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It all started when Harry decided to borrow Pig to return Draco Malfoy’s wand.
Malfoy,
thank you for the loan, no matter how involuntary it has been. I apologise to have left you wandless in the middle of the war. Please accept it back now. I know you will need it for your NEWTs.
- Harry Potter
He had not really expected an answer. He knew how much Malfoy hated feeling vulnerable, and after his trial just last month, Harry was sure he felt plenty vulnerable. Surely, he could count himself lucky if Malfoy didn’t write back to lash out because he didn’t want any ‘pity’.
So he was all the more surprised when he did receive a reply, and a civil one, for that.
Potter,
thank you for returning my wand. My mother’s wand didn’t do the job properly and I didn’t dare go back to Ollivander's to purchase a new one. So your kindness is much appreciated.
I’d also like to thank you for speaking on my behalf at my trial. I know I didn’t deserve it. If there’s anything I can do to repay you, please let me know. I know I’m in your debt many times over. For now, please accept my sincere apology for all the times I’ve wronged you and the people you love. I know I cannot erase everything I have done, but I am going to take this second chance I’ve been given and I’m gonna start making amends.
I hope to see you back at Hogwarts next month.
Sincerely, Draco Malfoy.
PS: You should think about acquiring a new owl. This one tried to deliver my wand right into the Manor’s fireplace.
With a sigh, Harry looked up to where Pig was happily flying circles in the air and proceeded to hit a wall. Harry hated to agree with Malfoy, but he figured he was right. He took a trip to Diagon Alley the same afternoon and got a sweet-mannered Great Grey Owl who he named Moony, in memory of Remus, because the grey plumage and the amber eyes reminded him of the man. Moony gently nibbled his ear as Harry pinned out his answer to Malfoy.
Malfoy,
thank you for your apology. I appreciate it. I don’t need you to repay me, though. As far as I’m considered, you saved my life at the Manor, so we’re even. I’d just like to move forward and leave the past in the past. I’m happy to hear you want to make a fresh start as well. Maybe this time, we can meet each other on kinder terms.
I won’t be returning to Hogwarts, though. Kingsley offered me a position at the Auror Trainee Programme and I’m going to take it.
I’m sorry about Pig. He’s Ron’s owl and I’ve been borrowing him for my correspondence ever since Hedwig died. I only got Moony today and hope he does a better job. If not, be kind to him. He’s still learning.
- Harry Potter
He took ages writing and rewriting the letter, minding his wording before shaking his head and just sending it off. What was he doing? It was just a letter to Malfoy, not a Potions essay. But something about it felt important and he wanted to get it right.
When Moony returned with the answer the next morning, he eagerly tore into the parchment.
Potter,
you are too gracious. We are far from even. But of course, I’m not going to argue with you. Still, if there’s ever anything you need from me, I will be more than glad to assist.
I’m disappointed to hear you’re not coming back to Hogwarts, for I would have liked to meet you back at school on civil terms, but I am happy that you’ve been offered a position you’ve been striving for and I congratulate you. You deserve it.
Your new owl has been very well mannered, Potter, there is no need to worry. I gave him treats and let him rest with my owl for the night before sending him back.
Good luck with your new position and I hope to hear from you again.
Sincerely, Draco Malfoy
Harry stared at the letter for a long time, fighting the urge to answer. There was no need to, he knew. All threats of conversation were neatly wrapped up. But something was drawing him to continue the correspondence.
He forced himself to put down the letter and distract himself.
Harry was surprised when he received another letter from Malfoy on Halloween.
Potter,
you probably don’t want to hear from me, today of all days, but I felt compelled to write to you. I don’t know if you still read the Prophet - I certainly don’t, but Pansy left it out today, and an article in memoriam of your parents caught my eye.
I know you probably have lots of friends and found family to give you condolences, so everything I could say would feel weak and insufficient. But I wanted you to know that I was thinking of you, and I realised that there was actually something I could do in return for all your help.
Enclosed with this letter you will find a list of spells that should help you with the renovation of the old Black House. I overheard Granger and G.Weasley talk about how you had trouble making it homely.
Sincerely, Draco Malfoy
Harry was shocked to find almost three pages worth of spells and explanations in the letter. It looked like Malfoy had truly researched, either in books or with his parents. He couldn’t help but feel touched.
Malfoy,
thank you so much for your letter. The spells will help so much. Trying to make this house liveable has been a losing battle and I can use any help I can get.
Also, thank you for thinking of me on the day of my parent's death. My friends and family don’t usually mention it; I’m not sure if they are trying to protect me or if they think I’m not bothered. But your letter has been much appreciated, believe me.
How is Hogwarts? Hermione seems to enjoy being back.
- Harry Potter
Malfoy’s answer arrived the next day.
Potter,
if you allow me, I’ll take it upon myself to check in on you every Halloween, then, because someone definitely should.
I’m glad the spells can be of help to you. After everything that’s happened, you deserve a home you can feel comfortable at.
Hogwarts is difficult for all the Slytherin students this year, I’m afraid, even those who weren’t in the war. It was to be expected, but it is still hard to watch. I tried making amends with people from your side, but it is slow going. Luna Lovegood has forgiven me, though, which I would have never thought possible. Granger still refuses to speak to me, I’m afraid, and Ginny Weasley threatens to hex me every time I get too close. Not that I blame them. I wouldn’t forgive myself. either, if I was them. But since the prominent figures of the light side so publicly refuse all contact with the most prominent figure of the dark side, it’s hard for everyone in between to find forgiveness and move on. But I don’t mean to complain to you. As I said before, I expected nothing less.
How is your Trainee Programme going?
Sincerely, Draco Malfoy
Harry answered immediately, his chest tight from emotion as he wrote, his fingers clenched around his quill.
Malfoy,
I would like that very much. Please do.
I’m angry and upset to hear what’s been happening at Hogwarts. I did not bloody die for people to keep ostracising a new group of wizards all over again. This sucks, and it sucks even more that it comes from Hermione and Ginny. I want to shake them. But at the same time, I know how much all the Weasleys are still struggling with Fred’s death. And Hermione’s under so much stress because her parent's memories are still not quite restored. She had to erase their memories before the war to keep them safe and now they have trouble getting everything back. Experts at St. Mungo’s are currently working on it. So you are an easy outlet for all the anger she is carrying. And the fact that she was tortured at your house doesn’t help.
So, yes, I’m angry. I wished I could make them see that this cycle of help won’t move us forward. But at the same time, I can’t blame them, because I know they’re hurting.
I’m so sorry, Draco. Please give it time. I hope it will get better.
As for my Trainee Programme… It’s not what I imagined. I always thought working as an Auror was what I was born to do. Now I am beginning to feel it is what I was conditioned to do by Dumbledore. But I wonder if it will really make me happy in the long run.
I was actually glad that the fighting was over. Now, I’m throwing myself back into it, and I’m having nightmares every night. Also, all the regulations and paperwork is horrible. I am tempted to just quit, but I’m not sure what else to do. I regret not listening to Hermione and just coming back to Hogwarts. I’m sure things at Hogwarts would have been better like that, too.
- Harry Potter
Malfoy’s answer arrived after an especially gruesome day almost a week later, and Harry was so ridiculously happy to get it it was almost pathetic. And Malfoy’s letter didn’t disappoint; in fact, it turned out to be just what he needed.
Potter,
I’m sorry for the late response. Mother fell ill and I had to return to the Manor for a couple of days. She is feeling better now, though. But it has been hard for her, being all alone at the Manor with my father at Azkaban. The house now reminds her of everything that has happened. I think it makes her ill. I sent her to the chateau in France to recover.
Please do not apologise for the actions of your friends and girlfriend. You have been far too kind to me already. And I completely understand their anger towards me. No harm done. I just feel guilty towards the other Slytherin students, especially the younger ones. I know their suffering is my doing.
I am really sorry to hear that you are struggling with your Trainee Programme. But maybe you could talk to McGonagall and come back to Hogwarts mid-year? I’m sure she would make an exception for you. In the end, all that counts is your newts and you just missed a couple of months. You can still pick the material you missed up with Granger’s help.
If not, I’m sure there are many other paths you would qualify for. I heard you were an adequate Dark Arts instructor in fifth year. You are a fantastic Quidditch player. You have a lot of influence over the public; you could go into politics. Just to name a few options.
Sincerely, Draco Malfoy
PS: You called me ‘Draco’ in your last letter. I’m not sure if that was by mistake, but feel free to continue doing it. I liked it.
Harry didn’t know why, but when he’d reached the end of the letter, he was in tears. Something about Draco’s words had given him the missing puzzle piece he’d been looking for and had helped him arrive at the conclusion he’d been reaching for all along.
He wrote two letters. One to Kingsley, handing in his resignation. One to McGonagall, asking if he could come back midterm. Consequently, his life fell into a bit of chaos and he couldn’t answer Malfoy until a couple of days after.
Draco,
please don’t apologise for your late reply. How is your mother now? I’m so sorry she was unwell.
Thank you so much for your letter, honestly. It was exactly what I needed. I quit at the Ministry, and I’m coming back to Hogwarts next week. You didn’t know that when you wrote it, but Ron had quit just last week, saying being an Auror wasn’t what he expected and he wanted to help George out at the shop because he was all alone now without Fred. And I knew that without Ron, I would be even more miserable in the Programme, so your encouragement to give up and start again as well was just what I needed.
Hermione is thrilled that I’ll be back at Hogwarts with her so I’m sure it will be good for her, too. Maybe I can mellow her down some.
By the way, Ginny and I are just friends. We agreed not to get back together after the war.
Thank you so much. I’ll see you at Hogwarts soon.
- Harry
PS: Call me by my first name, too, then.
Draco’s reply reached him just as Harry packed his last things for Hogwarts.
Dear Harry,
my mother is much better, thank you for asking. She won’t be returning to Wiltshire, though. She has decided to stay in France permanently.
There is no need to thank me. I just spoke the truth. I’m glad you found a solution for yourself, and I’m so glad to be seeing you back at school soon. It hasn’t been the same without you, strangely enough.
I’m sorry for assuming about G.Weasley. I did not mean to overstep.
If you need any help catching up on NEWT material while your Gryffindor friends are busy, I am always happy to help.
Sincerely, Draco Malfoy
Hermione basically barrelled into him once he entered the Gryffindor Common Room, clinging to him, and Harry knew it had been the right decision to come back.
He only saw Draco the next day at breakfast. Their eyes met across the Great Hall and they shared a tiny smile before Harry was drawn back into conversation with Neville and Seamus.
Harry quickly realised, whenever he so much as mentioned Draco’s name, that there was no room to give from his Gryffindor friends. Hermione’s lips tightened and her expression became pinched. Ginny snapped. Seamus started a rant. Dean’s expression became haunted. The only ones who seemed to be amenable were Luna and Neville, and Harry loved them for that.
His friends’ strict stance against Draco made it almost impossible for Harry to interact with him apart from a few polite words in and outside of class. He had to resort to sending him another note to set up a meeting point at a convenient time when Hermione was in class and Ginny was at practice.
Draco looked nervous when he arrived at the tiny hidden alcove Harry had chosen as their spot (it seemed more neutral than the Room of Requirement or Merlin forbid the Astronomy Tower), but when Harry smiled at him, he relaxed a little.
“Hi,” he said. “Thanks for coming. Sorry we haven’t been able to speak before now.”
“I understand,” Draco shrugged, sitting down on the bench next to Harry. “Your friends would be furious if they saw us together, not to mention the rest of the wizarding world.”
“It sucks,” Harry sighed, frowning. “I wished it was different. But they are struggling so much already, and I don’t want to upset them anymore. Maybe, if things are better with Hermione’s parents and the Weasleys had a bit more time to process Fred’s death -”
“Don’t worry about it, Harry,” Draco interrupted him. “I don’t mind, really.”
Only Harry knew that was a lie. If Harry and Draco were seen being friendly with each other, it would change so much, not only for him but also for the other Slytherins. Draco knew that. But Draco wouldn’t ask for it, Harry knew that, too. Harry sighed again, feeling caught between his friends and what he felt was right.
“How are classes?” Draco asked, changing the subject. “I noticed you’ve gone back to sucking at Potions.”
“Yeah,” Harry chuckled. “I only was good at it because I had Snape’s old book. It had his notes.”
Draco gaped at him. “I knew you had to be cheating!” he hissed, but he didn’t sound upset; he sounded impressed. “How Slytherin of you.”
“I have hidden depths,” Harry grinned.
“Well, if you need help, my offer stands,” Draco shrugged. “I am no Snape but I can be sufficiently snarky.”
Harry grinned. “Maybe that’s exactly what I need,” he mused. “A snarky Slytherin’s Potions notes.”
“You never know,” Draco smiled back.
They did end up meeting for studying purposes once a week, at the same time whenever his friends were busy. Draco did pen out a lot of helpful Potion notes for him for upcoming tasks that helped him in class, much to Hermione’s confusion (he’d learned from the last time and hid the notes well from her).
Throughout the time spent together, Harry also founf Draco becoming a real friend. Without the layer of parchment between them, Draco was less polite; his humour came through more sharply but less cutting than it used to, and Harry quickly found himself looking forward to their time spent together. Draco was also a surprisingly good listener. When Harry told him as much, he smiled wrily and admitted: “I didn’t use to be, but when you find yourself in a position when no one wants to talk to you any longer, you find yourself eager for real conversation.”
“But you’ve got Slytherin friends, right?” Harry frowned. “Goyle and Parkinson and -”
“Goyle left the country,” Draco interrupted him. “Talking to Pansy is like having a conversation with a portrait at the Manor sometimes. She’s stuck in her head entirely too much, and never pays attention to anything I say. Theo doesn’t really talk to anyone anymore. And Zabini distanced himself from me because I’m a pariah.”
“Oh,” Harry said softly.
“So it’s nice, talking to someone in earnest,” Draco shrugged. “You become much less self-absorbed when you understand how little the world revolves around you.” He smirked. “It’s funny that I thought you were like that. self-absorbed, because obviously, the world did revolve around you. But you seem to have found out the secret to being a decent human being far before I did.”
“I think it all had to do with a shitty childhood,” Harry shrugged. “Nothing special, really.”
Draco looked at him for a long moment. Then he shook his head and looked back at his Potions book.
“You and I have a different definition of ‘special’,” he muttered, and Harry figured he was right.
Harry spent Christmas at the Burrow, and a couple of days with Andromeda and Teddy, but stayed mostly at Grimmauld Place over the winter holidays. So when the mail arrived from Draco on New Year’s Day, wishing him a happy new year and asking if he could drop by before Hogwarts, Harry quickly agreed.
“Hey,” Harry smiled as Draco stumbled through the fireplace, brushing himself off. “How was France? How is your mother?”
“She is well, thank you,” he smiled back. “She always liked France better than England, to be perfectly honest. It’s an improvement for her. For my part, the French are a bit too crude. There is no art to their insults. Kills all the fun if it’s not passive-aggressive and artfully hidden.”
Harry grinned. “As if we were ever passive-aggressive back when we were younger,” he pointed out.
“Oh, you weren’t,” Draco grinned. “You would fit right in.”
Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head in fondness.
“So, why are you here?” he asked.
“I wondered if I could help with the renovation,” Draco said. “You told me you still had trouble removing some of the sticking charms? Maybe I could help since I’m a Black by blood.”
And so, they went to work, and by the end of the day, they surprisingly had removed all the reminders of Aunt Walburga’s decorating, even her portrait, which had gone down screaming and shouting.
“I guess I can really make the space my own now,” Harry noted in wonder. “Thanks. That was a huge help.”
“Don’t mention it,” Draco smiled. “Besides, I have a feeling Aunt Walburga will be much happier at the Manor. She can bitch with the other portraits there.”
Back at Hogwarts, Harry tried, again and again, to make headway with his Gryffindor friends regarding Draco, but they were holding onto their anger like a safety blanket. Even though Hermione’s parents were now so far recovered that they’d returned back home, she still refused to even listen to Harry’s reasoning as to why he thought Draco was truly making an effort. “He is trying to save his own skin,” she said, her expression hard. “It’s what he’s always done.” Ron, the one time Harry had brought it up over the holidays, had started shouting at Harry until Harry had apologised.
Harry, on the other hand, felt more and more drawn to Draco. As he hatched out plans for his future, he relied on Draco’s calm, analytical mind to lead him into the right direction. Draco’s notes helped him understand a topic way better than Hermione’s constant nagging. When grief and anger seemed to overwhelm him, Draco somehow seemed to always know what to say.
Against all odds, they got each other; like two sides of a coin.
“I think I want to go into teaching,” Harry told Draco, one afternoon in May.
“That sounds brilliant,” Draco smiled. “Have you spoken to McGonagall?”
“She has a Defence teacher now,” Harry shook his head, “no, I feel like maybe, I have experiences that could be used differently. Maybe I could become a trainer for the Ministry or something.”
“They’d be lucky to have you,” Draco said seriously.
Harry smiled, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. He bumped Draco’s shoulder. “What about you?” he asked.
Draco sighed. “I’ll never get a Ministry job with my record,” he frowned. “Or any other official position, for that matter. The only way I have a future is self-employment, I’m afraid, but it’ll have to be a service where I don’t really interact with the customers, or else they’ll never employ me.”
Harry frowned at him. “You’re so smart,” he argued. “Don’t you think, after a while, you can win people over with your competency?”
“My name will always win out,” Draco shook his head.
Harry sighed, his mood subdued now. “What do you have in mind then?”
“I’m good at fixing things,” Draco shrugged. “I was contemplating setting up magical repair service. I can pay someone to man the store and I’ll handle the repairs. There’s a demand for reparation of magical artefacts, especially since the war.”
Harry blinked in surprise. “That sounds good, actually,” he admitted. “Do you still have the funds to set it up? I know the Ministry seized a lot of your family’s assets for war reparations.”
“We’re not swimming in money anymore, but there’s enough of my inheritance left to invest it in a business,” Draco nodded. “If not, I can always sell the Manor. I don’t think I ever want to live there again and now that Mother is gone, there’s not much point.”
“You’d do that?” Harry asked, eyes wide.
“I’d hate to do it,” Draco admitted. “And Father would be furious. But I know my future doesn’t lie there, and it wouldn’t make sense to risk my future to keep it afloat.”
Harry nodded. “So, where are you going to live after Hogwarts?” he asked.
“I already rented an apartment in Islington,” Draco said, much to Harry’s surprise. “Muggle, but wizards won’t rent to me anymore.” He paused. “That might be problematic for me when finding a store.”
“I could help,” Harry offered, without thinking.
Draco stared at him. “You would?”
“Think of it as a business investment,” Harry smirked. “I find a place, you do the business.”
“Oh, I’m going to pay rent, Potter,” Draco grumbled. “There’s no way you’ll just give me a store!”
“Of course,” Harry waved him off. “But the rent won’t be as outrageous if I invest.”
“You’re horrible,” Draco shook his head, smiling. “Why do you always need to be so kind? I can never get out of your debt.”
“I told you, there is no debt,” Harry huffed. “Not between friends.”
Draco grumbled, but let it go.
And so Draco helped Harry pass the NEWTs and Harry helped Draco rent out a store in a prime location of Diagon Alley. Draco hired Susan Bones to handle the customer service; Susan was one of the Hufflepuff girls who had been kind to Draco throughout their year back at Hogwarts and he knew she was saving up for a special privately-funded Healer Trainee Programme, and since she couldn’t yet afford it, she was looking for work. Harry agreed that Susan was perfect. She was sweet and kind and could talk to people easily.
Soon, Thuban’s Magical Repair (Thuban, Draco had explained to Harry, was the Northern pole star in the constellation Draco, so it was a good cover) had its first customers and was slowly gaining popularity.
Harry, on the other hand, had written to Kingsley, as planned, who had jumped at the opportunity to employ him as a consultant in Dark Arts cases and an instructor in the training of new Aurors. Harry’s new work was slow, at first, as assignments came in bit by bit, so Harry spent a lot of time with Draco in the shop. It made sense; everyone else was too busy for him. Ron and Fred had their hands full with the joke shop and even when Harry dropped by they usually didn’t have much time to chat. Hermione had started at the Department of Magical Creature Liaisons and barely had a minute between her parents, Ron and her work. Ginny had been scouted by the Holyhead Harpies and was constantly away for matches and practice. Luna was busy reviving the Quibbler. Neville was interning with Professor Sprout. Draco was the only one who had time to indulge him, making conversation as he fumbled with artefacts, trying to make them work again.
Often, they ended up at Harry’s house afterwards, having dinner and watching a movie (Arthur had given Harry a magical TV set and Harry had introduced Draco to the wonders of Muggle television. Draco still griped about the shows and the movies but he readily watched them with Harry).
Harry soon realised that his life had become completely entangled with Draco’s. Apart from Sunday lunch, which was a fixture at the Weasley household, and his afternoon with Teddy on Sunday, his free time completely revolved around Draco.
And he loved it.
He loved coming into the shop, waving at Susan, who grinned at readily made tea for him, before heading into the back where Draco was working. He loved entertaining him with tails from the Weasley household and getting to hear stories from Draco’s Slytherin friends in return. He loved bickering over what to get for dinner and what movie to watch.
He loved not going home alone and he thought Draco enjoyed the company just as much.
It hit Harry one night, as they were watching ‘When Harry Met Sally’.
“You know,” Harry blurted out, ‘we’re pretty much dating.”
Draco turned to stare at him.
“I mean,” Harry said, gesturing between them, “we spend pretty much every day together. We tell each other everything that happens in our lives and when something happens, you’re the first person I want to tell. You just…” he trailed off, fumbling for words before landing on, “you make me feel like home.”
Draco kept gaping at him. Then he cleared his throat, flushing deeply. “Well, dating usually entails kissing and physical intimacy, Harry,” he pointed out, in his ‘I’m-talking-to-an-especially-slow-three-year-old-voice’. “So I don’t think we qualify.”
Harry blinked, considering that. Then he nodded, once, before leaning in to press his lips to Draco’s.
Draco made a sound of surprise against his lips but didn’t pull away, and Harry wondered why he hadn’t thought to do this earlier. Draco just felt right in a way that flying felt right and he knew, deep in his bones, that he had found his place.
When he pulled away again, Draco’s eyes were glazed over and he was still staring, though this time he just seemed speechless.
“Date me,” he demanded.
Draco let out a shaky, incredulous laugh. “Your friends still don’t know that we’re even friendly, Potter!” he reminded him. “And you want to date?”
Harry grimaced. “Well,” he shrugged. “I’m working on telling them?”
Draco shook his head. “You’re mental,” he said.
“I thought we’d already established that,” Harry grinned cheekily.
Draco chuckled, apparently unable to help himself. He bit his lip. “Are you sure?” he asked softly. “This is a huge secret to keep. It’s one thing to be friends in secret, but a whole nother to be boyfriends in secret.”
“I’ll be fine,” Harry shrugged. “And I will them. When they kindly remove their heads from their arses.”
Draco hummed, clearly not seeing that happening anytime soon. Harry decided to kiss the frown off Draco’s face, relieved when the other man leaned into the kiss.
“It will be fine,” he assured him. “I promise.”
“I hope you’re right,” Draco smiled.
Dating Draco was perfect. It was truly everything Harry could ever want. Draco was affectionate and indulged Harry’s need for love and attention to the max. He never failed to make time for Harry when the other man wanted to see him. He made Harry laugh when he needed to, and just listened and gave advice when Harry needed that, too. Draco was wonderful, and every day he spent with him, he found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with him.
The only problem was that no one knew about their relationship, other than Susan, who smiled indulgently at them and never said anything.
Harry had tried to breach the subject with Ron and Hermione. He really had. But then Hermione had thrown herself into a project for house elf liberation and had kept ranting about Dobby and his time at the Malfoys and Harry just… couldn’t.
And it continued like that. Harry lived two lives. Throughout the week, Harry worked and whenever he was free, he was with Draco. Draco, who soon moved in with him, but kept his apartment for whenever one of Harry’s friends came over or Harry had to take Teddy so he had somewhere to escape. Draco, who never complained about Harry keeping him hidden, even though Harry knew it grated on him and that he was more than ready to tell his own mother, damn the consequences.
And Harry hated himself for not being able to just come out with it, but every time he’d grasped the courage to just do it, something else came up and ruined his plans. Like Fred and George’s birthday pushing the Weasleys into a hole, or Hermione’s mother blanking out and being unable to remember she had met Ron before, or Molly finding old photos of the twins. Once, Harry had been desperate enough to ask Andromeda if she’d ever speak to Narcissa and Draco again, but he’d done it in the presence of the Weasleys, in the hope that a positive response of hers would make them think twice. Before Andromeda could even open her mouth, though, Hermione had chastised Harry for how insensitive he was being, and Ron had asked Harry why he was still being so obsessed with Malfoy, and he had had to apologise and let it drop.
It made Harry feel like shit. He was torn between his boyfriend, who he loved with all his heart, and his adopted family, who he loved just as much.
Things took a turn for the desperate when Kingsley called Harry in for a consultation two years into his relationship with Draco. It was supposed to be a routine outing; they’d found a safe house that they suspected had been used by fugitive Death Eaters, and they wanted Harry’s opinion on it.
They’d searched the place. It was supposed to be deserted.
But as soon as Harry turned up, they were attacked.
They caught the Death Eaters, in the end, but Harry hadn’t felt this close to death since the end of the war.
Kingsley apologised profusely, but still, Harry was trembling when he arrived at Draco’s shop. Susan, who was still helping out part-time, now altering shifts with a Hogwarts graduate named Jamie as she paid her way through Healer Training, took one look at him and blanched.
“Are you okay, Harry?” she asked.
“Is Draco in the back?” he enquired, not answering.
“Yes,” she nodded, and Harry brushed past her, desperate to get to his boyfriend.
Draco was bent over a mirror, wand in hand, a frown of concentration on his face. He looked up in surprise.
“Harry,” he said. “How did it go at the -”
But that was how far he got before Harry enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug. Draco wrapped him up in his arms, squeezing him tightly to his chest.
“What happened?” he breathed.
“Death Eater attack,” he breathed.
“Are you okay?” Draco asked, alarmed.
“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Just shaken. I’m not used to this anymore.”
“It’s bad enough you ever were used to it,” Draco grumbled, squeezing him just a little tighter.
Harry pressed his face into Draco’s shirt and inhaled his scent. Then, he looked up, grasped by a strange determination.
“Marry me,” he said.
Draco gaped at him.
“Harry,” he said, slowly and carefully. “No one knows we’re even together.”
“I’ll tell them,” Harry said.
“You’ve been saying that for years,” Draco pointed out.
“This time, I mean it,” Harry said. “I mean, what am I even doing?! I’m trying so hard to protect everyone else’s feelings that I’m hiding the one thing that makes me happy?! I could have died today, Draco, and no one would have ever known how much I love you! I don’t want that!”
Draco blinked. “You’re serious,” he breathed.
“Hell yeah, I am,” he nodded, cupping Draco’s face. “I want a life with you, Draco. I want children with you. I can’t have any of that if no one knows about us.”
Draco smiled and found Harry’s hand on his cheek, covering it with his own.
“This is going to be a shit show,” he warned.
“So you’re saying yes?” Harry asked, grinning.
“Did you ever think I’d say no?” Draco asked, eyebrows raised, laughing when Harry kissed him.
They decided to marry in secret. Kingsley owed Harry, after sending him into a situation of danger, and he gladly agreed to perform the ceremony at Grimmauld Place. They had discussed throwing the wedding after Harry had told everyone, but had decided this was better because this way, it would be about them instead of everyone who felt personally wronged by their relationship, and now that they were doing it, Harry was so glad they had made this decision. It was intimate and nice and nothing could distract him from the love in Draco’s eyes and the feeling of connection as their bond was cast.
“Your secret is safe with me, of course,” Kingsley said as he handed them their marriage certificate, “until you choose to reveal it.”
“Thank you, Kingsley,” Harry smiled. “Truly, this means a lot.”
“Congratulations,” he grinned. “Also, as a present, let me make you an international portkey, without paperwork and free of charge. Where do you want to spend your honeymoon, gentlemen?”
Harry looked at Draco in askance, and Draco smiled. “I have an idea,” he said.
Of course, the Malfoys owned a Palazzo in Florence. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really.
“Where else do you have residences?” he asked with a huff as they passed through the old streets.
“Only in Hamburg,” Draco shrugged.
Harry scoffed but had no time to comment before Draco came to a halt in front of a crest in the stone wall. When Harry looked closer, he recognised that it was the Malfoy crest.
“The wards will only let members of the family in,” Draco explained, touching the crest, and Harry watched in fascination as an opulent door appeared in the wall. “Of course, you are now a member of the family.”
“Right,” Harry said faintly, following Draco.
They walked through a short tunnel until they surfaced in a rich garden facing a huge villa.
“My ancestor Nicholas Malfoy built this place in the fourteenth century,” Draco informed him with a smile. “He was a prick but I love coming here. It’s my favourite house of ours.”
He led Harry inside and Harry had to admit there was something, unlike the usual Malfoy architecture about the place. It was bright and open and inviting. From the windows, they could overlook Florence in all its beauty. Harry had to stop and stare.
Draco smiled and pulled him against his chest.
“Good idea?” he asked.
“Brilliant,” Harry admitted. “I’ve never been to Italy.”
“You’ve never been anywhere,” Draco scoffed. “Come on, I know a great restaurant just around the corner of the cathedral. We can have some wine and then I can show you Florence at night. You haven’t lived unless you’ve seen the sunset on the Ponte Vecchio.”
They stayed in Florence for three nights, longer than they had originally planned, and Harry still wished they didn’t have to leave. There was something magical about Florence with its rich history that Draco kept flaunting his knowledge of and its delicious food and its blooming culture, with musicians and artists at every corner.
“We could move here?” Harry asked hopefully, making Draco laugh.
“You’re just saying that because you’re trying to get out of telling everyone about our wedding,” Draco accused.
“...Maybe,” Harry admitted with a grimace, making Draco kiss his nose indulgently.
“You have a week,” Draco said. “After that, I’m putting my foot down. No more procrastinating.”
“You’re hot when you’re demanding,” Harry commented.
Draco rolled his eyes and kissed him.
Harry planned on telling Ron and Hermione on Friday ahead of everyone else. He had already invited them for dinner, to his place this time, hoping it would provide fewer distractions. Draco had agreed to spend the night at his apartment, which they still kept for instances like this.
He was nervous as hell and convinced that the conversation was going to lead to the first real fight they had had since the war. It wasn’t only that Harry was married to Draco; it was also that he had kept it a secret for so long. He was sure that they would see it as a betrayal, no matter how good his reasons were.
“There is no other way but through,” Draco told him pragmatically when Harry voiced his fears, kissing his forehead to take away from the sting of his words. “They might be pissed, but they love you, so they’ll forgive you.”
And Harry held onto those words when his two best friends arrived at his house, happily chatting away about work and their friends and families. Harry busied himself preparing the food, working up his courage for his announcement. It was when he set the table that the alarm sounded.
Harry and Draco had connected the wards of Draco’s flat in Islington and Malfoy Manor with Grimmauld Place soon after he had moved in. It had been practical: Draco was hardly ever at home and if anyone tempered with the wards at one of the other estates, they would get notified immediately. It had happened once with Malfoy Manor, but it had turned out to be a group of curious teenagers.
Now, the alarm had gone off for Islington, where Draco was currently staying.
Hermione and Ron stared at Harry in worry.
“Harry, what’s going on?” Hermione asked. “Is someone trying to break in?”
“I need to go,” Harry said.
“Mate, but the food -” Ron started to protest, but that was all he heard before he disapparated.
He couldn’t care about the pasta on the stove. His husband was in danger.
When he apparated into the flat, he immediately spotted them: Two cloaked figures standing over Draco, wands raised. Draco was on the floor, bleeding and unmoving.
There had been attacks before, all over the country: Groups of so-called activists seeking revenge against former Death Eaters who had walked free. The Aurors rarely investigated the cases properly, Harry had found.
He had always been afraid they would go for Draco someday.
They didn’t even have a moment to raise their wands. Harry was so furious he didn’t need his own. He just pushed with his magic and they were thrown back, away from Draco, against the bookshelf.
The bookshelf tumbled over and fell onto them. They did not move again.
Harry hastened towards Draco, gathering him up in his arms. Draco didn’t even move. There was a wound at his temple, dripping blood over his face.
“Draco,” Harry whispered. “Shit.”
He sent a Patronus to Kingsley before apparating them straight to St Mungo’s.
He had never before been so glad to be Harry Potter because if he could use his name to get his husband immediate treatment, he would bloody well do it.
At first, they hadn’t wanted to let Harry into the ward. ‘Only family’. But when Harry had whipped out his marriage certificate, their gazes had widened and they had waved him inside and brought him a cup of tea as he waited.
He was so glad that Draco had insisted, in his foresight, that they both carry a copy in case they needed it.
After a while, Ron’s Patronus reached him.
‘Mate, what happened? Where are you? Are you coming back? We’re worried.’
Harry collected himself enough to send a message back.
‘I’m at St Mungo’s. Not hurt, but waiting for someone. Can’t make it home. Let’s reschedule, please. I’m sorry.’
Then, he realised that he should probably contact Narcissa Malfoy as well. He penned out a quick message and asked a passing nurse if there was a way to send it. She took it from him and said she would give it to one of the hospital owls.
And then, Harry waited. After an hour, there was still no news and when he asked, he was told the healers were still working with Draco. Head in his hands, he sat back down.
At almost half past nine, a nurse approached him. Harry jumped up, thinking she was bringing news about Draco, but her apologetic smile made his shoulders fall.
“Still nothing?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, Mr Potter,” she shook her head. “But there is someone here to see you. If you would step out to the reception with me? They can’t come back here, since they’re not family.”
“What if Draco -”
“We’ll notify you immediately if there is news about your husband,” she promised.
Reluctantly, Harry followed. He found Hermione and Ron at the reception, looking anxious.
“Oh, Harry!” Hermione called, wrapping him up in a tight embrace. “They wouldn’t let us in! They wouldn’t even tell us what happened!”
“‘Family only’, they kept saying,” Ron growled. “As if we’ve not been family since day one!”
“Harry, what’s wrong?” Hermione asked, pulling back to look at him. “Who are you here for? We called Andromeda to check on Teddy, but he’s fine. We’re a bit stomped.”
She didn’t say it, but it was clear: Harry had no one who counted officially as ‘family’, unless you counted his godson. It would seem weird to his best friends that he would be let into the hospital ward and they’d be denied.
Harry gulped. He didn’t have the strength to hide anymore, not now.
“I’m here for my husband,” he whispered, his eyes burning with tears.
Ron gaped at him. Hermione blinked.
“Your husband?” she asked, her voice soft. “But… Harry, who?”
Harry blinked rapidly, but a tear slipped down his cheek, anyway.
“Draco,” he breathed.
“Malfoy?!” Ron asked, incredulous.
“Ron,” Hermione said quietly, shaking her head. “Don’t.”
Ron fell silent, just staring at Harry in shock. Hermione squeezed Harry’s elbow.
“How long have you been married?” she asked.
“A week,” he shrugged helplessly. “Been together for two years.” Hermione nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Harry said, his voice cracking. “I tried, but -”
“That’s not important now,” Hermione interrupted. “What happened to him?”
With some difficulty, he retold the events of the evening. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” he said, openly crying now. “I can’t lose him, Hermione. Not him, too. I’ve lost so many people and we haven’t even started our life together! We’ve only been hiding. I just -”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Hermione said, pulling him into another embrace. “If I know anything about Draco Malfoy, it’s that he’s stubborn as a mule. He won’t die just like that.”
Harry cried into Hermione’s hair and hoped that she was right.
When they finally called Harry into Draco’s room, it was past midnight. They had put Draco into a healing sleep.
“They used a relatively novel kind of dark spell,” the healers explained. “It damages the body from the inside. Very nasty. We managed to heal him for the most part, but brain damage is a difficult issue, even in magical healing. There is some damage that can only heal slowly, if at all. We’ll only see how successful we were once he wakes up.”
And so, Harry sat by Draco’s bed, his pale hand in Harry’s, waiting for his husband to wake up.
In the morning, Narcissa arrived. Her eyes first wandered to Draco, taking in his sleeping face, before finding Harry’s.
“Mr Potter,” she nodded. “Thank you for notifying me. Could you now please explain why you’re here, in my son’s hospital room?”
Harry had wordlessly taken off the glamour on their wedding rings, making Narcissa’s eyes widen.
“I see,” she said slowly. “Welcome to the family, then. I wished I had learned under better circumstances.”
“So do I,” Harry breathed.
They didn’t talk much throughout that first day. She asked Harry what had happened. He told her about the break-in. She had asked about their relationship. He had summarised in short, effective sentences. Otherwise, their interactions were restricted to bringing each other tea when they left the room.
In the evening, Narcissa left for the Manor. She halted at the door, studying Harry.
“You should go home, too,” she said. “When was the last time you slept?”
Harry shook his head. “I’m fine,” he lied. “I want to be with him.”
Narcissa hesitated, before nodding and leaving him.
When she returned the next day, she took one look at him and said: “Mr Potter, you are going home. My son wouldn’t want you to make yourself sick.”
“I can’t leave him!” Harry protested, giving her a wounded look.
Narcissa sat next to him, touching his shoulder. “I’ll be here,” she promised. “A few hours of sleep won’t kill him, Harry. Draco is safe.”
Harry blinked rapidly. “It’s my fault,” he burst out. “I insisted on keeping us a secret. If I hadn’t, he might have had an easier time redeeming himself and this wouldn’t have happened!”
“Harry,” she said sternly. “This is not your fault. These people might have hated him all the more had they known. It might have still happened. There is no reason to blame yourself.”
“But -” Harry started to protest.
“As I see it, you saved him. Again,” she cut him off. “So stop feeling guilty and go to sleep. Draco will need you healthy and strong when he wakes up.”
And of course, Narcissa was right, so he went.
He started taking turns with Narcissa then. He stayed the evening and night and she came back in the morning and took over so Harry could go home and sleep.
Draco did not wake up for almost two weeks, and Harry grew more desperate each day. Molly had started sending over food to make sure he ate, but he couldn’t make himself. He felt sick with worry. Ron came over every morning before work to make sure he ate at least a bit, though.
“I’m sorry,” Ron said, one of those mornings. “That we made you feel like you couldn’t tell us. Looking back, you tried. I can see that now. But I was still so upset about Fred and… I think I didn’t want to listen. Anyway, I’m sorry I made it so hard. That we all did. We just want you to be happy. And if Malfoy does that, then that’s okay.”
Harry wondered how what he had spent worrying about for the past years had turned out to be no problem at all, and now that he wasn’t sure he would get Draco back, he got everyone’s acceptance, clean and simple. It was bitter-sweet.
On the twelfth night, Draco opened his eyes.
Harry was at his eyes, Draco’s hand in his, when his finger twitched. He looked up, surprised, only to see his eyes fluttering open. He blinked, incredulous as Draco stared up at the ceiling.
“Draco?” Harry whispered.
Draco didn’t react. Harry scrambled up and got into his field of vision.
“Draco?” he repeated. “Love, can you hear me?”
Draco’s eyes flitted to him, staying on him. He didn’t say anything. Harry triggered the alarm, calling for a healer.
“Draco?” he tried again. “You’re at the hospital. You were attacked. But you’re safe now. I’m here. Can you say something?”
Again, Draco didn’t say anything. He was just looking back at him. Harry’s chest was tight with fear.
The healer arrived, and Harry was asked to leave the room. After a few minutes, more healers joined the first one inside. Harry paced anxiously, feeling deep in his gut that something was wrong.
About half an hour later, the group of healers emerged, faces serious.
“He’s verbally unresponsive,” they said. “But his hearing and his sight are intact, as are his other senses. We might just have to wait and see if he starts responding in the next few days. We gave him some Potions to encourage the healing process but if the speech centre in his brain is permanently damaged, we might not be able to do anything.”
Harry stared at them, shivering. He felt cold all over. “What can I do?” he asked.
“Talk to him,” they encouraged. “He can hear you. It will motivate him to reply if he is able to.”
And so, Harry did. He talked until his voice was sore, whenever Draco’s eyes were open. Narcissa had to start banning him from Draco’s bedside for at least a couple of hours of the day because he refused to go home to sleep.
“He’s asleep through the night!” Harry protested. “I want to speak to him while he’s awake!”
And so, Harry’s shift moved from early morning until afternoon, and Narcissa stayed from the afternoon through the night. Harry felt sort of bad, but she didn’t complain.
“I see how much you love him,” she said with a smile. “It’s humbling. As a mother, I couldn’t ask for more.”
About ten days after Draco had awoken, Harry was about to leave because Narcissa had appeared when Draco’s fingers loosely wrapped around his wrist. Harry turned back to him and stared.
Draco’s mouth opened and closed. Then, he breathed: “...a…ry…”
Harry could have cried with joy. Instead, he kissed Draco’s face all over and told him that he loved him.
Draco’s recovery was expedited after that. His speech came back to him, as did his movement. His memory was a bit patchy still, but Harry would always take that over losing him entirely.
“When did we tell my mother about us?” Draco frowned at Harry one morning, about a month after he had woken up. Harry smiled softly.
“I did, darling,” he said. “I had to when you were in the hospital. She was wondering why I was allowed into your room when it was only supposed to be family.”
“How were you allowed?” Draco frowned. “Did you go all ‘Harry Potter’ on them?”
Harry blinked. “Draco, love, I’m your husband,” he reminded him. “I’m family.”
Draco stared. “We’re married?”
Harry smiled and gently tipped onto Draco’s wedding ring. He lifted it to his eyes as if he was noticing it for the first time.
“When did we marry?” he asked, sounding awed.
“A week before the attack,” Harry smiled. “We did it in secret. Kingsley officiated at Grimmauld Place.”
“The Minister of Magic married me to Harry Potter?” Draco chuckled, finally smiling. He shook his head in wonder. “How is this my life?”
Harry smiled and kissed his lips.
Eventually, they let him take Draco home, though, much to Harry’s relief. His memory was mostly back and his movement, though still a bit slow, would only fully recover with practice, they said. Harry had a firm hold on him as they apparated to Grimmauld Place, but they both froze when they found the house packed with people.
Molly Weasley was in the kitchen, cooking a month worth of dishes.
The rest of the Weasley clan and Hermione were all over the house, cleaning up and sorting.
“What is going on?” Harry said hesitantly.
“Hello, you two,” Narcissa said, appearing around the corning, levitating an armchair behind her. “So glad to see you out and about, Draco, darling.”
“Mother,” Draco blinked. “Why is my armchair in this house, and not in Islington?”
“Well, remember how you boys said that there’s no need to keep the apartment now that everyone knows about your relationship?” She smiled fondly. “I talked to Mrs Weasley, and she agreed you could use a hand in the moving process. You have been through enough recently. So here we are.”
“Draco, please sit down,” Hermione said sternly, coming up from behind and manhandling them towards the couch. “Someone might bump into you in this chaos and you’ll be right back at St Mungo’s, and I won’t face Harry’s wrath if that happens.”
“Alright, Gra- um, Hermione,” Draco amended when Hermione’s eyes narrowed.
“Right,” she nodded. “Harry, protect your husband from flying objects.”
Harry grinned as he sat down next to Draco.
“Is that how it’s going to be from now?” Draco asked, leaning into Harry to speak under his breath. “They’ll smother me with kindness?”
“Pretty much, I guess?” Harry smirked. “It means you’ve been adopted.”
“Sweet Merlin,” Draco sighed. “What did I get myself into?”
Harry laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips. Draco smiled and kissed back.
“Stop being cute!” Ginny shouted. “I’ll have to start liking him and that’s not fair!”
They laughed against each other’s lips.