Chapter 1: The Moment Slipped By - Draco x Harry
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They never really marked the moment it changed.
One day, Draco was hexing Harry’s broom midair with a smirk sharp enough to cut, and the next, he was sitting beside him in the Ministry archives, muttering under his breath as they combed through endless files, their knees brushing more often than necessary.
Maybe it was the war. Maybe it was that time Harry dragged him out of the burning Room of Requirement and didn’t let go until they were both coughing on ash and survival.
Or maybe it was when Draco showed up, uninvited but not unwelcome, to Teddy Lupin’s third birthday with a handmade enchanted train set and a hesitating smile that Harry didn’t expect but couldn't forget.
There was no line in the sand, no declaration, no truce inked in magic or blood.
Just moments.
Moments like Harry catching Draco watching him across a crowded pub, and not feeling threatened, only seen. Moments like Draco fixing Harry’s tie before an Auror hearing, fingers lingering, eyes soft. Moments like laughter shared over takeout containers and shoulder nudges in silence.
The enemy had vanished somewhere in between those moments, dissolved like fog in morning light.
And while neither could name exactly when it happened, they were happy that it had.
Chapter 2: Birthday Magic - Ginny x Luna
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Ginny had always loved birthdays, the laughter, the sweets, the excuse to eat cake for breakfast, but this one felt different. Calmer. Softer. Full of something she couldn’t quite name. It was the first she was having with Luna by her side.
She found Luna in the garden, barefoot in the grass, a daisy crown atop her head and a tiny wrapped package in her hands. The early morning sun cast golden halos around her, and Ginny nearly forgot how to breathe.
“I made this for you,” Luna said dreamily, pressing the package into Ginny’s hands. “It’s not much, just a charm to keep your dreams safe while you sleep.”
Ginny opened it slowly, revealing a delicate bracelet woven with moonstone beads and what looked like thestral hair. “Luna… it’s beautiful.”
Luna tilted her head. “So are you.”
There was a pause. One of those suspended moments where it feels like even time is holding its breath. Then Ginny leaned in and kissed her, soft and sure.
“I think this might be my favourite birthday ever,” she whispered against Luna’s lips before stealing a second just as soft kiss.
They sat in the garden all morning, the scent of honey and wildflowers curling around them, a quiet kind of magic filling the air.
Chapter 3: Of Wolfsbane and Wounds Unspoken - Severus x Remus
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The dungeon corridors were cooler than usual.
Remus pulled his threadbare cloak tighter around his shoulders, though the chill wasn’t entirely responsible for the way his skin prickled as he descended the winding staircase. He knew these halls too well from his own school days, though they had always felt more haunted now. Not with ghosts though, but with memories. And with Severus Snape.
The smell of damp stone and potion ingredients hit him before the door even came into view.
He hesitated, knuckles raised. His hand hovered, a beat too long. Then he knocked.
"Enter."
Severus’ voice, smooth and clipped. Always a blade, never a balm.
Remus opened the door slowly. The Potions classroom was dim, lit only by floating lanterns and the faint glow from a cauldron at the back. A thin steam curled up from the brewand Snape stood beside it, ladle in hand, as if Remus's arrival was as inconvenient as it was inevitable.
“The Wolfsbane is ready,” Severus said without looking up. “Drink it here. I’m not bottling it this time.”
Remus stepped in, letting the door close behind him with a soft click. “No trust in me, Severus?”
Severus turned then, slowly, with that same unreadable expression Remus remembered from school. The one he wore like a mask. Too practiced to be anything but armor.
“Let’s not pretend this is about trust, Lupin,” Severus said quietly. “You’re a risk. Everyone knows it. I’m simply minimizing it.”
Remus offered a wan smile. “Of course.”
He moved forward and took the goblet offered to him. The potion smoked faintly, thick and bitter. He could already taste it on the back of his tongue.
He drank.
Silence stretched between them as the last dregs slid down his throat. When Remus finally lowered the goblet, Severus had already turned away, returning to the cauldron like he couldn’t bear to linger in the same moment. Remus watched him for a time. Watched the way Severus’s shoulders stayed too tense, the way he stirred with unnecessary precision.
“Thank you,” Remus said at last.
Severus froze. Not dramatically. Just a subtle pause, like a note held a beat too long in the wrong part of a song.
“You’re welcome,” he said, though it sounded more like a curse. He didn’t turn around. “Though I’m sure you’d prefer someone else brewing it. Dumbledore’s idea, of course. As always.”
“I asked him not to force you,” Remus said gently. “I didn’t want to reopen… things.”
Severus scoffed - a quiet, sharp sound - but gave no other sign he’d heard.
Remus stood in silence, setting the goblet down on a nearby desk, his eyes lingering on Severus’s back. When the quiet stretched just a bit too long, he added softly, “I mean it. Thank you. For the potion. For helping.”
Severus didn’t answer at first. He just stirred, over and over, until the mixture began to shimmer. Then, finally, he said:
“I’m not doing this for you.”
Remus nodded. “I know.”
As Remus turned to go, hand on the door-
“You should rest, Lupin.”
Remus paused, fingers brushing the cold brass handle. Severus still faced the cauldron, but something in his posture had changed. Less guarded. Or perhaps more.
“I will,” Remus said gently. “And Severus, if you ever want to talk. About… anything.”
Silence again.
But just before the door clicked shut behind him, Remus heard a quiet answer.
“…Goodnight, Remus.”
And it was the gentlest he’d ever heard Snape say his name.
Chapter 4: Why Do I Keep Bumping Into You - Draco x Ron
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It was getting ridiculous.
First time: Flourish and Blotts. Ron reached for Quidditch Through the Ages , and Draco’s hand collided with his. An awkward pause, a muttered, “After you,” and they both walked off in opposite directions pretending it hadn’t felt like a spark.
Second time: the Leaky Cauldron, two nights later. Ron knocked over a chair trying to avoid Draco in the narrow passage between tables, only for Draco to catch his elbow. “Honestly, Weasley, are you stalking me?”
Ron snorted. “Please. If I was, I’d pick someone better.”
But he blushed all the same.
Third time: the Ministry archives. Same file. Same hour. Same startled glance when their fingers brushed over a page.
“You’ve got to be doing this on purpose,” Draco said, eyes narrowed but not unkind.
“You wish,” Ron grumbled. “I don’t even like you.”
Draco tilted his head, something smug in his smirk. “You sure about that?”
Ron opened his mouth. Closed it.
And when it happened a fourth time, on a rainy Tuesday, in the line at the bakery, they didn’t bother pretending it was coincidence anymore.
Draco just sighed, stepped closer, and murmured, “Alright, Weasley. Your move.”
Chapter 5: Sunday Mornings - Dean x Seamus
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Dean woke first, as usual. The light was just starting to filter through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the duvet, and Seamus was wrapped around him like a vine with one leg thrown over Dean’s and his head tucked into the crook of his neck, hair a wild mess that tickled Dean’s chin.
He didn’t mind. Not even a little.
Carefully, Dean shifted, pressing a kiss to Seamus’s hair before sliding out of bed. Their flat smelled like paint and toast because Dean never put his brushes away and Seamus never turned off the toaster in time.
The kettle whistled. Dean poured two mugs of tea, one just the way Seamus liked it (too much sugar, a splash of milk, a ridiculous little shamrock charm that floated on top because “it’s lucky, Dean, don’t mock it”).
By the time he returned to the bedroom, Seamus was blinking awake, squinting at him like he couldn’t decide if he was dreaming.
“You made tea,” he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
“I always do.”
“Marry me.”
Dean laughed, setting the mug in his hands. “Already said yes, remember?”
Seamus grinned, sipping his tea with closed eyes and a soft sigh. “Right. Just makin’ sure.”
And Dean watched him, heart full, wondering how something so simple could feel like magic.
Chapter 6: Pumpkins & Pixie Dust - Ginny x Luna
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The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and roasted pumpkin as Ginny stirred a bubbling cauldron of spiced cider with her wand, humming along to a scratchy Celestina Warbeck record. Outside, leaves rustled like whispered secrets against the windows, and tiny enchanted bats fluttered lazily across the ceiling.
Luna floated into the room barefoot, wearing a crown of dried orange blossoms and a jumper covered in cat hair. “I charmed the jack-o'-lanterns,” she said dreamily, holding up her wand. “One of them giggles when you tickle its stem.”
Ginny turned and grinned. “Of course you did.”
Luna crossed the kitchen to wrap her arms around Ginny’s waist from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder. “You smell like sugar and bonfire,” she murmured.
“And you smell like hay bales and moonlight,” Ginny replied, leaning back into the embrace.
They spent the afternoon like that. Luna sketching constellations in icing on sugar cookies shaped like thestrals and dirigible plums, while Ginny roasted seeds and made ridiculous faces on pumpkin pies. And they took turns enchanting the candy bowl to jump at anyone who tried to sneak chocolate too early.
As the sky darkened and the first trick-or-treaters began to ring the enchanted bell, Ginny slipped a knitted scarf around Luna’s neck, fingers brushing the soft skin beneath her ear.
“Happy Halloween, Loony.”
Luna smiled, eyes glowing brighter than any jack-o’-lantern. “With you, it always is.”
Chapter 7: The Warmth Between Stars - Sirius x Remus
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The storm tapped gently at the windows, a soft, persistent rhythm that wrapped the cottage in a hush. Inside, the fire crackled low, casting a sleepy golden glow over the sitting room where three shapes nestled on the threadbare couch in a tangle of limbs, wool blankets, and the faint scent of hot cocoa.
Harry lay between them, one tiny socked foot tucked beneath Remus’ knee, the other pressed against Sirius’ ribs. His glasses had slid a little down his nose, but he was fast asleep, breathing soft and even, lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks.
Sirius exhaled, head tilted back against the worn cushion. “He fell asleep right in the middle of telling me why he thinks Hippogriffs could beat dragons in a fight. I didn’t have the heart to argue.”
Remus smiled, brushing Harry’s hair back with steady fingers. “You wouldn’t have won that argument anyway. He’s got your stubborn streak.”
“My charm, too,” Sirius said, grinning.
Remus raised an eyebrow. “Don’t push it.”
There was a beat of silence. Then, Sirius’ voice, lower, gentler. “Do you think he’s really okay? After everything?”
Remus looked down at the boy between them, at the scar on his forehead softened by sleep and the weight of the world momentarily lifted. He answered carefully. “He’s healing. And he’s safe. That’s more than he had for a long time.”
Sirius nodded, his hand coming to rest over Harry’s chest, feeling the steady heartbeat there. “I never thought I’d be any good at this,” he whispered. “Parenting.”
“You don’t have to be perfect,” Remus said, leaning in to rest his head against Sirius’ shoulder. “You just have to be here. And you are.”
Outside, the rain fell softly, a lullaby against the night. Inside, Harry stirred in his sleep, one hand reaching out. Sirius caught it gently. Remus tucked the blanket higher.
And in that quiet warmth, between flickering firelight and the steady pulse of love, the world felt, for once, like it was exactly as it should be.
Chapter 8: The Quiet Between Laughter - James x Sirius
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The Gryffindor common room had long emptied, save for the two of them curled near the fireplace, knees knocking gently beneath a shared blanket. James had fallen quiet, an unusual stillness replacing his usual boisterousness. Sirius watched him in the flickering firelight, cataloguing the rare softness in his friend’s expression, the tilt of his lips, the far-off look in his eyes.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Sirius murmured, nudging James with his shoulder. “That’s dangerous for a bloke like you.”
James smirked, but didn’t look at him. “Just thinking about… everything. Seventh year. What’s next.”
Sirius hesitated. “You’re not leaving me behind, are you?”
That made James glance over, brow furrowing. “What? Of course not.”
Sirius’s voice dipped, barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I wonder if… when everything changes… if you’ll still need me.”
James shifted, drawing Sirius closer without needing to say a word. “Don’t be daft. You’re part of my everything , Padfoot.”
Sirius swallowed hard. “Even if I want more than friendship?”
The silence stretched, but not uncomfortably. James reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind Sirius’s ear with surprising gentleness.
“I know,” he said softly. “I think I’ve known for a while. Just didn’t want to ruin what we had.”
“And now?” Sirius asked, breath catching.
James smiled, eyes crinkling. “Now I think we’re too bloody brilliant together to ruin anything.”
And when Sirius leaned in, James met him halfway. The kiss was warm, tentative, a question asked and answered in the quiet between laughter.
Chapter 9: The Quiet Between - Remus x Sirius
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The fire crackled softly in the Gryffindor common room, its glow flickering across Remus’s book and Sirius’s restless hands. Most of the castle had gone to bed long ago, but neither of them seemed inclined to leave the comfort of the couch.
Sirius stretched out, head dropping onto Remus’s lap without asking. He never asked.
“You’ll wrinkle the pages,” Remus murmured, not looking up from his book.
“You’ll survive,” Sirius smirked, eyes slipping closed. “You always do.”
Remus’s fingers stilled for a moment over the text, then hesitantly settled in Sirius’s hair, carding through it like it was second nature.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was warm. Familiar. Full of all the things they never said out loud.
“I like it like this,” Sirius said softly, almost a whisper. “When it’s quiet, and it’s just us.”
Remus smiled faintly, thumb brushing behind Sirius’s ear. “Me too.”
And for once, Sirius didn’t make a joke or ruin the moment. He just tilted his face into Remus’s hand and closed his eyes.
They didn’t need words. Not tonight.
Chapter 10: When the Night Breaks - Draco x Harry
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The nights were the hardest.
Harry knew the sound before he opened his eyes: gasping, strangled breathing, the soft thud of Draco’s fists against his own chest, like he could punch the memories out of himself.
He sat up instantly, sheets pooling at his waist. “Draco,” he said, gently but firmly.
Draco didn’t respond, curled in on himself near the edge of the bed, trembling. The moonlight through the window ghosted across his pale skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat on his brow. His back was to Harry, but the sharp rise and fall of his shoulders gave him away.
Another nightmare. Again.
Harry reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before he let it settle against Draco’s spine. “It’s not real,” he murmured. “You’re here. You’re safe.”
Draco flinched but didn’t pull away. That, Harry had learned, was permission.
“I can still smell it,” Draco rasped, voice raw. “The fire. The blood. I closed the door on him, I-”
Harry’s arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him close, grounding him. “We all did things we regret. But you came back. You chose this side. You chose me. ”
Draco turned then, burying his face in Harry’s neck. “You still have them too.”
Harry nodded, pressing a kiss to Draco’s temple. “Every night. But waking up next to you makes it bearable.”
They stayed like that for a long time. Two soldiers who survived a war that never really ended, not in their minds.
Eventually, Draco’s breath evened out. Harry didn’t sleep again that night. He just held him, staring at the ceiling, waiting for morning and hoping it wouldn’t come with screams.
But if it did, they’d face it together.
Like they always had.
Like they always would.
Chapter 11: Ashes Between Us - Severus x Sirius
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The rest of the Order had filtered out hours ago, but neither of them had moved.
Snape lingered in the corner, shadows curling around him like smoke, arms folded tight across his chest. Sirius nursed a drink by the hearth, shoulders slouched and hair unkempt, the picture of weariness and grief in equal measure. Grimmauld Place creaked and groaned around them, the old house holding its breath.
For once, neither man had anything to prove.
"Still sulking, Snivellus?" Sirius muttered without looking up.
Snape’s lip curled out of habit, but there was no bite behind it. “And you’re still trying to drown the past in firewhisky.”
Sirius shrugged. “It only works until I remember I’m back in this mausoleum.”
A silence stretched.
“You’re not who I thought you’d be,” Sirius said finally, voice low. “Not anymore.”
Snape blinked at him, surprised. “Is that a compliment or an accusation?”
“Don’t know.” Sirius swirled his glass. “Maybe both.”
The flames cracked in the hearth, casting long shadows across the dusty bookshelves.
Snape stepped forward, slowly. “I never asked for your forgiveness.”
Sirius looked up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time. “Good. Because I don’t think either of us deserve that.”
Snape nodded. It was a rare thing—agreement. Recognition, maybe. Mutual failure.
“But,” Sirius added, after a beat, “maybe we could stop tearing each other apart.”
Snape’s voice was quiet. “Maybe.”
The house groaned again as if in relief, and for the first time in years, they didn’t look away.