Notes:

Beta-read by YetiBettyFoufetti. Thank you!

Chapter Text

It had been exactly two years since they had moved into 12 Grimmauld Place, Draco had told Harry that morning, over breakfast.

Two whole years, Harry thought, amazed.

He was leaning back against the hot plastic of the slide, lost in thought, when he was distracted by the fact that the woman - Tommy's mother - had finished speaking with the old couple by the swings and was now eyeing the bench Harry usually occupied. He slid around the side of the slide, hiding himself from her view. That's when he heard the scream.

Harry jumped from his hiding spot, his Auror instincts kicking in. Victor was running towards him, crying. The other children, led by Tommy, were pointing at him, laughing.

Harry picked Victor up and comforted him, eyeing Tommy's mother with a murderous stare. She shrugged and tossed her long black hair back. Letting Victor back down on the ground, Harry advanced towards the group of children. They immediately stopped laughing once they saw Harry's sour expression. He bent down to pick up Victor's precious neon green sports car from the pile of toys spread around the sandpit, then turned around without saying anything. Victor was still sobbing by the slide.

"Sh, my love. It's going to be fine," he said, picking him up again.

On the way home they stopped by the ice cream shop and Harry let Victor pick two scoops of Victor's favorite flavors. They sat on the curb so he could eat it, watching the traffic go by. Victor recounted the events that had led them there while the sky turned violet.

It was a thrilling story that involved broken promises ("Tommy told me he'll let me play with his truck but when I asked for it he said he never said that"), betrayal of the highest order ("Then he gave it to Milly") and a desire for revenge ("I will never give him my sports car again"). Harry didn't want to push his own agenda so he didn't add anything to Victor's interpretation, but he was convinced Tommy had been mean to Victor because Tommy's mother was a snob who didn't like that her child was mingling with someone that went to public school in the suburbs. At least, that was the conclusion he and Draco had reached the night before, after a similar episode had taken place.

"Don't tell Uncle Draco I bought you an ice-cream before dinner," he remembered to mention as he took out his wand and opened the front door.

Victor's promise turned out to be wasted effort. As soon as they entered the kitchen, Draco's eyes went directly to the brown stain on Victor's t-shirt. He let go of the spoon he was using to stir in a big pot of soup, put his hands on his hips and threw Harry a disappointed look. The spoon carried on stirring by itself.

Harry ushered Victor to his usual seat at the table. The boy reached for his game console and the upbeat music of the racing game he was obsessed with filled the kitchen.

"You are the reason Linda thinks we're spoiling him rotten," Draco whispered angrily when Harry got close enough.

"He was upset," Harry whispered back, grabbing Draco's waist. "He was bullied. Again."

"Just set up the table or you're going to be bullied next," Draco said, kissing him briskly on the lips before returning to the soup.

Harry opened the cupboards and levitated three sets of plates to the dining room. Victor abandoned his console when the plates whizzed by his head. He got off his chair and followed them into the dining room, which had been Harry's plan all along.

"Uncle Harry, can you make the dishes do something funny?"

Harry twisted his hand and the plates tumbled in the air before settling on the table.

"Was it Tommy again?" Draco asked when Harry went back to get the cutlery.

Harry nodded.

"I'll have a word with his mother the next time I see her."

"Thank you," Harry said, relieved.

It was Victor's last night with them. Dudley was coming to pick him up first thing in the morning and Harry had procrastinated packing his bag. He had no choice but to do it while Draco read the boy a bedtime story.

This proved to be more complicated than anticipated. Draco didn't just read the stories. He had smoke figurines playing out the action in real time - his father used to do the same with him when he was a child and he was adamant about keeping the tradition alive. Listening to Draco's voice as the figures danced around the bed proved so enticing Harry soon forgot what he was doing and just watched the show from across the room.

One of the figures, a small dolphin, jumped out from behind Draco's book and Victor caught it. The smoke dissipated. Victor let out a cry.

"It's nothing," Draco laughed, waving his wand and making the dolphin come back. "Look, it's back."

Victor stopped wincing. He turned towards Draco. "Will I be able to do that too one day, Uncle Draco?"

Draco's smile froze on his face. Harry stiffened. Their eyes met from across the room.

It's fine, Harry told himself as he got up from the ground. They had talked about this. They had talked about it with Linda and Dudley. They had talked about it with other families going through something similar. Heck, Harry had even talked about it with Emma. They had a plan. They were ready.

Draco put down the book while Harry circled the bed, getting in on the other side. He threw another glance at Draco, who appeared to be giving himself a similar internal pep talk to Harry, then turned to Victor.

"Victor, do you know what Draco and I are doing when we make objects float or appear out of nowhere?"

"M-magic," he stuttered. He'd covered half his face with the blanket. "Dad said it's magic."

"Yes. Magic. Very good." Draco petted his head while Harry carried on. "And magic is a bit like seeing. Or like hearing. It's a capacity some people have. But not all people. Do you know any people who don't have the capacity to do magic?"

Victor squinted his eyes.

"Mum and Dad."

"Yes."

"And my teacher. And my friends."

"Exactly. In fact, most people don't have this capacity."

"And me?" Victor asked. Tears were gathering at the corners of his eyes. Harry threw Draco a hopeless look.

"And you don't either, Victor," Draco said, moving a blond strand of hair out of his eyes. "But that doesn't mean you cannot do amazing things. I couldn't do magic for almost half of my life and I promise you, life was not so different."

The tears were now running down Victor's face. Harry felt a sharp pang in his chest.

"And even if you can't do magic, we can still do a lot of fun things together. We can make potions together, like we did yesterday."

"And we can fly together," Harry intervened, wiping away Victor's tears with his finger, "when you're a bit older."

"B-but I'll never be able to make the dishes jump around? Or the figurines dance out of the books?"

"No," Harry said. He wanted to add something, some soothing words to ease the blow, but he held back. They needed to be clear and not dance around the subject. It was better like that. Draco nodded at him, showing his support for Harry's approach.

"B-but- I told Tommy I'd make him fly over the swings if he upsets me again," the boy wailed.

"You wouldn't be allowed to do that even if you could do magic," Harry said sternly.

"You should never use violence against your friends, even when they are mean to you," Draco added. "Magic or not."

"Exactly," Harry said. He and Draco shared a quick look - a moment to acknowledge the irony.

Victor pulled the covers over his head.

"I hate Tommy!"

"Oh, sweetie!" Draco lamented, hugging him over the covers.

It took another half hour and two bedtime stories to get Victor to calm down and fall asleep. Closing the door to his room carefully, Harry turned to Draco in the dark hallway.

"It was fine," Draco whispered, putting an arm around his shoulders and leading them towards their bedroom.

"I hope so," Harry answered, grabbing Draco's waist and letting his head fall on his shoulder.

It always amazed Harry just how many things Victor managed to spread around in only a couple of days. He shoved everything he could see - unmatched socks, a toy quidditch ball, a pencil case with cars on it - in the tiny backpack and sprinted downstairs.

He found Dudley speaking with Draco in the kitchen, hunched over one of the many cauldrons that invaded their kitchen during the week. Victor was, like always, playing on his console.

"This one should help with nightmares," Draco was explaining, "without making the user addicted to it. We're still testing it, though."

"And this one?"

"This one is very similar, only it induces deep sleep."

"Sounds useful," Dudley said, straightening up just as Ana and Richard walked in the kitchen, arms full of bags Harry recognized as ingredient bags.

"We'd better let you to it," Harry said, going around the table and kissing Draco goodbye while Dudley picked Victor up. Ever since Draco had started his muggle-wizard research lab in their basement, he only came in at the Ministry on Tuesdays and Fridays.

"Do you need a ride to work?" Dudley asked when they stepped out the front door.

"Sure, if you're not in a hurry."

Harry got in while Dudley mounted Victor on the car seat. He really needed to get around to getting his driving license soon. He didn't want Draco to always be the one to pick Victor up when he came to visit.

"We had the talk," Harry said as soon as Dudley got in the driver's seat.

"Draco told me. How did it go?"

"I think it went alright. But he might still be upset about it. Ask more questions."

"We knew it was going to happen sooner or later," Dudley said quietly, looking in the rearview mirror at the boy. By the sounds of it, he was playing his racing game again. "I'm sure he'll be alright."

Harry nodded. "How was the business trip?"

"Oh, you know. I sold paper to people that will always need more paper. So good. How are you?" Dudley asked, looking at him briefly before returning his gaze to the road. They hadn't hung out just the two of them in a long time. A couple of months, maybe.

Harry laid back on his seat and considered the question.

"I'm good. A bit worried about Victor."

Dudley patted him on the leg. "Don't worry about it, Harry. It won't be like with mum. I promise you. We're all here for him. Maybe it will be a bit hard at the beginning, but this is better than the alternative." Dudley made a pause, let the words sink in. "It's better than lying."

"I guess…"

"Plus, I don't know what can be cooler than having a wizard for an uncle. As soon as he sees it like that, I'm sure he'll come around."

"I hope so," Harry whispered, turning back to look at his nephew, still immersed in his game.

"How's work?" Dudley asked in a normal voice.

"It's a mess right now. A senior Wizeng- er, judge has been accused of using memory charms during criminal trials. We don't know for how long, but there are tens of people who might be in prison wrongly because of it."

"Why would he do that?"

"The usual," Harry shrugged. "Keep his friends out of prison."

"So wizards are as corrupted as us muggles, then."

"Oh, yeah," Harry laughed bitterly. "You can say that again."

Harry spent the morning with his team, going over trial transcripts leading back years. In the afternoon he went into the dungeons to interrogate a suspected accomplice of the judge. On his way back to the fifth floor, he recognized a familiar face in front of the visitors' lifts. He stopped in his tracks.

"Harry! It's been a while!" Shaun exclaimed, stepping away from the queue.

"I thought you were in New York," Harry said, taking in the sudden apparition.

"One of my clients has some business with the Ministry and I need to sort it out in person. I'll be out of this godforsaken city by sundown, so all is good."

Harry laughed. He'd forgotten how much Shaun despised London.

"How's Thomas?"

"Great. Working all the time, but great. How about Draco?"

"Also great."

"I'm happy to hear." Shaun looked somewhere behind Harry and smiled, as if remembering something fondly. Harry was about to lean in and say his goodbye when Shaun turned to him.

"You know," he said, coming closer, "I didn't tell you back then because I didn't want to come across as pathologically jealous, but since you and Draco have been together for so long I think I can tell you now."

"What?" Harry laughed, intrigued.

"I broke up with you because of Draco."

Harry raised his eyebrows inquisitively. Shaun burst into laughter.

"If it sounds crazy now, imagine how crazy it sounded to me back then. But it's true."

"I don't understand."

"I don't know how to explain it. I had this weird intuition when I saw the way you two reacted to each other. You know, when he ran away and you wanted to go after him and I stopped you. I had this voice in my head that told me there's history here and there's chemistry here and if you don't want to get hurt you need to get out of this as soon as you can."

Harry stopped laughing. He remembered that moment. He remembered how he felt, seeing Draco Malfoy coming towards him in a random bookstore, in a random neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, after so much time.

It felt like fireworks, everywhere.

"I told myself I was crazy," Shaun carried on, laughing. "I remember trying to convince myself it must have been a man you were after or something like that. Then I found out you had this complicated history together and I thought maybe I'm not that crazy after all. Then I found you speaking with him and- well, you remember. My friends all made fun of me but guess who laughed the loudest when the papers started writing about you too!"

"I'll be damned," Harry said, still lost in the memory from ten years ago.

Shaun patted him on the back. "If that story doesn't get me an invite to your wedding, I'm suing you both."

Harry let out a chuckle. "I wouldn't worry about it."

Like everyday at five o'clock sharp, Harry put away that day's work and picked up his bag.

He walked home. It was a pleasant summer day, not yet too hot. He passed by cafés full of tourists, by shops bustling with people. He held back from going into a toy store advertising a new lego car - Draco was right, he was spoiling Victor. It was important not to spoil him too much.

He left the crowds behind as he crossed the boulevard and entered his neighborhood. He meandered through the quaint streets thinking about the earlier encounter with Shaun until the road opened up into Grimmauld Place.

He looked up at his home. Two whole years, he thought. How many since that day he bumped into Draco? Ten? Eleven?

He crossed the square, then the narrow hallway. Went up the stairs and across the landing, then opened the door to their drawing room. Draco was on the sofa, curled up with a book.

He looked up and smiled as Harry walked in.

It felt like fireworks.