Chapter Text
They spent Christmas Eve in bed, their naked bodies lazily tangled up. Draco ran his fingers on Harry’s warm skin, stopping every time he found a new scar, pressing his fingertips on it, measuring its length and width, wanting to ask a million questions. He had lots of little marks on his arms and wrist and Draco examined them, lifting Harry’s arm in the faint morning light.
“How did you get these?” he finally asked, his voice low. Harry flinched under him, his eyes moving to the ceiling.
“I don’t want to-“
“It’s okay,” Draco interrupted, knowing too well that Harry didn’t feel like talking about his past.
“Actually, no,” the Gryffindor said, frowning, “it’s not okay. Terry says that I need to be more open to you and say the things that matter.”
“Who the fuck is Terry?” Draco asked, arching an eyebrow.
“My Mind Healer,” Harry replied, a smile on his face, looking smug as he caught Draco being jealous.
“You told him about me?” Draco asked, surprised.
“Yes, why? I also told Ron and Hermione about you,” he confessed, his cheeks colouring, “about us.”
Draco wanted to ask exactly what he had told Weasley and Granger, what “us” actually meant. Because he wasn’t sure what they were and couldn’t find the words to define it himself.
“Anyway, I got this scar when I was seven. I opened the oven to get the roast out and burnt my arm against the tray,” Harry said, pointing at a faint white scar on the inside of his wrist, “and this one is from a hot pan when I was six.”
Draco frowned and grabbed Harry’s chin, tilting it in his direction, to look him straight in the eyes.
“Who in Merlin’s name let you use the oven and the hob when you were so young?”
“My Muggle family used to make me cook. For them, you know,” he said sheepishly and Draco felt the anger rising in him, the blood boiling in his veins. His old beliefs on the barbaric behaviour of Muggles threatened to resurface, after so many months spent working on his dismantling them.
“As soon as my sentence is over, we’re going to find them and hex them,” he declared and Harry’s eyes opened wide and then he started laughing.
“Don’t be a plonker,” he said, in between giggles, “we’re not making you end up in Azkaban just to curse my family. They’re not worth it, even though they made me spend years sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs.”
“In a what?!" he screamed, "what the actual fuck, Harry! Tell me their names and I’ll owl them a stink bomb straight away. It’s the least you can let me do!”
Harry’s beautiful laughter filled every corner of the room, making Draco’s cheeks colour as he moved on top of him, bringing their lips together in a soft kiss.
“I’m over that. I’ve got Ron and Hermione and the Weasleys as my family. I've got you now,” Harry whispered against his lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made Draco’s stomach do a summersault.
“I want you,” he whispered against Harry’s lips.
“Me too,” Harry said, his fingers travelling down Draco’s back, tracing the curve of his hips.
“Inside me,” Draco added, guiding Harry’s hand to his arse.
“You mean my fingers?” Harry asked, his pupils blown wide.
“I want your dick inside me,” Draco said, “but you can start with your fingers.”
Harry swallowed loudly, his eyes fixed on Draco’s, and then his fingers cupped pale cheeks.
“Are you sure? We’ve never done this before,” he said, “are you sure you want to do it with me?”
“Yes, of course,” because who else would he want to do it with, he wondered.
Harry’s hands were on him, his lips meeting Draco’s in a desperate kiss, and it was like usual between them, from zero to everything in one second, like flash paper catching fire. Draco felt Harry’s fingers sliding through his hair, moving them on the bed so that he was lying on top of Draco, his dick already hard, pressed against Draco’s thigh.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” the Gryffindor whispered, breaking the kiss, “wanting this. I need you so badly.”
Draco’s mouth captured his straight away, making Harry moan as pale fingers wrapped around his length and started stroking lazily.
“Don’t make me come,” Harry said on a shuddered gasp, “I want to be inside you for more than one minute.”
Draco started laughing and patted his arse.
“You came like ten minutes ago, you moron. You need to work on your stamina.”
“You’re too hot,” Harry replied all serious, kissing his neck and making Draco bite back a moan, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, “god, I want to be inside you.”
“Lube,” Draco reminded him, “get the bottle from my bedside table.”
Harry groaned and leaned into Draco’s touch, shuddering when his thumb swiped over the Gryffindor’s flushed cock, making him gasp.
“I can’t leave the bed when you do things like that to me and my wand is in the kitchen,” Harry complained and Draco chuckled.
“Well, I don’t have a self-lubricating arse, so you’d better move,” he replied and then his eyes opened wide when he felt something slick between his legs, his entrance suddenly ready and Harry’s warm magic making his skin tingle.
“Potter, you and your fucking insane magic!” he squirmed, “you lubed me up!”
Harry blushed and tried to apologise, but Draco’s lips captured his in another kiss that left them both breathless.
“I don’t even know why I find it so hot,” Draco admitted, making Harry’s eye open in surprise, “you’re unbelievable.”
Draco’s fingers paused on Harry’s cock as he grabbed his own erection and started stroking them together, making Harry moan, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.
“Fuck, Draco…” he said, his lips red and wet, “I want you now.”
Draco let go and Harry settled between his legs, gently placing his finger at his entrance, massaging the skin with slick fingers, looking for permission with his eyes. Draco nodded, licking his lips and then arched his back when he felt the familiar intrusion, trying to relax and closing his eyes. A second finger soon followed and Harry moved them inside, hitting that delicious bundle of nerves that made Draco moan and swear, asking for more.
“You’re breath-taking,” the Gryffindor said, kissing his neck, adding a third finger and making him whine, the need to be filled the only thing on his mind.
“I think you should turn,” Harry said, casting a protective spell that made Draco’s skin tingle, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Draco did as he was told, his mind like cotton wool, his senses all alight, the need to have Harry inside him overpowering any coherent thought. Harry grabbed his hips and lifted him up, positioning himself behind Draco, stroking his back with warm reassuring hands, moving down his thighs and then sighing as he grabbed his own cock and prodded Draco’s entrance with it.
He pushed gently, but nothing happened.
“Draco…it’s not going in,” he said, his voice sounding panicked and uncertain.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Potter. You’re not that big.”
“Don’t be a wanker and help me,” Harry replied, smacking his arse playfully. Draco couldn’t suppress a moan and turned to look at him with flushed cheeks.
“If you don’t hurry up and take my virginity within the next two minutes, I might have to resort to wanking, indeed.”
“I can’t very well deflower you, if it won’t even go in!” Harry argued, his eyes big and worried.
“ Deflower ? Have you been reading the dictionary again?” Draco teased, a playful smile on his lips, reaching back with his hand and stroking Harry’s softening erection back into its stiff glory. “Shall I draw you a picture of where your cock should go?”
“Draco, I swear to god, unless I fuck you in the next minute, I’m going to burst into flames.”
“Salazar, I want you inside me so badly, Harry. Just relax, push and it will go in.”
He guided Harry’s hard cock to his entrance and took a deep breath as Harry grabbed his hips and finally breached him with a shocked gasp. He slowly slid inside him, a low moan escaping his lips, as he sank into Draco’s heat.
“Fuck…”
“That’s the spirit, Harry,” Draco said and then gasped as Harry started moving, slowly sliding in and out, loving the drag of his dick as he moved inside him, Harry’s fingers gently stroking the small of Draco’s back.
“Faster, please, I won’t last long,” he whimpered after a while and Harry groaned, slowly picking up the pace and taking him fast and deep, making Draco moan and babble incoherently. He felt Harry’s fingers closing around his cock and he came with a loud moan after only a few strokes, covering the bedsheets in white streaks.
“Oh my god,” Harry gasped, holding him close, collapsing on top of him and coming with a soft whine, spilling his warm load deep inside Draco.
They both lay on the bed panting afterwards, looking into each other’s eyes and smiling. Harry’s magic swiped them clean, leaving Draco warm and sated.
“Well, that was the best Christmas present you could have ever given me,” Harry said, trying to catch his breath, a blissful expression on his face.
“Harry, you moronic fuck, that was not a Christmas present! I didn’t give you my arse as a gift.” Harry started laughing and gently patted Draco on the cheek.
“Next year we can sing the Wham! song,” he said and started singing, “ last Christmas, I gave you my arse, but the very next day -”
“Salazar, you can’t even hold a tune,” Draco interrupted him, tickling Harry on his side and making him giggle uncontrollably, “and what’s that awful Muggle song?”
“It’s a classic,” Harry said, laughing, “I’ll teach you the lyrics and we’ll sing it together.”
“Not in a million years, you lunatic!”
There was a part of him that felt elated and shocked, because he had just had sex with Harry Potter. Not even in his wildest dreams he would have considered that could ever happen.
Harry’s words kept on swimming in his head. That “next year” which felt like a promise, as if Harry believed that what they had was not a temporary thing and that it was actually going to last. And Draco wanted it with all of his being, would have given anything to be able to keep Harry by his side, to be his for as long as the Gryffindor wanted him.
They spent the rest of the day talking and touching and kissing, exploring each other’s bodies, being soft and silly. Draco felt like his heart had never been so full. He went to bed with a smile on his face, Harry’s arms wrapped tight around him.
He woke up on Christmas morning and headed for the bathroom, letting Harry sleep for a little longer. He looked at his robes, a sea of black, and shook his head. His fingers quivered as he grabbed his wand and took a deep breath. He spelt his trousers dark grey and his robes a rich emerald green, with silver buttons and lining. He put them on and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He felt guilty, like he was letting down his soulmate by giving up his mourning clothes. But a part of him that he thought had died with his soul bond was actually still alive and had started blossoming.
He wanted to live.
He wanted to be with Harry.
He was in love with him.
“You’re wearing colours,” came Harry’s surprised voice from the bed. His glasses were perched precariously on his nose as he stared at him, his hair a lovely mess. Draco turned and stared at him for a few minutes, before nodding. “What does it mean?”
“It means that I’m not mourning anymore,” he replied, forcing the words out of his mouth, daring to be honest and bare his heart for once, “because I’m in love with you.”
Harry’s green eyes opened wide, staring at him, and his bottom lip started wobbling.
“You love me?” he asked, barely a whisper, full of disbelief. And Draco wondered how on earth he could even be surprised.
“Yes, I love you,” he repeated and walked to Harry, who had started crying and had discarded his glasses and was covering his face with his hands, “why are you crying? Is it such bad news?”
Harry shook his head and put his arms around Draco’s neck, sobbing into his robes.
“Nobody’s ever told me before,” he said, his voice broken, eyes hidden in Draco’s embrace, “are you sure?”
“Not even Weasley and Granger?” he asked and felt Potter shaking his head against his chest, “of course I’m sure.”
“You love me…” Harry whispered on a shuddered breath and Draco held him tighter, feeling a little lost.
“I’m yours,” he whispered back, placing a kiss on Harry’s soft dark curls, “for as long as you want me.”
He held Harry for what felt like ages, until the Gryffindor drifted back to sleep, thinking about their relationship. He had lost his soulmate and had found Harry. He considered himself lucky and blessed, in spite of all his mistakes and fucked up past. He didn’t think he actually deserved Harry Potter in his life.
But Harry’s soulmate was still out there, a perfect match for him. A better match than Draco. And as much as the Gryffindor didn’t want to think about it, Draco knew that that person was going to take all of this away from him. It was just a matter of time. What was left of his sense of self-preservation told him to run and not get too caught up. Because he knew it was going to end in tears. But a part of him just wanted not to be a coward this time. To just dive in and forget about the heartache that was going to follow.
Enjoy it while it lasts, he thought. Harry was worth a broken heart.
When Harry woke up, his eyes all puffy and red, Draco wished him a Merry Christmas with a soft kiss on his forehead and he handed him a small parcel wrapped in red paper with robins and holly on it.
“I don’t have much money left,” he explained sheepishly, “but I still wanted to give you something.”
“Other than your virginity?” Harry asked with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, unceremoniously ripping the paper, “you got me socks! With snitches and quaffles! And a new t-shirt; that’s brilliant.”
“Your clothes look too baggy on you,” Draco replied and then he blushed when he saw the smile illuminating Harry’s face, how happy he was.
“There’s also a packet of the new chocolates from Honeydukes! Thank you,” Draco received a tender kiss and a green parcel, the paper stuck together with some weird transparent plastic squares, “what is this?”
“Your Christmas present,” Harry said.
“You already gave me the best present I could ask for!” he complained, “I got to see my mother thanks to you.”
Harry frowned and shook his head.
“That wasn’t me,” he explained, “it was McGonagall. I heard Arthur talking about it while I was at the Burrow. Apparently, she stormed into the Minister’s office and started shouting at him, saying that it was pure cruelty and it was Christmas and you were just eighteen.”
Draco felt a lump in his throat and his eyes threatening to water. He stared at the parcel in his hands and saw Harry’s fingers closing on his.
“Hey, are you okay?” the Gryffindor asked and Draco nodded, opening his present, biting back the tears.
“You got me Potions Weekly ,” he muttered, “and a ticket to a Quidditch match. Harry, I…”
“I know you’re under house arrest, but I officially asked for permission and it was granted. Provided that I keep an eye on you and don’t let you wander off,” he winked at him, “and it’s a yearly subscription to Potions Weekly , because you always get it from the library and sometimes it’s not available and you get all annoyed and start moaning.”
Draco felt at a loss for words, his lips quivering, feeling Harry’s arm circling his waist and drawing him closer. He didn’t deserve to be this happy.
“Shall we make some breakfast? I’m starving,” Harry said.
“It’s already lunchtime,” he muttered, his voice cracking.
“I can’t promise a roast, but I will do my best to make you something special. Let’s go.”
They opened the door to the kitchen, still in their pyjamas, and stared. There was a Christmas banquet laid out on the table. One of the House-elves was putting the finishing touches to the turkey and when he spotted them, he let out a tiny squeak and disappeared with a loud crack.
“I guess this is also McGonagall’s doing,” Harry said, shaking his head with a smile, “I think we ought to send her a thank you note later.”
Draco was in disbelief, rooted to the spot, Harry’s fingers wrapping around his wrist, grounding him.
“Let’s eat, shall we?” he gently said and Draco nodded.
It ended up being one of the best Christmas days he’d ever had. It felt like a dream and he found himself asking Harry to pinch him, because he couldn’t believe that it was real.
New Year arrived and with it the news that Hermione Granger would be returning to Hogwarts.
“Her parents’ memories are stable enough and McGonagall agreed on her coming back when the new term starts,” Harry explained over breakfast, reading the message his friend had sent him, “she’s going to have a lot of catching up to do, but she can do it. She could probably take her N.E.W.T.s tomorrow, knowing her.”
Draco felt a lump in his throat. He was happy for Harry, who seemed excited at the idea of Granger’s return. He deserved to have his friend back. But that also meant the end of their little bubble of happiness. Because he was sure Harry would start studying with her as soon as she was back, maybe even eating in the Great Hall with the rest of the Gryffindors.
He was a bundle of nerves when the Hogwarts Express arrived, taking back all the students the day before the new term started. Harry kept on casting inquisitive glances in his direction, asking if he was okay. He hid in the library, saying that he needed to finish an essay for Ancient Runes, unable to concentrate.
Would Granger try to split them up, he wondered.
He wouldn’t blame her, to be honest, Harry could find a better match than a Death Eater. If the papers found out, it would be hell on earth, Draco considered.
He barely slept the night before the lessons started. He huddled up closer, against Harry’s warm body and tried to enjoy the quiet before the storm, the fear of losing everything making him feel panicky, the anxiety chipping away at his sanity. He woke up early and got dressed quietly, heading for the library. It was still dark outside and he sat at his usual table, scattering his books and quills on the table.
He nearly jumped when someone sat opposite him. He raised his eyes, his hand automatically going for his wand, and nearly gasped when bushy hair and piercing brown eyes met his gaze.
“Hello, Malfoy,” Granger said with a smile.
“Granger,” he replied, his voice giving away his surprise. He waited for the insults and the confrontation. He had a list of arguments in his head in defence of his relationship with Harry and he swallowed loudly, preparing for the worst. But it never came. She simply sat there and got her books and quill out and then started studying in silence. Draco looked around, at the deserted tables, wondering why on earth she had decided to sit at his desk. He tried to continue writing his essay, but couldn’t concentrate.
“Come on, Granger, spill the beans,” he said, crossing his arms and staring at her.
“What beans?” she replied, feigning ignorance.
“I don’t know what Potter told you, but you clearly know something . And you can’t possibly approve of what’s going on between us.”
She eyed him curiously and then smiled.
“Harry’s old enough to do what he wants. Besides, his love life is none of my concerns.”
Draco faltered when he heard that word.
Love…
“What exactly has he told you?” he asked, leaning forward. But she shook her head and pointed her quill at him.
“You should be discussing this with Harry, not with me.”
Deep down Draco knew she was right, but he had carefully avoided talking about their relationship and what was going to happen after Hogwarts, too terrified of what Harry would say. Of being rejected or finding out that he was planning on marrying Ginevra Weasley or looking for his soulmate.
He stared outside, at the pink and orange clouds colouring the sky at dawn, trying to breathe and find a purpose to his life.
“Could I please borrow your Arithmancy notes?” Granger asked and he raised an eyebrow at her. “Come on, we’re going to spend an awful lot of time together from now on. Let’s call a truce.”
He shrugged and sighed.
“I supposed so. But I want something in return.”
Granger raised both eyebrows at him and seemed to consider whether to hex him or not.
“Go ahead,” she said, her gaze calculating.
“I want advice,” he bit on his bottom lip, his leg bouncing under the table, “on Potter. He’s not very good at talking about his feelings. And neither am I.”
She tilted her head and sighed.
“I don’t think it would be fair on Harry. And besides, the two of you need to start properly talking. But I’ll think about it,” was all she said and then she resumed her studies.
Draco went back to his room for breakfast, wondering if Harry was going to be there, looking surprised when he found him already buttering up his toast and handing him a plate.
“You’re late,” the Gryffindor said, “did you lose track of time?”
Draco nodded and sat down, unable to say much, too worried about the day ahead. Wondering if Harry was going to pair up with Granger in Potions or if she was going to join their group. He was scared of change. It always meant bad things were going to happen and he’d had enough of bad stuff happening to him.
Harry seemed completely oblivious of his internal struggles, whistling happily as they headed to the Potions Lab, waving at Granger when she came in and sat down on her own.
“Wait, is she not going to…?” Draco asked, and Harry smiled at him, a bemused look on his face, “never mind…”
He went back to their room for lunch, thinking it was going to be a blow, that Harry wasn’t going to be there, but he actually was, greeting Draco with a soft kiss and a sandwich. He even studied with him in the afternoon.
Draco was a bundle of nerves by the evening, his lips bleeding from how much he had bitten on them and his legs a jittery mess.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked again, frowning.
“Yes,” he replied and then tried to focus on his book while Harry sat next to him and got his own homework out, while his stew was gently bubbling on the stove. “Do you need help with your homework?”
“Nah, I’m fine.”
He wanted to ask Harry a million questions.
What am I to you?
What’s going to happen to us once the school year is over?
Could you ever consider not looking for your soulmate and settling for me?
“Have you thought of what you’re going to do next year?” is what he asked instead, his fingers playing nervously with the hem of his untucked shirt. Harry’s eyes paused on his and then looked at his own hands.
“I have no idea,” the Gryffindor said, “I know I should know, but I have no clue.”
Draco’s hand found Harry’s wrist and he gently placed it there, his fingers curling around the skinny expanse of veins and caramel skin.
“You don’t need to know,” he gently said, “you have a right to be confused and not take a decision right now.”
“What are you going to do?” Harry asked, finally meeting his eyes.
“I’m not sure either,” he said, “there’s a number of things I would like to do, but I don’t think anyone would employ a former Death Eater. So my options are quite limited. There’s the Ministry’s programme for reformed criminals that I could apply to, but it’s mainly for menial jobs for people who don’t even have OWLs.”
“You’re going to get Os in all your N.E.W.T.s, Draco,” Harry shook his head, “what do you want to do?”
“Potions,” he found himself replying, a mere impulse, something he hadn’t even given himself a chance to wish for, “I would like to be a Potions Master. But no one will take me as an apprentice.”
“Slughorn could,” Harry suggested, his arm turning and his fingers interlacing with Draco’s, “we could ask him.”
“We?”
“Let me talk to him,” Harry pleaded, “please, let me help.”
Draco didn’t want any special treatment. He didn’t deserve it, not after what he had done. So he shook his head, but Harry was a stubborn Gryffindor and he spent the following days trying to convince him, running his gentle hands on his back, making him delicious dinners and showering him with love.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Harry said, his face buried between Draco’s arse cheeks, his tongue darting out to tentatively tease his entrance, “you think you don’t deserve it and that you’re not good enough. But you are. You’re brilliant and smart and hard-working.”
Draco couldn’t help but moan as he felt the warm and wet touch of Harry’s tongue sliding across his rim, all coherence lost to the sheer pleasure of being naked and at Harry’s mercy.
“You are worth it,” Harry whispered, hot breath against Draco’s skin, his tongue sliding inside and making Draco swear out loud, “mmmh, fuck, Draco. I want you so badly.”
He didn’t even manage to beg Harry to fuck him, because the Gryffindor was inside him before he could blink, making Draco gasp and moan, his fingers buried in his pillow as he called out Harry’s name over and over again, lost in pleasure.
“Let me help you,” Harry groaned, punctuating his words with a slap of his hips against Draco’s arse, filling him up with his hard cock, “I want to make you happy.”
Draco came with a soft whine, feeling Harry’s deep groan a few seconds later.
“Fine,” he panted, Harry’s warm come sliding out of his arse and his arms wrapped around him, “you win.”
He could feel Harry’s smile against his shoulder blade, his magic like a gentle wave over his skin, cleaning him up and making him feel cuddled and cherished. He knew he didn’t deserve it. But Harry seemed to think otherwise.
Slughorn was hard to convince, though, but Harry was persuasive enough. Granger seemed to have a say in it too, talking to the Professor, until he eventually gave up and agreed to mentor Draco the following year, provided that he achieved an O in Potions.
Draco was speechless and didn’t know how to say thanks.
“You could start by giving me your Arithmancy and Ancient Runes notes,” said Granger, “and then your Muggle Studies and Potions notes too. Thanks.”
He gave her everything, too shocked to argue.
January rolled into February and then crocuses and daffodils started appearing amongst the grass. Draco walked around the school grounds, his hand holding Harry’s, face buried in his scarf, wondering if this was all a dream.
And then March arrived and April soon followed. The days went by so fast and Draco started wondering what was going to happen once the school year was over. What were they going to do?
“Ask him,” Granger suggested, her face buried in Draco’s notes, “he’s shit at discussing his feelings. He needs prodding and direct questioning. He’s not used to being loved and he’s terrified of losing what he has.”
Draco tried, but he couldn’t find the right words.
And then, on a Saturday morning in early May, Weasley came to visit for a picnic by the lake.
“Try to be nice to him,” Harry warned, looking anxious and pale, “he won’t bite, unless you provoke him. Please.”
“I will do my best,” Draco replied stiffly, arching an eyebrow, “but I can’t promise anything.”
He couldn’t stand Weasley, but he was willing to try. For Harry’s sake.
And it was awkward and weird; Harry was too loud, Weasley was too grumpy and Granger was too condescending. But they made it through without hexing each other. And then, as they were walking back to the castle and Harry was holding Granger’s arm and whispering something in her ear, Weasley grabbed Draco’s shoulder.
“Malfoy,” he hissed, “Listen to me now. You might have changed and Harry for some unknown reason has decided to be with you, Merlin knows why. But if you break Harry’s heart, I swear I will break your legs.”
Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.
“Weasley, you uncouth imbecile,” he whispered back, trying to avoid being heard by Harry, “Harry’s more than capable of looking after himself and besides, who tells you he’s not going to be the one breaking my heart?”
The ginger Gryffindor took a deep sigh and made a grimace.
“Unfortunately, I have my doubts that’s ever going to happen.”
He wanted to ask what that meant, but Granger was already staring at them suspiciously and Harry’s fingers were interlacing with Draco’s, a soft happy smile on his face.
“I don’t want this to end,” Harry said that evening, lying naked in bed next to him, his face resting on Draco’s chest.
“Me neither,” he confessed. He took a deep breath and tried to face his fears, “what are you going to do when school ends?”
“Not sure, but I think I might consider teaching DADA, if I ever manage to do the exam. Teaching other students back in fifth year was brilliant. I felt like I was good at it. McGonagall said she would write a recommendation letter for me and I could train in a DADA institute. What about you?”
“I’m going to look for a place to live,” Draco replied, feeling his fingers tingle because of the anxiety, his breath coming short at the thought of separating from Harry, “and then study to become a Potions Master.”
Harry lifted his head and stared at him.
“What do you mean find a place?” he asked, furrowing his brows.
“I can’t go back to the Manor. It’s been sold,” Draco replied and they both sat up in bed, looking at each other. Harry put his glasses on and took a deep breath.
“You…I…that’s not how it’s supposed to go!” he said and then groaned and took Draco’s hand in his.
“What do you mean?” Draco whispered.
“I have a house. I inherited it from Sirius,” he said, his thumb gently stroking Draco’s skin, “and it’s big and dark and gloomy, full of weird and scary things. It’s a house, but it’s not a home yet. I need you there with me for it to become my home.”
Draco opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
“Move in with me,” Harry said, a pleading desperate tone to his words, “don’t leave me.”
“Yes,” Draco replied, a whisper, then stronger, “I would never leave you. I love you with all my heart, broken and damaged as it is.”
Harry’s eyes lit up and his fingers found Draco’s face, cupping it gently as he looked into his grey eyes with affection.
“I love you too, Draco,” he whispered.
And then a lot of things happened all at once. Draco felt a tear running down his cheeks and a sob getting stuck in his throat. Harry started laughing and at the same time a light appeared between them. Draco stared down at his left hand and saw his soul bond suddenly appear and sparkle, emerald green and alive, so alive, as it quivered and connected to Harry’s little finger. It flashed and glimmered, illuminating their faces, as they both stared at it in awe, speechless.
It was Draco who eventually broke their mesmerised silence.
“This…it can’t be possible!” he said, his voice cracking, “it was broken. I saw it so many times, Harry. It was severed. My soulmate died in the Battle of Hogwarts!”
Harry’s mouth opened in surprise and then he shook his head.
“It’s because I died,” he simply said.
“You what?!” Draco exclaimed, confused, “Harry, you lunatic, what are you on about?”
“I died in the forest,” Harry said, tilting his head, reconnecting their hands, “but I came back. And the thread must have broken. I’m sorry for making you suffer.”
Draco felt new tears running down his cheeks and Harry’s lips kissing them away, his gentle hands sliding through his hair, telling him that everything was okay now. They had found each other.
“I can’t believe you wore black for me for so long,” Harry said, shaking his head, “that you mourned for my loss.”
“You kept me alive during the War,” Draco explained, “the only thing that kept me going was the soul bond between us and my heart broke into a million pieces when it was gone. But it’s alive now.”
He couldn’t stop looking at the green thread linking their fingers and their lives, feeling its magic pulsating and filling him with happiness.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me being your soulmate?” he asked much later, in the early hours of the day, still unable to sleep, but happy to lie in Harry’s arms.
“Of course, I am,” Harry answered, “and besides, we can still fuck up.”
“That’s well romantic, cheers Potter.”
Harry chuckled and squeezed his hand, then lay a soft kiss on Draco’s forehead.
“What I meant is that I chose to be with you, before I even knew about the bond. And that’s what matters to me. Choosing to be with each other, day by day, because we love each other and not because we’re soulmates.”
Draco felt his heart beating madly in his chest, full to the brim.
“I’m not going to let you go,” he whispered.
“Good,” Harry said with a smile.
“Wait, I hope that doesn’t mean that I have to be friends with Weasley. I actually quite like Granger, although she can be annoying at times. But Weasley…”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to learn to tolerate each other,” Harry answered serenely. “Besides, you’re going to end up spending an awful lot of time together. If you’re lucky enough, though, Molly might even knit you a Weasley jumper next Christmas.”
Draco groaned and wondered out loud what in Merlin’s name he had got himself into, making Harry playfully pinch him.
“So you inherited the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” Draco said, “Mother used to go there all the time, when she was little.”
“Kreacher is going to have a field day when you two meet, since you’re a pureblood and your mum was a Black,” Harry sighed.
“Who’s Kreacher?” Draco asked.
“My House-elf,” Harry answered, “I think you are going to get on well.”
“Will you still cook for me? Even if you have a House-elf,” Draco asked sheepishly and Harry smiled at him.
“If you want me to, why? Do you like it?”
“I think you’re sexy and sweet when you’re busy preparing food for me,” Draco confessed, feeling Harry’s hands holding him close, their lips suddenly meeting, magic sparking between them. And Draco realised that what he had thought for so many months was Harry’s crazy magic was probably just their bond. Making him feel that they matched.
“Not as sexy as when you teach me stuff,” Harry replied, his eyes dark and hungry.
“You remember when you tried to teach me how to cast a Patronus?” Draco asked, as Harry’s fingers roamed down his body. His lips traced Draco’s jaw and then moved down to his neck.
“Yes?” Harry replied.
“I think I finally have a happy memory that I can use,” Draco confessed and the smile Harry gave him made him realise that he will probably have a lot more in the future.
“We’ll try later,” Harry said, “there’s something else I’d rather do now.”
Draco simply couldn't say no.