Chapter Text
“Promise me you won’t run away this time,” A raspy voice mumbles in Harry’s ear as he stirs in an unfamiliar bed, blinking against the harsh light of the morning, feeling exposed and entirely vulnerable.
“Huh?” Harry responds, opening his eyes and licking his dry lips as he fully situates himself, finding his arms wrapped around Draco, their knees touching as they curl against each other, Draco’s forehead pressed to his collarbone. Draco’s soft smile and ruffled composure seems like something of a dream to Harry, and so he reaches out, runs his index finger over pink lips, a sharp cheekbone.
Nothing could be more real.
Draco huffs, grey eyes squinting up at him, fingers carding through his curls. There’s something hesitant in the way he touches this time, a stark shift from last night.
Fucking hell, last night.
A flood of worry breaks through Harry, running alongside the lingering ache in his chest, questioning over and over again if he had said too much, done too little, ruined everything. He’s certain that everything he did confess–whether shouted or whispered–was all true, and yet…
“I asked if you would promise not to run away this time. But I suppose–Well, I can’t tell you what to do…” Draco supplies, pulling his hands away from Harry’s hair, legs shifting backwards, soft smile fading.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Harry tells him, relievedly releasing a puff of air when Draco inches closer again, feeling the world right itself, coming into focus. “You could certainly tell me to stay in bed with you.”
Draco shrugs, slyly smirking like he already knew he could, and Harry rolls his eyes, tentatively reaching a hand out.
“I could also tell you to make breakfast,” Draco says, his own hand wrapping around Harry’s mid-air, raising a smug eyebrow. “You refused to feed me last night.”
Harry laughs, shaking his head as he knows that’s not what actually happened, but finds that he could do with something to eat, too. He allows Draco to nudge him off the bed, and huffs as he finds his clothes on the floor, having to make do with wearing them again, at least to save the other residents of Bloomsbury Square the image of him cooking breakfast in the nude.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Harry tells him, opening the bedroom door and taking in the sight of Draco in bed, wondering if he’ll have to wait for long to be able to see it again.
*
Harry is midway through making a full English when Draco slinks out of the bedroom, a silk dressing gown wrapped around him, with presumably nothing underneath. Harry wants to sink to his knees at the sight, instead keeping his eyes on the bacon sizzling in the hot oil.
He watches from his peripheral as Draco hoists himself onto the counter, snatching a slice of toast as it pops up from behind him, dressing gown slipping between his legs.
“I like watching you cook,” Draco tells him quietly, reaching over with the hand not holding toast and tucking a strand of Harry’s hair behind his ear, his thumb resting on his jaw.
Harry’s heart malfunctions a little bit, then, at the feeling of Draco touching him because he wanted to, outside of the bedroom. He could imagine how it would be to have a life of this, of slow mornings and domestic bliss, making breakfast after a perfect night, feeling a little more hopeful that the idea isn’t that far out of reach.
“I…like cooking for you,” Harry replies, cracking eggs into the pan with the bacon. “It sounds stupid, but I always tried to make you the nicest food…so that you would want to stick around, stay longer. I’d like to think my efforts worked.”
Draco laughs, a bright, full sound, and Harry looks at him, knowing that he is allowed to, now, wondering if he could have more. It was so easy in bed, to tell Draco everything he wanted to say, to touch him without restraint, without even thinking about it. Even waking up next to him felt natural, but now, doing the things that they always did together, cooking and talking and being in each other’s company, Harry doesn’t know if it’ll translate.
“Quite stupid, although I won’t deny that it didn’t provoke me coming home after work. Is that why you brought me lunch at the ministry?” Draco asks, placing his toast on the counter and hooking a finger on Harry’s belt loop, tugging him closer, away from the eggs.
Harry doesn’t mention that Draco called Grimmauld ‘home’ again. If Draco felt that way about Harry’s house, what did he think of his own apartment, if not simply a place to store his belongings?
“No, I just wanted you to shut up about how much you hated the ministry’s cafeteria food,” Harry says, smirking when Draco removes his hand from his jeans and crosses his arms, frowning like a petulant child.
“You’re such a prat,” Draco says, sticking his tongue out, lifting one of his legs up onto the counter, the silk dressing gown slipping to the side of his thigh. Harry wants to kiss the frown off his face.
“Am I?” Harry asks instead, taking the beans off the heat, giving them a stir. “Remember who’s making breakfast here…”
Harry doesn’t have time to react when Draco jumps down from the counter, snaking in front of him and taking the spoon out of his hands, shaking the pots and pans in a mock-attempt of Harry’s own cooking.
“I am. The doors that way,” Draco says, and Harry can hear the suppressed laughter in his voice, the sound fully forming when Harry steps closer behind him, covering Draco’s hand with his own, the other settling loosely at his hip, gently attempting to push him to the side.
“This flat will get destroyed, too, if I let you cook,” Harry says, wrapping his arms fully around Draco to get him away from the stove, the back of his head dropping onto Harry’s shoulder. Harry tilts his head to look at him, breakfast suddenly abandoned as Draco looks back. Things go quiet, then, as Draco slowly turns in Harry’s arms, fingers locked together on the nape of Harry’s neck, faces inches apart. Draco doesn’t stop smiling, small chuckles making his body shake, and Harry inhales as he leans in.
“Oh, good morning,” Hermione’s voice suddenly sounds from behind them, and Harry freezes, eyes meeting Draco’s. He doesn’t know if he can find it in him to turn around.
“What are they doing?” Teddy asks, making Harry glad that he had put on his clothes. “Hermione, are they okay?”
“I think they’re fine, Ted. Although their breakfast might be getting burnt,” Hermione says pointedly, and Harry can sense the smug grin on her face without even looking at her.
“Fucking breakfast,” Harry mutters under his breath, allowing Draco to quietly adjust his dressing gown before letting him step away, twisting the knobs on the hob before bracing himself and turning around. “Good morning, you both.”
As expected, Hermione has a shit-eating grin on her face, but he’s surprised at the saddened look on Teddy’s, his hands twisted into the bottom of a green and white striped t-shirt that Hermione must’ve shrunk down from Ron’s wardrobe.
“All okay, Ted?” Harry asks him, kneeling down on the floor, embracing him when he runs forward.
“Draco said it wasn’t my magic that hurt you, but…”
“It wasn’t, Ted. I promise,” Harry responds, running a soothing hand down Teddy’s back, ignoring Hermione’s grin when he looks up. “It was the house…It–Uhh-”
“The house had bad magic. When Harry was talking to you yesterday, his…words about me caused the house to react, some ancient magical protections that the Black family had left behind,” Draco pipes up from behind them, moving to stand next to Harry and accepting Teddy’s hug when Harry finally lets him go. “Harry just lost his magic for a little bit, but he’s okay now.”
“Our family did that to Harry?”
Draco nods, his flushed, smiling face turning quite solemn.
“But all Harry said was that he loved you,” Teddy shrugs, and then turns to Harry suddenly, hand covering his mouth. “Wait, did you tell him?”
Harry doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry now that he’s faced with this overwhelming embarrassment. And yet, he thinks, there isn’t much to be embarrassed about. And Teddy seems pretty alright with the idea, his hair turning a vibrant shade of blue.
Harry looks to Draco, who is looking amusedly back at him.
“I, too, would like to know this,” Hermione inserts, leaning a hand on the fireplace, the other resting on her hip. He shoots her a glare, watching as her grin turns into a softer smile, something encouraging.
“I–Yes, I did,” Harry admits, rubbing the back of his head, sheepishly looking at Draco. “Draco very much knows. Just wish I could’ve done it without the whole house thing.”
He tries to stop his face from flaming as Draco settles a hand on the small of his back.
“I told Harry that he loved you ages ago,” Ted says, rolling his eyes as he flops back onto the sofa, legs dangling in the air. “Hermione said that he was too scared you wouldn’t say it back.”
Draco laughs, his hand rising up Harry’s back, squeezing his shoulder. Harry leans into the touch.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, yes. I’m a loser, who’s surprised…” Harry says, huffing a laugh. “Now, who wants some breakfast?”
*
“Well, Hermione took me to Fortesques first, and she let me get this massive ice cream with like four flavours! And then we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Hermione took ages but then we went to the menagerie so it was okay,” Teddy explains as he’s wolfing down his breakfast, crunching on overwhelmingly buttered toast. “And then we went back and had dinner, and Ron got home. Hermione’s spaghetti bolognese is a lot better than Harry’s…”
“Is it ‘be mean to Harry day’ and no one told me?” Harry responds, shaking his head as he slices into his bacon. “It sounds like you had fun though, Ted. Thanks for looking after him, Hermione, even in your…”
Harry looks down to Hermione’s belly and up again, twisting his mouth as he tries to find the words, attempting to be supportive of this scarily new, but exciting, notion.
Hermione bursts out laughing.
“Merlin, Harry, every witch should be thankful that you’re not straight. I’m not even a month into my pregnancy,” Hermione chuckles as she rolls her eyes. “But you’re very welcome.”
“What did you two do last night when Harry got better?” Ted inputs after the table goes quiet, looking between Harry and Draco, seated next to each other at Draco’s dining table. “I hope you didn’t watch Finding Nemo without me.”
Harry almost chokes on his baked beans.
“Oh, Merlin…” Draco mutters under his breath, the hand holding his fork supporting his forehead as he drops his head down.
“What have I done?” Hermione asks, shoulders shaking as she looks to Draco, and then to Harry, mouthing ‘sorry’, although she doesn’t look very sorry.
“I was getting some rest, Ted, because Draco and I have got our work cut out for us, after the accident last night,” Harry explains the best he can, coughing as Draco’s hand settles on his knee under the table.
“Is it really that bad?” Hermione asks, raising an eyebrow, her smile fading.
“I’m afraid so. Harry hasn’t seen the full extent of it,” Draco says, squeezing his knee, even as he innocently eats his scrambled eggs.
“I’m not sure I want to. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want it to be fixed,” Harry sighs, biting his lip, and then continuing as all three of them stare at him. “I mean obviously it has to be fixed, it’s Teddy’s childhood home, it’s got Draco’s lab…Neville will be appalled if I vanished the garden.”
“I mean, I don’t know if it’s too soon to ask, but it’s Sunday lunch in a bit at the burrow, and we–well, Ginny, was planning on having some games of Quidditch beforehand. Victoire has already invited Ted, naturally, and I was wondering if you both wanted to go? If the house isn’t too urgent?” Hermione asks, her fingers twisting through the bottom of her curly hair.
“I don’t know…” Harry says slowly, diverting his eyes.
“You should go, Harry. I’ll go back to Grimmauld, fix it all up,” Draco offers, his hand sliding up Harry’s thigh, just slightly, almost making Harry squeal.
“You can’t fix a whole house by yourself,” Harry asserts once he finds his voice, looking from his plate to Draco’s eyes.
“Yes, I can. It’s only really the ground floor, maybe some of the first…Now that I think about it, it’s probably best if you don’t see it. As much as you dislike it.”
“I don’t dislike it. It dislikes me,” Harry grunts, placing his knife and fork down on his empty plate. Through his frustration, he can feel his chest swell with the thought that Draco would make the effort to fix up Grimmauld by himself. He wants to reach his hand out, but doesn’t. “But if you’re sure…”
“Yay! Harry, can you be on my team for Quidditch?” Teddy asks excitedly, mousy brown hair turning an indigo sort of colour. “Maybe I can cheat again and we can win!”
“Cheat? Wait ‘til I tell Ginny…” Hermione teases, laughing when Teddy pulls an indignant face. “But sounds good, Harry. I’m sure there’ll be leftovers you can take back for Draco.”
Harry nods as he sips at his cold cup of coffee, feeling fingers brush against the back of his hand that hangs down beside his chair.
*
An hour later, once Harry has managed to find some suitable clothes in Draco’s wardrobe, giving the man his own outfit to replace the thin dressing gown, he stands by the floo, Teddy’s hand in his.
It takes him a while to gain his confidence, to calm his mind, but Hermione waits with an easy smile. He feels incredibly stupid at how long it has taken him to come back to the Burrow, but he feels the time is right, now. Things seem to be in order.
Well, as much order as they can be in, amidst Harry’s growing disbelief of the fact that everything that happened last night with Draco actually happened. But if Harry was brave enough to utter the words he thought he never could, everything else seems not too bad. Even if he is shaking, just a little bit.
“Alright, let’s go,” Harry sighs, allowing Teddy to step in front of him, letting Hermione take his hand and disappear into the green flames. Draco watches from his position against the back of the sofa, a small smile on his face. Harry copies it. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
Draco nods, reaching out to fix the collar on Harry’s shirt, hand sliding down his arm once he’s done.
“Make sure Mother Weasley doesn’t kill my–you,” He says quietly, pushing Harry towards the flames. “And make sure you win the match. For me, of course.”
Harry huffs a laugh, the movement releasing the last bit of nerves trapped inside of him, and he steps into the floo, the image of Draco’s grin lasting as he finds himself in a different living room, one much more cramped.
“Well, I don’t believe it!” A deep, croaky voice sounds from next to him, and he turns his head, finding Arthur there, placing Teddy down after a hug. “Molly, you didn’t tell me Harry was coming!”
“What? He’s not, even though we– Oh, Harry!” Molly exclaims as she appears in the doorway, her frizzy hair tied up, an apron hanging off her neck. “So glad you’re here! Oh, and Hermione and Ted, of course!”
Harry accepts the crushing hug from Molly, and the subsequent back slap from Arthur, re-familiarizing himself with the busy environment of the house, eyes landing on muggle gadgets dotted around the living room.
“Ignore the mess, love. Arthur ran out of room in the shed, and Ginny was trying to get out all the old brooms,” She tuts as she pats Teddy on the head and gives Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek. “How are you? Ron told me you got into a spot of trouble last night, and Draco Malfoy had sent him a patronus, saying that something had happened to your house?”
“It’s a long story,” Harry grimaces, looking out the window to the garden, where Ginny, Luna, Bill, Fleur, Victoire, George and Ron are all huddled around a pile of broomsticks and a box of Quidditch balls. “I’m fine. Draco’s fixing the house.”
“He seems to spend a lot of time around there, hm?” Molly asks, a cheeky glint in her eyes, and Harry is glad that Teddy has already left to find Victoire before he could say anything. He thinks he’s alright with just Hermione and Ron knowing, for now. Hermione, who has followed Ted into the garden, has probably already told Ron about Harry’s admission.
“Yeah, yes,” Harry smiles, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “You already know how fond Teddy is of him.”
Molly nods, eyes turning happily distant for a second, and then she looks back to him, eyes widening, smile turning positively gleeful.
“Oh, have you heard the wonderful news?” She asks him, hands clasping together, blue eyes so bright it looks like she might cry.
“About Ron and Hermione?” Harry asks tentatively, hoping there wasn’t some other great big piece of news that Harry has missed out on, from his own faults.
“Yes, isn’t it fantastic? I’m going to have to start hosting Sunday lunch in the garden! Especially if you bring Draco along, I do hope to meet him again,” Molly exclaims, practically buzzing with joy, and Harry can’t help but allow that feeling to wash over him, an overwhelming elation that brings comfort to his past misery. “A little mini-Hermione!”
“We don’t know if it’s a girl yet,” Harry says, letting out a laugh.
“Oh, Harry, I already know it is. We mothers have a sense,” She grins, tapping the bridge of her nose.
Harry just nods, giving Arthur a wary smile, and allowing Molly to give him one last hug before she goes back into the kitchen.
“How ‘bout that Quidditch game?” Arthur asks excitedly, scooting Harry away from the floo, rubbing his hands together. “Gin said I could count the scores.”
Harry gestures for Arthur to go ahead, and he takes a long look at the house he’s missed so much, feeling his shoulders relax, telling himself that he won’t ever let himself get so bad that he would ignore his true home again.
Once he makes it to the garden, he accepts the welcoming hugs from everyone, settling next to Ron as Ginny lays out the rules, eyebrow raising when she looks at Ted.
“Never saw you rushing to my side for help yesterday,” Harry sighs, elbowing Ron’s side, narrowly missing the man’s responding head-lock.
“From what Hermione’s just told me, I think you were too busy last night to care where I was,” Ron smirks, settling with a shove. “Although it was a bit of a shock when I was on a mission and a massive fuck-off thestral came running towards me.”
“Will the idea that you’ll always have a healer on hand from now on make you forgive him?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Is that it, then? Are you guys…dating?” Ron replies in a hushed voice, and Harry’s throat gets dry. How would he even bring up that question?
“We haven’t explicitly said anything, but…”
“You’d better decide soon. ‘Mione might actually go crazy,” Ron laughs, eyes finding Hermione where she sits in the grass, uninterested in joining the game. “But I’m happy for you, mate.”
Harry smiles up at him when he throws his arm around his shoulders.
“You two done?” Ginny asks, hands on her hips, short hair blowing in the wind. “Did you even listen to the rules?”
“Yep, the rules…” Ron mutters, looking at Harry for a quick second before they both lunge for the best brooms of the selection, whipping up in the air before the others can even react.
*
On the way back down to the ground, snitch in hand, trying to repress the smug smirk at winning the third match in the row, Harry spots a familiar face stood in the tall grass, one that he did not expect.
“Jacob?” He says, placing his broom on the floor and walking up to the man, who’s in conversation with Charlie. They must have arrived while Harry was chasing down the snitch.
“Oh, hey! Harry! I forgot you guys know each other,” Jacob says in delight, reaching out and shaking Harry’s hand when he offers it. His dark blonde hair is tied back into a bun, and Harry notices that he’s got a nasty gash on the side of his neck. It doesn’t take a Gringotts goblin to guess where that had come from.
“Harry’s practically family,” Charlie explains, his hand flying down to Harry’s shoulder, giving him a shake. “But where did you two meet?”
Harry can’t explain how he knows, but there’s something about Charlie’s tone that almost feels…jealous?
“Draco took Harry and Teddy to the centre, a couple of months ago,” Jacob explains, and Charlie’s brows draw together. “Why do you guys always do that when I say Draco’s name? I used to work with him, in Mungo’s. I’m sure you knew that.”
“Oh, right, yeah. Good to see you, anyway, Harry,” Charlie nods, realising a sigh, giving Harry’s shoulder a squeeze before he finds his siblings, stepping away.
“How is the centre?” Harry asks, turning to Jacob.
“Pretty normal, if normal means you have eleven new dragon spawns running around the nursery…” Jacob replies, and Harry can see that familiar sparkle in Jacob’s eyes when dragons are mentioned. “Other than that, not much has changed.”
“Seems like a while ago, now. How’s that one dragon? The Horntail…Dorothy?”
“Dorotea!” Jacob provides excitedly, his smile widening. “Yeah, she’s great. Her tail regrowth is going as planned, we’re thinking another month and then she’ll be fit to head back out to where she belongs.”
“That’s great, even though she did try and scorch half my face off…” Harry sighs dramatically, stopping himself when he realises that the action is completely Malfoy-ish. He wonders how the house is going. “And what about the massive one? Pearl, right?”
Jacob’s mouth twists.
“She’s not so well. Not taking to the artificial wing very well, poor girl. Maybe she’ll need Teddy back to give her another example,” Jacob grins, jutting his chin at the boy in question, who has just climbed down from Bill’s shoulders at their win, and has found the both of them in the crowd.
“Hello! Bonjour!” Ted says when he approaches them, giving Harry his mini broom. “Why are you here?”
“Ted, you can’t just ask that,” Harry tells him, giving Jacob an apologetic glance, who just waves his hand.
“It’s a good question. I don’t quite fit into the whole Weasley situation going on…” Jacob replies with a huff, eyes sweeping the garden once everyone lands, some cheering, some frowning. “Charlie invited me, he’s back from Romania for a bit.”
Harry watches as Jacob’s eyes find Charlie in the crowd, his face softening.
“Harry, can we invite Jacob around for dinner? Well, when it’s not broken anymore…”
“What’s Draco done now?” Jacob asks, rolling his eyes with fondness. “I thought he said he loved that house.”
“When did he say that?”
“In the letter he wrote to me, asking to visit the centre with you two. Why?”
“Oh, nothing—”
“It’s because Harry and Draco are married now,” Teddy cuts in, shrugging his shoulders.
Both Harry and Jacob splutter at the same time.
“I’m sorry, married?” Jacob manages once he gets his breath back, turning to Harry, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Gotta be honest, Harry, I knew you and Draco had something going on, but I didn’t realise it was that serious.”
“It’s not! Certainly not…I’m not sure where Ted got that from…” Harry replies, flicking his eyes between them, not realising his admission to the boy would make him do so much damage control. Not that Jacob would mind, because Harry has a sneaking suspicion his affections lie elsewhere.
“Because Harry told Draco he loves him–” Ted begins, and Harry covers his mouth with his hand, unsure if he could take any more embarrassment today.
“Right, why don’t you go play with Victoire. We’ll arrange a time when Jacob can visit, yeah?” Harry says, shooing the boy off towards the others, hoping the autumn chill will help with his reddened cheeks.
“I’m curious to know how Draco took that news,” Jacob grins, scratching his chin. “Although this is something I already knew.”
“Am I really that obvious?”
“I’m afraid so,” Jacob shrugs, giving Harry a pat on the shoulder with large hands. And then his eyes get caught again, to a spot behind Harry, and his suspicions are practically answered when he turns and finds the subject.
“I think you are, too,” He smirks, watching as Jacob’s eyes quickly look at him, and he coughs.
“Charlie?” He asks quietly, a finger pulling at the neckline of his jumper.
“Oh, look, I didn’t even have to say his name!” Harry teases.
“Damn, you and Draco really are perfect for eachother…” Jacob mutters distantly, and then he shakes his head. “This is different. I’m certain it won’t work out, if I made a move.”
“I said the same thing, mate,” Harry sighs, but he feels his heart thump against his chest at the thought that he really did make a move, even if he’s still unsure on how to carry it forward. “Trust me, go for it.”
“I’ll see,” Jacob says, looking back at him. “It’s just the Romania thing…I don’t see Charlie leaving anytime soon.”
“Well the beautiful thing about magic is that it can take you anywhere in the world,” Harry says, smirking. “And hey, maybe once Pearl gets her wings back she can fly you over.”
“Dick,” Jacob huffs, giving Harry a shove.
“Jake! I told you I would introduce you to Fleur, come here,” Charlie calls, waving his muscular arm.
“Is that because we both speak French? Even though I’ve told you many times that the French I know is different?” Jacob calls back, giving Harry a small smile and a wave as he moves towards him. Harry smiles back, raising his eyebrow pointedly, not needing to say anything else.
“Shuddup,” Charlie responds as they meet and walk away, throwing his arm around Jacob’s shoulders.
Harry laughs to himself, finally understanding how Hermione had felt these past months, deciding that he’ll make the frustration up to her somehow.
“Darlings! Lunch is ready!” Molly shouts from the kitchen window, holding up a large dish of roast potatoes. “Oh, Charlie, who is this handsome young man you’ve brought with you?”
Laughter erupts around Harry and he joins the rest as they walk back into the house, some of them holding up Teddy as he continues cheering after their teams’ successes, waving his safety helmet like it was a trophy.
Before he steps in, though, his eyes catch on something that reminds him of a promise he made last night, waving the others in before he leans down, hoping Molly doesn’t see him tampering with her garden.
*
“How are you feeling?” Hermione asks him once lunch is over, enjoying the quiet solace of the empty kitchen after everyone has dispersed, lounging in the living room, hands cradling their stomachs.
“Full,” Harry responds, leaning against the kitchen counter, unable to wipe the contented smile off his lips.
“You are infuriating,” She mutters as she shakes her head, stirring a spoon slowly in her brewing cup of tea.
“I’m happy. Really happy,” He tells her after a minute, his smile growing bigger. His presence in the Burrow wasn’t made a big deal during lunch, they simply involved Harry into the discussion as if he’s heard it all before. “I don’t want to leave.”
“Is that because you realised that everyone really does love you very much, or is it because you don't want to go back to Grimmauld?” She asks, dropping the spoon as she turns to him, raising a brow.
“I do! Draco is there, even though I have no idea how I’m going to…how to tell him–”
“How to give him a snog and not feel weird about it?”
“You need to stop reading me like that. I’m convinced you’ve got a spying charm following me.”
Hermione laughs, going towards the fridge and grabbing the milk.
“I just think I finally have you figured out,” She shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Now, go back to your man. And let Ted have all the ice cream he wants. He was really sad about you getting hurt.”
“But everyone–”
“Will still be here when you want to come back. The great thing about Sunday lunch is that it happens every Sunday,” Hermione says, her teasing voice making Harry chuckle. “I know it meant a lot to everyone that you came. But I don't think anyone else is as happy to see you back as I am.”
“I think I’m the happiest,” He sighs, pushing away from the counter. “But you’re right, I suppose. I’ll go get Ted, say bye to everyone.”
“Good man,” Hermione grins, squeezing his cheeks. “And don’t forget about Draco.”
“How could I?” He laughs as he exits the kitchen, heading towards the living room, standing at the doorway. He smiles as he looks around, watching Ginny and Luna lean their heads against each other on the sofa, George and Ron playing with Ted and Victoire by the fireplace, Bill and Fleur in an animated discussion with Molly and Arthur, Charlie and Jacob chatting quietly in the corner, Charlie’s hand fiddling with Jacob’s shirtsleeve.
It feels like home, and Harry’s heart both clenches and warms at the idea he can go back to his other home, only feeling that way about Grimmauld because Draco was in it. But Harry’s always felt that way.
“C’mon Ted, we’ve got to get back,” Harry says, moving towards the fireplace, taking Teddy’s hand in his, smiling at the resounding groans of protests. “Sorry guys, got some issues to handle.”
“Our house exploded,” Ted says, and Harry shakes his head as everyone apart from Ron looks at them, their mouths open slightly.
“No! It didn’t!” Harry says quickly, holding his hands up. “Well, sort of–No, all good!”
Harry turns towards the floo before he or Ted can embarrass him further, grabbing a handful of floo powder and pulling Teddy away from his hug with Victoire, smiling at the room before they are both engulfed by green flames, really hoping that Draco had managed to fix the floo system so that he won’t have to explain the events of yesterday.
Thankfully, Harry and Ted land upright in the living room of Grimmauld, albeit in a cloud of powder that marrs their view, wafting it away.
“Draco?” Harry calls once the powder has cleared, finding the house exactly as it was before the accident. He’s aware that he was partly unconscious and in severe amounts of pain as it all unfolded, but now he’s questioning if it ever really happened.
And then his eyes catch onto the smaller parts, things he’s never seen before.
There’s DVD’s he’s certain he hadn’t bought sitting on the coffee table, plump green pillows on the leather sofa, a new light fixture that looks vaguely similar to the dragon one that Harry had seen in Elspeth’s shop.
He can hear footsteps coming down the stairs, turning his head to the direction, his heart stopping when he sees something on the wall above the fireplace.
It’s that photo from the prophet all those months ago, one that Harry loves, the time when they went to London, during those early days. It’s been expanded, fit into a beautiful golden frame, the movement of Teddy shoving Harry playfully and Draco laughing at them playing over and over again, capturing a moment that Harry knows he would want to relive again and again. It was such a simple thing, an ordinary Saturday spent with Draco, but it means everything to him. He can even recognise how much he has changed, how different he looks, knowing Draco loved him through all of it.
“Draco! Are my dragon toys okay?” Harry can hear Teddy say from behind him, but he doesn’t turn around to find the man, instead watching the picture play out again.
“Everything upstairs is alr–Okay, nevermind then,” Draco says, laughing when Teddy runs upstairs, not waiting to hear what he has to say.
Harry can feel when Draco steps up behind him, a hand finding his waist.
“Do you like it?” Draco asks, voice hesitant, and Harry turns around. “I thought it was a nice moment. And my hair looked incredible that day.”
“I love it,” Harry tells him, smiling, allowing Draco to pull him closer, his hands settling on Draco’s shoulders. His hair is a little messy, casual clothes that he must’ve stolen from Harry’s wardrobe caked in dust and little splints of wood, and the sight is so extraordinary and endearing that it makes him lean in, capturing Draco’s lips, kissing him softly, sweetly.
Draco’s arm wraps around his shoulders, his hand fisting into the hair on the back of Harry’s head, kissing him back like he’s been waiting for it all day. Harry is not lost on the idea that it is most likely exactly what he’s been waiting for.
Pushing away the temptation to move them to the sofa, very aware that he’ll have to be careful with Teddy around, Harry pulls back, feeling his stomach flutter as Draco nips at his bottom lip.
“Guess you’ve been pretty busy then?” Harry asks quietly, sliding his hands down Draco’s back, keeping him close.
“Oh, just a little,” He shrugs, twisting his neck to look around them. “I tried to keep it the same as it was, although I was having some trouble with the French windows, because the shattered glass got vanished when I was clearing the rubble. So we currently have French…doorways?”
“I don’t mind a bit of fresh air,” Harry laughs, looking towards the back of the house, the garden in clear view. “You did a great job, even though I don’t actually know what it looked like before. But thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” Draco replies, burying his face into the crook of Harry’s neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. “How was the Burrow?”
“Perfect,” Harry smiles, craning his neck up to give Draco more access. “Jacob was there, actually. He’s got the hots for Charlie.”
Draco shifts back, an eyebrow raised, and then he huffs a laugh, shaking his head.
“Of course he’s only interested in those dedicated to dragons,” He mutters, but smiles fondly, leaning back into Harry, their noses brushing.
“Oh, and I got you these,” Harry starts sheepishly, rummaging around in his back pocket for the white carnations that he had found in Molly’s garden, removing the protection charm and reverting them back to their original size, handing them to Draco. “Told you I would.”
Draco grins, smelling the small white flowers, looking up at Harry with a slight flush on his face.
“You certainly did,” Draco nods, finding a glass on the coffee table and transfiguring it into a vase, gently placing the flowers inside. It feels like the final touch to the added decorations, but Harry still can’t bring himself to think that the house was serving him as it should.
Draco comes back, noticing the frown on Harry’s face.
“You’re still unsure…” Draco sighs, looking between Harry’s eyes.
“About what?” He asks nervously, hesitantly.
“About the house.”
Harry holds his breath for a second, releasing it slowly.
“I just…always planned for Teddy to grow up here, and–” He starts, and then shakes his head, pushing the thought aside. The house is fine for now, and Draco has put a lot of work into it, and so it’s unimportant. Instead, he cradles Draco’s face as he kisses him again, opening his mouth as Draco swipes his tongue across his lips, feeling rather content, now. He thumbs at the hem of Draco’s jumper, fingers finding warm skin underneath.
“Phew, all my dragons are okay,” Teddy sighs, jumping off the bottom stair, sauntering into the living room. “Ew! What are you doing!”
Harry pulls away from Draco, quickly stepping aside, rubbing his mouth.
“Sorry, Ted,” Harry coughs, sitting down on the sofa, hiding his laugh as Draco smirks at him on his way to join him.
“How was the Quidditch match, mon pote?” Draco asks, stretching his legs out, tugging Harry’s legs up and onto his lap. Harry just stares, unable to speak at the perfect, small intimacies.
“Me and Harry won all of them, obviously,” Teddy shrugs, climbing onto the armchair, which Harry notices now has a blanket thrown over it that looks like the picnic one they had used when Draco was ill.
“So humble, you both,” Draco laughs, a hand resting on Harry’s calf, and then his face turns serious, for a second. “I just wanted to ask, are you worried about the house breaking again?”
Teddy thinks for a second, looking at the repaired floors and ceilings, scratching at his chin.
“Hm, I don’t think so. As long as Harry doesn’t say he loves you again, then I think we’re okay,” He smiles, folding his legs underneath him, tracking mud all over the nice leather. Harry is too happy to tell him off.
“I think that’ll be rather hard,” Harry says, placing his hand over Draco’s, squeezing it. He’s about to say something else, until something thin and pointy hits the back of his head. “What the fuck–”
He gets his wand out, prepared to cast whatever charm he needs to stop the house from crumbling down again, and then pauses when he sees an owl at the open window, and he looks down at the floor, finding a letter addressed to him.
“Oh, right,” Harry mutters, ignoring the laughs from Draco and Teddy. He leans down over the armrest, picking up the parchment envelope and chucking a treat to the owl, who chirps happily as it flies off. He reads the return address, mouth twisting.
“Who is it?” Draco asks.
“Just Neville,” Harry shrugs, breaking the fancy Hogwarts seal, pulling out the letter and unfolding it, reading it aloud. “Hey, Harry. Don’t tell anyone I told you, but…”
He stops speaking as he reads along, eyebrows drawing together, heartbeat increasing.
“What does it say!” Teddy exclaims, climbing on the sofa to join them, squeezing into the little bit of space next to Harry’s legs. Harry looks up to them both, sighing.
“They’re hiring a new flying instructor and Quidditch coach at Hogwarts. Hooch is retiring in the winter, and Neville told McGonagall that he thinks he knows someone who could take her place,” Harry explains, finding the envelope again and pulling out an application form that he had missed before, with Neville’s name already signed under the ‘references’ section. “And that’s apparently me.”
“A flying teacher?” Draco asks, tilting his neck, pursing his lips.
“Yeah, sounds crazy,” Harry nods, folding up the letter and the form, tossing them to the coffee table. He almost falls off the sofa when Draco suddenly leans over, picking them back up, reading them through, focused and thoughtful. “Come on, Draco. I couldn’t possibly consider it.”
“You should do it!” Teddy says, leaping off the sofa and grabbing a biro from the stationary desk, handing it to Harry. “You taught me so much about Quidditch! And you’re really good at flying!”
Harry smiles at him, twirling the pen in his hand, appreciative of Teddy’s support for an idea that Harry wouldn’t even think to entertain.
“Ted’s right, Harry. I think this is a great opportunity,” Draco shrugs, an encouraging smile on his face as he lowers the letter. “I know you’ve been wanting to do something, why don’t you go for it?”
“Why don’t I pack up my whole life here to teach in bloody Scotland?” Harry asks incredulously, shaking his head, wondering if they’ve broken the world record for how long it would take for…lovers to have a dispute. “It’s a ridiculous idea.”
“Just because your magic got ripped out of you, doesn’t mean it happened to everybody. There’s apparition, or you can portkey, or there’s teacher’s quarters in the castle,” Draco rationalises, and Harry hates how the thought of becoming a flying teacher starts to sound promising. Of course, just as he gets things sorted…
“But what about the house? The lab? Our…you?” Harry responds, deciding he would let himself think about the logistics of something before jumping headfirst into it, feeling out of place.
“You don’t have to do anything with the house. It would make me sad to see it go, anyway. But I can stay with you there, and stay here, too, and use the lab, if that’s what you wanted. This house likes me a lot more than it does you. There’s a primary school in Hogsmeade, as well, so I suppose it’s safer for Ted…”
Harry listens as Draco weighs up his options, knowing that the question of whether Draco would stay with them is already answered, but less sure about everything else. How would he even know how to teach a whole class? He supposes he did lead Dumbledore’s Army, and he was captain of the Gryffindor team…
“I just…I don’t know…” Harry responds, watching as Ted nods emphatically. The life Harry has built in this house is too precious for him to throw away, but he knows deep down there’s always been a part of him that wants to do something, to be a guardian for Ted while living his own life. It really was a great opportunity, and one good change supposedly always leads to another.
“Just fill out the form and send it to McGonagall. And when you get a response and an interview, which I’m certain you will, you still have time to figure it out, or to change your mind. I’ll be here for you, whatever you choose to do,” Draco says, voice calm and clear, taking Harry’s hand.
“So will I!” Teddy chimes in, holding Harry’s hand, too. “And then when I go to Hogwarts, you won’t fail me!”
Harry laughs, holding his arms out as Teddy falls onto him, giving him a hug.
“Merlin, I love you both,” Harry says, surprised that the whole house didn’t topple. Perhaps it has specifications.
“We know, we love you too. Now write this application form, I’m getting hungry,” Draco says, handing it over, and Harry sits up, giving him a kiss on the cheek before using Teddy’s back as a surface to fill out the different boxes and questions.
When he’s finally done, after having many tiffs with Draco about his previous experience, ‘Well, I never won that third year match, I got attacked by dementors, remember?’, he beckons an owl over, giving the form one last look before reaching over, Teddy having to snatch it out of his hand before he takes it back.
“Now we wait,” Harry mutters, settling back on the sofa, lifting his arm up as Teddy snuggles into his side, resting his hand on Draco’s neck on the other side of the couch, fingers playing with the short blonde strands.
“That’s not such a bad thing,” Draco responds, leaning back into his hand, turning his head towards him, Harry’s thumb brushing his jaw. Harry could tell him he loved him fifty times over, even if the world threatened to explode.
Feeling nerves take hold, wondering if he can spell the owl back through the window, he casts his eyes to the frame above the floo, wishing he could show that Harry just how wonderful it is, now. It was a process, an undeniable whirlwind, but Harry would do it all again, as long as it would end up like this at the end.
When the quiet night rolls in, casting the room in a soft golden glow, Harry leans his head against the back of the sofa, feeling fulfilled in so many unimaginable ways.
And then there’s a loud sound from the garden, almost like a bark, and suddenly a very large, very fluffy black and white dog runs into the living room through the gap left by the shattered windows, licking at Teddy’s face excitedly, it’s paws digging into the sofa as it hoists itself up.
Harry and Draco groan.