosting from her fingertip and Harry smiled in spite of himself.

"Yeah," he admitted after a moment's thought. "I do."

Polly laughed, delighted, and held out the box to him. Harry had decided that bringing a half dozen to Rita's receptionist might be the best (or only) way of being able to cope with these visits. Polly made sure that Rita was in a good mood before they turned up. And if she shared her cakes, well...

"Help yourself. Trust me, I know what it feels like to need a sugar rush after a meeting with her."

He selected a chocolate cake with blue icing and silver mist swirling around the top.

"Can I tell you something, Mr Potter?" Polly asked, lazily swinging herself back and forth on her chair.

"Um, yeah. It's Harry."

"Harry. I used to fancy the pants off you."

"Oh. Um. Okay."

Polly laughed. "Don't worry. Your boyfriend is very handsome."

"You didn't go to Hogwarts, did you?" Harry asked, licking blue icing off his thumb and trying desperately to change the conversation.

Polly hummed and shook her head. "Beauxbatons. My mum is from Toulouse and she wanted me to go there."

"Did you know Fleur?"

"Delacour?" Polly rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Who didn't."

"My friend called her Phlegm."

Polly snorted with laughter, then hid her giggles behind her hand. "Oh, that's good. I like that."

"Why do you work here? For Rita, I mean."

"It's a job," Polly shrugged. "And good work experience."

Nodding although he didn't really understand, Harry threw his cupcake wrapper in the bin. Before he could ask Polly anything else Draco strode out looking rather pleased with himself. He murmured a 'thank you' to Polly and grabbed Harry's hand.

"You're a nightmare and a liability," Draco announced as they walked back up Diagon Alley.

"I'm sure you've told me that before."

"Sometimes these things bear repeating."

"I won't argue with that. What's the plan? Is there a plan?"

"I'm not letting you back in there with her again," Draco said. "You'll kill her. I'm doing an interview with her on Tuesday and she's going to run the story next weekend."

"That soon?"

"Yes. So don't go doing anything to mess it up."

"I'm offended."

Draco laughed and kissed his forehead. "Come on. Let's go annoy George before we have to pick Bear up."

xXx

The one year anniversary of the end of the war was marked with several events and numerous articles in the press, all heralding how far the wizarding world had come since they had overthrown the regime of a villainous dictator. Harry had turned down so many requests for speeches, or his presence at events that he had almost lost count. It didn't stop the invites coming, though.

The single event he could actually stomach the thought of attending was being held by the Order.

It was a dinner and was being joint hosted by the Minister and Hogwarts' Headmistress, not that Harry found either of these people even mildly intimidating any more.

It was 'politically prudent' (Draco's words, not his) that they attend, especially since the invitation was addressed jointly to Mr Harry Potter and Mr Draco Malfoy. Harry thought, secretly, that this would be a good opportunity for Draco to be invited to join the Order. Not that he had mentioned this to his boyfriend.

They had spent the morning of the second of May mostly sticking to their routine. It was good, having Bear as an excuse to stay in and not rush off to any of the memorial services or tributes, sending their words of love and condolence in letters rather than delivering speeches. Instead, they were just left alone as a family.

The Order's event fell a few days later, a Saturday, when neither of them had anything to do or anywhere to be until the following afternoon. Harry had rearranged Team Gryffindor's Quidditch practice after some serious nagging from Draco, who had convinced them both that if Harry got on a broom he was only likely to fall off again and seriously, possibly mortally, injure himself.

"What are you two doing wandering around half naked in the middle of the day?" Hermione asked, inflicting just the right amount of scandal and disapproval into her voice as she let herself in through the kitchen Floo.

"Why do you think?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes.

"Because I just shagged him within an inch of his life," Harry called.

Hermione humphed and turned to scoop Bear up from the floor, hiding her blush.

"Do you want to stay for lunch?" Harry asked as he jogged back down the steps into the kitchen. "Draco made soup."

"What kind of soup?" she asked while pulling faces at Bear to keep him amused.

"Carrot and coriander," Draco said.

"Mm. Sounds good. Will you two put some clothes on?"

Harry caught Draco's eye. "No," they said at the same time.

In all honesty, Harry considered it a testament to how far Draco had come that he was happy to wander around the kitchen, while they had guests, wearing only long pyjama bottoms. From the scared, self conscious young man who wore long sleeved t-shirts even in bed a year ago, to someone who now wore his scars with a measure of pride. They told his story, the same as Harry's told his.

A large pot was set on the stove, the thick orange liquid therein gently bubbling as Draco added salt and pepper and stirred with a long wooden spoon, taking care to keep his bare arms away from the heat. Harry slipped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Draco's chest, pressing a kiss between his shoulders.

"Are our suits back from the cleaners?" Harry asked.

"Nope. I'm picking them up at three."

"Okay. Do you want cheese toasties with this?"

"Granger. Do you want a cheese toastie with your soup?"

"Yes, please."

"Yes, please."

Harry rolled his eyes and padded over to the pantry to find bread and cheese and butter.

"There's a meal tonight, did you know? Before you two fill up on lunch."

"I did hear. But they've got bloody Giannetto's doing the catering, so it'll be shi- not very good." Draco stretched his arms up above his head, hands clasped, popping out the aches in his spine. Harry noticed, as he turned back to the counter with his hands full, Hermione's eyes quickly sweep Draco's chest and the faint pink of appreciation staining her cheeks. He decided to store that little nugget of information away for later torment.

"You're such a snob," Hermione muttered. Their friendship was such that little digs and insults were now par for the course.

"Thank you," Draco said with a winning smile.

"How's the scarring?" Hermione asked, catching Draco absently scratching at his left forearm.

He shrugged. "It's okay, I suppose," he said. He held it out for her inspection. "It still looks a bit grim."

Hermione took his offered wrist and gently tugged him forward, running her fingers up and down the scarred flesh.

"You can still see the black," she murmured, frowning.

"Only just," Draco said, protesting.

"No, I mean that… there's probably something that can bleach it all out."

Draco winced. "I'm not sure if I like that idea."

"The Muggles have this process, it's called laser removal."

"And I really don't like that sound of that."

Hermione ignored him, and continued "But since it's not ink, per se, that might not work. I'll have a look in your library, if there's not something in there then I'm sure I can find something at Hogwarts."

"Leave him alone, Hermione," Harry said from the counter. "And make yourself useful. Bear needs his lunch."

"I need mine too," Draco said, grouching as he took the plate of bread, cheese, apple and grapes from Harry and passed it to Hermione. She managed to cajole Bear into his high chair and offered him the plate.

"No throwing it," she told him in an authoritative, warning voice.

Harry had served up three bowls of the soup, and piled the toasted sandwiches on a plate to go in the middle of the table.

"What time is Weasley getting home?" Draco asked as they sat down to eat.

Hermione shrugged. "This afternoon at some point, I hope. Otherwise I'm going on my own."

"Bear can be your date," Draco said, teasing. "You can sit with him all night if you like. He's great company."

"I don't doubt that," she said drily. "I'll hold out for Ron though, if it's all the same to you."

"Your loss," Draco said.

"Are you nervous?" Hermione asked, addressing her question at them both but looking at Harry.

He blew at his soup and leaned over so it wouldn't spill down his bare chest. "Nope."

"Really?"

"What can they do, Hermione? Take pictures? Let them. I don't care."

"Rita will be looking for a scandal."

"We are a scandal, Granger," Draco said, smiling. "Well, I am at least."

"Are you two going to get married?" Hermione asked, her voice painfully matter-of-fact.

Both boys choked on their soup.

"Jesus, Granger, are you trying to kill me?"

A smirk just barely graced the corners of her lips.

"Of course not. I'm just asking a question."

"Are you and Ron?" Harry countered.

"Not yet," she said, calmly dipping the corner of her toastie into her soup. "Our jobs just aren't compatible at the moment."

"Your job?" Harry pressed.

"Don't change the subject," she said. "Are you?"

"It's not allowed, for a start," Draco said. "We can't even if we wanted to."

"Like that would stop you."

Draco cocked his head to the side, acquiescing. He looked over to Harry and smiled. "Want to marry me, Potter?"

"I love you, but no," Harry said.

Pressing his hand to his chest, Draco affected a wounded face. "I'm hurt."

"I hate you, Hermione," Harry muttered. "I'm not ready to get married. We've only been together a year."

"Okay," Hermione said lightly. "I was just asking."

"Just asking my arse," Draco grumbled. "You just like watching me get turned down."

"Oh, Draco," she teased. "Sweetheart. Diddums."

"Don't start," he warned her. "Or I'll poison your soup."

She laughed, delighted.

"I hate you," Draco sang. "And one day I'll make you pay."

"Children," Harry admonished. "Play nicely."

Draco stuck his tongue out. "Potter, when have I ever played nice?"

xXx

The Order's function was being held at a country estate that had been loaned to the Minister for the evening. Being out of London meant that the number of photographers that had braved the elements to snap pictures had diminished, although not by a lot.

Having Bear with them gave Harry and Draco a good reason not to hang about in the grand entranceway where the press had assembled; they ducked into a reception room as soon as they possibly could, but not before an eagle-eyed photographer had caught a picture of Harry's hand resting gently on the small of Draco's back as they retreated.

With all of their usual babysitters at the event there was no choice but to take Bear with them. George and Angelina were in the same position and followed with Titan; Angelina set Titan down on the floor and let him take off across the polished parquet at high speed, chasing after Bear.

"Butterbeer," Draco said to the barman on a long- suffering sigh. He glanced around. "Make it four."

George hopped up onto a barstool and opened his arms... Angelina groaned and let herself be folded up in his embrace.

"I hate the press," she mumbled into his shoulder. George smiled and kissed the top of her head.

"Me too. Blame Draco."

"Yeah, yeah, blame the Slytherin," Draco groused. "The Slytherin who is buying you a fucking drink."

"To the Slytherin!" George cheered, taking a glass from the bar and raising it in a toast.

"To our fellow parents- in- crime," Angelina said.

Harry clinked his glass against hers. "I'll drink to that."

The ballroom where the dinner was being held was smaller than Harry had expected, more intimate and warm, with wooden panels and heavy draped curtains. Ron and Hermione ran in at the last minute, both looking slightly flushed but Harry put this down to their being late and rushed and nothing else. It was too creepy to consider any other reason.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix had risen slightly since the end of the war but it was still essentially a small organisation. Too many members had lost their lives fighting for the cause and, looking around the room, Harry couldn't help but feel an ache for all those they had lost.

In spite of the sadness there had to be hope from the people who wanted to keep the Order going during times of peace; Kingsley was optimistic for their future and the work they were doing at Hogwarts, the orphanage and beyond to help people rebuild their lives now that the conflict was over.

Fortunately, there were enough hands, enough friends to take care of the babies while they ate and Draco seemed to get limitless amusement by setting Bear down on the floor and watching him chase after the house elves, much to Hermione's disapproval.

"So," Draco said to Ron over the dessert (chocolate torte, which Ron appeared to be enjoying greatly), "Where is the life of an Auror taking you at the moment then, Weasley?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "We're still trying to bring down all the international legs of this child- smuggling ring. It's all very hush-hush, you know, we're trying not to tip them off but it's hard."

"We'll be back in London soon," Neville added from across the table. "We've both been called to give evidence at Lady Yaxley's trial."

"How long will that go on for?" Draco asked.

"Possibly months," Neville said.

"During which time we're going to be stuck with desk jobs," Ron grumbled.

"Well, it can't all be fun and games and world travel," Draco said lightly.

When Kingsley stood and tapped at his water glass with his spoon, the gentle hum of chatter faded away and heads turned to the tall man at the head of the table. Harry quickly scooped Bear up off the floor so he wouldn't cause more trouble.

"Welcome," Kingsley said, spreading his hands, "To old friends and new. Tonight is both a celebration of how far we have come, and a chance to look back and mourn those who we have lost. Although our numbers may be depleted, tonight, as always, together we are strong.

"I have a few announcements to make before we begin. Firstly, I would like to welcome Miss Hermione Granger into my team at the Ministry in a new role as Muggle Political and Social Advisor. I tried to offer her this post a year ago but unfortunately for me, my dear friend Professor McGonagall stole her away for another year of learning."

Hermione was blushing, her cheeks clashing with the red dress she was wearing. To those sitting close, it was clear the moment Ron slipped his hand onto her knee to give it a reassuring squeeze.

"With Miss Granger's extensive knowledge of both Muggle and Wizarding culture," Kingsley continued, "I look forward to working with her and calling on her impressive brain to make our world a better place."

Draco elbowed Hermione lightly; she was sitting to his left with her eyes trained up the table.

"Congratulations," he whispered.

"Thanks," she whispered back.

"Finally," Kingsley said, wrapping up his speech, "I am sure many of you here are aware of the plight of one of our members as he and his partner attempt to legally adopt their son. I wish it to be known that if I were able, I would pass it into law myself for this to be allowed to happen. As it is, Wizarding Law requires amendments to the Protection of Children Act to be voted through by the Wizengamot, and therefore I wish to publicly announce that I will do my upmost in making sure we do right by both the children in this case, and the parents too.

"Now. Why don't we all go and let our hair down."

The room applauded and people started to stand, moving through the wide double doors to another reception room where glasses of Firewhiskey were floating gently, suspended in midair waiting to be taken.

Molly passed them and lifted Bear from Draco's arms, barely giving the boys a glance at all as she bounced the little boy to make him giggle.

Impulsively, Harry leaned over and pressed his lips to Draco's. By unspoken agreement they were rarely affectionate in public but this was different. Here, among friends, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to show them just how much he loved this man.

"Come on," Draco said, smiling and blushing just a little. "Dance with me."

Harry groaned. "I can't dance."

Draco laughed as he took Harry's hand and tugged him to his feet. There was a small area set to one side of the room, nearly abandoned now as people milled around in the adjoining reception room.

"All you need to do," Draco explained as he wrapped his arms around Harry's neck, "Is imagine we're in the shower together."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Harry said, sticking his tongue in his cheek.

Draco leaned in and bit his nose. "Shut up. Think that... hmm. It's your turn under the water now."

They gracefully rotated, swapping places.

Harry wrapped his arms securely around Draco's waist as music from the other room spilled through. Lights in the dining room had dimmed now, their swaying casting long shadows up the walls. Harry vaguely recognised a Muggle song playing on the old gramophone, and hummed along to the chorus.

"You look wonderful tonight."

"Look," Draco murmured. "You're dancing."

"With you," Harry agreed.

His grey eyes twinkled for a moment before the lids fluttered shut, and then Harry couldn't see anything at all as he closed his too and let himself sink into another soft, soft kiss.

A/N: Harry and Draco are dancing to 'Wonderful Tonight' by Eric Clapton. (Of course).