Chapter Forty-One: Let Me be Your Wings

Let me be your wings
Leave behind the world you know
for another world of wondrous things.
We'll see the universe and dance on Saturn's rings.
Fly with me and I will be your wings.
Anything that you desire
Anything at all
Everyday I'll take you higher
And I'll never let you fall
- Let Me be your Wings by Barry Manilow

After Hermione and Draco left, Harry wandered back into his living room and glanced around. His living room. Harry was still getting used to the fact that Sirius's childhood home was completely his own now. Harry spent the first half of his life growing up in a cupboard under his aunt and uncle's stairs. Today he owned a mansion.

Harry thought about reaching out to his only living family from time to time. He hadn't seen the Dursley's since the day they left their home to hide from Voldemort. He knew they were back on Privet Drive, his work with the Aurors were able to to fill in some of the blanks the last year left. His uncle was back to work and his cousin was finishing up his schooling at Smeltings. Life went on for the Dursley's as though Harry had never been a part of their lives. Harry was sure they preferred it that way, pretending that raising Harry was just a bad dream and now they were finally awake to continue their lives, but it wasn't that easy for Harry. Harry now knew how his aunt felt when she was young, the jealousy and hurt she felt when she realized she could never do all the things Lily could. Harry could even empathize with his aunt. Harry wished he had an ounce of Hermione's talent. He wished he had a fraction of Ron's familial support system.

Harry had everything he had ever dreamed about now, but he still wished the only blood family he had left would pretend they cared to know if he came out of the last year alive or dead.

Smiling despite his jumbled thoughts, Harry flopped down on an armchair and thought about his house lit up with Christmas decorations and all the food he imagined Molly would concoct. At first he ran with Hermione's idea just to keep her happy, but the more Harry thought about it, the more he looked forward to stuffing his house to the brim with people that meant something to him, or meant something to the people that he loved. Andromeda and Narcissa could have their first Christmas together since Andromeda ran off to marry a muggle. Ron could work on getting used to Draco some more. After seeing Hermione with Draco tonight Harry wouldn't be surprised if the Slytherin was poised to become a more permanent fixture in their lives. Hagrid would be invited, of course, and Harry planned on reaching out to Charlie in Romania and Bill and Fleur who were staying in France on an extended and belated honeymoon. Who else could he invite? Pansy Parkinson in his home? Blaise Zabini? Harry's head spun with the implication and the potential fall out of a house full of so many people with various backgrounds.

But things were different now. His thoughts turned to tiny Teddy Lupin, Teddy's life would not be the isolation and sadness Harry grew up with. The toy broom Harry bought his godson was safely stored away in a closet upstairs and Harry would be there to teach Teddy how to fly. He wanted to teach Teddy everything he didn't get to learn growing up, including the unconditional love a child should know. Harry knew the hole Teddy would grow up with in his heart were Tonks and Remus should have been, Harry still felt his own hole throbbing painfully today. The difference between Teddy and Harry, however, is that Teddy would never want for affection the way Harry had. Harry would make sure of it.

War didn't create a better world, it created orphans. It created widows. It created widowers. It created a world where a person could be a parent one day and childless the next. Was there even a word for a person who lost a child? Was that simply a situation that was too painful to warrant a word? Harry empathized with Molly's pain, but he couldn't begin to try to sympathize. War destroyed everything, it was the survivors who rebuilt. It was the survivors who turned ashes back into life.

Harry sighed and rose back up from the chair. Kreacher would come looking for him if Harry put dinner off any longer, and Harry didn't want Kreacher doing any more work than he needed to. Harry asked Kreacher his age at one point, but Kreacher couldn't tell him. Harry, much to his embarrassment, didn't even know what the lifespan was for a house-elf. Maybe he could ask Malfoy.

Harry shook his head in amusement at his own thoughts. Asking Draco Malfoy for anything was something Harry would have to get used to. It was strange, but not any stranger than Harry living in this house, sleeping in Sirius's old room, no longer being a student at Hogwarts. It had been a few months, but Harry was still getting his bearings. He was also close to willingly throwing a wrench into his life in a much bigger way.

Harry crossed the span of his living room in a few strides and went to Hermione's bookcase. He pulled out one of the charmed books. Harry had Hermione charm this one for a specific purpose that she was the only one privy to. From within the book he dropped a small green box in his hand and popped it open.

Harry never fully explored his parent's vault at Gringott's until he moved into Sirius's home. When Harry had first learned of its existence when he was eleven, owning a vault full of money was a foreign concept to him. In the years that followed he always wanted to take the time to properly sort his parent's most prized possessions, but there simply hadn't been time. It was almost comical how many distractions Harry managed to face year after year, he was surprised he was able to accomplish anything at all. When things settled and it was time to discuss Harry's inheritance from Sirius Harry was shocked to discover just how much Sirius had actually left him. Along with the home he had also inherited the Black vault, which turned into an interesting dilemma of which vault to keep and which to give up. It really wasn't a contest, but giving up the Black vault was a hard action for Harry to follow through with.

Harry originally offered the family vault to Andromeda, who declined to take it over. Her memories were like Sirius's, her family history held no sweet reminders. Eventually Harry decided to keep the vault open, but transfer the name and the majority of the gold to the name Lupin. Remus had been very poor and Tonks had still been very young. They didn't have much when they died but Harry made sure that when their son started school and eventually struck out on his own he would want for very little. The rest of the gold was donated to a relief fund for all the displaced muggle-borns and families who were victims of the fallen Ministry the previous year. He thought about Umbridge trying to take Hermione's wand from her if Hermione hadn't been on the run with Harry and he knew the money would be well spent under the new officials. He made it his business to be sure of that.

When Harry finally went through the actual possessions in the Black vault to transfer the contents he stumbled across a lot of jewelry. After they had been checked over for curses or enchantments, Harry stored a few pieces away that he thought might be appreciated by Ginny, Molly and Hermione. After that he had no idea what do do with the rest of the treasure, save one item.

Harry palmed the ring that came out of the green box and looked at it for what felt like the hundredth time. A few favors returned a few answers when Harry asked the Gringotts goblins about the sole ring found in the Black vault. It had belonged to Dorea Black, who incidentally married Charlus Potter. The goblins never took an interest in the genealogy of wizards, but they left Harry with the impression that Dorea had been his paternal grandmother. Harry thought he might ask Hagrid or perhaps Minerva if they knew more about Harry's family tree, but for now he was content to know that something that had been in his family a couple generations ago had made its way back to him.

The ring wasn't grand like the rest of the jewelry in the vault. The band looked silver to Harry's untrained eye, with diamonds inserted into the band building up to a tier and then a classically cut diamond. When Harry looked at it from the side the setting looked like fire, which reminded him of Ginny. When Harry found the ring he knew exactly why it had been sitting in that vault for decades.

Harry wondered when it would be the perfect time to ask Ginny to marry him.

Back at Hogwarts later that evening Hermione made herself at home in Draco's room. While Draco showered she brushed her freshly washed hair perched on the foot of his bed and thought about how she was fretting about her underwear choices not that long ago. Hermione felt like she could sing. She wouldn't, considering that she couldn't carry a tune in a cauldron, but she felt like doing something, anything, to appease the high she felt in her heart.

Draco walked out of his bathroom dressed in pajama bottoms and nothing else. Hermione's arm stopped mid stroke in her hair and she thought of something she could do to embrace her desire.

"Let's go flying," Hermione said later that night.

"I thought you didn't like flying," Draco's commented.

"How would you know?" Hermione asked.

"Because you never did," Draco answered. "I can't remember ever seeing you flying."

"I don't normally," Hermione admitted. "Like flying, that is. I just feel like I need to do something. I feel so restless, and we don't have classes for a couple weeks, let's just go."

"It's close to midnight," Draco reminded her. "Aren't you tired?"

"Not the slightest," Hermione replied, already climbing out of bed to get dressed. "I know you have a broom around here, somewhere."

"You want to go flying on the same broom?" Draco asked for clarification.

Hermione slipped her jumper over her head and smiled. "Of course," she told him. "I'm a hopeless flyer and I trust you to keep me from falling."

I trust you to keep me from falling.

That little sentence felt like Draco's undoing. He looked at Hermione from across the dimly lit room, half dressed and her hair a mess, and wondered if it was really possible to feel like your heart was so full it could spill over or burst. He didn't understand why those words carried so much weight; she had already trusted him with her heart and her body. It was something about the way she was looking at him now, her face still flushed and her eyes shining, innocently telling him that after all they had been through she trusted him. Draco knew then he was finished. He would live, die, and kill for her.

"What's wrong?" Hermione mistook his silence for something amiss.

Draco felt his face stretch in an unstoppable smile. "I just fully felt exactly how much I love you," he replied honestly and not taking his eyes off her. "It took me by surprise. Is it supposed to hurt a little?"

Hermione's own heart swelled again and she felt the familiar prick of tears behind her eyes. These tears were not the tragic ones she was used to, and she knew exactly what Draco meant when he asked if it was supposed to hurt.

"I think so," she said and crawled back into the bed to perch herself on top of him. "Either that or we're doing something wrong, and I don't think we are."

"I love you," Draco said again and enjoying the way it sounded, but feeling like eight letters wasn't enough to give her.

"I love you," Hermione agreed happily.

"Will it always feel like this?" Draco mused and reached up to tug playfully at Hermione's wild hair.

"I don't know," Hermione looked down at him. "I never felt this way before."

"Not even with Weasley?" Draco couldn't help himself.

Hermione shook her head. "If I had any doubt before about having been in love with Ron, that's gone now. It's like a watered down version of how this feels. I can't explain it."

"You don't have to," Draco assured her, feeling immeasurably pleased before a dark thought crept up on him.

"What are you thinking?" Hermione asked him when she saw the shadow cross his face.

"We lost out on a lot of time," Draco said wistfully. "And that's because of me."

Hermione leaned down and kissed him. "You act like we're about to expire. For the first time in a long time we have futures that are not a total gamble. I could get used to that idea."

"Except for the Maliceptor," Draco reminded her.

"I'm not scared of it," Hermione said. "Not like I was scared of Voldemort. This thing is a nuisance more than it is a threat."

"Say that to my concussion," Draco grumbled. "The threat is real enough, don't take it so lightly."

Hermione swung her right leg back over to her side of the bed and flopped down beside him to stare at the ceiling. "I know," she sad grudgingly. "I just don't like not being able to figure out what's going on. When I was twelve years old I tackled Polyjuice potion, I should be able to handle a pesky poltergeist. This is just getting embarrassing."

Draco turned to face her and propped his head up in his hand. "I think this is just a little more complicated than you're letting yourself think. It's not a potion. There's no instructions. You were able to ward our common area and bedrooms, that takes a lot more talent. At least we're not going to get ambushed again in here."

"That was sort of fun, though, in hindsight," Hermione grinned at the memory. "I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I liked spending time with you even when I didn't think I was. Does that make sense?"

"I was pretty determined to hate you," Draco admitted with a fond smile. "That turned out to be an uphill battle. I never thought I would feel so protective of anyone, but I was livid that day. And then you go and ward my room like you owned the place!"

"I still stand by my wards being superior," Hermione said smugly.

"I won't argue that," Draco shook his head. "And then you tell me about the mad plan you had to get me to admit I was the Heir of Slytherin, as if I could have kept my mouth shut if I were."

Hermione chuckled. "So much can change in a blink. Have you given any more thought to inviting some of your friends to Harry's Christmas Eve get-together?"

"You switch subjects faster than a Firebolt takes a turn," Draco commented lightly. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Has anyone ever told you you are shite at changing those subjects?"

"I wasn't trying to change subject,' Draco argued.

"Yes, you were," Hermione crossed her arms behind her head and looked thoughtful. "You don't want to invite the Slytherins," she observed rather than asked.

"It's not that I don't want to," Draco rubbed his forehead lightly as if to massage the thoughts into sentences. "It's just...soon. My mother would come, Blaise would be surprised but would appreciate an invitation, but those are the only two I trust to not make a mess out of the night."

"Not Pansy?" Hermione was prying now. She knew it.

"Especially not Pansy," Draco shuddered. "She's not the evil little girl you know her to be, but she has a temper and she can't always control herself when she gets mad."

"That doesn't sound like anyone I know," Hermione mused loftily. "Have you met Ronald Wealsey by any chance?"

"I know Weasley's a hot head," Draco shrugged his shoulders. "But he'll be in familiar surroundings. I don't want to make Pansy uncomfortable and then have her blow up at something minor. Or major, considering Weasley's tact. I think she should sit this one out until people get used to the idea of me, of us."

Hermione relaxed and nodded. "If that's what you think is best. Maybe you could invite her to your New Year's celebration?"

Draco raised an eyebrow; "I thought we were still talking about that?" he asked.

Hermione sat up and looked down at him with a smirk. "Aren't we talking now? I think it's fair that if you are willing to go to Harry's, then Harry and my friends should be willing to come meet you. Isn't that how friendships start?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Draco admonished lightly. "We're not hurling hexes at one another anymore, but friends is a little premature."

"If it happened with us it can happen to anyone," Hermione assured him.

"Well if I start snogging Potter you'll only have yourself to blame," Draco fired back with a laugh.

Hermione threw a pillow at him, which made Draco laugh harder, which made Hermione fall over back onto the bed and dissolve into giggles at the thought. Her heart thumped in that so full it was almost painful sort of way and she flopped back again to her spot beside him.

"What do you want for Christmas?" He asked her suddenly.

"I thought I was the one who was in charge of changing conversation topics?" Hermione asked him.

"And I thought I was the topic dodger," Draco reminded her. "I don't know what to get you."

"You got me tuition to Hogwarts and a fabulous French vacation," Hermione said gently. "All I need is you, you know that. Besides, my Christmas presents are all done, consider France your gift to me."

"Hermione," Draco said delicately. "How did you, er-"

"Afford gifts after my parents cut me off?" Hermione asked lightly. "I didn't technically buy anything. I put a talent to good use, I think they will go over especially well if I'm being perfectly honest. I'm very pleased with the results."

"It's not a knitted hat is it?" Draco couldn't help himself and grinned widely at her. "Because I've seen those, and while you're a brilliant witch I would not put knitting on any future resume."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Something a bit more useful. No more hints, you'll get yours on Christmas eve with everyone else."

Draco sat up and looked over at her. "Well since we appear to be taking turns going around in circles. Do you still want to go flying?"

Hermione bounced back up. "Yes! Let's go!"

Draco quirked an eyebrow at Hermione's enthusiasm. "Are you quite sure you're feeling alright, Granger? You're very...exuberant this evening."

Hermione clasped her hands behind her back and looked over at him with a big smile. "I think my emotions are making up for all the pain these past couple years brought," she told him slowly. "I feel like I wandered aimlessly through a hundred storms before now. It's nice to see the sun again."

"You braved a hundred storms," Draco corrected her sternly. "There is absolutely nothing aimless about you."

Hermione hugged herself as Draco rolled out of the bed and began dressing. "You were wrong before, you know," she teased.

"About what?" Draco stopped to look at her again.

"About using your words," she reminded him. "Not only can you use them without hurting me, but you can use them to make me feel like I've come back to life."

(A/N) I updated in less than a WEEK. That never happens ever. This chapter is a little shorter, a little mushy, and totally transitory. I think I've decided to move up my timeline a little bit to make things fit a little better, so I'm going to guess I'm looking at about 5-7 chapters left in this fic unless I get carried away (as I am want to do pretty often). What did you think about Harry's little surprise? I've been sitting on that for forever and this seemed like a good time to slip it in. I hope Draco and Hermione were not causing too many cavities with their sweetness, at this point in a relationship you're basically punch drunk (at least that has always been my experience), and I kind of wanted to capture that for them after all the angst they've been through. Their banter was fun to write. Can anyone guess what Hermione got all her loved ones for Christmas? THANK YOU for reading, and if you loved it/hated it, please review! I get alerts all the time for favorite lists so I assume I'm on the right track =) Find me at arielxwriter on tumblr, amccollums on twitter, arielsinlove on instagram, or look me up at my personal blog, link in my bio.