After their game of questions and answers, Harry was afraid he might have revealed too much of himself. Since he had returned to Grimmauld Place with Reggie, secrets and lies had been the only way he had lived. He hadn't told anyone anything about Reggie, and he had just told nearly all of it to Draco Malfoy, of all people! When he had adopted Teddy into his family, he had to be even more careful. Teddy was young, he might accidentally tell someone about his brother. No one was allowed to babysit when he was away except for the elves. When Ron and Hermione came over, Kreacher took Reggie and hid him away in his room. They never stayed more than a couple hours. No one knew about Reggie.
No, scratch that. One other person knew about Reggie: Charlie Weasley, the dragonologist and Reggie's godfather. Harry's dragon Animagus form had found a sense of brotherhood in the stocky redhead that made him trust Charlie with his biggest secret.
But even Charlie didn't know anything about Reggie's origins. Just that the boy had three fathers, but that Harry refused to let him be judged for the actions of his fathers.
Letting his secret go, telling Malfoy, felt like Harry was going into battle naked. To be a Muggle for a moment, it was like bringing a knife to a gunfight.
Harry resolved to keep away from Malfoy as much as he could. His secrets and lies made up his armor. Malfoy was living with him under house arrest, after all, he wasn't his bloody therapist.
To that end, the only time he spent with Malfoy included the boys: dinner, playing in the gardens, sitting by the fire in the family room with their familiars. When the boys went to bed, Harry went up to tell them each a story and say goodnight, then went straight to his office and worked until he went to bed himself. He didn't give Malfoy any chances to ask any more questions, though the look in his grey eyes was both curious and frustrated.
It worked, too, for almost two weeks. Right up until the night Reggie wanted Malfoy to say goodnight to him as well.
"Daddy, can Draco come up and hear the story too?"
How could he deny his son something so simple?
"Alright, snakeling, Draco can come too." He turned to the blonde, who looked surprised. Maybe he hadn't thought the boys might actually like him after all. "If you to, that is, Malfoy. It's up to you."
"I've no problem with hearing your bedtime story if your son wants me to, Potter."
And that was settled.
When Reggie was all tucked in, Harry sat down beside him on the bed, while Malfoy, after a moment's hesitation, sat in a chair on the other side by the windows.
"Well, Reggie, what story do you want to hear tonight?" Most of the time, neither of the boys cared what story it was, but Reggie sometimes put in requests.
"Tell me about the Peverell brothers, Daddy! And Draco, he hasn't heard it ever!" Harry laughed. Perhaps Malfoy needed an education in their heritage.
"Alright, snakeling. I'll just have to tell it carefully, so Draco can remember it all. After all, it's a big, important story for us Potters."
Reggie giggled at Harry's serious tone. Malfoy just snorted. Harry took a deep breath and started his story.
"This is the true story of the Deathly Hallows. This, Regulus, is the greatest story of the Ancient House of Peverell and its oldest Heirlooms…"
-0-
Draco never though he would actually be fascinated by a story told by Potter, much less a bedtime story, but he was.
Potter's story was about three brothers of the ancient Peverell family, clearly the basis for Beedle the Bard's story The Tale of Three Brothers. But Potter's story seemed… more truthful. No meeting Death at midnight, no cursed wand, just powerful wizards and a stupid mistake. He wondered if Beedle had been in the tavern the night the Peverell brothers arrived.
So entranced was Draco that he was almost sad to come to the end of the story. Potter had a nice voice, deep and soothing.
Outside Reggie's closed door, Draco managed to stop Potter before he ran for his office again.
"You tell a good story."
Potter flushed, embarrassed.
"Thanks."
"Was all that really true? The Deathly Hallows being Peverell Heirlooms and all?" Potter fixed him with a hard look.
"Of course. I got that story from Ignotus's journal in the Peverell vault. I still have the Hallows, too. I brought them together in the Battle of Hogwarts, and I will keep them together when I give them to Reggie." He raised an eyebrow, daring Draco to question him. "Is that all? I have a proposal for the Wizengamot to draft." His cool nobleman's mask was back in place.
"I… yes."
"Goodnight, Malfoy."
"Draco," Draco called out on impulse as Potter turned on his heel. The dark-haired man paused before turning back.
"What?"
"Just call me Draco. Teddy and Reggie already do, and so do you when you talk to them. Just call me Draco all the time."
The tiniest hint of a smile broke through Potter's mask.
"Alright. Goodnight, Draco."
"Goodnight, Harry," the blonde called to his retreating back.
-0-
Harry woke to sunshine and almost cried at the unfairness of it all. This day was not supposed to be sunny. It was July 29th. Where was the bloody dismal English weather when you wanted it?
Today, he would not go to work. Today, he would stay home. Today, he would hold Regulus in his arms and remember what a miracle it was to have him at all. Today, he would smile, and he would put off his pain for tonight, after the sun went down. Today, he would look to the future.
But tonight, he would drink to the memory of the past.
-0-
Draco wondered if Potter, Harry, was dying. That could be the only reason he would refuse to go into the Ministry. It was only July 29th, so his birthday wasn't for two more days. But no, he seemed perfectly healthy, though there was something off about him. His smiles, while numerous, were too forced. His laughter, while loud, was shaky. When he though no one was looking, his eyes were sad and his hand wandered to touch his left forearm. What's he got there? Draco wondered yet again.
Harry showed all the signs of someone faking it for those around them. There must have been something awful during the War that happened on July 29th, but Draco couldn't think of anything. The Battle had been in May, and Harry had disappeared from the War right after that. Nearly all the Death Eaters were captured or dead by August. It was the un-Marked supporters that were harder to catch. They had kept up small rebellions for over a year after the Battle.
So what was so special about July 29th?
-0-
Harry kept up his charade as well as he could, but when the day ended, so did it. He put the boys to bed without a story and returned to the family room to stare into the fire and wait for Kreacher.
Draco found him there first.
"What's going on with you today, Harry?" The blonde sounded concerned, not something Harry had ever heard in his voice before.
"I'm remembering a death tonight."
"Of who?"
Harry wavered between the need to keep his secrets safe and the urge to share his pain and memories. After all, he remembered, Draco had known him too, and for much longer than Harry had. Years longer. Perhaps he'd even been close to him.
"A friend. A mutual friend." Draco cocked an eyebrow at that. "Kreacher's off getting something special. Care to join me for a memorial drink?"
"Will you tell me who the friend is? Was?"
"After Kreacher comes back."
-0-
As Draco nodded and sat, the elf in question popped into a room with a bottle and two glasses, took one look at Draco, popped away again and returned with a third before leaving. Harry poured three measures of a clear spirit and took two of the glasses, handing one off to Draco and raising the other toward the fire in a mocking silent toast before draining it. Draco stared into his glass, waiting for answers.
"Alright. Ask."
"What is it?"
"Gin. His favorite brand. The only thing we ever drank together."
Draco sipped at his glass of gin. It was good; an expensive brand, then. This mysterious mutual friend of theirs had had money to spend. He wanted to demand a name right off, but he knew that would be all he would get, and Draco wanted the story more than just the name.
"Who was he to you?" Potter closed his eyes for a moment, brow furrowed as he collected his thoughts.
"He was… my Savior, I suppose, just like I am everyone else's. He was the friend I never thought I'd have. He was my… my jailor, and my protector."
"Why do you do all this? Have a day to remember him, pour him a glass of his favorite drink and all?"
Silently, Harry unbuttoned the cuff of his left sleeve and pulled it up. There, where Draco's Dark Mark was, was a tattoo in black ink. The lines ran towards the center from his wrist and his elbow, ink following the veins and arteries. In the middle where the met, they formed the outline of an anatomical heart. The inked organ was beating in time with Harry's heartbeat, expanding and contracting at an even pace.
"I called him my human heart. He made me believe I still had one, even after everything I'd been through. And, I suppose… I suppose he was my first love."
That made Draco more curious than he ever though he could be. Who did Draco know that Harry Potter could have fallen in love with? That was male?
"What happened to him?"
"His father killed him. For being a traitor. He killed his only child for betraying the cause he was bound to."
Draco read between the lines. Not just a male, but the son of a Death Eater. Harry had fallen for one of the Marked.
"What happened to his father?"
"I killed him." There was no pause, no emotion. Just Harry's flat, cold voice stating a fact. "I killed them all." He threw back another glass of gin before continuing. "With Dark magic, too. I killed them with his magic, their Master's." He laughed once without humor. It scared Draco. "Lord Voldemort's final act of madness against his faithful."
Draco though for a long time before he asked his last question.
"What was his name?"
"Theo."