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Chapter Text

Damp deep-green meadows and bare trees covered the lands of Wiltshire, marked by the ongoing weeks of raw weather. Only a lordly manor house and its grounds at the end of a private lane indicated the beginning of Advent season with a dusting of snow, curiously stopping abruptly at the property line. Behind the tall and thick laurel hedges hundreds of fairy lights, hanging from tall ancestral trees, illuminated the grey of the morning with a golden glow.

Inside Malfoy Manor even more merry lights ensured that there was not a single shadow left throughout the opulent rooms and hallways. Sparkling silver ribbons and pastel-coloured ornaments festooned the bannisters and the mantelpieces of the huge fireplaces. Some of the more ancient and aristocratic house-elves also set up some Yule décor. The natural materials mixed in beautifully with the colourful, sparkling Christmas knick-knacks. Yule logs covered in pinecones and small branches, crystal figurines of mushrooms, stags, and goats, and occult wreaths enclosing Pegan symbols like Pentagrams and Keltic Knots definitely sparked nostalgia in Draco Malfoy. It beautifully melted the pureblood customs to celebrate the winter solstice with the cheerful touch of Christmas that his wife once bestowed on him.

Draco, still dressed in his silken morning gown, his long hair carelessly put up in a messy bun, strolled around the endless corridors, trying to get a glimpse of every room of his stately home. He kept greeting and congratulating each and every elf he saw on his way. 

“Such a beautiful wreath, Hoopy”, he said and continued his journey from the kitchen to the formal sitting room, “Lilsey what a jolly Christmas tree! Oh, would you shift this ornament into one of the less formal rooms, please? We don’t want to scare off guests, now do we?” 

He sceptically eyed a wood-carved ornament; huge, pointy antlers covered in ancient runes enclosed a pentagram. It sure looked striking, but even 22 years after the war, Draco had a reputation to maintain, too valuable to be questioned upon an utterly Dark-Magic-looking Yule decoration.

“Marvellous!” Draco declared upon entering his favourite parlour, merrily decorated in pastels and floating candles, “Splendid work, Codrey.” The elf bowed in acknowledgement before he continued to decorate a lavish Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Draco’s cheerful mood grew even bigger when his phone rang, audibly vibrating on a side table next to a light blue settee. There was no need to check – only one person in the world would call him on a phone. He picked up the familiar yet truly peculiar Muggle device and relaxed into the settee, accepting the video call.

“Scorpius, my dear boy! How are you?”

“Hi Dad. Oh, you know… How are you?” Scorpius drawled, looking pale and troubled.

“I’m doing great. What is it, darling? You look so upset. And where even are you? Are you in a broom cupboard?” Draco was glad to have this phone to see his son. Otherwise they would be limited to letters and there was no way Scorpius would have put anything of this mood into a letter. His written words were always kind and thoughtful, but never as blunt as he could be in an actual conversation.

“No, I’m in an empty classroom. Just sitting against a wall.” Scorpius’ white-blond, sleek hair fell from the crown of his head down over his dark eyebrows into his slate grey eyes, and Draco felt the urge to push the strands out of his face.

“Oh, I see,” Draco said, pursing his lips. “Is he still not talking to you?”

Scorpius looked like he was holding a breath, obviously contemplating his words and Draco didn’t push him. Finally, his son sighed. “Yes, no, I mean- We did talk yesterday. That’s the problem.”

“You mean, you and Albus had a fight?” Draco asked and after another sigh, Scorpius said, “Well, yes.”

“Alright then,” Draco swiftly pulled his wand and conjured a steaming hot cup of tea. “Tell me all about it. What did he say? Maybe an argument was exactly what you two needed.”

“I’m not sure. At least he said that it has nothing to do with me speaking to Rose. That’s something, I suppose. But,“ his eyes flickered over the screen, before he spoke again, “But he said his dad doesn’t want us to be friends. And then his dad came to Hogwarts last month as a guest lecturer for DADA and they had a fight, apparently. Dad, I…”

Scorpius shifted around a little before standing up and sitting down on a chair. Sipping his tee, Draco decided not to interrupt his son even though a wild range of thoughts crossed his mind upon the revelation of Potter telling his son to unfriend his Scorpius. “Look. When his dad was here and the others were mocking Albus – like, very cruelly, don’t even get me started – and then Mr Potter wanted to speak to Albus alone. So I left them alone. Of course, right?”

“Of course,” Draco agreed and sipped his tea, frowning.

“And when Albus came back to the common room, he was angry at his dad and at me too. See, I must’ve said something wrong then. I said something like, his dad probably had his reasons and that there must be some kind of misunderstanding – there must! And then Albus said, Sure, he must be right – he always is! I’ll better be listening to him and stop talking to you , and I told him that I just wanted him to get along with his dad again. Well, you know the rest of the story… Not one word in six weeks. Anyhow. Yesterday we tried to talk, and I was very, very careful with what to say. But when I finally asked if his dad was still angry with him, he just snapped at me and asked me which side I was on.”

Absently, Scorpius started flicking a little brooch pinned to his robes. Draco knew it was his favourite thing, and you could hardly spot Scorpius without the little silver scorpion on his chest. It also happened to be a gift from Albus. “I don’t get it, dad. He tried to talk to me about classes and I messed it up. But I just want to be there for him. He’s been through so much.”

“So have you,” Draco said with a shaky smile, touched by Scorpius’ kindness.

When Astoria died five years ago, Draco and Scorpius had been devastated. They had always known that the lethal blood curse that ran in her family would take its toll eventually but there was simply no way to prepare his ten-year-old boy of what was to come. Even the thought of his first year at Hogwarts barely sparked any joy in Scorpius while Draco frantically tried to hold himself together. They mourned and after some weeks mainly spent in a deafening silence, they started to speak again, very quietly. Step by step they started to enjoy things again in their now shrunken family; they picked up Scorpius’ homeschooling again, food finally stopped tasting stale, and Draco even taught Scorpius a ball dance. A task Scorpius’ mother had started months ago but was never able to finish.

They were two instead of three now. It bound them together, deeply so, after the first shock.

But at times, there had been no way for Draco to get through to him. He felt Scorpius’ insecurities, shying away from people; he’d rather read a book or spend time with his dad than playing with peers. Talking to him hadn’t felt like talking to a child anymore. But Draco was glad that Scorpius was eager to learn all the same. He taught him math and astronomy, French and Latin, cutting potion ingredients and flying a broom, the four elements and philosophy. Their studies had radically picked up in pace in contrast to the years before his mother’s death.

Draco had feared the day to let him off to Hogwarts. Their grief was still so fresh and their new-found confidence very fragile. But then a wonderful thing had happened. Scorpius met Albus Potter. Albus Potter of all people. But it turned out that they were sorted to be fellow Slytherins and that Scorpius almost didn’t seem depressed when he had come home for his first Christmas holidays that year. And Draco had learned that Albus was a lonely boy, taunted for being sorted into Slytherin as a Potter, taunted for his allegedly underwhelming magical abilities, not living up to his father’s legacy.

If anything, the longer he knew the youngest Potter boy, he started to remind Draco of his own childhood. Especially with the things Scorpius had just said. A father who was keen to dictate his friendships, who came to school to reprimand his son. He couldn’t deny that he did not only feel incredibly sad for his Scorpius, but for Albus, too. Draco has only met him briefly several times, but he always mused why Albus never came over to the Manor or why the two boys hadn’t met elsewhere during the summers. Draco would have understood if Potter weren’t a fan of Malfoy Manor, but part of him wished, he would simply see the house. It has changed a lot since Voldemort had occupied his home; it’s been repainted and most wings were completely renovated, rooms and stairs had changed positions in Draco’s and Mother’s attempt to forget what had happened there.

Unknowingly mimicking his son, Draco sighs before he utters his thoughts at last. “Listen. Three things, darling. First of all, you are a good person and a good friend. And no one, not even the Harry Potter can say anything else. So don’t ever think this is your fault. Second, Albus and his dad both are dreadfully unreasonable and ill-tempered. Third – you are a Slytherin, though. Find out what Albus wants to hear. Charm him. You know him well.”

“Yeah, but it won’t change the fact that Mr. Potter hates me. Why does it have to be Harry Potter?! He’s such an intriguing person from what I’ve read about him. You must’ve been a pain in the arse to him in school…”

“Language,” Draco scolded him but smirked and felt a little relief rush through his system when Scorpius chuckled a little. “We were rather obnoxious teenagers in our Hogwarts years, I’m afraid. Don’t you worry about that. Just talk to Albus and try not to take his dad under your wings again,” Scorpius protested reluctantly, but Draco ignored him, “He’s not looking for a spiritual advisor but a friend in you right now. And you are going to have a much easier time advising him when you two are on good terms with each other.”

Scorpius thought for a moment, then nodded. “I know what you mean. I’ll try, I guess.” He paused briefly and something joyful sparked in his eyes that reminded Draco very much of the little boy Scorpius once was. “Are the decorations set up yet?”

With a fond smile Draco nodded and turned the camera to show the parlour and allow Scorpius a glimpse of the hallway. “Yes, I can’t wait to have you home for Christmas, chéri. Your room reflects your taste perfectly. I’m sure you’ll be delighted. Did you receive the package I sent you yet?”

The small smile on Scorpius’ face extended into a full-on grin. “Yeah, I did! What kind of chocolate is in it? The packaging wasn’t really clear about it.”

“Ah, ah. It’s an Advent calendar for a reason. You’ll have to see for yourself. I only advise you not to tell your Professors and to have no more than one piece a day. Don’t rip the whole thing apart, alright?”

Scorpius just rolled his eyes. “Dad, please … I’m not an impatient child. I’ll call you or Owl you on Tuesday when I open the first window. Or drawer or whatever it is. Looks fancy. Oh, next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend by the way. Can we meet there? And can I send you a list with books? I’m sure most of them are in our library but maybe one or two are not. Would you get them for me, please?” When he saw Scorpius’ eager eyes, Draco couldn’t help but laugh a little. He told his son that they would meet there and that he’d bring all the books he wanted.

Scorpius has always been indifferent about his schoolmates seeing his show of affection for his dad or his friends. So he simply didn’t care what others would say when he met his father on every other Hogsmeade weekend. Never had Draco agreed, let alone asked his father to meet him in Hogsmeade as a teenager.

“I’ll go up into the library now. The common room is just too crowded on Sundays…” Scorpius rolled his eyes at the mere idea of too many people around him and flicked his hair out of his eyes, locking them directly on the camera briefly. Sometimes Draco felt like he was looking at his 14-year-old self in a mirror when he saw his son. The same high cheekbones, slate grey eyes, almost white hair, pale skin, and slender figure. Yet his character was so utterly different. Kind and understanding, brave in a way Draco never was before he was in his thirties. But Scorpius had his dad’s wits and academic curiosity, Draco must give himself credit for that. “I’ll call you on Tuesday! Thanks for your advice, Papa. And for the Advent calendar. Love you!”

“And I you. Take care, my dear boy. I miss you.” Draco’s fond smile didn’t fade when they hung up and he drank the rest of his now cold tea. Musing about Scorpius and his friend, Draco’s gaze wandered over a set of Yule decorations on the mantelpiece. In between the pine branches stood a crystal figurine; a proud stag with showy antlers, gracefully frozen in his movement, one leg up, chest swollen, and his head turned sideways, away from Draco.

He needed to do something about Potter.

Chapter Text

Escaping all the buzzing talk, cheerful laughter, and blinding lights of a ridiculous amount of Christmas decorations on the halls of the Ministry, Harry rushed through the door into his office, pushing the door shut and casting a quick, wandless Colloportus. He took a deep breath and felt relieved within the familiarity of the room.

Huge bookshelves and some glass cabinets lined the walls of the Head Office of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There were no file cabinets in this room like there used to be when he had still been over at the Auror’s Office. With all the books, curious magical objects, a fancy looking Pensieve to one side of the room, and an imposing fireplace to the other, Harry was surrounded by pleasant things. At least, that would have been the case if his writing table hadn’t been covered in a mess of files.

The piles of folders and loose documents, sprawled across the desk and chairs and even the floor, would have looked unorganized to anyone except for Harry. He was the one responsible for the workload himself. Now that some of his meetings were finally done and he’s made an official statement on a new law that the Wizengamot successfully passed last week, Harry finally had the time to get some work done. The more important kind of work in contrast to representing the DMLE. He eagerly crossed the room and dropped down in his dark brown executive chair.

When he took in all the files, musing where to start, Harry noticed a small potted cactus on his desk that he had never seen before. A solitary, red bauble hung from its curved top. “Oh, Merlin,” Harry muttered to himself. He didn’t like the idea of someone invading his workspace, and he had an idea of who this someone must have been. With some anger swelling up in his chest, he went to his fireplace and forcefully threw some of his Floo powder in it.

“Gin!” he called into an empty office that looked more like a comfortable sitting room. “Gin, you there?”

Only a few seconds later he heard a door open and close before his ex-wife came into view. “You sound pissed,” she greeted him a little too cheerfully.

“Have you been in my office?” Harry asked unceremoniously. “What’s with the cactus?”

She smirked, sat down in the cosy armchair by the fireplace and crossed her legs. Harry already felt a nervous twitch in his hands as Ginny was getting comfortable like she was preparing for a long conversation. “The cactus? Well, it’s a Christmas decoration. People have these around by the end of the year, you know. Also, it’s a phallic symbol even if not a very promising one.”

“You know I hate unnecessary decorations in my office space. And what’s that even supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means, you big blunderbuss,” she said with a shrug, happily starting to crunch a cookie.

Even if Ginny still was one of his closest friends, Harry lost his patience with her lately. She sometimes appeared in his office unannounced and she had a new habit of leaving little gifts or notes around. Most of them were hints about Harry’s lack of dates or serious relationships. Or his sex life for that matter. Harry felt like she’s been intruding, getting much too close for comfort. Especially considering the fact that they were exes.

With a sigh Harry shifted a little uncomfortably on his knees. “I’ve had it with your shenanigans, it’s annoying. I don’t have any time for your weird gifts. Isn’t your job demanding enough? No sports events for the Prophet to report on in winter or what’s your problem?”

Ginny laughed and Harry just rolled his eyes. He was not in a mood for this. “Oh, you will have time,” she said and took another cookie from the plate. “I’ve been speaking to your lovely assistant when I dropped by. Want a cookie? They are treacle tart flavoured.”

Reluctantly Harry accepted, and Ginny used the fire tongs to shove half a cookie into Harry’s mouth in the fire. “What do you mean, I will have time? I have plenty of files to work through, I need to supervise the cases and there was something wrong in the Investigative Department. It looked like someone fucked up the job and I don’t trust MacGavin. The tosser papered over the fact that he messed up a case once, I just couldn’t prove it. Won’t happen again. And there’s still a vacant officer position. They have to find someone to fill-”

“Merlin, you are such a control freak,” Ginny stuffed the other half of the cookie into Harry’s mouth to shut him up. The sweet, syrupy flavour mixed in with aches, flying into his mouth from Ginny’s swift movement. “You do know that you are talking about the duties of the Head of the Auror Office, right? Why did you ever consider the promotion if you can’t let go? You can’t do both jobs.”

Glaring at her, Harry simply chewed his cookie and felt his knees go numb from the awkward position in front of the fireplace. “Well, thank you very much. I can take care of myself, Gin.”

“Mhm. Sure, whatever. Harry?” Her tone got a little sharper. “Don’t forget to ask James about his Quidditch match last weekend. I won’t spoil the results for you. But he and Rose are such a good team – ‘s all I’m saying.

An unpleasant feeling settles in Harry’s stomach. “Yeah, right the game. I, er, I told him I wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“I just said, you should ask him about it.”

Ginny surveyed him intently and Harry tried not to look too guilty, suppressing the urge to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. “Yeah, right. You’re right, Gin. I’ll owl him today. But I need to get some stuff done now. It’s, er- Good talk, Gin. Tell Padma I said hi. See you.” He quickly pulled his head out of the flaring fire and stayed sitting on the floor for a little longer.

Harry couldn’t believe that it was December already. Frankly, he couldn’t even believe that it was 2020 already. There were loads of work to do and he noticed that he hadn’t even spent a minute thinking about the upcoming holidays. “Planner, remind me to write to James, this evening, 9 o’clock,” he dictated to the empty room and an eager quill started to scribble down the note in his thick leather journal.

He was just getting up from the floor when someone tried to open the locked door, then knocked strictly. “Mr Potter, may I come in?”

Groaning in annoyance, Harry mumbled the Unlocking Charm. He knew that he didn’t stand a chance against his assistant when he went as far as to talk through the door to him. Aubyn Bulstrode emerged in the room right away, a wide smile on his face, just like usual. He was a cheerful and bright man, a good ten years younger than Harry, and his personal assistant for more than a decade now. Even when Harry was grumpy with one of the officers, outraged by an oblivious Ministry official or simply stressed out about what to wear to an important Ministry function he couldn’t dodge, Harry hadn’t seen Bulstrode frown a day in his life. 

Bulstrode came in with his clipboard in hand, a fancy peacock quill Levitating next to his gold-blond waves of luxuriant hair. He was dressed in lavender robes with floral patterns on them, deliberately ignoring the Ministry dress code. But he always got away with that because Harry couldn’t care less about his assistant’s clothes. “You have a huge crush on him”, Ginny had said a few years ago, eying Harry with a grin. This thought – that wasn’t true but then again, it wasn’t not true either – hit him now that Bulstrode eyed at the little cactus on Harry’s desk and he felt some heat rise in his cheeks.

“Wonderful, nice décor, Mr Potter. I’m sure it wouldn’t look as… lost if you allowed me to put some Christmas garlands up around the shelves and the fireplace. I’m glad you’re partaking in the festivities this year.” He shot Harry a look and quickly excused himself while snatching his quill out of the air. “I mean- Obviously, there is no need for that. Whatever you fancy, Mr Potter.”

Bulstrode cleared his throat and had a short look on the clipboard before he lowered it. “I entered all the upcoming official functions and all the Christmas events you’re invited to in your planner; one list sorted by date, one by importance and – I’ve taken the liberty to assume – one list sorted by your preferences. You should attend at least two of the Christmas galas – everything less would appear very inadequate. So please let me know if you need any help to choose your gala robes. I’ll have them pressed in time.”

“Urgh… yeah okay,” Harry pulled a face and sat down in his chair. “What else?”

Shooting him a careful look, Bulstrode cleared his throat again. “Yes, uhm. Alright, here we go. The Personnel Department noted that you haven’t taken any time off all year. And last year and the year before that. For reasons of occupational safety, they request you on a leave. Your holidays are starting tomorrow and last till New Year’s.”

“What? New Year’s?” Harry gasped. “That’s a whole month! No way, I-“

“Don’t bother to get started. I can’t change their minds,” Bulstrode gestured wildly and started to levitate the clipboard and the quill next to him again. “Frankly, I’m glad they make you take some time off. These bags forming under your eyes are rather ungainly, with all due respect, Mr Potter.” Bulstrode’s mouth curved up in a reassuring smile. “It’s Christmas season. Time will certainly fly. And I mustn’t remind you of what happened to the Head of the DMT. That poor gentleman didn’t spend a month on a merry holiday but in St. Mungo’s due to exhaustion! You will simply have to act on their request, I really must insist.”

Sighing and glancing over the files on his desk, Harry surrendered. “Fine,” he said, “Is Ginny behind that?”

“Mrs Potter-Patil might have mentioned her connections to the Personnel Department earlier today.”

“Great.” Harry buried his face in his hands. “Would you send me a few files home at least? I can’t sit around doing nothing.”

He agreed a little reluctantly and told Harry that it wouldn’t be all that bad. There were hardly any important appointments by the end of the year and maybe, hopefully, he wouldn’t hate some of the upcoming Christmas events. Bulstrode told him with glee in his eyes, “They can hardly count as work if you’d ask me. I’m invited to some of them as well!”

After a few more words, his assistant left Harry to have at least some of his work done before evening. He surveyed some of the files, making sure that the cases were reported correctly, and took some notes on promising Aurors who would be a perfect fit for a promotion. When he looked through a case of the Investigative Department, one of the documents was filed by his godson. Harry took a mental note to make some use of his forced time off, and to invite Ted over for dinner sometime soon.

It was dark outside when Bulstrode knocked again and told Harry there was a visitor for him. “He said it’s about your kids, Mr Potter. Nothing bad happened, but he insisted that he needs to speak to you.” It didn’t escape Harry’s notice that Bulstrode looked somewhat excited. It reminded Harry of the one time, Bulstrode announced that Victor Krum was waiting for Harry in the lounge.

“It’s Mr Draco Malfoy, sir.”

Chapter Text

Draco swallowed down his nerves and put on his schooled polite smile when he entered Harry Potter’s office. “Potter!” he said as soon as they caught each other’s eyes, hopefully not sounding too eager as he tried to settle for a civil tone. “Long time no see.”

Potter gaped at him with an unreadable expression that sent Draco equal vibes of confusion, awe, and disgust. It took Draco only a glimpse to notice that the Saviour looked a little stressed. He was much less buff than he used to be in his Auror years, and he looked a little worn out. His dark wavy hair, his tortoiseshell round frames, and his very green eyes though reminded Draco of the boy he used to know in school. Different yet familiar. But instead of too large Muggle hoodies and washed-out jeans, he wore a brown plaid suit with a white button-up shirt, a blue tie with elaborate patterns, neatly pressed trousers, and burgundy lace-ups. Draco was almost surprised, but then again – he was meeting the Head of the DMLE. Of course, Potter would be dressed just as fine as at the charity events and Ministry functions where Draco occasionally saw him; sitting mostly by himself in the corner of the room, an irritated yet intimidating expression on his face and a tumbler in hand.

Also, Potter sported a short stubble beard now. Draco couldn’t deny that he was good-looking despite the lack of glee and determination that once were the essence of his expression, at least in Draco’s memory. An expression that once had sent exciting, fluttery vibrations through Draco’s chest in their school years prior to Father’s imprisonment. And the dreadful years that followed left no room for any weird crushes at all.

“What do you want, Malfoy,” Potter squeezed out at last without bothering with a greeting, his jaw clenched.

Taking a breath to hold back a snarky remark about Potter’s etiquettes, Draco tried to stick to his strategy of choice: Be cordial and blunt with Potter. “I hope I’m not interrupting your work, but I must ask to speak with you. Let’s discuss it over dinner, shall we? I know an excellent Muggle place nearby, and they serve the finest whisky. I’m sure you will like it, Potter.”

Potter went back to gaping at him. “You- er, what? Dinner ?” An incredulous laughter escaped his mouth and Draco pursed his lips. “What is this about, Malfoy? What do you want?”

"I said. We need to talk. Preferably over dinner.” When Draco saw his cold eyes and furrowed brows, he tried a little gentler, “Look, I’m trying to be polite. I want to talk about our children.”

But apparently even that couldn’t change his mind. Pulling a face, Potter spat, “I’m not having dinner with you. Speak or leave.”

Draco was losing his patience only the slightest bit. He took in the mess of files and loose sheets on the desk and all around it. Thin-lipped, he picked up two folders from one of the two chairs in front of Potter’s desk and put them on the pile in the other chair so that he could sit down. He would have much preferred to use magic for that, but the Ministry securities took his wand when he said whom he wanted to visit. When he looked back up at Potter, he had his wand drawn, aiming at Draco’s head. At least, Draco thought, some of his resolute willpower came back to his eyes, flaring with rage now.

Draco was sure that Potter was in control of his magic and that he wouldn’t simply attack a wandless visitor. So he only sneered at the threatening gesture. Instead of fear, this scene rather sparked some pity in him. With a wry smile, Draco courtly said, “Very well. Thank you kindly for your time and for offering me a seat. Excellent. Now- our dear children are very good friends despite your efforts to discourage Albus.”

“Don’t you dare speak about my son!” Potter blurted out angrily, flicking his wand a little.

“ Not speaking may very likely be the root of this problem, Potter. You don’t know Scorpius and yet you insist, he must be bad company for Albus.”

“A Malfoy always is bad company. Ever since he spent time with your kid, Al is an outsider! I don’t know why you told your son to become friends with Al, but I won’t let anything bad happen to him.” Potter forcefully pushed his chair away and sat down at quite a distance from his desk, finally putting his wand away. Even so he now looked even more ready for a fight than when he was armed.

“Ever since he became friends with Scorpius or ever since he attended Hogwarts?” Draco asked crisp. “He doesn’t exactly have an easy time at school with that surname of yours.”

Draco decidedly got up and Potter’s frown started to look rather confused than angry now. Draco had a bitter feeling that he might be better informed on Albus school experiences than his own father. “I didn’t come here to deal with your temper, Potter. I can accept that you can’t be civil with me. But since you seem to fuel your old grudges readily, I must ask you on behalf of both our sons not to load this farce onto them.”

Draco paced off, only turning around again briefly when he opened the door. “ Scorpius certainly is not the one who drives Albus away from you, Potter. Goodbye.”

~

When Harry tried to storm after Malfoy, it was too late. Of course, he wouldn’t have lingered around in the lounge in front of his office. The only trace left of him was a whispered, “My, this Draco Malfoy is such a handsome gentleman”, from Bulstrode to a colleague, which Harry deliberately chose to ignore, as well as the looks he got for running out into the hall and right back into his office. With a sure hand he reached under his desk and poured himself a finger of whisky. He fought himself for several minutes, resisting the urge to break something or to ignite the files on his desk.

Finally getting back to his paperwork Harry tried to shove all thoughts aside. Al, Gin, Malfoy, his office leave. But it just wouldn’t work. Musing replaced the rage that was slowly subsiding through his body. With a frustrated groan, he downed his whisky and left the Ministry without bothering to organise his files.

Instead of Apparating or Flooing home, he decided to walk through the heart of Central London where he worked and lived. He took a route through the Whitehall Gardens right outside the Ministry, following the flow of the Thames in the slight drizzle with his hands pocketed deep inside his coat, gaze down.

It was an infuriating feeling that there was some truth to Malfoy’s word. He’s actually never met the Malfoy boy, but he was just so sure that he would be no good. Especially not for someone like Al who’s much too kind to not be manipulated by a Slytherin. By Draco sodding Malfoy’s son, of all people.

Draco Malfoy who has been a cruel, haughty git for all his life. Someone who called people Mudblood. Who lied without caring about the consequences for others. A Death Eater - Harry instantly regretted this thought that had only been sparked by his anger, not his beliefs. Harry felt ridiculous when he tried to justify his tantrum, though. There simply couldn’t be a world in which Malfoy was politely discussing their sons over dinner. There was something there. There had to be.

When Harry lifted his gaze, he suddenly saw all the Christmas lights on the trees along the walkway next to the Thames. Of course, they had been there for all his walk; he just hadn’t realised. Now he properly saw the gracious scenery for the beautiful sight it was, even with the dank weather. He stood there for quite some time, simply watching the reflections of the city lights in the pitch-black water; breathing, finally stopping the unproductive musing, and forgetting about Warming and Impervius Charms before he vanished into the shadows of a tree and Apparated into his penthouse.

Chapter Text

If someone had told Harry that he would live in a five-bedrooms penthouse in Central London when he’d been a child, he would have thought they were mocking him. If someone had told him so when he’d been twenty, he would have laughed at them. Penthouses were ridiculously expensive in the heart of London and usually they were all too sleek for his liking. Even lines, lack of colour. He’d been to several London penthouses by now and most of them looked like actually no one even lived there. 

But when he and Ginny decided to annul their Wedding Bond, Harry had just been promoted Head of the Auror Office. After only a few days after their talk Ginny had entered the guest bedroom of their cosy cottage and told him that she had just found out that she was pregnant. It’s been a really messy time and when one of the other Ministry officials had offered him a perfectly Warded, all-secure penthouse with enough room for his soon-to-be-three kids and even a spare bedroom, he gladly accepted and emptied a huge amount of his vault at Gringotts. It was not like money ever mattered to him; neither did he take any pride in his wealth nor did he refrain from spending ridiculous amounts of money if he or his friends and family needed something.

His new home hasn’t been as cold and contemporary as he had feared it to be when he had his first tour. A huge sandstone fireplace separated the living space from the kitchen and Harry liked the idea of a flaring, cosy fire as the centrepiece of the huge space. Harry fell in love with the view from the kitchen all the way over the seating area and out of the massive glass fronts, sending him floating between his home, the busy London streets, and the endless sky above.

When he came home now, this was nothing but a fading memory. He usually Apparated right into the walk-in wardrobe, loosened his tie and struggled out of his suit; got ready for bed and went right to sleep.

This day however, Harry Apparated into the kitchen and went for his spare guest room, noticing that he hardly ever ventured into any parts of his home apart from his bedroom, the wardrobe, and his en-suite bathroom. He felt like a stranger to his own place.

Harry searched one of the built-in cupboards and took out a box that was labelled Kid’s stuff – clothes. When Harry found what he was looking for, it instantly struck him that Gin was right. He wouldn’t have thought of asking James about his match, and he did spend too much time working and too little time keeping in touch with his children. She never said it out loud, but it was written all over her face, her words, her dry remarks.

He sat down on the bed and clutched the kids’ mittens that he had fished out of the box to his chest. They were so much smaller than he remembered them. Al had worn them when he, James, Lily and Harry had visited Petunia’s grave for the first time. Harry had been desperately trying to share some fond memories of his aunt while searching the graveyard. So he told his kids that Aunt Petunia had loved her sister and that she had always made sure that Harry could stay with his aunt and uncle. They were family, even when it wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

But when they had finally found her grave, the memories had rushed through Harry’s mind in a way he only knew from the first years after the war. Knowing the way his chest felt like it was about to burst, breathing shallow and quick, he’d tried the only thing that had always helped back then: He counted. And he tried to slowly count as far as possible with every breath, steadily calming his respiration. While James and Lily quickly picked up a little snowball fight that they’d started earlier, fortunately oblivious to their dad’s approaching panic attack, Harry had unexpectedly felt a hand pressed into his.

“It’s alright,” his 9-year-old son had said. “I don’t think that it’s unkind if you have bad memories about Great-Aunt Petunia, too. You can tell me about it if you want.”

And despite all his efforts, Harry had started to weep quietly, pressing Al’s hand that was covered in these ridiculously cute mittens in the shape of hedgehogs. It’s been ages that he had thought about this. But he remembered. He’ll never forget the moment he had looked down to find his fingers melting into Al’s gloved hand, his green eyes looking up at him, as sure and calm as his words. Harry’s heart ached when he thought about the way their relationship has changed ever since Al attended Hogwarts, and yes, maybe, maybe, he feared that Malfoy was right about the fact that this didn’t have much to do with his son.

Wiping away some tears, Harry went into his study and relaxed into his cushy armchair. In search for the right words, he tried to remember what he was like as a teenager. He tried to think about the things he liked, the things he was concerned about. Every time he tried, his thoughts instantly fell back on the fact that all of his school years resulted in a war. Sure, there had been more to it, but it was hard to remember it that way.

So Harry took his time. He conjured a whisky, leaned back and tried to relax. After a while he watched through some of his memories of his kids in the Pensieve in his study and he started to feel a lot less lonely. In the dead of night, he finally found the right words, and started writing to James and to Lily and, after taking a deep breath, to Al.

~ 

James,

Please tell me all about your Quidditch match last weekend! I asked your mum but she wouldn’t give anything away. I do hope that Rose is a good addition to the team and that you look after her. It can be very scary to be new to a team. I’m sorry that I couldn’t come to Hogwarts to watch the game. I’ll definitely be there for the next one!

 I know it’s been a while and I didn’t tell you before. But you were amazing when I taught your class in DADA. Your nonverbal jinxes were pretty impressive. I sure hope that you’re working on your Potions skills as well. You’ll need the Potions NEWT if you still want to be an Auror. My advice: Be precise when brewing and try not to get bored while cutting the ingredients evenly!

 I’m looking forward to seeing you on Christmas!

 Love,

Dad

~

Lily, 

How are your Mandrakes going? I know that you prefer working with plants that don’t talk back, so I hope they haven’t been too sulky lately. I’m sure Professor Longbottom can task you something on the side in case you’re bored in Herbology again. 

Please don’t be too upset about the Hogsmeade weekends. It’s only another year till you can go there yourself. To make up for it, I will send you some surprise sweets from WWW by Saturday. Better eat them before your brothers do! 

I’m looking forward to seeing you on Christmas! 

Love,

Dad 

~ 

Al,

I want to apologise to you. The last time we saw each other in Hogwarts, I haven’t been very fair to you and I’ve said things that I regret very much. I didn’t realise how much these words must have hurt you then. But I do now and I’m very sorry.

I should have been a better teacher that day. When I saw that you struggled with the Shield Charm I should’ve explained it better and give you some time. But instead of giving you a chance to understand how to do it, I expected you to be perfect from the onset. When I was your age, I hated Professors that treated their students that way and I’m not sure how I could forget about that. I get why you were angry at me.

But above all, I should have been a better father to you. Not only that day. I was very impatient with you even though I know that you have a tough time at Hogwarts. Please don’t ever think that you couldn’t talk to me. Whenever you want to talk about anything, I’ll listen to you - that’s a promise. I know that I will have to gain your trust on this.

Please tell me if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you. I know that it’s hard for you to speak to me sometimes. But just like that, it’s hard for me to deal with you when you won’t even say hi to me.

I will always love you and I can’t wait to see you at Christmas.

Dad

Chapter Text

Diagon Alley has always been a tough visit for Harry. He moved from the Boy-Who-Lived to the Chosen One to the Saviour of the Wizarding World. When people started to get at least a little more used to seeing him in person, he’d been promoted to Head of Auror Office. Now he’s been in an even higher Ministry rank than that, people literally stopped dead and made room for him when he crossed the street or entered one of the shops. At least, Harry has gotten a little bit more used to it over time, ridding himself of the embarrassment it usually caused him as a teenager and young adult. It also helped that he made it clear that he didn’t need two Auror bodyguards with him all the time like his predecessor did. 

So when he arrived at Diagon Alley and people turned their heads and gawped, he simply strolled along the familiar streets, enjoying the showcases in the windows of the shops instead of pacing right to his destination. If he was being honest with himself, another reason why he took his time to get to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was the fact that he had the time . He couldn’t remember the last time he went window shopping. Truth be told, he didn’t even remember the last time he did much shopping himself.

Eventually, he arrived at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and took his time to take in the sight of the peculiar shop at the corner of a street. Even though this shop mostly sparked joy in him, he needed to take a deep breath upon entering. The shop was crowded but not bursting with people since it was a weekday and barely noon. He kept his head down and tried to get right to the back of the shop. Though, he was recognised before he reached it.

“Mate! Good Goddric, c’mere!” Ron shouted through the whole shop and jogged down an aisle, pulling Harry into a tight hug with a few strong pats on his back. “It’s so nice to see you! How you doin’?”

Ron’s affection instantly sent feelings of guilt down his spine. Usually Harry felt like he was trying hard to keep in touch with his best friends, but now that he saw Ron and realised that it’s been at least two months that they’ve seen each other, he knew that he had lied to himself. So he tried to hug back as purposefully as possible, staying a little longer when Ron wanted to let go, and causing Ron to laugh cheerfully.

“I’m fine, I’m off work for the rest of the year. How are you?”

“Off, eh? Wouldn’t have thought I’d see the day that you take some time off, mate. You might be the one person spending more time working than Mione! Cuppa tea?”

They went to the back of the store where a little kitchenette magically started to get the kettle on. George was busy selling a bunch of exciting bath and shower products to some shyly interested witches but told them he would be with them in a few minutes. Harry noted that Ron was observing him closely as if he was trying to read his mind. But there was still a huge, genuine grin on his face and his true, blue eyes gleamed. “It’s so nice to see you,” he said again.

“Yeah, well-“ Harry tried to think of something to break the ice, even though he knew that he was the one being awkward. “It’s nice to see you, too. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. I think I told you to Floo in on Thursday nights for dinner. I never did.”

“You’re here now, mate. ‘s all that matters, really. Now, tell me! How come, you take some time off. Rest of the year, you said?” Ron pointed his wand at the whistling kettle and had it serve them a cup of tea before casting a Stasis on it. “Won’t let my brother have a cold one,” he commented while casting nonverbally.

Watching Ron handle the tea and making sure everyone was served well, reminded Harry much of the time after Ron had quit his job as an Auror. After he and Hermione had Rosie, they both took a few months off work. But Ron had decided that he didn’t want to come back to the Ministry. Instead he spent most of his time raising Rose, later Hugo too, and lent a hand to George at the shop. Ron turned out to be very talented in administering the shop’s inventory, kept an eye on the stock and never failed to deliver some fun ideas for new products. “It’s pretty much like running the house,” he had said back then in a rapture, “You gotta keep track on what everyone needs and then it’s time for fun and games.”

Harry smiled and felt a little more at home now that he remembered the endless hours he had spent in this shop during his twenties. “They actually needed me to take my holidays, it’s not that important. I was really stuck up in work lately, so it’s probably for the better. Tell me what you’re up to, mate.”

The smile on Ron’s face grew somewhat mischievous. “It’s Christmas! It’s always the best. Shop- and family-wise. Well,“ his grin slightly dropped, “I mean. It is. But it’s still weird now that Hugo is at Hogwarts. My… Second year! I tried to talk Mione into having another kid. But I’m not sure if she’s really up for it. I miss having the little ones in the house. So much.” Ron's nostalgic sigh turned into a chuckle. “You know what I miss the most? Dressing up as Father Christmas for Christmas Eve! Mate, their eyes when they look up at you. Merlin, I miss it. It’s always been the best thing!”

Harry agreed with a genuine laugh. As most of their family had children about the same age, Ron always happily volunteered to be their Father Christmas. And he’s been supremely good at it. He just had his way with kids; Ron always knew what to say, how to be hands-on and funny, good-natured but serious when needed. The kids had loved Father-Christmas-Ron before they all grew too old for it.

Ron first started dressing up as Father Christmas for their huge Christmas family parties for the other Weasley children. Bill and Fleur and their first two children pretty much right after the war was over, then a third one; Percy admitted, really abashed, that he had been in an on-and-off-relationship for quite some time and that he was going to be a dad in the early 00s, too. Not only did it feel very lovely to Harry to have children around and to see their loving parents; Harry also had the notion that it was exactly the right thing to do after the war. To raise a new generation. And little Ted had shown him how hard and confusing and incredibly life-changing it was to raise a baby into a toddler and slowly but surely into a child.

Ginny and he had talked about it much, but while Harry had been working cases as an Auror and Ginny had spent so much time travelling for her career as a Quidditch player, they hardly saw each other. Harry made clear that he wanted children, very dearly. One day she unexpectedly came back to London early and found Ron and Harry taking some beers after work, still discussing how Ron had saved Harry from a stray curse that day. Ginny had listened to their story and downed her first beer in five minutes. “Listen,” she’d interrupted them. “It’s the perfect time now. We’re having a baby,” she told them both, sincerely and collected. Ron cheered and wanted to congratulate them until Ginny told him that they still had to make the baby , though. Smiling a little smug but very fondly, she then turned to Harry who had become very quiet, knowing that it meant for Gin to take a lot of time off her professional Quidditch career, probably even to quit for good. “Now is the right time. You happy?” Harry was.

Just like in Harry’s own teenage-years, Christmas with the Weasleys had been everything. It was always warm and crowded, familiar and loud. He loved it. When James had been a baby, being in the Burrow for Christmas and holding his boy, his – it had been his favourite thing ever. And the best thing was, that Molly was always there to obsess over James together. “You see his nose? There, the curve, right here. It looks like mine, but it’s… It’s so much more. It’s perfect,” he had told Molly one Christmas Eve, a little drunk with egg punch and love. 

Then Ron had come in, chiming in his baritone voice that would send vibrations through your chest. He started to fill out the costume; his shoulders and chest had been much more muscular from years of working as an Auror in the field and – just like usual – he ate like a hippogriff in heat. And Ron told each of the children that were old enough – Teddy, Victoire and little Molly and Fred – three reasons why each had been particularly good this year, pretending to read from the palm of his hand. He told them that he’s very proud of them and that he’s sure that there will be the most exciting Christmas gifts waiting for them in the morning – but they still should make sure to sing a nice Christmas carol before bedtime, just to be sure.

 “Where is my godson!” he’d hollaed after they all awkwardly caroled a little Christmas song that Ron and George struck up with much joy. Harry carefully put James in Ron’s arms and almost had a heart attack when Ron raised James high in the air. But it was Ron and Harry trusted him so much, even with his James, that he had just tried to calm himself and watch them. Ron had told James then what a brave young man he was growing up to be, that he had his grandma’s eyes and his dad’s hair, and his mum’s cheeky grin. Harry hadn’t even bothered to hide that he was weeping. 

“We do need a young one around! Several, preferably,” Ron said with a dreamy smile, stopping Harry from indulging in his memories. 

“Well, measured by the amount of snogging Ted and Vic do, it can take no less than two years until your wish is granted, young brother.” George emerged in the back room, grinning and pulling Harry up into a hug. “Pleasure, Mr. Potter. You’re here over business?” He said in a professional tone but with a smirk and it took Harry a moment to realise that he was dressed in a quite formal suit that he’d usually wear for work.

“Urgh, picked that out of habit. I guess. What do you mean, Ted and Vic? They won’t rush into having a baby, will they?” Harry frowned.

The brothers laughed and George patted Harry’s shoulder, sympathetically saying, “My, rush ? Oblivious as per usual, our dear Harry, huh?”

“No! I mean- I do know they have a thing. I know they were snogging,” Harry said defiantly.

But Ron only smirked and shook his head. “Mate, have a thing ? They’ve been a couple for – what? – six or seven years now, innit? It’s not that unlikely for them to have a baby, you know.” 

The idea of Ted having a baby was very disconcerting to Harry. Seeing Ron and George here in the shop that has once been a retreat for him, speaking about his adult, yes adult , godson – Harry felt disconnected from time and from the life he trusted to live. Al has been avoiding him for four years. James was studying for his NEWTs and he would graduate in one and a half years. Harry’s penthouse was supposed to be a transitional home, now he has been living there for more than a decade. He’s been divorced for twelve years and didn’t even have a proper date ever since.

“Everything all right? You look pale, Harry,” Ron said with a little frown.

“I’m, er- I feel a little sick,” he managed to say and had to grab onto the edge of the table. He wanted to stand up. To escape. But Ron was suddenly right by his side, keeping him seated and holding his body in an upright position by his shoulders.

“What is it? Do you need anything? Water?” His eyes were worried, and he got a glass of water without waiting for Harry’s answer. Glad for something to do with his hands, he sipped and tried to catch his breath.

George patted his shoulder. “Still having panic attacks? It’s all right, Harry. We all been there.”

Taking another deep breath, Harry shakes his head. “No, don’t worry about it. I, er, just had a tough day yesterday. First Bulstrode told me that I’d be on a leave – think I’m okay with that now, though. But then Malfoy showed up in my office. The ferret,” he added when there wasn’t any shift of emotion in Ron’s face at the mention of this name, and Harry felt like an idiot again when he remembered the way he had talked to Malfoy.

“Draco Malfoy?” he tried again weakly, and Ron’s frown only deepened a little, melting confusion into his worried look.

“Malfoy, well, what did he want? Extra work to do now? I mean, he can be very demanding and if he comes to the Head of DMLE, it must-“

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Harry gestured a little helplessly and sipped his cold tea. Ron absently casted a Heating Charm on his cup. “He- Merlin, we haven’t seen each other in ages. Why don’t you hate him? You may have even used to hate him more than me!”

Scratching the back of his head, Ron retreated to his chair. “Mate, you must have seen him, like, hundreds of times. He’s at all the galas and Ministry events and stuff that Mione drags me to. Did you two never speak?”

“No, we did not. It’s not like I didn’t notice him or anything. It’s just- Why would I even talk to him?” When he mentioned Malfoy earlier, this was not the kind of conversation he had imagined they would have. Slowly but surely Harry had a feeling that he should start to question his expectations. Regarding loads of things.

“Oof, mate, I dunno. Mione and me, we’ve been seated next to him once and we talked. He wasn’t being a prat, and the two nerds were obsessing over Transfigurations or something. But that feels like a lifetime ago. His wife was still alive then, I remember. It’s not that we’re friends or anything but he isn’t the git he’s been in school. Or a, well – you know – Death Eater . Thought, he put on a show first. But I think he must be reformed a something. Mione thinks so, at least.”

Now Harry tried to revise this conversation with Malfoy. If and only if Malfoy had really tried to have a friendly conversation about their kids – and Merlin, Al and the Malfoy boy. And Malfoy’s wife. Harry actually knew , he read it somewhere or a colleague might have mentioned it, but he had totally forgotten about her and the fact that Malfoy was a widower. Merlin, he told his son to end his friendship with a boy who had lost his mother. And it must only be several years ago, too. “Ron, I think I’ve been an idiot.”

Ron hardly managed to suppress a laugh. “What did you do? Did you hex him?”

“No! No, I wouldn’t go as far- I think, I… Listen, mate. Happen to know if there’s a thing this week? Like an event-kind-of-thing? Maybe you’d know whether Hermione had something planned or...”

“Or Malfoy?” Ron smirked. “Want to apologise, eh? You’re lucky, mate. There is a gala ball this Friday night, Malfoy must be a special guest or something. And Hermione will be there, too. I wriggled out of it ‘cause she wants me to be with her at this other thing this Saturday. There’s no way I’m wearing dress robes twice in one week!” 

In the evening that day when Harry got home with some sweets for Lily securely bagged away, a familiar owl hopped around on his rooftop deck. Harry rushed to the glass door to slide it open, Accioed some owl treats and tied off the letter that was stuck to its leg.

Dad, 

I should’ve been a better son, too.

See you on Christmas,

Albus

PS: When I said this to Scorpius , he was the one who insisted I should owl you back. Just so you know.

Chapter Text

When Harry had Flooed in at the Ministry on Friday at lunch time, Bulstrode almost successfully kicked him out before Harry could ask him for advice. “No, look! There’s a charity event this eve-“

“Oh!” Bulstrode clapped his hands together and his face lit up. Harry knew the look and got ready for his assistant’s ramblings. “You must mean the Christmas CH:ARM! I’m so delighted, Mr Potter! I was hoping to see you there. Now,” he eyed him up and down, “you sure are here to discuss your wardrobe. It’s a white-themed gala ball but it might be improper to dress in white as you are not one of the major donors, I’m afraid. It’d suit you so well! Oh, you must have a boutonnière; a lovely Asphodel! It will be perfectly splendid. Perfect match. You can thank me later. But let’s go to a tailor right now, shall we? We wouldn’t want you to wear the same attire twice. There’s just about enough time – when we go to Zabelle at least. She’s very quick with needle and thread, and she’s got such a refined taste when it comes to men’s formal wear.”

And to the tailor they went. Harry, with his arms slightly raised and legs parted, listened to Bulstrode’s thoughts and explanations about the charity gala. “Just in case, Mr Potter. Press might be there! The Minister will be there! It would be dreadfully rude to come across as unprepared. Oh, Madam Zabelle, please make sure that Mr Potter can move properly. It is a ball dance, after all. No pressure, Mr Potter, don’t look at me like that.”

The tailor told Harry to move around the room as the thread will magically adjust to his movements. So he did and went over to a mirror, smoothened his hair a little and shoved his glasses up his nose properly. He wore a shiny black waistcoat over a crisp white button-down shirt. His black dress robes reached all the way down to his shins and were perfectly fitted. Not too loose and not too tight; maybe just a tat tighter than he’d usually wear for work. With every step he took, the flat heels of his dress shoes clattered dramatically on the marble floor.

“Now, I must apologize in advance, Mr Potter,” Bulstrode said with an embarrassed smile while he was fixing his bow tie in front of a full-sized mirror, glancing over to Harry in the reflection. “But my curiosity is getting the better of me. Did Mr. Malfoy ask you to be his plus one? Is that the reason he came in yesterday and why you want to attend the Christmas CH:ARM?”

“What?” Harry swallowed wrong and started coughing. Heat rose in his cheeks as he thought that coughing would look very suspicious. “No. He didn’t. He wanted to speak about our kids, just like he told you.”

“Oh. You do know he’s one of the speakers and organisers today, though.” His tone indicated that it was rather an observation than a question. Harry didn’t see his own reflection in the mirror, but whatever it was that his face said, it made Bulstrode smile sheepishly.

Bulstrode insisted that they shouldn’t arrive together at the venue. So Harry Apparated on his own and when he was eagerly greeted and escorted into the ballroom, he made sure that he could sit in the back of the long room with dozens of round tables and a stage at the far end.

After taking a look around, Harry understood why Bulstrode chose a dainty, snow-white Asphodel boutonnière for him. Apparently, the charity ball’s name CH:ARM was short for Curse Healing: Asphodel, Regermination Potion, Moonstone. That’s what a huge banner on the stage read. Above the line the St. Mungo’s crest was displayed; a cross of a wand and a bone, enclosed by white feathery wings that were charmed to waver softly every now and again. Floating candles, white ornaments and silvery ribbons added to the festive scenery.

As the event was a fundraiser, the orator who opened the stage said, the name should remind the hopefully generous donors of the simple and very much affordable ingredients of an innovative potion that was supposed to heal long-lasting, curse-inflicted wounds. “Maybe not the curse wounds caused by the Unforgivable Killing Curse,” the young witch who opened the event said in a joking manner with a bright smile and a charming gesture, “but then again – there is only one known case of such a mark.” And because she simply went on and only some faces on his table and the tables near him turned around to get a glimpse of Harry, he was sure he went relatively unnoticed so far.

They had dinner after the welcome and for some reason, the seven-courses menu had Malfoy written all over it in Harry’s mind. They had French cuisine with different soups and beautifully arranged canapés. Harry had no clue about most of the airy dips and smelly cheeses but enjoyed them without giving much thought to it. As the elderly witch next to him eagerly tried to engage him in conversation, Harry tried to build some bridges here and there, talking politics and giving standardized answers when she talked about her niece who was a Muggleborn and, apparently, was lead out of her trial by Harry before she spent some time on the run during the war.

Fortunately, her praise was interrupted when dinner was over, and more speeches followed. The young witch from earlier introduced Malfoy, apparently the mind behind this wonder-potion, as the first speaker and Harry already anticipated his slim figure, stiffly walking up the stage in his signature black suit and robes but, well.

Malfoy looked breathtakingly ethereal. His white, long hair flowed over his porcelain face and his shoulders like silk; the tails of his white, long and slim-fitted coat elegantly streamed behind him as he walked to the speaker’s desk with a confident stride. Instead of a formal bow tie, he wore a silver-shimmering ribbon around his collar, almost matching the decorations in the room. The huge wings, gently billowing behind him, only added to this otherworldly sight.

As his heart sped up, Harry had a hard time following Malfoy’s speech as his Sonorus-charmed voice filled the room with his well-considered words and his aristocratic, unmistakable timbre.

Chapter Text

Went remarkably well, thanks for calming my nerves earlier!

Goodnight darling, see you tomorrow

Draco sent some quick words via Phone Messenger over to Scorpius before he shrunk the device and pocketed it away, taking in the room with a confident smile. The guests started mingling with each other and spoke to the organizers to settle for a donation. Now that the tables were removed and music was playing, the first couples started to dance in the ballroom.

Draco crossed the space, still observing the scene a little proudly. There wasn’t a way to know how much money the charity would have raised tonight, but he already considered the gala ball a success. So he got himself a whisky at the bar in the sitting room next to the ballroom. Engaging in short and polite conversations every now and again, Draco crossed the room slowly but steadily.

Finally, he made it into fresh air. He slipped through the French doors onto the imposing balcony terrace overlooking a huge green space, charmed to be covered in a dusting of snow just like the Manor. Hedges and Christmas trees illuminated the snow in the dark, boldly colour blocking his sight in reds, greens, and blues. The terrace was covered with a Heating Charm, of course, so he could take in the Christmassy scenery without the chill. Draco took a deep breath to unwind and sipped his whisky contently. The feeling that the work was done and that he could enjoy himself now slowly settled in his system.

With a curious look around, he sought someone he might recognise. First he only saw a group of the next generation of halfblood high society but then a lonely figure caught his eye, leaning their arms on the bannister and overlooking the colourful lights in the garden just like he had before.

He didn’t want to bring everyone’s attention to them, so Draco crossed the distance before he said in his best posh voice, “Minister, it’s my great honour to welcome you to the Christmas CH:ARM gala.” Draco picked up Hermione’s hand and indicated a kiss to her knuckles, and they both laughed before briefly hugging each other.

“Draco! So good to see you. Excellent speech. I’m so glad that you mentioned the fact that the potion might work for both, directly and indirectly inflicted curse wounds if adjusted the right way. I mean- who knows? This could even be a first step in prolonging or curing lycanthropy! Maybe the wounds and scars at least! From what I’ve heard today, I have a feeling that nobody understands that that’s a crucial point of your work; it’s exasperating.” Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Draco smirked a little. “Well, thank you. Although – let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s really encouraging to talk to you about these things, you know? The influential circles we are dependent on do tend to be rather superficial, I’m afraid. Sweet Circe, I should rather stop complaining already. You look lovely tonight, Hermione. Is that one of Zabini’s?” Draco enquired and took a step back to take her appearance in. She was dressed in an asymmetrically tailored black blazer with a white chiffon blouse underneath, pressed trousers that showed her ankles and low block-heeled loafers. Her curly hair was draped to one side over her shoulder and her wire framed glasses enlarged her hazelnut eyes the tiniest bit.

She playfully smacked Draco’s arm with a grin that sent adorable crinkles to her warm eyes. “Oh, you mustn’t, Draco! You’re the one who’s looking fabulous on your great night. It totally is one of Zabini’s – ever since you set up the fitting, I’m getting all my formal clothes there.” She smiled up and Draco and had a brief look around the terrace before she suddenly gasped in surprise.

“Harry!”

Draco turned around to see Potter approach them, looking a little lost with his head down and his shoulders a little slumped as if he tried to take up as little space as possible. “Oh, Harry!” Hermione beamed and beckoned him to come over, pulling him in a tight hug. “I didn’t know you’d be here! How are you?”

Patting Hermione’s shoulders a little awkwardly, he turned around to face Draco. It took him a moment to speak and Hermione already had her eyebrows raised when he finally brought up his hand and blurted, “Malfoy. I need to apologise. Nice, er, speech and all.”

Hoping not to look too dumbstruck, Draco took his hand and shook it. But Draco recovered quickly. “Very well. Excellent. No worries. I hope you are enjoying yourself, Potter,” he said courtly and nodded at him in acknowledgement. “If you will excuse me now – Hermione, Potter.” Hermione would most certainly ask him about this sudden exit later. But right when he was about to walk away, her hand was firmly on his back and he stilled. Draco certainly wanted to leave. But there was simply no way he could storm off; he’d behave with decorum, just like he would with anyone else.

So he glimpsed at Hermione questioningly, and she in turn glanced at Potter, back at Draco; and just when she opened her mouth, the doors to the terrace opened again and, fortunately, someone chimed, “Draco!”

Turning around to see who he’d have to thank later, Blaise Zabini came over to them. He was dressed in a royal blue tuxedo with black satin lapels. Blaise always knew how to play the part of a smooth gentleman and how to make use of his luxurious looks. So he bowed fashionably, once for the Minister and once for the Saviour, then exchanged a quick kiss on the cheek with Draco. “You’re all looking extraordinary, fabulous . Especially you two,” he said with a charming wink to Draco and Hermione. “A true genius must have designed these outfits.”

Hermione genuinely laughed and thanked him again. Potter is the only one who doesn’t really participate in their easy small talk, but Draco wouldn’t complain. He’s not sure what exactly made Potter apologise to him. Also, he had no idea why Potter’s eyes wandered over to him repeatedly before his gaze dropped back down to the floor.

“Draco, it’s a beautiful sight out here. But the music! You’ll love it. May I borrow you for a dance?”

“Oh, most certainly, Blaise! It’s my pleasure. If you’d excuse us,“ Draco smiled, hoping to look rather suave than relieved, and nodded to a smirking Hermione and a gaping Potter before he followed Blaise inside into the ballroom.

Draco has danced with his friend countless times and they were both rather good at it. So he aligned his shoulders, fixed his gaze over Blaise’s right shoulder, raised his right hand to lightly rest in Blaise’s hand, and his left to Blaise’s shoulder. As Blaise was a few centimetres taller than Draco, he always insisted on having the lead.

Blaise was right – Draco very much enjoyed the classical waltz playing. It wasn’t anything completely out of the ordinary, but Draco listened to a lot less classical music than he once did. These days even galas and dances sometimes tended to play music that was a little more casual.

They took wide, dramatic steps over the ballroom floor, spinning around in perfect harmony. “I feel like we’re back in the Great Hall,” Blaise said nonchalantly when they took an expansive slide, changing direction simultaneously to avoid bouncing into another couple.

Draco made a humming sound, head caught up in the dance, before he realised what Blaise said. “Great Hall? What do you mean?”

“You have an observer. Or a suitor, I’m not sure. He obviously can’t take his eyes off of you. Old habits die hard, it seems.”

The mention of a suitor got Draco’s hopes up. The idea of not going home alone tonight – he’d certainly take that into consideration. But when Blaise spun Draco around for him to see Potter lurking in the ballroom, leaning against the wall, with Hermione close by but talking to another group of people, Draco only sighed. “Oh, it’s nothing. Potter lashed out at me yesterday and now he feels all too sorry for himself. It’s nothing.”

He didn’t have to look at Blaise’s to know there would be a smug smile on his face. “You sound disappointed. But well, it’s nothing if you say so, hun.”

Draco alternated between sipping exquisite whiskey and dancing with any witch or wizard who asked him, or, who looked lost and intriguing enough for Draco to go up to them himself. The adrenaline from stepping and swirling across the ballroom carved a serene, toothy grin into his face, and made him feel giddy and a little reckless. Especially when he saw Potter’s eyes still piercing him as he danced with an excited blonde man in fancy robes that Draco was sure he recognized from Potter’s office.

So when Potter looked Draco dead in the eye after his dance, Draco stared back long enough to indicate that it wasn’t a coincidence. Then he turned on his heels and slipped out of the crowded ballroom into the foyer. He passed some Aurors in their red robes, probably the Minister’s guard. Seeking out a place off to the side with the doors in view, Draco leaned against the wall. Now it would be up to Potter. Whatever it was.

Draco smiled when he did emerge in the foyer, looking around a little clueless. So Draco spoke up, “Looking for me, Potter?”

He didn’t say anything but came over. His dress robes were perfectly fitted on him, hinting at his slightly muscular figure. His bow tie and shoes looked expensive and tasteful. Draco noticed the beautiful Asphodel boutonnière and felt a little charmed at the idea that Potter had given some thought to his outfit.

Potter went up close and stopped directly in front of him, and Draco felt his pulse in his throat, rushing the blood through his body. Maybe Blaise has been right, he thought when the fierce green locked onto his eyes. Thinking of something to say, Draco absently wetted his lips and Potter looked hungry . But since he still just stood there, Draco felt a little unsure of the situation.

Then, finally, some words roll over Potter’s lips. “You look gorgeous when you dance,” he said in a low voice that made Draco’s chest fill with tingling excitement and anticipation, finally sure that he wasn’t getting the signals wrong.

“Thanks,” he said with one corner of his mouth cracking up in a sure smile. Flirting he knew; the game could begin now. He felt brave enough to bring up his hand to brush Potter’s arm.

Apparently, that was all it took Potter to snap out of his daze. Before Draco knew it, he was pushed up against the wall and Potter’s lips and chest and hips came crushing into him. After a sharp inhale of surprise, Draco tried to kiss back but Potter was just to close, his kiss too forceful to find any space to move his lips. But Draco didn’t like the idea of just standing there and letting Potter do all the work. So instead Draco wanted to bring his arms up, hoping to show how keen he was on this. He tried, except he was bloody caged to the wall by Potter’s arms and his body.

Draco broke away, he had to; gasping for air and grabbing onto Potter’s arms, pushing him off just the tiniest bit to find some air to breath before picking up the kiss again. Still forceful and urgent. But he could at least put his lips to use this time, tilting his head a little to the side to get a pleasant angle without having Potter’s glasses in the way. Finally, Draco could actually feel the kiss; the heat of Potter’s breath on his skin, the scratch of his stubble, Potter’s luxurious bottom lip and demanding tongue that tasted of expansive whisky and honey.

When Potter’s hands were on Draco’s waist, stroking up his sides with some force that sent heat waves through his body and had him uttering a breathy, “ Fuck. ” He buried his hands in Potter’s hair, tilting his head up and kissing his open mouth, sucking in his bottom lip. Draco came back to himself, at least a little bit, and tried to take some control. His eyes fluttered open, just briefly, taking in the sight of Potter. He was panting with his eyes shut, hands wandering over Draco’s body. Draco must’ve taken too long just looking at him, as Potter opened his eyes and pushed Draco into the wall again, his head hitting the stone tiles just a little too hard, but he couldn’t care less.

Potter’s hands pushed under his coat, dragging across the much thinner fabric of Draco’s shirt.  He felt Potter’s hot mouth on his neck instead of just his lips, he knew he was slowly losing it. “Merlin, Potter,” he muttered, not really sure what he was trying to say, “Potter.”

But apparently this made enough sense to him. “ Yes ,” Potter gasped in an open-mouthed kiss to Draco’s pulse point on his throat. “ Yes , let’s- we should,” and his hands pressed hard into Draco’s hips, causing him to moan which in turn snapped his mind back into reality, at least partly. They were pretty public right here, even though no one had any business in the foyer. Guests usually left the event by Flooing out. Though it did feel rather inappropriate to Draco to kiss this wildly out here.

“You’re right, We- toilet?” Draco suggested a little helpless, thoughts blurring by the pressure that Potter’s hands were applying to Draco’s hips. Instead of answering Potter aligned their bodies to grind into Draco. “Potter,” Draco winced now, voice high in his throat. “ Please, Harry. Toilet.”

Shoving himself away from Draco, Potter tilted his head up and his darkened eyes observed Draco’s face intensely. “No,” he said gravel-voiced. “No, you’re much too gorgeous to fucked in a bathroom stall. Take me to your bedroom.” Draco can’t help but catch Potter’s loose mouth in another kiss, pushing his hand into the small of his back, urging him to arch up into him.

When Draco started moving away from the wall, decidedly pushing Potter aside to get going, he felt his fingers close around his wrist, his calloused hands touching a sensitive patch of bare skin. His cheeks felt hot when he entered the ballroom again with Potter in tow, deliberately trying to look too busy to be interrupted. Fortunately, they were interrupted only once and he politely deflected her, “Madam Dixon! Been such a pleasure seeing you tonight. I must excuse myself, though. Heading home.” Instead of acting on his sense of propriety, he didn’t wait for an answer, but Accioed their coats, continuing through the crowd, Potter’s hands warm and firm on his wrist, until they reached the fireplace. They stepped in together, arms linked, stumbling out of the ashes into Draco’s drawing room.

Potter’s hands and lips were instantly on his face, pulling him down in a fiery kiss, dragging his fingertips up his temples, over his scalp and pulling his hair. Draco could only gasp, trying to catch his breath; his chest felt like it was about to collapse. When Draco caught sight of one of his house-elves, he decided that he’d rather take Potter up to the bedroom.

“Potter-“ His hands were on Draco’s back, pushing him close. “Potter, bed.” His mouth felt swollen and abused already. It wasn’t exactly like Draco was used to wild make-out sessions. And Potter’s touch was just so rough . “Bedroom,” he pants again between the kisses, but Potter followed his lead only reluctantly. Every now and again, Potter stopped to push Draco up against a wall, their hips crashing into each other, mouths colliding. In the heat of the moment, Draco tore off his tailcoat, disregarding the beautiful article which he’d usually neatly shelve into one of his wardrobes.

On the stairs they fell on top of each other when Potter pushed too close, causing Draco to stumble. And they laughed, very genuinely so, causing Draco to relax a little. Potter interrupted their laughter with a forceful kiss. He pushed between Draco’s legs, grinding against his crotch and the sudden pleasure mixed with the sharp edge of the step that Draco’s back was pressed up against.

“Back hurts,” he managed to get out of his mouth when Potter’s hip rolling intensified. This got Harry up on his feet quickly, offering Draco a hand and pulling him up. He held back till they finally climbed the wide, dramatic staircase onto the first floor. Eager to get to the bed, Draco pulled Potter by his hand now, leading the way through the east wing of the Manor. Halfway through the corridor, he landed in the panelling of the wall again, face-first, and in the curve of their bodies, he felt Potter’s erection now, pressing against his arse.

Potter’s voice was right by his ear, tongue darting out against his ear lobe, when he said, “This takes forever, Apparate us or I’m going to fuck you right here.”

“ Merlin ,” Draco groans, involuntarily grinding back against Potter’s crotch. “Potter, it’s only two rooms ahead-“ His face was turned around over his shoulder and Potter kissed him. Hard. Even if Draco would never admit that, it felt very exciting to get manhandled by Harry Potter in his own home.

“Say Harry again,” his voice cracked in between kisses. “ Fuck , call me Harry.”

Draco tried to reach behind his back, just to touch . Something, anything. “Right. Harry,” he panted, licking over Harry’s lips. “ Harry .” His hand finally reached in between them, and he palmed Harry’s cock over his trousers, causing a low moan right into his ear. Forcing himself to break away, Draco shifted around a little and they made it to the bedroom, finally.

As Harry began to undress him, Draco decided that he couldn’t stand his shirt being ripped apart. “Ngh- mm- wait. Wait,” he said and started fumbling with his cuffs. One hand on Draco’s hips, Harry used the other one to illuminate the candles in the room, sending a warm light over them both. It actually helped unbuttoning his sleeves, too.

“You’re always so buttoned up. Like, literally. I want to see your skin,” Harry whispered and started to untuck Draco’s shirt, opening the fly of his trousers and pushing them down by the time that Draco managed to undo his sleeve. Harry pulled Draco’s shirt over his head and pulled him in close for a kiss, his hand on Draco’s lower, bare back. The touch sent shivers down Draco’s spine, and heat up his cheeks. He felt very naked now, pressed up against Potter who still was in his dress robes.

Harry touched him a little gentler now, he felt like he could finally take a moment to admire him. He pushed himself back enough to look in his face and ran his hand slowly through Harry’s hair. His eyes instantly flew shut, savouring Draco’s gentle fingertips. Draco thought it felt overwhelming, the sight of Harry melting into his touch; the feeling of his messy hair that was the softest part of him he’d touched so far.

As Harry’s mouth hung open slightly, eyes still closed, Draco couldn’t resist. He kissed his open mouth tentatively, and Harry just let it happen. Harry stilled, eyes locked on Draco, as he took a little step backwards and started to undo the buttons of Harry’s waistcoat. He shoved the dress robes off his shoulder, discarding them into a pile next to the bed.

Harry began running a finger over Draco’s skin and Draco knew it was one of the Sectumsempra scars. His hand stopped right in the middle of his chest, firmly resting against his sternum. “Merlin, you’re so beautiful, Draco.” He pulled Draco close, holding onto his waist and caught his lips in another kiss, slow and purposeful. “I’m sorry I scarred you.” Draco was so awe-struck by this simple gesture that it almost ached .

“I want to see you,” Draco said in a low voice and Harry obliged, eyes locking onto his while he stripped, unabashed, down to his pants. Draco softly ran his hands over Harry’s chest and his slight abs; over his shoulders down his arms, stopping to feel up his biceps in admiration. Draco finally attended to Harry’s lower half, running his hands over his hips before he firmly took Harry’s hard cock in hand, pumping it several times while listening to Harry’s breathing picking up in speed and volume.

“Draco,” Harry said and put his hands back on Draco’s waist. He felt like his hands almost spanned around his body, steadying his middle while he was pushing him backwards till he hit the bed with the back of his knees. About to drop down on the bed, Harry spun them around and sat down, pulling Draco down to straddle him. He gasped at the sensation of his legs parting and the sensation of their skin suddenly touching. His legs shivered from the unfamiliar contraction of his muscles in his thighs, from the mere excitement he felt.

When their cocks brushed, Draco brought his hand down to stroke them both, rather soft and sloppy, not too hard. He didn’t want this to end within the next two minutes. Their kisses had become very deep and slow, too, now that Draco felt in charge. He pushed Harry’s body down on the bed and slipped down a little till he could press kisses to the slit of Harry’s erection, licking off the precum and taking in his thrillingly unfamiliar scent. His hips jerked up and his cock twitched at the sensation. Draco felt his hair was getting all over the place, inevitably getting in the way when he wanted to take Harry’s length in his mouth. So he quickly got off the bed, unsteady on his feet, to get a hair tie from the nightstand, Harry quietly muttering something in protest.

Harry sat up again and watched him putting his hair up into a ponytail. His eyes wandered down and Draco couldn’t get over the way Harry’s eyes had darkened with lust. While watching him . Hard and naked. Done with his hair, he took Harry’s glasses from his face, carefully folded them and put them on the nightstand. Then he spread Harry’s legs with a firm hand and got to his knees; Harry’s hands instantly shot up to the back of his head. Encouraged by Harry’s passionate touch and his quickened breathing, Draco licked over the head of Harry’s cock again before taking some of his length in, hollowing his cheeks, sucking.

“F- Jesus, fuck ,” he heard Harry pant before his hands were on his shoulder, pushing his head up and away from his cock. “Can’t,” Harry said, breathing heavily. He shut himself up with a kiss to Draco’s now smirking mouth, hot and wanting.

Harry pulled Draco all the way up into a standing position after that, twisted them around and pushed Draco onto the bed, urging him all the way up until, finally, their whole bodies were on the comfortable sheets instead of at the edge of the bed. As soon as Harry was on top of him, his hands were dragging vigorously over his arms, his chest, his waist; Harry’s lips caught his mouth in a fiery kiss, sucking and licking. When he bit down, Draco winced and moaned and felt like his whole body was on fire, like it got just this little bit too much to bear. “Mh- gentle,” he said, interrupted by kisses, but Harry seemed to be in a daze. So Draco caught Harry’s wrists and stilled them for a moment. “Harry, a bit gentler. Please,” and he was heard this time.

Harry kissed him deep and slow now as if apologising. Harry pinned their hands above Draco’s head on the bed and Draco wasn’t sure if he did so to fixate Draco or to stop himself from handling Draco too harshly. Then he fully lowered his body on Draco’s, Harry grinded against Draco’s hips, his dick leaking precum leaving behind a sticky trail on Draco’s skin. Harry spanned one hand over Draco’s wrists then and lowered the other one to give Draco’s cock a few pumps. A relieved puff of air, followed by full-on moans escaped Draco’s mouth as his dick finally got some attention. Mentally he begged that Harry would keep up his firm rhythm, although knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hold his orgasm back for much longer, feeling too out of practice and touch-deprived. 

As if Harry could read his mind, he removed his hand after only a few tight strokes and grabbed lower, feeling up Draco’s balls, then lower again, and Draco took in a stuttering breath when Harry started to finger his hole, brushing, teasing, and testing if he could get a finger in.

“So you want to-,” Draco started as Harry’s lips left his to kiss his jaw and the crook of his neck. Somehow, he felt the need to communicate things at least a little bit. His mind was a blur, though, not really sure how this even started or where this was going. It felt like Harry might remove his warm body from atop of him, and his finger out his arse any time. He wouldn’t even be surprised when this was about to end as abruptly as it had started.

But Harry was right there, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chest, licking over his nipple. “Yeah, I want to fuck you. Just tell me no if you don’t- We can swap, too, but Draco, fuck . I want to fuck you right now.”

“Merlin, I must get you quite excited, Potter,” Draco tried to sound smug, but his voice was shaking a little, overwhelmed and hungry for more all the same. “Let’s get lube. It’s much nicer when it’s not conjured,” he struggled a little, signalising Harry that he wanted to get up. “Let me just-“

“Where is it?” Harry asked, barely interrupting the kisses, dragging his hot, wet lips and his prickling beard across Draco’s chest, fingers still pressed to Draco’s hole, his body heavy on him.

“Nightstand. Fuck - top drawer.”

He anticipated the weight of Harry to get off him, his finger to inch out of him, but nothing of this happened. Instead Harry flicked his other hand and Draco heard the drawer swing open and a second later the tube of lube was secured in Harry’s hands. This might have been one of the sexiest things that ever happened to him, Draco thought in amazement as Harry’s magic was still thrumming through his abdomen, his chest, his lips.

He swiftly uncapped the lube and Draco felt the liquid oozing around his hole. His eyes fluttered shut to indulge in the feeling of Harry steadily inching his now wet fingers into him, and to avoid seeing Harry stare . Harry’s touch was much kinder now, his hand providing firm pressure on Draco’s hips before he added a third finger. Feeling giddy and relieved and happy about the fact that Harry was about to be inside him, he couldn’t wait any longer.

Draco grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him on top, spreading his legs as far as they would go without any help, and Harry obliged. He removed his fingers and pushed one of Draco’s legs even higher. Then Harry’s lips were on Draco’s lips and his cock was pressing inside him. With that first contact Harry jolted forward a bit, audibly taking a deep breath to calm himself, but Draco was more than ready now. He grabbed Harry’s arse, urging him forward while rolling his own hips up against Harry, feeling his length inch deeper. Still unfamiliar, but he already anticipated the spectacular feeling that would send thrums of pleasure through his body any moment now.

They both moaned when Harry started to roll his hips down into Draco.

“Take me,” Draco gasped, yanking Harry’s head up by his hair to look at his face. “ Fuck me, Harry. ” Another heat wave flashed through his body when he saw the haze in Harry’s eyes. Then Harry stilled and kissed him, ignoring his plea until he just pushed inside. Slow and deep to the point that Harry’s balls and hips aligned with Draco’s arse. “Merlin,” Draco said breathless, watching Harry’s unreadable expression and his gaze that saw only Draco now.

He then started moving again, barely pulling out before pushing all the way in again, and it was driving Draco insane; torn between feeling full, wanting more, and wanting exactly this .

“You are so noisy when I’m inside you,” Harry groaned close to his ear. He reached down between their bodies and gave Draco’s cock a few strokes, almost sending him over the edge already. Draco noticed that he was indeed muttering something but couldn’t control himself.

“Harder, Harry, fuck me,” Draco moaned, his arms clutching Harry by his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles move in his back as Harry propped himself up in a slightly new position. He started thrusting down into him at a quick pace that had Draco losing his mind. Getting lost in the feeling, he barely noticed the waves of heat that edged him closer, feeling almost mildly surprised when he released himself over his belly and his chest.

Panting and sloppily stroking his cock to ride out his buzzing orgasm, Draco watched Harry’s face till he came deep inside of him, body arching and his forehead dropping down onto Draco’s shoulder. They stayed tangled, just breathing for a few minutes and when he finally lifted his head up a little to meet Draco’s gaze, Potter – that bloody bastard – was smiling his crooked grin and stole him a chaste little kiss, still buried deep inside of him.

Chapter Text

When Harry came to his senses a little, it was still dark in the room. He took in the scent that instantly reminded him of Draco, turned around sleepily and tugged himself tight into the covers, drifting back to sleep. The next time he felt awake, he blinked his eyes open and it was still quite dark but certainly daytime. As he saw Draco’s slender figure and his head wasn’t feeling as blurry from sleep anymore, he remembered their night. The way Draco’s body arched underneath him. How desperate and sexy his nonsensical mutterings were. His soft, unearthly pale skin. His silk like hair that he put up in a bun to get all serious about a blowjob. His stormy, slate grey eyes. His eyes .

Harry felt hot and hopelessly in love.

He knew it was ridiculous. The mere thought of it. But here he was, watching Malfoy, Draco , sleep next to him in Malfoy Manor, not able to take his eyes off him like he could vanish just like that. Inching a little closer, Harry reached out to touch Draco’s arm, and his skin was just as delicate as Harry remembered, only much warmer now, hands not freezing. As if it wasn’t only a few hours that he hadn’t touched him now. He put up a hand and silently Accioed his glasses.

Draco’s breathing changed slightly, and his eyes opened slowly. Harry had never realised before how long his blond lashes were. They looked just as soft and smooth like his hair and almost blended in with his skin tone when his eyes were fully open. He stretched himself with his chest arching up and his arms over his head, causing Harry’s hand to drop off his biceps. A humming sound sent a shiver down Harry’s body and a smile up his lips.

“You’re here,” Draco said and turned to face Harry.

“Good morning. I am. And still naked, too.”

An amused puff of air escaped Draco’s mouth and his eyes darted down as if he wanted to check, but Harry was still under the luxurious covers, pulled up all the way to his neck. Harry lifted the covers, not for Draco to see him, but to crawl closer, to invade Draco’s space and his warmth. “You feel so good,” Harry said and put one arm over Draco to pull him into an embrace under the covers, chest to chest, and kissed his jaw, then his cheek. “Merlin, you feel so good , Draco.” Harry was feeling arousal swell in his body with all this skin touching.

But Draco caught Harry’s hand that was exploring Draco’s rows of ribs and his flat stomach, pausing his movement by putting his own hand atop of his. “When did this happen?” Draco asked, “ What happened? One day you shout and point your wand to my head. Last night – I wasn’t sure what you were thinking, frankly. But now. You’re still here and you’re- cuddling.” A small, bewildered frown emerged from the lines on his forehead where the years of Draco frowning and arching his brows had left their marks.

Harry felt the urge to kiss them, but he knew that he should answer his question. There was some urgency in Draco’s voice, even still so sleepy, that he didn’t dare to ignore. So he brought Draco’s hand up to his mouth and only briefly kissed the pointy knuckles before he suggested, “Maybe we have coffee first? Or tea, whatever you prefer.”

After reluctantly leaving the warmth of the bed, Draco insisted on having a shower first. He summoned two house-elves to show Harry a glamorous guest bathroom and they got him towels, a toothbrush and a huge selection of shampoos and body wash. They even picked up his clothes to wash them and handed Harry a set of clothes. “Master Malfoy insists you must have fresh clothes, Mr. Potter,” one of the elves peeped excitedly, obviously very eager to show her master’s hospitality.

Once Harry had finished his quick shower, he dressed in a woolly, very cosy jumper – one that simply cannot, never , be one of Draco’s. Though, it definitely smelled like Draco. It’s pretty much that kind of jumper that he would choose to wear in winter, even though he had to be dressed in suits or formal robes most of the time. Since he was working most of the time. So he enjoyed the touch of the soft fabric and was even more surprised to find a pair of jeans, too. He then went out the bathroom and tried to find his way into the kitchen. When he crossed the entrance hall, he noted that it didn’t look a thing like his first time in the Manor. It had been over twenty years, but he was sure that everything here was different.

He found the kitchen soon enough only to find it empty. “Over here,” he heard Draco’s voice then from a room off to the side. A little sitting room that was just as festively decorated as the rest of the house. Draco sat on a velvet settee and for some reason the first thought that crossed Harry’s mind at the sight was that he could get used to seeing Draco sit there; hair falling over one shoulder in a loose ponytail, dressed in a black suit but looking relaxed and comfortable. Behind him a huge window that showed a snow-covered garden. Actual snow ; but he had only eyes for Draco now.

“You’re gaping at me again, Potter. Sit,” Draco said with a smile and gestured next to him. After flicking his wand once, the teapot got to work and poured the steaming liquid into the dainty china on the coffee table.

“Two sugar,” Harry requested as he sat down next to Draco. A little teaspoon first seemed to be very irritated before it hurried to put two pieces of rock sugar into Harry’s tea. “Thanks for the clothes. These can’t be yours, right?”

Draco smirked a little. “They are. I only Transfigured them a little to suit you. Are the jeans alright? I wasn’t quite sure how to change the fit properly.”

Harry looked himself down and admired the jeans and the grey jumper. “They are pretty much my style and they fit just perfectly,” Harry thanked him and Draco just shrugged with a smug smile.

After sipping his tea, Draco cleared his throat. “So. First, I need to say that I didn’t want to be rude this morning. It wasn’t very polite to assume that you would be gone after spending the night,” Draco’s voice sounded reserved like he had practiced this conversation in his head. And now that he said it, Harry realized that he hasn’t even been aware of that implication. “But I must say that you tend to be rather hot-headed and I certainly do understand that if you, say, were a little tiddly yesterday. Or just confused-“

“No,” Harry interrupted him quickly and placed a firm hand on Draco’s forearm. “No, that’s definitely not it. I meant it. That you- I do think that you look gorgeous. I wanted to, er- There are no regrets if that’s what you mean. I wasn’t drunk or anything.” The alcohol certainly had helped him follow Draco out the ballroom, though.

“Well,” Draco said slowly but put his hand on top of Harry’s. “Well. I mean- It was a spectacular night.” It took him some time to phrase his sentence, voice almost shy in a way that sent a wave of heat up and down Harry’s body. So he listened to his urges and pulled Draco in for a kiss, started to put some tongue into it as far as Draco allowed him to. He tasted like Earl Grey and mint; his lips were just so kissable.

With a noise that was both, a moan and a sigh, Draco broke away first, not averting his gaze from Harry’s lips. “Merlin, Potter. What are you doing to me? You kiss like a teenager, do you know that?” Draco leaned in for a kiss this time, mouth closed, and very gentle with their noses brushing.

“I like the way it feels,” Harry answered in a low voice, and mirrored the way Draco kissed him before he pulled back and looked into Draco’s eyes. He felt the need to properly apologise now. “I’m really sorry that I was so unfair. To you and your son, too. I wasn’t fair when I told Al that – Scorpius, right? – was no good and it wasn’t fair to, well, to be a prick when you wanted to speak to me. I didn’t want to believe that you could be, I dunno, anything but a devious bastard.”

“Well, thank you, you sod. Very charming.” The faint smile on Draco’s lips told Harry that he didn’t mess up his apology completely. “You know, when I came into your office to talk about exactly that – never had I assumed that you wouldn’t even have the decency to have a civil dinner with me.” Draco observed Harry closely as if he was searching for some kind of protest in Harry’s expression. But Harry only agreed with him and told him he was sorry again.

“You know what? The day you came into my office, I apologised to Al. And he actually wrote back and kind of apologised too. He even told me that Scorpius talked him into answering my letter. I felt like such a giant idiot. Still so, actually. I just wish there was something I could do about this whole mess…”

“Frankly, you did cause them a much harder time than they already had. But it’s a good thing that you seem to realise that now,” was all Draco said to that, a little terse. “And it does sound like my son indeed to persuade Al into doing the right thing. He’s very charming.”

It turned out to be very nice and easy to talk to Draco as it was one of the first times Harry ever truly did that. He listened to his posh voice with his rounded vowels and popping plosives and noticed that Draco wasn’t really haughty but just sounded this way. Actually, now that Harry listened to him chatter away about the Christmas CH:ARM speeches and Zabini’s fashionable clothes and Harry’s ‘rather beautifully tailored dress robes’, Harry thought that Draco was actually quite charming.

After they had toast and eggs for breakfast, Harry insisted that they need to take a walk in the garden. He actually felt excited about the snow, being sick of the foggy, damp cold in London. Also, Harry felt the entire, vast Saturday stretched out in front of him. And he didn’t exactly feel like going home.

An elf brought them their coats and scarves and Draco thanked her politely. “You know your house-elves’ names,” Harry observed rather than questioned and Draco retorted, “Yes, Potter. Not a devious bastard, remember?” and he laughed when Harry shoved him. They strolled around the garden with its beautiful, icy fountains, perfectly trimmed laurel hedges and charmed flowers in colourful bloom despite the frosty weather. The Manor under a thick cover of snow was a magnificent sight, the way Draco lived and has made it his home. Harry told him that while they watched the imposing building in the distance from the vast grounds.

“Thanks. Well, I’m sure you must live in a manor house yourself, don’t you?” Harry just smiled a little and told him about his London penthouse, the way he liked it but at the same time didn’t like it all that much. “Sounds like you should do something about that,” Draco told him, and Harry linked their arms as they were standing there, watching the beautiful scenery. He was relieved that Draco didn’t pull away from his touch but rather leaned into his shoulder a little.

Suddenly Draco vibrated . The sound very much reminded Harry of a buzzing insect of some sort, except there was no such thing. Harry did what he always did when he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. He drew his wand. But Draco took a strange metallic plate out of his coat pocket and hissed, “Merlin, put your wand down, Harry. It’s only a phone,” before holding the thing to the side of his head. Harry had no idea what to make of this, eyeing Draco suspiciously.

“Good morning, darling,” Draco spoke to the thing very cheerfully. Harry knew what a phone was. He remembered the one his aunt and uncle had but this one looked entirely different. It didn’t even have a cord but rather seemed to be magically powered. Or maybe phones worked with batteries nowadays. And, Merlin’s pants, why would Draco Malfoy use a Muggle phone? Even more disturbing than the phone was the fact that Draco had just called someone darling. But before Harry had any too strong feelings about this, he understood that Draco must be speaking to Scorpius. And Harry was a little touched by the way he talked to his son.

“Right. Yes, do bring him, please. He’s certainly invited. See- wait just a minute, Scorpius.” Draco held the Phone away from his ears and turned to Harry. “Look, Harry, you said you wish that you could do something about our sons’ friendship earlier. Maybe you can. I’m meeting Scorpius in Hogsmeade today. And Albus will be there, too. You could come with me. That is – if you are inclined.”

Chapter Text

When Harry and Draco Side-Alonged to Hogsmeade, they quickly vanished in one of the alleys. They were equally good at going unnoticed and it wasn’t really hard to avoid the Hogwarts students; most of them chatting, laughing, and enjoying their time off the castle. Hogsmeade looked almost exactly as Harry remembered it. He saw the same shops and pubs on the main street, there was plenty of snow and there were festoons, fairy lights and Christmas trees adding to the feeling of a Christmas village rather than an ordinary Wizarding village.

“It’s a small café, no worries,” Draco told him with a small smile, eyeing him considerately. “It has two rooms and we usually sit in the back.”

“Right,” Harry responds a little absently. He felt strange upon meeting his son. There had been so many occasions when Harry tried to greet him properly and Al just ignored him, sometimes didn’t speak to him at all. That was especially true when there were peers around. The farewells at King’s Cross always broke his heart a little bit. Al always stood far from them, deliberately looking another direction when Harry and Ginny tried to say goodbye.

The last time they had seen each other was even worse. Harry had no idea how to say hi to Al in between all of his classmates and when their eyes met, Al only did a small eye roll and instantly looked away. So Harry had felt a wave of anger rush through his chest and didn’t greet him at all, just introduced himself to the fourth years and instructed them in their DADA lesson as planned, telling them to work in pairs. Al hadn’t even looked for anyone else and paired with Scorpius right away. It wasn’t before Al’s attempt to deflect a Hex went wrong and the Stinging Hex hit him right in the chest that Harry spoke to him, telling him all too tersely what to do. Of course, the shield didn’t work the next time, and he was hit again. That day it had looked to Harry like Al hadn’t even tried to produce a Hex-deflation. But he was sure that he had been a little quick to judge. 

Harry had told Al to stay after their classes and Scorpius lingered around a little too long for Harry’s liking. He had asked his son why he decided to let the Malfoy boy hex him and this didn’t prove to be a good opener. Al had stood there with his hands clasped on his back, sneering, and it had reminded Harry of Malfoy so much that he just snapped, reproaching him with all the things that had bitterly crossed his mind once but went unsaid before. Now he wasn’t so sure if Scorpius had anything to do with this at all. With Harry’s and Al’s relationship.

And he thought so even less when Draco and he advanced in the back of the coffee shop. An easy Christmassy tune was playing at a low volume and the rooms were cluttered in festive knick-knacks, floor-to-ceiling-bookshelves, some Wizarding chess tables and potted plants. Only a few witches and wizards were seated at the tables and most of them were adults except for a small and quiet group of students in Ravenclaw uniforms. Al and Draco’s boy were seated in a corner with two steaming Christmassy mugs in front of them, talking to each other with their heads close together, earnest expressions on their faces. While Scorpius was mostly talking and Al nodded along, Scorpius transferred all the mini marshmallows from his mug over into Al’s, culminating in a ridiculously large mountain of sweets on top of the heavy cream.

It was the cutest and strangest thing to witness. The two of them looked like copies of him and Draco, which was quite bizarre on its own. Even if Harry just learned to appreciate Draco, there was no way this would have worked when they had been 14 years old. And to see their kids urgently discussing something, enjoying a hot beverage at their Hogsmeade weekend – Harry felt a mixture of awe and bewilderment. His heart ached a little and the friendly gesture of Scorpius giving up his marshmallows for Al; and this looked like a routine. Like something they’d usually do without even talking about it. They were friends, very close friends, and Harry had dared to tell Al to get rid of this genuine friendship like it was a poisonous thing that would only drag him down.

“Chéri!” Draco called while crossing the distance, Harry trailing behind him, and the heads of the two boys snapped up; Scorpius’ face lit up and he piped, “Papa!” while Albus simply froze. Before Scorpius got up, he nudged Al slightly.

Scorpius kissed Draco’s cheek before hugging him and Draco’s hand lingered on his son’s shoulder for a moment. Harry wasn’t sure if he felt envy or admiration at the sight of their affectionate greeting. Scorpius’ eyes fell on Harry then and he took a step forward to hold out his hand. He was dressed in a black suit that made him look even more similar to his dad, except he wore the Slytherin tie. “Mr. Potter sir, pleasure to see you again.”

Trying to suppress his overflow of emotions, Harry quickly shook his hand and couldn’t help himself but say, “Please, call me Harry outside of classes,” and Scorpius’ grinned even wider with delight. He then retreated and nudged Al with his shoulder again who stuck close to his side, looking like he was at battle with his mind.

“Al,” Harry said in the hope that he would disrupt his son’s troubled thoughts. While approaching him Harry watched him carefully, ready to just pad his shoulder instead of going in for a hug. But he accepted his hug. He looked a little thin-lipped right before and held his breath while Harry hugged him, but they did hug. Harry grinned at him when he pulled back, admiring Al’s green sparkling eyes and the freckles across his nose.

Al distracted himself by shaking Draco’s hand, smiling now. “Well,” Draco said, “Now that your father offered, I must insist you call me Draco, too. Nice to see you, Albus.”

They sat down and Harry and Draco ordered a hot chocolate and a tea while Al munched his marshmallows in silence. Scorpius indulged in a rant about his Divination classes and that he was close, so close, to use his Time-Turner so that he could tell his Professor from a future perspective how he had been right about his tea leaves all along.

“A Time-Turner,” Harry was impressed and remembered Hermione in their third year. “You have one for your electives?”

“Yes, Mr- I mean, Harry.” In the corner of his eyes Harry saw Draco smirk and Al’s head perked up, apparently pleased that Harry spoke to Scorpius. “I’m taking every class there is. Except for Ancient Runes. I’m studying Ancient Runes in the summers,” he said eagerly with a proud smile.

“You’re such a show-off,” Albus mumbled unimpressed and took a gulp of his hot chocolate and Scorpius kicked him under the table, a carefree smirk on his face.

“I’ll need to know all this. I’m going to be an Unspeakable as soon as I finish my education,” Scorpius declared and took a sip of his cocoa, too. “Oh! I sure hope you brought my books, dad! Concerning Arithmancy, the school library certainly leaves much to be desired. Draco then got to his satchel and handed a little bag over to his son that must have contained shrunken books on various topics.

When there was a silence long enough to speak up, Harry cleared his throat. “You two, see, I – er,” he looked at Al who watched him suspiciously then Harry decided to talk to Scorpius first. “Look, Scorpius. I’m very sorry that I thought you’d be a bad influence on Al. Obviously, you’re a very bright, young wizard. I’m really glad that you two are friends, now that I get to know you.” Harry can almost feel Draco’s smug smile, but Al’s and Scorpius’ expression is all worth the struggle for words. “So, I apologize. I hope that I can make it up to you somehow.”

Before Harry even finished his sentence, Scorpius’ beamed and opened his mouth. Whatever it was that he had to say, he held it back a moment to look from Harry over to Draco and back again. “There sure is. Albus and me, we never had a chance to spend some time together outside of Hogwarts. I’d be delighted to celebrate winter solstice together this year and Albus can be home right in time for your Christmas celebrations. Perhaps you’d like to join us, too, Harry. The more the merrier.” His smug grin looked a lot like Draco’s, maybe a tad more sophisticated and less aristocratic.

“Oh, er,” Harry said and looked over to Draco next to him. His eyes rested on his son with an arched eyebrow but when he looked over to Harry, there was just a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“That would be alright with me, Potter. Harry . The two of you are very welcome.”

Harry felt like killing two birds with one stone, suppressing his grin when he saw the gleam in Draco’s face. “Sure. Yeah, sure, that’s a great idea. When’s the solstice again?”

“Twenty-first,” Scorpius and Draco said in unison, sounding pleased when they exchanged a short look.

“Would you like that, Al? Would it be, er, alright if I were there, too? Draco and I, we kinda resolved our old grudges, I guess.” Harry almost winced at his own words and didn’t dare to look sideways and see Draco’s face.

Al clenched his jaw and Harry watched his throat work while he tried to remain calm and patient with his son. “Yes,” he said at last. “Yes, I think that would be a nice thing to do together. I’ve never celebrated a solstice.”

“Splendid! You’ll love it,” Scorpius declared excitedly, turning to Al to tell him all about the Yule traditions that the Potters didn’t commemorate.

Harry turned his head to Draco a little and said in a low voice, “You’re right. Your son is very charming. You’d tell me if this invitation is too much right? If you’d rather celebrate with, er, someone else or if it’d be strange for me to be there. Right?” Harry realised that he didn’t have any idea if Draco had family and how many people would exactly celebrate Yule in Malfoy Manor.

“Oh, do not worry,” Draco sipped his tea which reminded Harry to have some of his untouched chocolate. “It’s just a family tradition, only Scorpius and me. I’m delighted that he will have a friend over for once. It’s an event that’s all about the observation of the luminaries, the appreciation of the continuity of time and patience . I’m not sure how you can add to that, Potter. Well. You’ll certainly add some visual appeal to the procedure.”

Harry couldn’t hold back his grin. He felt the urge to grab Draco by his narrow waist, to kiss him, to touch. But it felt too new and inappropriate in front of their kids. Especially now that Al was talking to him again. He was talking to Scorpius now about one of his potions that was in the making, as enthusiastic and joking as Harry hadn’t heard his son in quite a while. Indulging in his fondness, he smiled at Al when he glanced over to him and the corner of his mouth cracked up a little in return.

By the time they left they were all quite chatty from the warm Butterbeers. Even Al seemed to be a little more uninhibited when he told Harry about one of his essays for Charms that would be due on Monday and which he was very confident of. Although it didn’t escape Harry’s notice that Al locked his gaze to the ground when a group of Gryffindors passed them and turned to look at Harry again before hurrying off. Scorpius and Draco didn’t seem to mind, but Al did. Usually Harry would have said something about that, but he decided to keep his mouth shut for one. It had never succeeded in comforting his son so far. So he just touched Al’s back, only very briefly, just to show him that he had noticed. To Harry’s pleasure Al didn’t recoil from the touch and later he hugged him back when they were saying goodbye.

When Draco and he were walking to the Apparition point, Harry walked a little closer to him than before, their arms slightly brushing every now and then. “So, what now? I don’t feel like going home. It’s a Saturday,” he said bluntly while using a Warming Charm on Draco and then on himself.

Draco’s head perked up before he said, “oh,” and then, “ oh, ” again. He laughed when his eyes briefly darted over to Harry. “I didn’t realise we were courting,” he said at last unsuccessfully trying to suppress a smile; a gesture that Harry found so adorable that he grinned.

“ Courting ? Now, that sure sounds fancier than dating .”

“Urgh, I hate that word. It’s dreadfully common and uninspiring. And juvenile, too. But be frank with me. Are you interested in me or were you just hoping to repeat last night,” Draco said and stilled when they were close to the Apparition point. He lowered his gaze then, and Harry saw the muscles in his throat work as Draco swallowed hard. “See, I would be up for both. You should just tell me.”

With a relieved puff of air, Harry replied, “Well, I’m actually hoping for both. But I’m definitely interested in, er, you.” He tried to sound purposeful and fortunately mustered enough self-control to refrain from saying anything as bold as ‘ I’m falling in love with you. ’

Draco looked up now and smiled with joy. His cheeks and his lips were pink from the cold and Harry leaned in the tiniest bit, ready to kiss him right here and now. But Draco stopped him. “Excellent,” he chimed. “I need to attend to a potion I’m brewing this afternoon.”

“Can I come to the Manor tonight?”

“No,” Draco laughed a little, then smirked and arched an eyebrow up. “You started this – us – in such a rush yesterday. I need you to show me how serious you really are when you say that it’s more than just flirtation. Because I am very serious if we get involved. I’m not inclined to seeing someone who will drop me like a hot potato after a few shared nights and I will most definitely not get Scorpius’ hopes up that I’m courting anyone, let alone Harry Potter, if I can’t be sure that you mean it.” Draco’s hand touched Harry’s chest as he leaned in for a small peck on the cheek, tickling Harry with his tender skin. He took his time to kiss Harry’s other cheek and then a third time, leaving Harry a little startled by both his words and his farewell.

“Stop gaping at me. I’m looking forward to your owl, Harry.” And just like that he was gone with a plop.

Chapter Text

According to Ginny and to Ron, Harry’s weekends didn’t differ much from the weekdays. But to Harry they actually did. He would sleep in, have a nice bath, and then call the house-elf-service, which conveniently came with his penthouse, to order a nice brunch and read the Prophet and sometimes the Quibbler, too. Some Sundays he would Floo over to Ron and Hermione for brunch instead. On other days Ginny would Floo in without a warning, Padma trailing behind her with an incredulous expression on her face; and Gin would insist on going out for tea and calling Harry names until he agreed. Never later than after brunch, Harry would remember that he forgot to check something for work. That’s what brought him to his office on the weekends.

In the afternoon he would have found at least three cases that were not processed to his satisfaction. Harry usually read the files carefully, again and again; sometimes he went over to his old Auror office where the witness statements were stored and watched them in his Pensieve. As a consequence, there was hardly any Monday passing without Harry chiming in at the Auror office and sharing his thoughts with his most-trusted officers. It was not uncommonly the case, that something just hadn’t been documented properly and Harry had burned his brains for nothing. That left him with another few weekdays of checking legislations, attending trials concerning state affairs and to approve of the press releases.

Though this Sunday afternoon, Harry lied on the couch right next to the soothingly crackling fireplace, nose buried in Draco’s jumper. He was glad that he didn’t really have a chance to return it and by now. The Transfiguration had lost its effects, so the jumper had shrunken down a little to fit Draco’s willowy figure. Harry tried to picture Draco in it; how the soft, grey material would reflect the most colourless of particles in his eyes, how laid-back he’d look in a jumper instead of a suit. And the scent .

Despite the chance of indulging in Draco’s jumper, Harry felt a little bored. As his mind wandered from Draco to possible activities to actual, possible activities, Harry realised that he hadn’t thought about work for almost the entire day. For just a moment he felt bad about it and his sense of duty brought a frown to his face. But then he just sighed and recalled Gin calling him a control freak and Bulstrode hinting at the rings forming under his eyes. They would be fine without him, he thought. And they’d call him in anyways if things were going downhill. So he contentedly went back to musing about Draco Malfoy.

As it was getting dark, Harry was suddenly very aware of the fact that his living space was only lit by the fire. There were no candles or fairy lights or a Christmas tree. Malfoy Manor had looked so festive. One of the only decorations he had around was a vase with some sort of long leaf and a fancy flower that the elves must have set up at some point.

Harry decided that it was about time for some Christmas vibes to enter his home. He searched a few cupboards to find some long-forgotten boxes of ornaments, Christmas lights, and baubles. He, Gin and the kids used to set up the Christmas tree without magic. So he felt very inclined to get this done with his bare hands. He needed his magic, though, to Transfigure the plant from the vase into a Christmas tree. It took him some time and effort to change the leafy branches into fir needles.

Once the tree was set up, Harry unpacked some of the boxes and groaned, “Merlin,” when he saw the tangled wires of the fairy lights. Now that he saw the chain of lights, he remembered the tedious task of unknotting them. No matter how carefully he had tried to store them away after Christmas, they always were a mess when he unpacked them for the next holidays. So he sat down on the hardwood floor and started fiddling with the wires, allowing his thoughts to drift off.

Meeting Al in Hogsmeade had been such a joy. Even though not near all problems between them were solved, it was definitely a start. They talked and most importantly, Harry understood how important his friendship with Scorpius was. Maybe Harry would have properly seen this if he had just listened when they were still talking. It felt weird that Draco was the one who played a main part in fixing the relationship with his younger son, especially under the given circumstances.

Harry understood that Draco didn’t want an ambiguous relationship with him. And he was absolutely right by saying that Harry might have caught him off guard at the gala. He simply couldn’t resist the temptation when Draco’s gaze lingered on him or when he slipped out through the door. Not only did it remind him of school, in a very obsessive and stalking kind of way, but something entirely new blended into his feelings towards Draco. It has always been important to Harry what his friends thought about people. He trusted Ron, Hermione and Ginny very much and unconditionally. And the way Ron had talked about Malfoy, the way Hermione had smacked his arm like they have been friends for years may have established his trust in Draco even before Harry cornered him at the gala and yielded to the temptation to snog him.

There was so much more to Draco than Harry would have ever guessed just one week ago. Not only did Hermione obviously like him, but Harry thought of the charity, too. He had always been quite sure that Draco only participated in such events for his reputation. To present the public with a reformed Lord Malfoy who would donate to all the right causes. But there was obviously so much more to it, as he was the one who apparently invented some potion for healing curse wounds. He was fascinated by that fact. That Draco was able to do such a thing. And that he was willing to do so. Harry felt silly with love by the time he finally managed to wrap the fairy lights around the Christmas tree.

When Harry was done decorating the tree, he felt quite fond of it and awarded himself with a finger of whisky. He thought of the times when his kids’ eyes would have lit up upon seeing the Christmas tree. Then he thought of how he wanted Draco to see it. Damn him, Harry wanted to rush into this. Head-first and reckless. But then again, Draco was very clear about what he wanted and needed. Harry had to be patient for him, at least a little bit.

He pondered how long would be an appropriate time span to wait before contacting Draco again. After giving it some thought, he decided that he would ask him for an actual date. Maybe on Friday. Harry would have to ask Bulstrode for some ideas where to go. He probably didn’t need to impress Draco with a fancy restaurant – who would have thought? -  but not under any circumstances would he take Draco to a place that didn’t meet his standards. Bulstrode’s approval of a restaurant was the perfect premise for Harry to decide if it would be good enough for Draco. Harry should definitely talk to the Personnel Department to get his assistant a well-deserved raise. He quickly conjured his planner and dictated a memo for the day after New Year’s.

Harry’s intention to be patient and wait until Friday lasted exactly one more day.

~

“Before you ask – yes, I am in a broom cupboard this time, and no, I’m not hiding. And no again, I’m not in an argument with Albus again.” Scorpius indeed looked relaxed and began to eat a green apple that he was slicing magically, glimpsing into the camera from time to time. “I’m simply avoiding having lunch in the Great Hall. I’ve heard a rumour that these Gryffindor simpletons are planning a Stink Bomb attack and I’m fairly certain that this might be happening right now. Not interested in the huddle this will cause. Such oafish brutes.”

Draco laughed a little, always tickled by his son’s rants, while stirring his potion clockwise twice, thinking that it looked could and could be left unattended to simmer now. He picked his Phone up and settled down in his armchair of his combined potions lab and study. “Bright boy. Staying out of trouble,” he mocked him, knowing that Scorpius hated it when he called him his boy.

A little groan and an excessive eyeroll followed. “Sure. Boy , tsk. You should rather thank me for being such a smooth and charming matchmaker. An incredibly talented dating expert.” There was a smug smile on his face and Draco could tell that his son observed his reaction closely.

“I see. Well, I thought so when you invited Harry for Yule. Exactly the kind of boldness that speaks to a Potter.” So Draco had been right in Hogsmeade. When Scorpius saw him and Harry together, he knew what was going on. And when he invited Albus and Harry to the Manor with his innocent chatter, Draco had almost been certain that it was some kind of setup. Scorpius was anything but naïve. 

“It’s your fault, really. That day’s Advent calendar treat was a piece of chocolate induced with Conscientiam Potion. I saw right through your intentions, all of you. Not that I would have needed an awareness potion to know.”

Talk of the devil and his imp appears, Draco thought when a concentration of silvery rays of light came dashing into his study. He wasn’t even that surprised when Harry’s Patronus proudly held up his head.

“It’s a stag – that’s his Patronus! Oh good Circe, yes! Yes, it’s happening!” Scorpius chanted. “And so much quicker than I anticipated, too!”

The Patronus blurted out in Harry’s voice before Draco could even think of hanging up the call with Scorpius. “Hey Draco, look. I know it’s been just two days and you told me to be patient and you probably meant, like, maybe a week or so. And I know that you’re right. I’m rushing into things. But I can’t stop thinking about you. So, I thought I could show you that it wasn’t only about our amazing sex,“ Draco winced and buried his face in his hands. “… by taking you out for lunch. Or for afternoon tea – whatever you like. I’m sorry if you’re working or something and my Patronus is, er, inconvenient. Oh, er, sorry for mentioning sex, then. Well yeah... I’m not sure if you can cast a P- oh Merlin, this sounds so offensive. Just tell my Patronus yes or no to let me know. Er, please say yes.”

There was a brief silence. The Patronus kept looking at him expectantly, matching Scorpius’ expression when Draco glanced on his Phone. “Merlin, yes, yes. Let’s have lunch or tea today.” The stag immediately took off and Scorpius shrieked. Draco hadn’t heard his son shriek since he was a toddler.

“Sweet Salazar, he’s so eager to see you!”

“Yes, and I can’t believe that he just addressed our love life in front of my son.”

Scorpius just laughed it off, looking unimpressed. “Oh, please. Of course, you have a sex life!”

“I beg your pardon, Scorpius!” Feeling a little indignant though mostly just proud of his son’s maturity, Draco couldn’t refrain from asking, now that the topic was so easily delivered to him, “Well, have you ? I mean, a sex life?” Unfortunately, Draco vividly remembered how the Slytherin dorms went wild in his own fourth year. Especially the night of the Yule Ball.

“Oi! Don’t turn the tables now, Papa!” Scorpius protested, then he added a little sheepishly, “No, I don’t.”

“Thank Salazar,” Draco sighed to Scorpius’ annoyance. “Now, anything else, darling? I must get ready for that rendezvous you talked me into.

Chapter Text

After Harry Flooed to the Manor, Draco patiently waited for him to brush the ashes off his travelling robes. And just like Draco had pictured it, Harry looked up at him with his crooked grin, puzzled eyes, and insecure posture. Draco could tell that Harry must have made some effort with his hair. He’d also dressed nicely; much less formal compared to the last times Draco had seen him. With a smirk on his face, Draco closed the distance and kissed him. They stood there for a moment, just kissing slowly, and Harry’s firm grip around his waist sent flutters up his chest.

“You look gorgeous,” was the first thing Harry said when they pulled away. Draco was sure that his grin must look very silly and must probably prove Harry wrong.

“You’re not bad yourself, Potter,” Draco retorted and clasped his arms around Harry, not ready to step away from him yet. He was not sure since when he’d gotten so touchy outside of bed. But it was too much of an effort to resist. He pulled him even closer and tucked Harry’s head to the curve of his neck, resting his chin on the crown of Harry’s head. Draco thought about the fact that this was their first hug. The way Harry’s hands locked tight around his middle, holding tight, made Draco feel grounded.  A surprised puff of air escaped his mouth when Harry started to sniff his neck.

“That tickles,” Draco told him but didn’t flinch much. This only seemed to encourage Harry and they ended up laughing and shoving at each other. “For Salazar’s sake, you really are a teenager. Trapped in the Head of DMLE’s body.”

Harry just grinned and shrugged. “Well, I don’t have much time to be silly. And it’s you who makes me this way. You look like you enjoy it, though. Roll your eyes as much as you want, but you can’t hide it,” he said in a mocking manner and poked Draco’s sides again. It was ridiculous how natural this felt. Draco tried to count the hours that they had actually spent time with each other. Though being with Harry now felt like they had been in a long-term relationship. It amazed and scared Draco all the same.

“This is ridiculous,” he voiced his thoughts without further elaboration and it elicited another grin on Harry’s face.

“Your Patronus told my son about our amazing sex, Potter,” Draco dead-panned. “Fortunately for you, he’s a very mature young man and neither mocked me nor did he puke. You might have to make that up to me somehow.”

“Well, fuck!” Harry bellowed laughter, but his eyes did look a little abashed after that. He thinned his lips when Draco glared at him, only half meaning it. “You were on this phone thing again? It sure must be handy. The kids are hardly home.”

“Yes. It does help to keep in touch. And it does help that you can decide whether to pick up a call rather than to have a boorish stag gallop in on you without notice.”

Rising his palms defensively, Harry chuckled a little. “Alright, alright! Sorry. Maybe I should get myself one of these wireless phones, too. I could call you.” Oh yes, please, Draco thought. “So. Would you like to head out somewhere? I know I’m a little later than I meant to Floo in. Totally get it if you already had lunch.”

Draco knew exactly where he wanted to take Harry. “I skipped lunch on purpose,” he bites back a ‘darling’, feeling the need to address Harry somehow just like he always did with Scorpius or Blaise. “I know a beautiful hotel that serves a festive afternoon tea if you fancy. Their selection of homemade patisserie and sandwiches is rather exquisite. Oh, Harry, and the scones! They are such a delight. You’ll find it quite appealing; I assure you.”

“Jesus, you sound so posh. I love it.” Harry pecked him on the mouth. “Is this place posh, too? Am I dressed alright?”

Draco thought that it was rather adorable that Harry thought about that. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll blend in perfectly. Let’s Side-Along, shall we?”

They Apparated to a small space between a hedge and a tree, perfectly hidden away from any unwanted eyes. “Oh, you must come here often,” Harry remarked to Draco’s surprise and he made a puzzled sound. “The space is so narrow, you must know it very well. And I’m sure we’re heading to a Muggle place, too,” he continued with a smug grin. “Don’t look so surprised. I am smart like that.”

Draco smirked back at him and tugged him along in front of the manor house. The hotel was festively decorated but looked a little sad in the grey weather. Draco used to forget that the snow at Malfoy Manor was a Charm and not the actual weather. “Yes, very observant, Auror Potter. It’s Muggle indeed. Now tell me why I’ve decided to come here.”

Harry thought a moment while they were walking up the stairs to the front door. “Hmm. Might just be one of your favourites for afternoon tea. Maybe you feel the need to prove to me that you abandoned your beliefs in pureblood superiority.” Draco shot him a look, but Harry’s voice was easy, and he was smiling. Draco found that he didn’t actually feel offended.

“Bastard,” he called him regardless.

Draco had started coming to this place soon after the war. He had been sentenced on probation, not allowed to Apparate or to Floo anywhere. After the Manor had been his prison for another two months, he felt like he was going insane. So he left the house and walked. From a later perspective Draco found it quite funny that he had been sulking about the idea of walking near the Manor like a common Muggle. But then he realised how beautiful the Wiltshire summer was – especially in contrast to the months prior the battle and the weeks he had spent in a sparsely furnished cell in the Ministry. Eventually, his feet had taken him to a hotel that simply lured him in with a sign that promised him homemade lemon curd. Though the owners had changed in the meanwhile, Draco had never stopped coming here ever since.

They went inside and were seated at a table in an elegant but cosy sitting room, next to an elaborate fireplace. “You got my motives wrong, I’m afraid,” Draco said. “We’re here because of you. One might expect that it’s hard for the Saviour to take his afternoon tea in peace without attracting a crowd.” He tried to avoid mentioning anything Wizarding-related as there were a few other guests nearby, caught up in a courteous discussion.

“Oh, er. True,” Harry greed with a slight frown. He looked like he was about to say something, but the waitress arrived at the table.

“Mr. Malfoy, pleasure to see you! Would you like the afternoon tea, gentlemen? For two?” There was a bright but professional smile on her face.

“Yes, Harriet. And we’ll have the Mulled Wine instead of the Buck’s Fizz, please.” Draco briefly glanced over to Harry but didn’t really bother if that would be alright with him. Harry actually looked pleased and leaned back.

“Isn’t it too early for Mulled Wine?”, he asked casually after Harriet took off.

Draco just perked an eyebrow, leaning back in his velvet upholstered chair as well. “Now, is it ever too early for Mulled Wine?”

“If we have a second one, we won’t be able to drive.” There was something in Harry’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. His expression was a little daring, a little avid perhaps.

“Don’t be a fool, darling. It’s a twenty-minute walk home.” Initially he had planned to sound a little playful, though Draco’s voice came out more sincere than he intended. Harry didn’t seem to mind. They exchanged a smug smile, eyes locked onto each other’s and Harry shifted a little to stretch his leg and to rest his foot against Draco’s. It was only the slightest touch, but it sent a shiver straight up his legs. Draco took a little breath. Maybe Harry managed to persuade him into fooling around and exchanging desperate kisses; but Draco could definitely muster enough self-control to not get a boner from Harry’s ankles touching his. Above the trousers.

Draco still felt inclined to get to know Harry better. He didn’t exactly share much about his daily life and Draco felt a little desperate about that. There would be nothing worse than getting his hopes up on Harry Potter if it would turn out to be short-lived fling, brisk and over before he’d know it. He cleared his throat. “Well. Am I right about the publicity that comes with your name?” Draco asked, catching up on their conversation from earlier.

“Hm, depends. Sometimes it’s very annoying. But I’ve been to Diagon Alley last week and, well, people were looking but they didn’t try to talk to me all the time. No press either. Maybe I just had lucky timing. Either way – I’m used to it.”

“Really? Your expression says you hate it with every fiber of your being,” Draco pushed but they were interrupted again by Harriet. She set the table with tea, Mulled Wine and an etagère loaded with wonderfully smelling scones, patisserie and sandwiches with the crust cut off.

Draco noted the way Harry’s face lit up at the sight. He wasn’t surprised to find Harry going straight for one of the cream-filled Macaroons before even looking at the teapot. With an amused smile, Draco poured in tea for them both.

“Merlin,” Harry moaned. “Merlin, the pastries are delicious.”

After their first few bites and sips, the Mulled Wine was loosening Harry’s tongue a bit. He told Draco about different occasions in which being the Harry Potter obviously wasn’t as favourable as one might assume. It included a lot of shaking hands and being photographed when you actually just wanted to take a walk or to run your errands. “It’s better than having a full detail of Aurors following you around, though” Harry said a little bitter, “That just feels like I’m asking for all the attention.” Draco listened and tried to absorb every single notion that Harry’s words and expression conveyed.

They were still talking on their way out and when they sat down in the small parlour that Draco liked best.  Harry was turned towards him, one arm on the backrest and one on Draco’s thigh. His emerald eyes were pointed out the window, watching thick snowflakes slowly swinging earthwards from the charmed clouds.

“You know,” Harry said after a little pause. As soon as he spoke, he absently started petting Draco’s thigh. “I haven’t told anyone this, but last week when I had the first few days off, I felt like I could breathe a little. After what felt like years. Then I thought about Al after you were in the office and about James and Lily. It’s James’ second to last year before he graduates. I couldn’t believe that when it hit me. This sounds so dumb. Like, I should know better. Merlin, I always thought I’d be too hardened to run into a bloody midlife crisis. It’s fucking pathetic…”

“I don’t think it’s pathetic,” Draco offered in a neutral tone. “And I’m not sure if this is just a midlife crisis, really. You have been under a lot of pressure for most of your life. You’re working in one of the most important ranks the Ministry has to offer. You have three teenage children and you’re trying to be a good father to them. And on top of it all, you’ve been through so much.” Draco involuntarily thought about Scorpius who had used these words when he was talking about Harry’s son. Draco was so dearly glad that their children did not refer to a war when saying something like that

Harry was watching him intently when Draco moved on, “There’s no need to feel any shame, Harry. You do have every right to admit that you’re not okay."

Instead of answering, Harry leaned in to kiss him.

Chapter Text

Just this morning Harry truly had had the intention of having a really lovely but decorous day with Draco. They’d eat and talk and maybe kiss a little. But he needed to show him that he hadn’t only been around for the sex. Especially since he had contacted him so early for afternoon tea. These plans were abandoned now as Harry took Draco’s length in. As deep as he could. Initially they had already been kissing goodbye late that night. But Draco’s mouth had lingered on his purposefully, his hands had trailed down and finally grabbed Harry’s ass and they were in his bedroom much faster than in their first night together. So, really, it was Draco’s fault.

Harry tried to get a glimpse of Draco’s face as he took his cock in his mouth. Draco’s head and shoulders rested against the upholstered headboard of his bed. His glazed eyes were trimmed on Harry as he lowered his mouth another few inches before he lifted his head back up, gasping for some air. Harry just couldn’t believe how still Draco lay there, breathing. Watching. And all the while his cock was rock hard and leaking precum. Harry took him in again, all the way, fascinated.

“Do you like that?” Harry asked when he came up again, his lips brushing over Draco’s tip as he spoke.

He hummed in agreement and Harry saw his eyes flutter shut, just briefly, while he went down on him again. Slow and thoroughly. Harry hummed, too, making sure that his tongue was pressed flat against Draco’s shaft. He felt his muscles clench in his throat around Draco’s dick, and he felt the shiver that waved through Draco’s body in response. Somehow, he got it. The idea that Draco was so relaxed. Especially with the given fact that they were at their second round. He felt relaxed too, in a way. It was necessary for deep throating and Harry felt obliged to offer every inch of his throat to him.

Harry tried to get as much air through his nostrils as possible. When he pulled up again, a little quicker than he had intended, a wet popping sound filled the room and Harry quickly wiped some drool away from his bottom lip. Draco still looked at him like he wanted to etch the image into his mind, but Harry saw a set of muscles contract in his chest when he was looking up at Draco this time. The sight of it made Harr’s own dick twitch.

“Are you holding back?”

“Salazar, why are you talking?”

Harry puffed some air in a small laugh then licked a line up Draco’s dick. “Just making sure you feel good. You’re not moving.”

“I wouldn’t want to disrupt your pace. I like it.”

Harry hummed again while taking Draco in and he felt the muscles in Draco’s thighs flex now, too. But he got the hint about the pace, he was going slow. All the way up and down, gagging only slightly once or twice. He soon noticed a change in Draco’s breathing.

“Are you close?” Harry asked and noted how raw his voice sounded.

Draco’s voiced an affirmative sound, pressed and a little high-pitched. Harry thought of suggesting that they should change position. He wanted to tell Draco, “Fuck me,” but he didn’t when he saw Draco’s face. He almost looked concentrated, his eyes shut, lips tight and brows slightly furrowed. When Harry’s mouth went back down Draco’s erection, his hips arched up the tiniest bit.

“Harry,” he said a little breathless and then, “Harry,” more urgent this time. The next little jolt of Draco’s hips set Harry into motion. He went up to the head of Draco’s cock again, licking and sucking intently. His hands automatically pushed up Draco’s thighs, ran over his lean abdomen, his pointy hipbones, and back down to his balls. When Harry’s own throbbing dick brushed the sheets a little too good to ignore it, he quickly brought his hand down and needed only a few tight pumps to feel the waves of satisfaction pulse through his body. His loud groan was muffled by the weight of Draco’s cock in his mouth.

With a series of nonsensical mutters, Draco’s body arched up from the bed and he shot his release down Harry’s throat; body shaking with jolts of pleasure, breathing quick and shallow. Harry sucked and stroked him through it, watching the pearls of sweat that had formed on Draco’s chest in awe.

After a minute he heaved himself up, Scourgified the mess that he had made on the sheets, and collapsed next to Draco, close to his side and an arm swung over his chest. Draco leaned into the touch and rested his head against Harry’s. “Merlin,” he breathed heavily.

“Yeah.” Harry felt stupid when he admired just how gorgeous Draco looked. His concentrated face right before he orgasmed. The way he could see every muscle move in his lean body. The veins that stood out on his pale skin.  “You did like it,” he said instead of all the other things.

Draco groggily smirked and reached for the covers to shelter their naked bodies at least partly. “What’s it with you?” His voice sounded warm, almost fond. “That was the most magnificent fellatio. I must hope you’re not doubting your expertise.”

Harry laughed a little hoarse and pressed a kiss to Draco’s shoulder where he rested his head. “Well, thanks, I guess.” He began trailing his fingers over Draco’s chest, aware of the uneven skin where he was scarred. Where Harry had left these scars. So many years ago. His mind was still too unfiltered to not voice this. “They are still so prominent. Except up here. On your collarbone.” Harry pushed himself up a little to kiss a spot that was white but almost fading into the skin.

Draco needed a moment to answer. “Oh, the Sectumsempra scars. Right. That’s where I tested the potion.” Draco’s voice was suddenly vivid with something that Harry hadn’t heard before. He shuffled a little, took Harry’s hand in his and pointed it to the spot that Harry had just kissed.

“This is from the batch that just went into practical testing at St. Mungo’s,” he said, voice keen and collected. “And this,” he dragged Harry’s hand down a little where a scar was white but still very visible. “This was from a version of the potion just one month ago. I hadn’t figured out the best way to pulverise the moonstone then. And the brew missed water, of all things. Water! Simple as that. Felt like a fool for not thinking of it earlier.”

“Oh, your potion,” Harry mused. He did know that it was meant to heal curse wounds, but he had never considered that Draco had curse wounds himself. “Wait, your self-testing?” he asked horrified when the thought dawned in his flurry head. Quickly, he shuffled around to have a better look at Draco’s chest. “Draco! What’s this?” He put his hand on a very pink part of a scar next to Draco’s belly button. He did so very carefully, barely feeling the touch to Draco’s skin with his calloused fingertips.

Draco just chuckled a little and pressed Harry’s palm firm against the spot. “You can touch me, I won’t break. It’s not hurting. This spot there has always looked like this. But this one,” he put Harry’s hand just above his hipbone. “Bad try. Really bad try. The potion opened the wound up again and I had to apply Dittany for almost a month for it to stop weeping.” It did look nasty. It was flesh-coloured and rose higher off his skin than most of the scars that covered his torso in an array of slashes.

Harry tenderly kissed the two other spots as well. “Isn’t it dangerous to test this?”

“Well. I must test it somehow. And I’m very familiar with my creations. It’s not like I’m blindly pouring unknown potions all over my body. It just has to be done. Don’t worry your face like that, Harry.”

But Harry did frown for a little longer. “Are you trying to get rid of them? And the Dark Mark?”

Draco locked his eyes onto his and Harry thought that he had never seen Draco this vulnerable after the war. “No,” he said slowly and very sincerely. “No, I’d never. Not fully. It was just that it was convenient to test it in some spots before I would suggest it for official testing.”

Harry wanted to tell Draco that he didn’t deserve the scars; that he shouldn’t have to be marked for life like this. Especially not, considering how much he had changed. But he felt like it wasn’t his place to tell Draco. Draco seemed to be someone who knew what he wanted and how to deal with the past.

Harry lay down on top of Draco and felt the warmth of their touching skin. He pulled the covers up higher, feeling a little cold as his naked skin was exposed to the chilly air in the room. After a soft kiss to Draco’s velvety lips he said, “You’re a very fascinating person.”

He felt the soft laughter vibrate from Draco’s chest through his body. “You cannot imagine how strange that sounds. Coming from your mouth, Saviour.” Draco put his arms around him and held Harry tight.

“You are! You must be! I bet you’re an outstanding Potioneer.”

Draco laughed again. “I’m an Alchemist, Harry, not a Potioneer. Well, I mean. I studied Alchemy. I pursue to be an Alchemist. As far as my opinion is concerned, you’re hardly an Alchemist only because you’re an Alchemy master. You see, accepting that you can only study the elements and the core of magic so well, ultimately means that you can not truly master Alchemy.”

“Er, I’m not sure if I know what you’re on about. But it’s true that brewing potions is a huge thing in Alchemy, right?” He asked hopeful and felt a little dumb. He had worked a few cases once that involved Alchemy but there hadn’t really been any need for him to understand the subject all too deeply. Then he remembered the Philosopher’s Stone had something to do with Alchemy and wasn’t too sure about his potion’s theory.

“Don’t be daft,” Harry could practically hear his eyeroll, but Draco’s voice is warm. “Of course, I need potions for most of my work and research. But I’m also researching the elements. And materials like metals and stones. Plants, obviously. And magic.”

“You love your work,” Harry stated, smitten with amazement. “You’re just so fascinating.”

“For sweet Salazar’s sake – please, stop the pining, Harry,” Draco chuckled and ran a hand through Harry’s hair. Harry saw his chest flush. “I can only deal with so much praise. From you.” But he proved Harry right by explaining and rambling about various parts of his work that were obviously a very central part of his life. And that Harry didn’t have much of a clue about. He explained to Harry how crucial cutting and crushing techniques were; how crucial the sourcing of materials and plans were for even a simple thing as Asphodel, and that he had a feeling that he was on the verge of a breakthrough concerning something to do with water lilies and ancient rituals.

“You see. The Mayans used water lilies as a hallucinogenic drug for certain rituals. There was a lot of Magic Archaeology Studies researching the cities and temples to find out more about whether those rituals were Muggle or actual magic. I’m corresponding with my colleagues in Mexico on that. Last meeting this year is all set for next week. One must hope that this is going to be a serious academic conference rather than just a mere Christmas party.”

Harry had his eyes closed and was listening to Draco’s chattering contently. He was sure that he could just lie on top of him for hours, enjoying the soft vibrations in his chest and the sound of his engaging voice. “You’re going to Mexico next week?” Harry asked in a low voice.

“Yes.” After a moment he added in a thoughtful tone, “It will only be for two nights. I own a beach house on the Yucatán Peninsula.”

Snickering a little, Harry said, “Of course you do, Malfoy.”

“Oh, shut it! It’s a necessity for my work.” He pulled Harry’s head up by his chin and kissed him. “Off now. You’re getting heavy.” Harry got another kiss before he rolled off reluctantly.

“What is Mexico like? I think I’ve never been there. I’ve been to Brazil once,” Harry mused and waited for Draco to find a comfortable position before he draped his arm over his waist. He couldn’t get over just how slender Draco’s sides were and absently squeezed his waist, spanned it with his hand. He admired the touch of every muscle and every bone that enclosed the soft spot between Draco’s ribcage and his hipbone. There were even some very slight abs which felt more solid in contrast, even while relaxed.

“It is- Oi! Stop groping my rolls of fat!”

Harry snorted but stopped and held him in a firm grip instead. “Rolls of fat, my arse.”

“Right. Well, Mexico is rather hot in December. Entirely too hot for my taste, frankly. It’s alright as long as you are close to the beach. There’s always at least a little bit of a breeze going on. But in the jungle? Oh, Merlin! It’s unbearably sticky.”

Harry tried to picture Draco there, researching something ancient and mystical, thoroughly cursing about the weather. He loved the idea. “I can sleep here, right?” he mumbled as he noticed how hard it was to open his eyelids.

“Sure, Harry, of course,” Draco said softly and Harry felt that Draco took his glasses off, heard the sound when he put them down on a nightstand. He felt calm.

Chapter Text

Draco was not exactly fond of the idea to dismiss his house-elves in order to let Harry take over the kitchen the next morning. But Harry insisted that he knew exactly how to make pancakes. So Draco just ordered his chef-elf to give Harry anything he would need and brewed himself a strong coffee, preparing for the disaster. Except it wasn’t. That he decided when Harry loaded the first few pancakes onto a plate next to the pan and it smelled delicious.

“Merlin’s beard, you can actually cook. How? It’s so common, one might think Harry Potter would never have to cook a day in his life!”

Harry laughed as he poured a new ladle of batch into the pan and a sizzling sound filled the room. “What do you mean? Do you, like, never cook? It’s so similar to brewing potions in a way.”

“I beg your pardon? You didn’t even measure your ingredients! A first year’s potion probably requires more attention than cooking. It’s almost Muggle, the way you do it.” After a moment he adds, “Potter,” and they both laugh about it.

“You should stop the bickering and set the table. We might need some jam or fruits or syrup or whatever. Oh! Nutella? Please, tell me you have Nutella!” He swirled around to look at Draco. Harry’s hair was as unruly as ever and still a little wet from a shower. He looked good with his thick frames, eyes eager, and dressed in Draco’s jumper. Again.

After his eyes absently lingered on Harry a moment longer, Draco got up and closed their distance in a few strides to kiss Harry. He caged him with his arms braced to the kitchen counter on either side of him. Harry looked just so happy, practically beaming up at Draco, his eyes gleaming with something. Draco couldn’t process the fact that he was the one who elicited this.

When Harry’s hand cupped Draco’s jaw and he felt the slightest thrum of magic rush through his pulse line, Draco couldn’t stop himself. He asked what he had been contemplating when he lay awake last night, just listening to Harry’s breathing and his own thoughts. “I wanted to ask you something, Harry. You’re still off work. Perhaps… Perhaps you would like to join me on my trip to Mexico next week. Monday to Wednesday. Please, feel free to decline. I understand if it’s too short a notice.”

While he spoke, Harry’s hands were folded behind Draco’s neck. His lips were curved in a small smile first but as soon as Draco had finished his sentence, he was grinning from ear to ear. “Decline? You must be nuts! Of course, I’m coming with you! Merlin, travel! And I’m not even working!” He turned to flip over the pancake quickly, then put Draco’s arms next to him on the counter again and pulled him into a hug. For some reason, Draco thought, hugging Harry curiously felt more intimate than kissing.

“Excellent,” Draco muttered a little out of it, focusing on Harry’s warm hands on his back, on his neck. Just like always his pressure was a little rough, but kind all the same. Protective and possessive. And Draco was very sure that he had never been touched like this before.

When Draco had been in his early 20s and just about to finish his studies, Mother had requested him to think about his courtship with Astoria. It’s been an arrangement settled years ago, but Mother had been very ambiguous concerning her fondness of this whole issue. She had approached Draco one night over dinner about it.

First of all, she didn’t feel alright to marry Draco off – especially now that Father was dead and he had always been the one who had wanted an early marriage for his son. Then again, the marriage might honour his memory. Also, the Greengrass Family might have ‘rather questionable beliefs on pureblood traditions but might just be the perfect push for our reputation, Draco’ – he remembered her pointed voice word by word to the day. Then she had said something that Draco had not anticipated. She said that it would be up to him. She would just be delighted if he and Miss Greengrass would acquaint each other.

Astoria had always been very gentle. Her touch had always been but a caress, her words never snide or rude. The first times they had met, they engaged in mostly easy, friendly conversation at tea parties, surrounded by witches and wizards with a fastidious sense of proper courtship etiquette. On their first tryst – that Astoria had asked for – she had asked him all the right questions about the war, his beliefs. She had asked him to show her the Dark Mark. She had always been interested in Draco’s studies, too, and they spent hours talking about the interdisciplinary possibilities of Alchemy and her Arithmancy Studies.

They had been friends from the start, but they had never been particularly passionate about each other. Astoria once had told him that she liked the view of his chest and shoulders. “I’m very skinny,” Draco had said a little self-conscious, knowing that she was speaking of last night when he had been on top of her in bed. “I like it that way,” she had said with a secretive smile and Draco had always remembered that moment when she touched his chest. He had no idea why he had felt so flattered about it.

With Harry – he mostly was all over the place. Hot and desperate to touch every inch of his skin. The urgency of his touch had Draco feel flattered all the time; it felt like Harry would consume him. Not even before his marriage had Draco had a lover who had been so eager to be skin to skin with him all the time.

While Harry’s touch was exciting and satisfying, part of Draco couldn’t help but be afraid that he misinterpreted things. That this was simply the way Harry made love and that it wasn’t exactly meant for Draco. It could be fleeting. He could get used to this touch only to have it taken away from him. Draco could always deal with lowering his expectations, though never with disappointment.

And panic rose in his chest when he admitted to himself that he had high hopes concerning Harry. He felt like he could never be the same after him.

“You never answered my question,” Harry said, searching his gaze. “Nutella?”

“Right. Yes,” Draco said and ordered an elf to set the table and to gather all possible spreads and fruits for their pancakes. Even the Nutella which was Scorpius’ favourite thing to go on pancakes.

Draco knew that his house-elves served perfect pancakes. Still, it wasn’t the same as having someone spend their time and energy in the kitchen - and who was not payed for it. The breakfast was delicious and, more importantly, Harry had done it for them. For him. The nerves were kicking in again and Draco tried to calm down, to stop overanalysing things.

“You are very brooding today,” Harry said matter-of-factly when they were eating in silence for a few minutes.

Draco chewed his piece of pancake slowly and swallowed before speaking. “It’s nothing really. Your pancakes are delicious. Very sweet, but delicious. I just don’t get it that you are willingly combining them with that nastily sugary hazelnut cream. It seems like absolute overkill if you ask me.”

“Oh, so orange marmalade is the proper way to enjoy your pancakes, yeah?” Draco felt a soft but well-aimed kick to his shin. “I wanted to ask you something, too,” Harry said with a grin. “We’re having a Christmas party this Saturday. Friends and family, only our generation, though. Would you like to come?”

Feeling a little uneasy with the idea of joining a family get-together, Draco cleared his throat and sipped his coffee. Harry noticed, of course, and continued, “Hermione will be there. And Ron. Ginny, her wife – oh right, you know her, of course – it’s Padma Patil. Well, Potter-Patil. Yeah, that’s it. George and Angelina wanted to come, but they can’t make it. It would mean very much to me.”

Draco made the mistake of looking at Harry’s open face and his green eyes and there was simply no way he could have rejected him. He sighed, “Well, I… Would you be so polite and ask beforehand? I would rather not be at a party if I’m not invited.”

With a gasp Harry’s face lit up. “Jesus, this means yes , right?” His kiss tasted saccharine.

~

When Harry was home, he was almost surprised to see his Christmas tree there. Now that he saw it again after spending a day at the Manor with Draco’s all-perfect decorations, it looked a bit crooked. But still, charming in a way. He smiled to himself as he had a long close look at it and refreshed the Stasis Charm on the Transfiguration so that it would not change back into a leaf accidentally.

Harry felt excited at the idea of Floo calling Ginny. There was no doubt that Draco would be invited if he asked her. Just like Ron and Hermione, she had probably moved on long ago. But it was only around midday and Ginny would be still working for quite a while. It felt odd to Harry when he thought about the fact that he had all this free time on his hands now while mostly everyone else must be working. He hadn’t known that he could enjoy this idea.

So he got the kettle on and browsed through some books in a ceiling-high bookshelf in his study. There was a whole section of books that simply everyone should have read at least once in their lives – according to Hermione. As he hadn’t read even one of them, Harry simply picked one at random when he heard the kettle whistling. Slouching on the couch with a hot tea that smelled of almonds and apricots, Harry got lost in a depressingly beautifully written world about the unlikely friendship of a pureblood witch and a house-elf, set years before all the acts on elf rights had been passed.

The hours and pages raced by and the next time Harry looked up from the book, it was already dark outside. He lingered by the windows for a moment to take in the sight of thousands of city lights before he grabbed one of his cushions from the couch and put it in front of the fireplace. With a practised flick of his hand Harry threw some of his Floo powder in then said, “Potter cottage,” and the flames flared green.

His old living room came into sight as soon as his head emerged from the flames. It was a square room with a lot of timber and warm colours, cosy leather sofas and a huge array of wall decorations. Except for some of the furniture, the living room had never changed much since Harry had moved out. There were more pictures now and probably a lot more books on the shelves that he couldn’t see from the fire. But it still looked very familiar.

The only peculiar thing was a huge Christmas tree that took up a large corner of the room. First it looked like plastic, but Harry was sure that it must be magical.  The branches were not green but glowed in all the colours of the rainbow, blending into each other in soft waves of light. A sparkle glittered from some of the branches like snowfall.

Padma sat on the sofa and looked startled when Harry greeted her. “Harry!” She quickly finished a line in the book she was reading. Then she came closer to the fireplace, putting a little cushion in front of it before sitting down, her smart glasses on the tip of her nose. “You never Floo call. I hope you’re not about to turn us down forSaturday. Ginny might literally kill you.”

“Oh! No, it’s not that. How are you?”

She eyed him a little suspiciously and pushed her glasses up her nose. “I’m good, thanks. You?”

“Nice, me too!” Harry felt in a slightly chatty mood after reading the whole afternoon and told her about the book he just started. Of course, she knew the book as it was one of the contemporary Wizarding classics and their conversation quickly grew much more fluent after a little bit of a bumpy start.

“’s this Harry?” he heard a voice call after a while and Padma yelled back in assent right before Ginny came storming in. “No! I’ve been working my arse off to plan dinner and bloody Dirty Santa for everyone. No backing out! You will be here on Saturday or – I swear to Goddric – I will come through the Floo right now and-"

Padma smacked her in the side as soon as she kneeled next to her. “Shush! How would he answer you if you keep on ranting like this?”

Ginny shoved Padma in return and rolled her eyes but she did stop speaking. Harry laughed which earned him another eyeroll. “No, no,” he said in between chuckles. “I’m coming.”

“You better,” she just retorted.

“You two have a really, er, lovely Christmas tree there,” Harry nodded in the general direction of the tree. “Is it charmed in some way?”

Ginny flashed him a shark-like grin. “It’s our go at joining our anniversary and Christmas. It’s a-“ – “Oh Merlin, don’t say it, please…” – “Pridemas tree.”

Harry didn’t know if Ginny’s determination or Padma’s obvious dislike were funnier as he threw his head back in laughter. Ginny always teased Padma about the fact that Padma would have stayed single and inside the closet for her whole life if it wasn’t for Ginny. She had made some very blunt moves on Padma – repeatedly – before she even agreed to a single date. She had always been all about her career in Healing research rather than dating.

“You laugh and you actually talk,” Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Why is it that you don’t sound like you’re suffering from crippling burnout and everlasting migraine?”

Somehow Harry is still laughing a little about Ginny. “Well, I guess some time off work turned out to be a good idea.

“Of course,” she turned to Padma as if to say ‘told you so’ then gave Harry about the same look.

“Anyway. Actually, I called in to ask if I could bring Draco,” and after a second he added, “Malfoy.”

Saying it out loud made Harry a little uneasy now. It’s not like he was nervous about who he was dating but rather that he was dating. Especially now that Ginn squinted her eyes at him suspiciously. “Oh. Oh. Of course, you can bring someone,” she said ominously and still eyed Harry closely. He was startled that Gin hadn’t already asked him a bunch of questions yet, starting from ‘why are you bringing Malfoy’ via ‘when did you wanna tell me you were dating’ to ‘is he good at giving head’.

“Yeah, well. Er. He told me to ask you. All polite and stuff. Wouldn’t want to come without an invitation even so I-”

“Oh Merlin’s saggy balls!” Ginny panicked. “This messes up the order for Secret Santa! And no, I won’t let him simply stay out of it. So you gift him something, alright Harry? We’re not drawing names again only because you suddenly decide to bring someone. Whose name did you draw?”

“Er, Padma,” Harry said.

“Perfect! Just tell Draco to get something for Padma and we’re all set. It’s actually like if I had planned it all along.”

Gin poked Padma when she didn’t look impressed enough to her liking. Padma responded with an enervated groan. “Just stop stressing about it already. The only thing we should plan on is getting drunk and eating cookies.”

They kept on bickering for a while, like they always did, until Harry tried to interrupt them. “Look, just so you know – Draco and I-“

“Right. Excuse us now, we have to discuss something.” The Floo call just ended like that, leaving Harry still a little amused but startled. Instead of worrying too much about Ginny and her quirky ways, Harry got himself another cup of tea and went back to reading. He changed from his couch into his bed after a while. He smiled to himself when he learned more about the main character of the book who dearly reminded him of Dobby.

Chapter Text

By Saturday morning Draco was mildly panicking. He had absolutely no idea what to wear. Should he just wear his suit jacket? Something more formal? He thought about the Weasleys and felt like a jumper would do. Then he thought about Harry who dressed rather fashionable these days. And then he thought ‘My, the Minister will be there,’ and instantly felt like a total buffoon because it’s only Hermione.

So he did the only thing that seemed plausible to him and Floo called Blaise. Without thinking about the consequences.

“Well, look at you, hun. A Christmas party with Harry Potter. Who would have thought?” Blaise teased with his lips curled in a smug smile.

“Very well, Blaise. Perhaps you have been right about Harry and his perpetual staring. Happy, m’dear? But now is not the time! I need something suitable to wear.”

“Harry – oh, you two are so adorable! Alright, don’t worry your pretty face about it. Get me all the details and I’ll be coming right through with some clothes.”

The amount of possible options was hilarious, as it always was with Blaise. But he discarded most of the clothes right after holding them up, looking over to Draco and then back to the button-down shirts, waistcoats, suits and jumper. He had a magical clothes rack with him that allowed him to conjure various articles from within his stocks.

It took Blaise only five articles until he asked for some sparkling wine to go with their fitting and Draco agreed that it was exactly what they needed. Even though Draco liked to dress well and usually knew what suited him most, he wasn’t exactly keen on looking at different sets of clothes for several hours straight. That was more Blaise’s thing. Draco rather sticked to his black suits and perhaps some little accessories, save something fancier for special occasions.

He usually had an idea what kind of clothes he was going for. The problem with that was that Draco wanted to go for something that Harry would like, too. ‘ You’re gorgeous, ’ Harry’s awe-struck voice rang in his ears and sent shivers down his spine. The kind of impact that Harry had on him didn’t feel fair. It was so daft, but he wanted to hear Harry say it again and again.

“Draco, darling,” Blaise drawled and studied Draco’s face closely. “Your worry lines are showing. What’s the matter? You sure can’t be worried about Potter. Are you afraid of the boorish herd of Gryffindors?”

Draco huffed a laugh, followed by a sigh. “No, I just want to… I don’t know. I do hope I’m not wasting your Saturday with my indecisiveness.”

“Better choose something expensive then, darling. That would make up for it,” Blaise said casually and hung a tuxedo on the clothes rack that magically sorted the article to Blaise’s liking. “Look. You should either wear a long-sleeved shirt, tie and waistcoat or a jumper. Simple as that. With this selection it’s simply impossible to go underdressed.”

That sounded like a good plan to Draco. He took a deep breath and told himself that 40-year-old widowers are allowed to get nervous about the person they fancy. “Okay, just get me something white. He liked white on me, I suppose.”

With a flick of Blaise’s hand, the rack changed to a whole new set of pale clothes. “White like on your and Potter’s first tête-à-tête, my little lovebird? So it shall be. Except,” he changed some of the items again, “I’m not letting you wear any chalky whites. That’s just ridiculous with that fair complexion of yours. The party is hosted at home so I’m sure there are going to be warm lights. Dinner with candles on the table, conversations by the fireplace. I suggest ivory or ecru.”

Blaise was completely in his element now and quickly shifted through some of the clothes, apparently looking for something specific. “Ah. Try this one. Dior. Cable knit. Cashmere. The V neck will have Potter’s mind running wild. Now be a sweetheart and change into your shoes and slacks before you try this on. Better look at the whole picture.”

~

When Harry Flooed in later, he took all of the unease away from Draco with a tight hug, a gentle peck and a genuine smile. Though Draco couldn’t help feeling giddy when the first thing Harry said was, “Merlin, you look gorgeous. Think I’ve never seen you in a jumper.” Harry was dressed in a dark-green, smart sweater with a white shirt underneath, grey trousers and black boots that Draco had seen him wear before.

“Yes, well. At least not without a jacket above. I hoped you’d like it, to be honest.”

With a crooked grin forming on Harry’s face, he pointed out, “You’re blushing,” and shifted closer to clasp his hands in Draco’s nape. His eyes wandered over Draco’s face like he tried to memorise every inch of it. Draco smiled before he closed the distance and kissed him, long enough for Harry to swipe in some tongue. Harry made a humming sound, vibrating through Draco’s bottom lip. “We should get going before I drag you upstairs and fuck you into the mattress.”

“Merlin, you and your obscene mouth,” Draco choked a laugh but couldn’t deny that every time Harry said something like this had Draco’s blood rush to his groin. “Very well. Shall we Floo? Apparate?”

Harry told him that they would Apparate near the cottage and they would need to walk from there. It’s a little secluded and, for security reasons, no Appartition directly to Ginny’s and Padma’s home would be possible. Because of a strong Fidelius Charm it wouldn’t have been enough to simply tell Draco the location, even with Harry being one of the secret keepers. So Harry would need to take him there either way.

With all that said, Draco realised how much trust Harry just put in him by taking him to this party. Not only had he been invited to spend an evening with Harry’s family and friends, but he was also invited into the home of an ex-professional Quidditch player and former home of Harry Potter. Fortunately, Draco could shake away the thought ‘as an ex Death Eater’. But just for a split second, he felt reminded of all the shame and guilt that had plagued him for years after the war.

They Side-Alonged and were greeted by pelting rain. Harry already casted a wandless Impervius on them both before he started to laugh his head off. “You should see your face, Draco!” he laughed and tugged at Draco’s hand, starting off across a narrow lane with an orchard to one side and a damp field to the other.

“Oh, no. I’m not running, Potter!” Draco squealed but Harry’s grip was tight around his wrist and he simply pulled him along, Draco’s feet following him on their own. Draco was a little out of breath when they reached an imposing but obviously bare walnut tree that looked almost black in the raw weather. Harry turned around, his wand in hand, and told Draco, “Potter cottage, number 3 Birchett’s Point.” Then he tipped his wand against it and moved it through the air in a complicated pattern.

At first, only a crooked stone fence with a wooden gate appeared out of thin air. As it started to enclose a large part of the meadow in front of them, a cobblestone cottage came into view, surrounded by shrubbery that, Draco could only imagine, would probably look picturesque during the warmer seasons. Warm light illuminated patches of the walls and the garden in front of a bay window and there was smoke rising upwards from a chimney that looked even quainter than the cottage itself. It was pretty much what Draco would have pictured Harry to live in – except it wasn’t his home anymore.

“Come,” Harry tugged Draco along once more until they stood under the roofed area right in front of the door. Before Harry had a chance to knock, the door sprung open and Ginny came into view. She stood a little back with her arms crossed and a somewhat mischievous grin on her face. She wore her hair shoulder-length and layered now after sporting a pixie cut for most of her striking Quidditch career, which Draco had followed, of course. Beneath her crossed arms her Christmas sweater showed a hideous pattern of snitches, brooms and garden gnomes which were dressed as Father Christmas. In clear view behind her Draco saw the friendly faces of Hermione and Ron who sat at a huge square dining table.

“Come in you two,” Ginny grinned and stood even further back.

“Hello, thank you for the invitation,” Draco said with a civil smile. But as soon as he and Harry were inside and closed the door behind them, he felt his feet freeze to the ground. Harry didn’t seem to move either and was already voicing his trouble with ‘ers’ and ‘uhms’.

Ginny’s grin just grew wider as she pointed upwards. There was a mistletoe hanging from an exposed wood beam, bound there with a red and gold ribbon. “It’s charmed,” she simply said and wiggled her eyebrows at Harry.

“Circe, leave them be,” came Padma’s frustrated voice from another room off to the side.

But before Draco could process everything, he heard Harry say, “Might as well…” and Draco’s gaze was turned away from the mistletoe by a tender touch to his jaw and pulled down into a kiss.

As soon as their lips met, Ginny gloated, “Ha! I knew it! I told you, Ron!” Draco felt Harry’s lips curve up into a smile while kissing him a second and a third time before he leaned away and tried to move. Which worked now. “I won’t hug you hello before you step away from there. Neither of you,” Ginny pointed out.

“How cunning of you,” Draco commented with a smirk when he came up to Ginny and, to Draco’s surprise, she pulled him down into a brief hug with a friendly pat on his back.

“I didn’t know if you were already in the stage of kissing. Harry can be bloody oblivious when it comes to getting the hint. As long as there’s nothing criminal concerned at least. Thought I’d help you two out here with a little charm.”

“And she bet on it,” Padma said nonchalantly when she appeared in the room with two bottles of wine in hands. “I guess, you owe your sister ten galleons, Ron.”

Chapter Text

After they had dinner together – an Indian curry that Ginny once had learned to impress Padma – Harry felt cosy and cheerful when they went over to sit in the lounge. Even more so when Ginny insisted that everyone should have a shot of apple and cinnamon induced Firewhisky before they started to pile all their gifts in the centre of the coffee table.

Ginny insisted that everyone would need to cover their eyes so that you wouldn’t see who put which package there. She always got a little carried away with little games and traditions like Secret Santa, but Harry had always liked her for it. Even if he had tried to dodge some of these time-consuming parties in the past years.

It had always been most fun for the kids, obviously. They have always loved Ginny’s creativity, especially when they were a little younger. But even this year, for her 12th birthday, Lily had let on that she didn’t want to abandon traditions that rooted in her early childhood just yet. Even if she did so reluctantly and only after her friends had already left.

In contrast to the years before, Lily had wanted a birthday party with her friends without games, without pink cakes and without her parents fussing around. Harry could tell that Ginny’s fingers had itched to plan just anything; but of course, she got the clue and let Lily have her way. She was almost a teenager now and didn’t want to come off as childish in her Hogwarts clique. After the party Lily’s euphoria had changed to a slightly troubled look when she sat in the kitchen with Harry, Ginny, Padma and James. “I guess that means no more pinata cakes,” Lily had said at last without any further explanation, eyes directed down at the table.

And of course, Ginny had prepared one and simply conjured it. Harry remembered that he had been pretty grouchy that day, annoyed with his daughter’s theatrics. But when Lily cut the cake – a pink and multi-levelled thing that was exactly the opposite of what Lily had said she wanted for her party – the gleam in her eyes had been one that Harry would always know. It was an expression that would hopefully never go missing whether she was five or twelve or twenty. It eased all the annoyance he had felt before and it struck him that he had felt that in the first place. They all had laughed when the cake exploded, covering half of the kitchen in cream, Chocolate Frogs, Acid Pops and some small little gifts. Ginny had even included a slightly shiny lip balm after she had denied Lily a glittering lip gloss earlier that weak.

Draco’s voice brought Harry back to the Christmas party. “Magnificent Christmas tree you have there,” he commented, and Harry wasn’t quite sure if his voice sounded amused or staggered.

Harry had his eyes still covered, but heard the grin in Gin’s answer when she said. “Yeah, it’s our Pridemas tree. I thought you’d like it. Now that you two are gay for each other and all.” While Draco huffed a little laugh that Harry felt where their shoulders were touching, Padma only growled.  Hermione complimented the quality of the Transfiguration instead.

“Okay, everything is set, I was the last one,” Ron declared, and Harry blinked his eyes open to have a first look at the wrapped packages on the coffee table. It was a colourful little pile, and it was obvious that the skills in gift wrapping varied dramatically within their group. One was very wrinkly while others were neatly folded or sported fancy ribbons.

“Alright,” Ginny grinned and downed the last sip of her wine. She snatched one of the presents and read the name tag. The present was neatly wrapped in simple brown paper. Only a shimmering blue gift ribbon with some snowflakes on it gave away that it was a Christmas present. “Hermione.”

“Of course it’s for Mione. It looks like a book,” Ron grinned and got up to take the gift from Ginny, handing it over to Hermione. It was a book indeed and Hermione smiled and shoved her glasses up her nose when she read the title. “Oh, Padma! Thank you, we’ve been talking about it.” Hermione got up and hugged Padma who simply answered that she couldn’t believe that this particular Wizarding drama had slipped her attention but smiled contently when Hermione retreated to sit back on the couch.

The next package Ginny fetched was for Harry and it definitely didn’t look like a book. It didn’t have any sharp edges and probably contained something soft. Harry automatically was reminded of Molly’s Christmas jumpers when he took the package in hand. The pattern on the gift paper showed Pixies in Christmassy outfits and Harry watched them fly about for a minute before he tore the paper off.

It was a sweater. A bright-red, knitted one. On the front of it was a stag who mounted a doe. Harry thought that he could as well indulge in his silly mood and pulled his own sweater over his head, quickly adjusted the button-up shirt he wore underneath, and put the Christmas jumper on. “Well, thank you, Gin,” he said in a casual tone but grinned while Ron was laughing his head off and Hermione just shook her head. She wasn’t exactly successful in biting back an amused smile, though.

“Good Goddric, look at him!” Ginny said, laughing. “With his huge, dorky grin on his face. A month ago you would have groaned and told me ‘Oh Merlin, Ginevra, I don’t have time for your shenanigans.’” Padma cut her off with a sharp, “Ginny,” but Harry didn’t really take any offense in her impersonation.

He had known them all for so many years now and they have been through so many good times and bad times together. They were his family. Harry would never have thought any less of them, but if he was perfectly honest with himself, he felt relieved that they hadn’t abandoned him. He knew that he’s been anything but a good friend in the past few years. And then there was Draco, who laughed with them; confident, noble and beautiful. His sharp canines were showing when he grinned like this and his sometimes almost colourless eyes reflected the warm lights of the fireplace, warm and soft. Harry couldn’t imagine spending any time apart from this man.

Harry laughed off Ginny’s remark and chuckled, “That’s not like I talk at all. And I never call you that either.” He sat a little closer to Draco then and observed the amused expression on his face. Harry had never noticed before how much Draco actually smiled. In fact, he would have thought that Ginny’s taste in funny Secret Santa gifts would be a little too silly for him. But Draco did smile and put a loose strand of hair that had come free from his bun behind his ear when their eyes met.

“Next up is… me,” Ginny said and Harry’s eyes snapped back to her. She got a package full of magnets in the shape of dog bums and Hermione had to explain that a magnet would work like a Sticking Charm before she understood what it was. To Hermione’s and Harry’s amusement, she was absolutely delighted then. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “They are so adorable! Since they are Muggle and all, you could be my Secret Santa, Mione. Anyhow, my final guess is Ron. The packaging was just too terrible to be Hermione’s.”

Both Ron and Hermione grinned sheepishly when they told Ginny that she took the bait. Ron has wrapped it but Hermione has chosen the gift. Ginny hugged her then and told her that she’ddefinitely stepped up her sense of humour before Ginny took a shot of Firewhisky because of her wrong guess.

Harry knew the next package that Ginny took from the three remaining ones. It was the one he got for Draco. It didn’t escape Harry’s notice that Draco slightly stiffened next to him when he took the gift from Ginny and observed it carefully as if he didn’t want to be disrespectful. Finally he removed the ribbon and the paper to reveal a DIY Taco Kit. A smile rushed over Draco’s face and he said, “Thank you, Harry,” in his prim fashion that always made Harry’s heart swell with adoration. He couldn’t resist the urge to grab onto Draco’s arm to get his attention and to pull him in for a little peck on the mouth.

“I thought you might want to give cooking a go now,” Harry flashed him a grin and Draco leaned in for another gentle kiss.

“Circe, look at these two,” Ginny said and Harry heard Ron’s cheerful laugh when he pulled away from Draco, their eyes still locked onto each other’s for just a little too long.

“I wouldn’t believe it if I wouldn’t see it with my very own eyes,” Ron’s voice sounded amused and he took a huge gulp of his wine. “Mate, tell me now. Is this a fling or are you two dating? Like, in earnest.” Hermione was about to interrupt this question and raised her palm as if to say, “You don’t have to answer that, Harry,” but Harry was fine with that. Hopefully, Draco would be, too.

“Courting,” Harry corrected him proudly with an expectant glance to Draco.

Draco huffed a laugh when he saw Ron’s shocked face. “Not really courting in the traditional sense of the word. Merlin, no – been there once, it was exasperating. Harry is just a sweetheart and puts up with my choice of words. So, yes, we’re dating, I suppose.” It was a new thing for Harry to hear Draco say that, especially in company, and he couldn’t help his grin.

The last two presents left were for Padma and Ron. When Padma took hers, Ginny announced that Padma already knew her Secret Santa and Padma thanked Draco even before unwrapping the sparkling gift and the elaborately laced ribbon. But when she held a book in hand and her eyes rushed over the title, she hesitated. “Well, thank you,” she said flabbergasted and turned it around to read the back cover.

“What is it?” Hermione inquired and tilted her head.

“It’s one of this year’s most innovative works in the field of Biomagical Research,” Padma said, still turning the book in her hands. “How did you know, though? You can’t have asked Ginny. She has no clue about my work.” Ginny shoved her shoulder.

“Oh, I asked a colleague who used to work in your department in St. Mungos. Wang said that he hasn’t seen you in some years but that you specialised in the research of biological and magical processes in wixes. I happened to become acquainted with the author at an awards celebration, so I thought of her.” Harry resisted the urge to tell Draco how fascinating he was while he and Padma got carried away a little and talked about some works that seemed to be relevant to both somehow.

Hermione seemed to be interested in the conversation, but her attention snapped back to Ron when he gave her the last remaining present and kissed the top of her head. Hermione probably already knew what it would be, as well as Harry did. Ever since they have been in a relationship, Ron has gotten Hermione a Christmas rose that was covered under glass and charmed to be in bloom as long as the gift giver was in love with the other person. Harry couldn’t deny that he had wept a little when Hermione showed him her collection of roses that she kept in a special drawer once. The newest rose always had a special place in Hermione’s office. Harry felt hopelessly romantic when he imagined Hermione working ridiculously long hours at the Ministry but would feel at home whenever her eyes crossed the sign of Ron’s love. Harry took a mental note to obsess over it to Draco later, who was still wrapped up in his conversation with Padma.

This year’s rose was of a warm earthy colour and Harry couldn’t decide if he’d call it pink or brown. “Must be the 22nd one, right?” Harry asked with a smile after his friends pulled away from a kiss and nodded.

“You’re so lame,” Ginny told Ron with raised eyebrows. “You could have gotten her something fun for once and save this one for Boxing day.”

“I like it,” Hermione simply answered with a loving smile and examined the fragile petals from every perspective.

They had more wine and more Firewhisky going along with easy and funny conversations, sometimes a little heated, at least when it came to Quidditch, as they were all supporting different teams. All except for Hermione and Padma who opted out of the discussion as soon as someone had said, “Gin, that punchline was as weak as MacNally’s Bludger.”

Harry sat next to Draco with their arms linked and their fingers entwined before Draco started to talk with his hands too much. Harry let him go and noticed that Hermione was watching him with a very untypical expression on her face; a smirk. As they haven’t talked much, Harry took his wine and went over to sit next to her.

“All right?” Harry asked and she just nodded.

“I haven’t seen you this unwound for quite some time,” she told him and sipped her wine. “Is it all because of Draco?”

The tip of Harry’s tongue felt a little lazy and heavy from the alcohol and when he tried to give some thought to Hermione’s question, his mind felt a little blank. All he could see right now was the way the neckline of Draco’s jumper let him have a glimpse of his collarbones. He knew how those pointy bones would go all the way across to his shoulders underneath the jumper. “It’s either because of Draco or it’s because of things that I realised with his help,” he said at last.

Hermione watched Draco for a moment with her warm and knowing look then her eyes examined Harry. “He’s a very bright man,” she said, and her lips curved up in a suppressed smile. “And very handsome, too.”

“Yes!” Harry took his eyes off Draco and turned a little to face Hermione. He hadn’t known before that he would like to have some approval of the things he thought about Draco. “Yes, Merlin. He’s fascinating, right?” Hermione only laughed and told him that fascinating is a good word to describe Draco. She leaned in a little which made Harry automatically speak a little lower. “The way he talks with his posh accent. Sometimes I almost miss the way he says Potter,” Harry went on now that Hermione was listening with a curious look on her face.

“And the way he is around Scorpius. How he looks at him – it’s the most precious thing.”

Hermione went a little quieter when Harry said that but had a genuine smile on her face. Then she leaned in even closer to whisper in his ear, “You might be in love, Harry.”

Harry chuckled when he processed her words. “I am. Don’t tell him, though, he’d freak out.”

“What are you two giggling about?” came Draco’s voice suddenly from right next to him. His flushed cheeks and his slightly feverish gaze told Harry that Draco was at least tipsy. Although his straight posture and the graceful way he sat down next to Harry gave nothing away. Harry leaned back against Draco and simply melted into the touch when Draco put his arms around him, clasping his hands in front of Harry’s chest. Draco and Hermione talked about something concerning the Ministry and Harry’s mind just drifted off a little.

“Are you getting tired?” he heard Draco’s voice, levelled and warm next to his ear after a while. 

Harry hummed an affirmation. “A little. You’re just so warm and cosy. And this jumper is really soft.” Harry sat up a little and briefly took his glasses off to rub his eyes. “And beautiful,” he added with a smile when his vision wasn’t blurry anymore.

Draco smirked and his eyes flickered down a little. “You know, I’d echo that sentiment, but you look like a dork in this Christmas sweater. So, you want to leave soon?”

Harry and Draco spent the night in the Manor. With great foresight Harry had brought a change of clothes and his toothbrush this time around. And brushing their teeth next to each other was the only thing they did before they went to bed. They were fast asleep within minutes, tightly wrapped in each other’s arms.

Chapter Text

Draco was all packed up and double-checking his bag for the trip to Mexico. Triple-checking, just in case. There was still quite some time left, but Draco felt like checking in early at the Ministry, nonetheless. He would meet Harry there to get the international Portkey to the Mexican Ministry for Magic at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. So he used a Feather-light charm on his bag, told one of the house-elves when to expect him back and took the Floo.

The Atrium was as busy as always. Probably even more so as it was the last full workweek before Christmas. When he crossed the fountain in the middle of the hall, he automatically thought of Hermione who had once petitioned that the former Fountain of Magical Brethren should be replaced as it was discriminatory against nonhuman magical beings.

Hermione had still been working in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures back then, and had not even been Head of Department yet. But of course she was invested with every fibre of her being and persuaded enough important voices to sign her petition. There was a statue of wixes, house-elves, centaurs, goblins, merpeople, and several other rational magical beings. There was no hierarchy implied this time. Asking for Draco’s support on her campaign had probably been the first time Hermione had talked to Draco after his trial in the year of the battle.

After security check, someone greeted Draco in passing and when he saw long blond waves of hair and a ruby-coloured back of fancy robes, Draco called, “Excuse me! Sir?”  The other man turned around and Draco was sure then that it was Harry’s assistant.

“How can I help you, Mr. Malfoy? Are you here for Mr. Potter?” he asked politely but with a cheerful smile.

Draco asked for his name again because he couldn’t remember it and learned that it’s Bulstrode. Bulstrode told him then that Harry was already in and that he could follow him to his office. “I know some of the Bulstrodes,” Draco told him when they entered the lift.

“Oh, yes! A cousin of mine went to Hogwarts with you. I’m sure she’d be delighted if you would find some time to catch up. Millicent is working in security for Quidditch matches now.” Draco took a note in his planner – maybe just to appear polite, he wasn’t quite sure yet – and they kept on chatting for the whole journey through the department.

They took a spiral staircase and Bulstrode told Draco to stay behind him, just a second. The lounge area with its dark wood panels and hardwood floorboards looked a little dated. It was still quite a contrast to the long sterile corridors and adjacent offices full of busy Auror teams, though. The only other silent hallway on this level of the Ministry led to the Wizengamot’s office.

“Mr Malfoy?” Bulstrode emerged from the office and gestured for him to come in. Draco noticed that his pulse quickened and that his mouth curved up into a smile, now that he was only a few steps away from Harry which felt a little foolish.

When he stepped into the office, Harry happily said, “Draco,” dropped all the files he had in hand on the desk and crossed the room. Even if Draco wouldn’t be sure how to act around Harry in public, Harry proved to be a man of action, as per usual. There was a crooked grin on his face right before he tilted his head up to kiss Draco. The touch of their lips was short and firm; so familiar that the simple gesture struck Draco somehow.

“Hullo Harry,” he said, still a little dazed, while Harry beamed at him. 

“Can I get you anything, gentlemen? It’s a good half an hour before you might want to leave for the Portkey without haste. Tea? Coffee? Champagne?” Bulstrode asked in his buoyant fashion and Harry shot Draco a questioning look.

“Sure, yes. I’d be up for champagne unless you’d rather not-”

“Champagne it is,” Harry chimed in and Draco heard the door close behind him. “I already paid our fees for the Portkey.”

“Why, thank you. And you’re well-groomed. Not bad,” Draco teased him and nodded in false acknowledgement, but ran a hand over Harry’s stubble that looked much neater and a little shorter than the day before.

“Come, sit,” Harry said with a pleased smile and made his way back to the desk. “There’s less chaos than I thought there would be. I thought I’d fetch some files. Might have a look at some stuff while you’re working.” He quickly scanned through some folders and parchments before he shrunk them and put them in a drawer. Then he took some notes and sent them off right away.

Sitting there in Harry’s office together and watching him get some work done, rose a curious sentiment in Draco. They have spent time outside the Manor, and they’ve been to his family home. Though, this felt very new, very intimate for some reason. Another thing he noticed was the fact that Harry looked stunningly handsome and important in his grey suit and behind his imposing desk.

“Alright, all done,” Harry said after a while, stored some folders in a satchel, and switched into the chair in front of his desk next to Draco. “Cheers!” He rose his champagne flute that Bulstrode brought in earlier and they clinked their glasses.

“Santé,” Draco smirked and sipped his glass. The sparkling sensation tingled on his tongue along with a smooth taste of fruits and flowers. “Mmh, it’s really good,” he told Harry.

“A true connoisseur,” Harry leaned in with a coquettish smile and waited midway for Draco. An amused huff escaped Draco’s mouth before he tilted Harry’s chin up with his thumb and kissed him. Tender and careful at first, but the kiss soon grew more passionate. Surprising Draco yet again, Harry shoved him back after a while only to sit down in his lap sideways and pull his head up to continue the intimate play of their tongues.

“We shouldn’t travel with hard-ons,” Harry groaned with a raspy voice in between kisses.

Draco wasn’t quite sure if Harry meant that they should rather stop or just do something about it right here and now. He wouldn’t exactly know which one he preferred anyway, given the fact that they were in an office with only little time. So he answered a little breathless, “Yes, well,” and knew fully well that he wasn’t saying anything with that.

They didn’t take it any further but straightened their clothes and cleared their throats because Bulstrode would fetch them anytime now. Harry even got on his tiptoes to straighten Draco’s hair and Draco was surprised that Harry even noticed that he had pulled his ponytail askew.

The transport was a lot more stressful than anticipated which quickly dispelled even the last persistent problems in their groins.

There was a commotion with a witch whose Portkey left without her and she kept telling everyone that it was a life-or-death situation. After she saw Harry, she came over and insisted that she was an Auror, wearing a glamour, in an undercover mission. As soon as she told Harry her – or apparently his – name, Harry paced off and got some professionals at work. They changed all the subsequent Portkeys so that the Auror could leave within minutes rather than having to wait for the next one in a few hours.

Draco, who thought punctuality a virtue, was torn between admiring Harry’s conscientiousness and checking his watch. “I’m very sorry,” Harry said when he stepped back in line with Draco. He checked his watch too and then tried to see how long the queue was. “We’ll be exactly 25 minutes late. Will that be a problem?”

“This bloke can be glad that you were here to save his neck,” Draco remarked and knew that he sounded a little annoyed. “You’re very generous with your subordinates.”

Harry flashed him a nervous grin while they stepped up to be next in line.

As Draco was used to traveling to Mexico by now – he’d been working with his colleagues there for more than three years – he quickly replaced his black suit jacket with a much thinner version when they arrived in the Mexican Ministry for Magic. Harry was looking around the colourful halls in awe, but Draco pulled him off to the next Apparition point. “So, I’m sure you’ll want to be joining us for lunch. We don’t have time to drop you and our baggage off at home right now.” Harry laughed but seemed very committed not to waste any of Draco’s time with questions.

When they reached the Apparition point, Draco took a deep breath, then looked at Harry. He smiled up at him and Draco fixed Harry’s tie before he Apparated them in front of a hotel close to a Wizarding community near Tulum.

The hotel was rather secluded and not anywhere near the busy main street and the marketplace of the Wizarding community. They stood on a gravel pathway in front of a magnificent hacienda surrounded by lush trees and flowering shrubs. Draco heard the sound of birds and the soft rushing of the ocean in the distance. He breathed the fresh air and marvelled at the peaceful scenery, especially so in comparison to the rush and the noise in both the Ministries.

“My, it is really hot,” Harry said and fidgeted with his collar a bit, ruining the tie that Draco had just fixed. He shimmied out of his suit jacket, which left him in a light grey waistcoat and a white shirt, and he rolled up his sleeves.

“Very observant, Potter,” Draco smirked and casted some Cooling Charms on them. “It’s cooler inside. Come.”

Harry looked flabbergasted when Draco greeted everyone in Spanish and then went ahead to introduce him. Everyone talked English afterwards, but to see Harry’s panicked face while he stuttered, “Buenos días,” was absolutely worth it to Draco. Sometimes Draco wondered how this Harry could be the same wizard who was perfectly capable of delivering thrilling speeches and explaining conflicts between legislation and law enforcement to the public. The thought crossed Draco’s mind, that Harry’s awkwardness outside his job was quite adorable.

Just like Draco had expected most of his Mexican and international colleagues were rather eager to meet the Harry Potter in person. Everyone at their table tried to engage him in conversation and Draco was amused, but felt a little bad for him when he thought about all the things that Harry had told him about the downsides he felt about being famous.

One of the scholars, who specialised in Wand Science, urged Harry to give her all the details about this one time his wand triggered Priori Incantatem. As Harry only stuttered something about a graveyard and Voldemort, Draco interrupted their conversation and started to talk about all the traditional Mexican dishes that Harry must try. While Draco kept on talking and singled them out from the other conversations for now, Harry shot him a thankful glance and a genuine smile.

On the upside, Harry’s presence made for a cheerful ambience. Instead of engulfing in research talk, they saved that for the seminar tomorrow and enjoyed themselves. They strayed to topics like Mayan rituals, elemental magic, and potion ingredients only casually when the conversations spawned it. Following the dessert, two of the locals insisted that Harry and Draco should try a high-end gold tequila with them. After two shots of the smooth and fruity liquor, they ended up laughing at a silly anecdote about a magical spider monkey.

“Merlin, I really shouldn’t have had a second shot,” Draco worried while he and Harry were already headed out. “I still need to Apparate us. Maybe we rather go back inside and take the Floo.”

Harry waved his hand in a flippant manner. “You’re not drunk at all. I’m sure you won’t splinch us. You know the place quite well, don’t you?” already holding out his hand for Draco to take. He felt a slight wave of Harry’s magic wave through his fingertips. “I trust you,” Harry reassured him with a little laugh and Draco Apparated them like that right into the little foyer of his beach house.

“See, no big deal,” Harry grinned and started to look around.

“Yes, well. One still shouldn’t, though.” With a flick of his wand, Draco opened all the windows and terrace doors at once. “We might want to close them again soon. It will be cooler that way. I just want to get the poor air out.”

“Merlin,” Harry marvelled and crossed the living space to step out on the terrace. He passed the small pool there as well and stood at the railing that overlooked a strip of wild beach and the vast, azure-blue ocean. “Merlin,” he just said again with his gaze fixed at some point at the horizon. Draco came up to him and leaned on the railing as well, close enough that their shoulders were touching.

“Looks like you really haven’t travelled much,” Draco pointed out and followed Harry’s gaze for a moment. He then looked back at Harry whose cheeks were flushed red, either from the sun or the tequila supposedly, and whose emerald eyes radiated a lighter shade of green that Draco hadn’t seen before in the bright Mexican sun.

“Well, sometimes. With the kids, yeah. But I think I have never been anywhere this… tropical apart from some rare trips for the Ministry. And the ocean is practically right out your back door. I’m actually kinda amazed that all this is just a Portkey away anytime.”

Draco persuaded Harry to go inside again, where it’s at least a little cooler, and told him that they would sit outside in the evening anyway. As soon as the ocean was out of sight, Harry was back to his silly and cheerful mood. When Draco showed him around, he kept tugging at Draco’s arm and groping his arse with a cheeky grin, until Draco showed him the master bedroom that also had access to the terrace.

Instead of letting Harry have his way, Draco pulled him in for a fierce kiss and started to undress him. “It will be way too hot for intimacy,” Draco pointed out, but went ahead to get rid of his suit and shirt as soon as Harry was topless.

Harry stepped out of his trousers and pants, stripped his woolly Christmas socks and tried the bed before he said, “The weather wouldn’t ever stop me from sex with you. From fucking you,” he intoned and grinned up at Draco. Harry sat on top of the duvet in all his naked glory, braced on his arms and legs slightly parted. The position showed off the muscles in his arms and his abdomen. Draco felt his cock twitch in his pants.

Draco quickly struggled out of his clothes to join Harry on the bed. He kneeled between Harry’s legs and leaned over him for a kiss, trying to put all the adoration that he felt into it.  With a muffled chuckle, Harry pulled Draco down on top of him and rolled them sidewards.

“You look so beautiful,” Harry told Draco while his restless hands wandered over his chest and shoulder, over his arms to the very end of his fingers and back. His eyes were much darker now in the dimmed bedroom with the windows and blinds closed in order to shut out the burning afternoon sun. The firm touches brought a shiver from the crown of Draco’s head all the way down to his groin. Draco couldn’t say anything but just look back at him until Harry’s small smile turned into a grin and his hands reached in between them to stroke Draco’s cock.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Harry asked in a low and raspy voice that was just as exciting as the rough pump of his fist. Draco couldn’t help the shuddering breath that escaped his mouth and in the need of doing something, anything, with his hands, he reached for Harry’s dick and matched his pace.

“Do you?” he asked again, and Draco couldn’t do much more than nod and moan and catch Harry’s hot lips in an open-mouthed kiss. He could barely think now. Harry shifted and went down to press a sloppy kiss on the tip of Draco’s cock, took him in for only one thrilling suck, before he moved up on the bed again, pulling Draco up higher with him and pressing their bodies flush together.

Harry was laughing a little when he broke away from another kiss and Draco felt the corners of his mouth twist up in a smirk in response. “What?” Draco asked and kissed Harry’s neck.

“I just thought that I can’t believe my luck to be here with you. That you want me like that.”

For some reason Draco felt like he should be the one to say that. “I’m going to show you how much I want you, darling,” he told Harry in earnest and pulled him even closer, pressed hot kisses in the crook of his neck, on his broad shoulders. “You are perfect.”

Harry huffed a laugh, rather shy now, and ran a hand through Draco’s hair. The soft, tingling sensation caught him off-guard as a sharp contrast to their firm grips. Harry pulled his head closer as soon as his hand reached the back of Draco’s head and for a short moment they just lay there in a tight embrace.

Then Harry pushed Draco off with a hot and calloused palm to his chest, a smirk on his face. He conjured a good amount of lubrication in his other palm. Wandless and nonverbal, like the show-off he was. “Wanker,” Draco told him, glad that they wouldn’t need to get up for their wands.

“Well, looks like it,” Harry retorted, and Draco inhaled sharply when Harry’s wet hand closed around his cock, the sensation even more intense than Harry’s hand had felt before. His other palm still kept Draco at bay while Harry thoroughly massaged him and spread the lubricant. Draco put his hands at least to some foresightful use and carefully took Harry’s glasses off. 

When Draco heard his moans grow a little deeper, Harry apparently decides that he should remove his hand from Draco’s leaking cock. Harry rolled around to lie on his stomach, tugging at Draco’s hand in the movement to urge Draco on top of him. 

Draco straddled him first and ran his hands over Harry’s shoulder blades, over the muscles in his back flexed with every little motion of his body. He then decided to get a little bolder and groped Harry’s arse which elicited a deep groan, muffled against the pillow that Harry’s face was pressed up against. Draco kept on massaging him, mesmerised by the idea that he was about to be inside of Harry; his thumbs circling closer to his hole with each movement.

“Fuck me,” Harry moaned and sounded rather desperate now instead of smirking.

Draco steadied himself with one hand next to Harry and pulled his buttocks apart with the other, lining his slick cock up with Harry’s anus. He gently pushed against the tight muscles while steadying and guiding himself by the base of his cock. The push of Harry’s hips and his constant little puffs and moans told Draco that he could keep going.

After he had watched most of his cock disappear into Harry, Draco grinded down on him once, still not too rough, testing. But Harry’s arse arched upwards against him and he groaned, “Move, Draco. Fuck me,” which had Draco’s hips oblige on his own. He rolled down on him and pressed his hips close, almost numbed by the thrillingly tight sensation around his cock. He started to grab Harry by his hips to hold him in place and get a better angle at his thrusts.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed and braced himself on his elbows. “I want you closer . I wanna see you,” he told Draco urgently.

It took a lot of willpower for Draco to accommodate his demand, but he leaned down to press a kiss between Harry’s shoulder blades and slowly pulled out so that Harry could turn around and lie on his back instead. His throbbing dick was pressed flat against his stomach, leaking some precoma on the trail of dark, curly hair that connected Harry’s groin in a line all the way up to his chest. His green eyes were feverish and locked onto Draco.

Draco pressed back inside, dwelling in the warm and tight feeling of Harry’s body. He leaned over him now, kissed him and held him while Harry’s hands were all over his back and shoulders, up in his hair and on his cheeks.

They moved together, rolling and arching into each other in a way that had Draco’s chest and groin swell to a point that became almost impossible to bear. His thrusts became sharper and quicker and he knew that he was close. “Harry,” he heard his own desperate voice and kissed him again before he straightened his body a bit, getting a better angle for his quick pace. Harry’s moans and delightfully obscene tongue brought him over the edge. He kept on rolling his hips down into Harry while he came inside of him, riding out his orgasm.

The movement of his hips slowed, and Draco became aware that he was hot and panting. But the thought that Harry hadn’t found release yet restrained him from indulging in the urge to collapse onto Harry. Instead Draco carefully pulled out and went down on him.

He took in his distinct musk as he fingered him, stroked him, and sucked in the tip of his dick. Harry’s hands went wild in his hair, seemingly fighting an internal struggle of being gentle with him and pushing his head down his throat all the way. The thought sent a heat wave down Draco’s body and he took him in deeper right when Harry busted with his breath heaving and his thighs trembling beneath Draco’s mouth and hands.

Now Draco allowed himself to collapse next to Harry, breathed through the afterglow. He felt warm and sticky with sweat, especially where his and Harry’s arms touched, but he couldn’t bring himself to scoot away.

They lay like that for quite a while, only interrupted by Draco getting up to bring them a glass of water. He brought his wand with him to refill it with an Aguamenti, satisfying his thirst with a blissful feeling.

“This is so strange,” Harry told him when Draco lay back down. Harry absentmindedly started to run his fingers through Draco’s hair while they still lay unclothed, soft and lazy on top of the duvet. “Christmas is always snow and white skies to me. Or at least damp weather. It feels so strange that it’s hot and bright.”

Draco only huffed a laugh at Harry’s musings. He raised his wand, that was still clutched to his chest and made some smooth motions. Snowflakes in various sizes formed right above them and slowly swayed downwards. They looked much more crystalline than real snow did to the naked eye – just like Draco had imagined them to look like when he summoned them. Most of them melted right when they met Draco’s and Harry’s bodies, leaving little droplets of water on their naked skin.

Chapter Text

Harry and Draco spent a rather indolent afternoon and evening, feeling hazy from the time difference. They had each other several more times – excited and needy by the pool, cosy and lazy in bed – until it became quite the ordeal to get it up. When Harry stilled Draco’s hands on his cock and offered to blow Draco instead, they both opted out and laughed about it.

They had a long walk along the beach and Harry made fun of all the sun protection Draco charmed on himself despite the gentle evening sun. “Thanks for taking me with you,” Harry had said at some point after they’ve walked in silence for a while. The way he looked at him had Draco forget to breathe for a moment.

They stayed up for a few hours too long and had a few wines too many, sitting on the terrace above the ocean in the pleasant warmth of the night. Draco would’ve liked to blame it on the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to get up and have a shower the next morning, but deep down he knew that he just didn’t want to let Harry, who was fast asleep in his arms, go. Right when Draco wanted to cast a Tempus, Harry moved and began to stretch and circle his shoulders.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled and pulled Draco a little closer, resting his heavy arm on his waist. Harry closed his eyes again for a moment as Draco echoed his good morning before Harry asked, “When do you have to leave?”

Draco casted the Tempus now. “In about an hour. Did you have a goodnight’s sleep?”

Harry hummed and pressed a warm kiss to Draco’s chest. “Go have a shower. I’ll order us some breakfast.” Surprised that Harry wanted to get up so early with him , Draco lazily grabbed his toiletries and fresh clothes then went for a shower that successfully washed away his sleep and the heat of the previous night.

By the time he went back into the open living space, Harry sat at the kitchen isle, only dressed in his pants. There was a huge buffet consisting of breakfast tacos, chilaquiles and pan dulce as well as several mugs of steaming beverages.

“The elf would only answer in Spanish, but it looks like he got me,” Harry said happily and beckoned Draco to sit next to him.

Draco’s eyes fell on a mug right in front of Harry. “What is this?” The mug was huge, even in comparison to Harry’s hands on it. It smelled like cocoa and was topped with an unseemly generous amount of heavy cream, marshmallows, and sprinkles. The rim of the mug was covered in chocolate that nastily dripped down the sides.

“It’s a hot chocolate!” Harry sounded happy as he examined this atrocity. He started to dive into the melting cream with a teaspoon.

“ This is probably worth at least three meals of calories,” Draco pointed out which elicited an amused laugh from Harry. Draco grabbed a black coffee and started to load his plate with a mix of the foods.

“And what’s this?” Harry pointed on the chilaquiles while still trying to reach the hot chocolate through the heaps of topping.

“These are called chilaquiles. Fried tortillas with salsa, eggs, and cheese. You should have some after your through with your lavish feast. It’s so hot already – how can you even have a hot chocolate?” Draco asked and had a first few bites of his food. He just came out of a refreshing shower, but his body felt already too warm under his shirt.

Harry grabbed one of the breakfast burritos and had a hearty bite. “It’s still Christmas. I’m all up for hot chocolate, cake, and cookies. I think yesterday made me hungry,” he said with a side glance and a smirk. “I’m surprised I’m not sore. Are you?”

Draco huffed a laugh and sipped his coffee. He would never get over the fact how blunt Harry could be with these kinds of things. “No. Only my left arm for some reason.”

“Ah, probably from the pool. You held me up for quite some time,” Harry mused. “Do you know when you’ll be back today?”

“Mh. Not quite sure. Maybe late afternoon? But it really depends on the programme today. If I’m not here by 7 o’clock, just go ahead and have dinner without me. No need to wait up.”

The better part of his day went by in a rush. One of the scholars Draco collaborated with prepared a presentation to help bring everyone up to date on the current state of affairs. After a discussion that lasted only about half an hour longer than planned – which really must have been a new record – they set off to one of the Mayan ruins to have a first hand look at some of the symbols they’d just discussed. The Cooling Charms woven into Draco’s linen shirt and suit jacket couldn’t stand up to the hot and humid weather in the tropical jungles. But of course, he wouldn’t ever complain or take off his jacket. Instead he concentrated on the temple, took down notes and copied some runes.

After a fruitful discussion about the use of waterlilies in ancient Mayan rituals, which Draco suspected to prove most conducive to his research, the rest of the day seemed to stretch in an endless span. Every now and then, he felt a nervous twitch in his feet and grew impatient mid-conversation; which he usually didn’t, ever. The only times he ever felt this restless in joyful anticipation was when Scorpius was about to come home. The remainder of the day was interesting, sure, but not exactly crucial to Draco’s research. It felt like waiting for the Hogwarts Express to arrive at Platform and Three-Quarters.

The thought unnerved him. But instead of dwelling in his musings, Draco tried to refocus himself back on his work.

Eventually, around 6 o’clock, Draco could leave after spending an appropriate amount of time saying his goodbyes as he didn’t want to show that he was in a rush. He wished everyone happy holidays and told his colleagues, “No, I can’t stay for dinner, I’m afraid,” and, “I’m sorry, Mr Potter has other duties today.”

Then Draco Apparated on the spot right into the foyer. The whole living space was opened up to the terrace and Draco could feel the soft breeze of the ocean even far back in the room. Harry had heard his appearance, of course, and he was turned around to Draco in the outdoor lounge chair that was facing the ocean.

“Harry,” Draco found himself saying as he crossed the room and stepped out onto the terrace. Harry looked laid-back and smiled up at him happily, his hair a damp mess. He was dressed in only his bathing trunks and his skin looked much more tanned than just yesterday. Some folders and files lay in his lap and next to the chair.

“Draco,” he said in an amused tone and tilted his head up slightly. Draco complied Harry’s searching lips with a smile and leaned down to kiss him, soft but courtly. “How was your day?” Harry asked then and put the files from his lap down on the ground.

“Very good,” Draco pulled the other lounge chair closer and sat down right next to Harry. He stripped off his jacket and loosened his tie a little before he leaned back in the seat. “Long day, but very good. I’ve taken a whole heap of waterlily samples with me. Of the processed roots, too. I’m probably set for a few months worth of research in the laboratory.”

A soft noise caught both their attention as a northern cardinal alighted on the railing of the terrace. The little red bird was hopping along the balustrade as it was joined by a second bird alighting on the mosaic floor next to the pool. They chirped an eager conversation in lovely trills and whistles, looking for something they didn’t find on the terrace before they took off.

“How did you spend your day, love?” Draco asked absently, still mesmerised by the bright red of the birds. The last word just slipped Draco’s tongue and he took a breath as though to say something even if he was not sure what.

But Harry smiled and told him, “I had a brilliant day. I’ve had a run after you left. And a walk when I noticed how much harder it is to run on sand. I worked through some of the files here, swam some rounds in the pool and worked some more.”

Harry took some of the loose parchments in hand and looked at his own writing. On the other hand he held one of these Muggle writing utensils. “I think I’m onto something concerning an unsolved case. I will talk to Pearson tomorrow and see if they have it already covered.” Draco wondered if Harry only understood half the things Draco was telling him about work, too. Though, he liked the way that Harry’s thoughts slipped unfiltered from his tongue, full focus on the parchment in hand.

Although, one thing Draco did understand. “You’re working cases? One might think that’s not your duty as Head of Department.”

Putting the parchment down, Harry thought for a moment and sucked his bottom lip in. “Yeah… No, it’s not really my job. I just like to help out. Can I join you over there?”

After some shuffling, Harry sat down behind Draco and Draco leaned with his back against his chest. Harry started to undo Draco’s tie, hands straying to massage his shoulders and his neck which elicited a pleased groan that came deep from Draco’s chest. “Feels so good,” he told Harry and relaxed into the touch.

“So,” Draco gathered his thoughts after a moment. “You told me before that you were so caught up in work that you could only breathe once they forced you on a leave. Maybe you’re taking on too much.”

Harry sighed while he massaged Draco’s arms. Draco had no idea that this would feel so good. “What can I say? You’re right. It’s just that- Well, I had the most fun at my job while still working as an Auror. Gin once said that I should just quit and work at the Auror Office again. But I feel like it’s not as simple as that. Take off your shirt.”

Draco sat up a little and obliged, not without charming some sun protection on his skin. Harry chuckled. “You’re almost all the way in the shade.”

“Did you know that ultraviolet rays only lose about 60 percent of their effectiveness in the shadows?” he retorted with a raised eyebrow that Harry wouldn’t even see as he still sat behind him. “Well. You don’t want to lose your influence in the DMLE obviously. In my opinion you can either choose to work in the field to help individuals and benefit from the fact that you enjoy this work. Or you choose to be in control as Head of Department in a political sense, working for the greater good if you will. And you’ve proven rather bright when it comes to judging what that even means.”

Harry’s hands have stilled, and Draco could only feel the rise and fall of his chest on his back. “Never looked at it so clearly,” he said in a low voice and his hands were back to work.

“It doesn’t make the decision much easier, I might assume. But yes. Ask me anytime when you’re in need of well-reasoned insights.” Harry only groped the ticklish spot on Draco’s side in response.

~

“What time will it be in London when we get home?” Harry asked the next morning while eating a creamy omelette. Draco had told him several times about the time difference, but he didn’t put too much effort into recalling it. Draco was right here with the answer anyway.

Draco’s puff of air sounded like a mix of a sigh and a laugh. “Four in the afternoon.”

Harry just nodded and had to think hard for a moment to remember which day of the week it was and if he had anything to do. Bullstrode had told him about a Ministry function on Friday which he should attend, but his thought quickly slipped to Saturday when the kids would be coming home for the Christmas holidays and the Yule celebration that he and Al would spend at the Manor.

“Excited for Saturday?” he asked Draco with a grin and turned towards him a little to see his expression.

His lips curved up into a smile before they parted into a slight grin. But then he looked like he’d remembered something that wiped the smile from his face. “Harry,” he said and cleared his throat. “What exactly do we tell Scorpius and your children?”

Harry hadn’t given much thought to it and didn’t really see any reason for it. There wasn’t exactly anything to hide. “Well, the truth?” he tried with a frown. “It wouldn’t be fair to them or to us if we pretend to be strangers. Or anything less than lovers.”

“Don’t you think we’re kind of in between?” Draco said and his voice didn’t sound like him. It was a little high-pitched and pressed.

Harry decided that Draco sounded scared, even if it was hard to tell. So he put his fork down on his plate and turned to Draco. He didn’t want to say too much now or too little. Harry put his hand on Draco’s thigh which made him look at Harry. Draco spoke before Harry found his words. “There is no in-between for you, right? For us, perhaps.” There was a frown on Draco’s face and his eyes searched Harry’s gaze as though he might read an answer there.

Trying to grasp what Draco exactly was on about, Harry cleared his throat to win some time. “Er… Is this about being patient and giving it some time and all? I mean- I, er,“ he took a short but sharp breath to stop the stammering. “I enjoy every second we spend together. I wouldn’t want to take a step backwards now. I don’t think that there would be any need for that unless you-“

“No, wait,” Draco told him, voice a little terse. But he took Harry’s hand in his. He caressed the back of it with his thumb, looking down at the scar there. “Just forget what I said, I’m silly.” He lifted Harry’s hands and kissed his knuckles.

Draco didn’t really sound convincing, but Harry didn’t want to mess this up by saying something wrong. So they went back to chatting nothing too important while Harry tried to figure out what it was exactly that bothered Draco. Even though Draco smiled and kissed him back, he was just a little more distant and quieter on their way out of the house, to the Mexican Ministry, to the British Ministry. He even held Harry’s hand all the way up to the Atrium until their ways parted. Still, Harry felt like there was something on Draco’s mind.

Chapter Text

Harry tried not to give much thought to the fact that Draco had to work much the following days. He tried not to worry when Draco had ended their Floo call after a few minutes because he would need to stir a potion and read up on something after that. Because they had only spent three days with each other. Harry shouldn’t freak out after one and a half days without him. 

Harry picked another gingerbread man off the cookie plate at his table and bit its head off first. He gazed around the busy room and recognised some of the Aurors, Hit Wizards and Witches, and other employees of the DMLE. Vaguely searching for a larger gathering of people, which he couldn’t find, he concluded that Hermione wasn’t here. As some guests and donors were also invited, he’d even got his hopes up that he might see Draco somewhere but didn’t catch any sign of a white shock of hair.

Sitting all alone at the table, Harry just grabbed the next gingerbread cookie, bit its head off and absentmindedly crunched the rest of it down. He had never noticed before that the other Aurors didn’t approach him much anymore when it wasn’t about work. He had made it clear that he didn’t like events and festivities all that much, apparently. With a small frown he tried to imagine how he must look to others, sitting in the corner of the room and not talking much to anybody. Sipping his whisky and observing the room like the jaded veteran he sometimes was. He mused if he would be able to fix his fearsome reputation without becoming overly sociable.

“Harry! Can I sit with you?” a friendly voice interrupted his musings, and he didn’t even have to turn around to see who it was.

He quickly stood up. “Teddy! Sure, come here,” he hugged his godson dearly and felt like they haven’t seen each other in ages outside the Ministry. “Come sit,” he told him again eagerly. “How are you?”

Ted grinned at him a little shyly. His hair was the colour of caramel today and curled in perfect waves down to his jawline. His complexion looked more tanned than he used to wear it and his eyes shone in a deep, friendly blue. Ever since Ted has been working as an Auror, he tried not to change too many of his features so that his fellow Aurors wouldn’t call him out on it all the time. He used his abilities as a Metamorphmagus for his undercover work instead.

“I’m great. How are you? I tried to Floo call earlier this week and you’re out of office.”

“I have the whole month off and I’ve was in Mexico,” Harry smirked and began to tell Ted that he was seeing someone – which seemed to surprise Ted a lot – and how he had spent this Advent season off work so far. “Well, how’s work?” he asked a little lamely after that.

Teddy told him that everything was alright, but his response came off a little brusque. Harry ate another gingerbread man quite automatically when there was an awkward silence. “Is everything alright?” he asked, a little wary.

Ted thinned his lips and looked like he considered his words. “Look, this Christmas… I know that we don’t see each other much. I know, you don’t have much time and- Well. I wanted to visit Vic’s grandparents with her this year. So I think, we won’t see each other this Christmas. And we…” He took another deep breath. “It’s not official yet. But she asked me if I wanted to marry her. Like, I mean. We discussed it.”

For a second Harry is a little dumb-struck, but then he gathers his thoughts. “Oh, Teddy!” he pulled him in for a hug. “That’s great news. I mean- it is great news, right? You look a little pale.”

Ted huffed a nervous laugh. “Yeah, it is. I just wasn’t sure how you would take it. We never talked about Vic and me.”

“Yeah, I know. You never told me much about you two,” Harry said.

“Well, you never asked me anything.”

The remark didn’t sound like an accusation at all, but something about it made Harry’s chest ache with guilt. “Fuck,” he said and instantly felt the need to apologise but reminded himself that he could totally say that word in front of Ted. “I mean – Teddy, I’m so sorry. You’re right, I didn’t ask. You must have thought that I didn’t care. Or that I don’t take you two seriously.” He felt shocked that these thoughts could have crossed Teddy’s mind. Even if he didn’t think of this relationship of his godson all too serious several years ago. It had started when they were just 16 and 14 after all.

Ted smiled a little happier now. “You do care,” it half sounded like a question, half like a statement.

“Of course, I do. I love you, Ted. I’m so sorry, really,” he told him again. “I’ll try to change that.” He couldn’t help but think about his other kids. He thought about Draco, too. “Merlin, I’m such an idiot.” Harry tried to shift his focus back on Ted and asked him about Vic and her grandparents and how Bill and Fleur were. He encouraged Ted to talk to Vic when he said that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to have children – now or ever.

By the time Ted leaned back and looked a little reassured, they had emptied the plate of gingerbread men. He let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks for listening,” he said sincerely.

Harry wanted to apologise again, but he was interrupted by another familiar voice that just said, “Harry.”

“Draco!” He hurried to stand up and hug him. He instantly saw that Draco was nervous, so he held back the little kiss that he wanted to give him. “This is Draco,” he told Ted. “This is Teddy. My godson,” he told Draco.

The two shook hands and Draco frowned slightly. “Pleasure to meet you, Ted. You must be my first cousin once removed.”

Ted frowned too for a moment. “Oh, right. Draco Malfoy. I’ve heard that name. Nice to meet you, too.”

Harry held out a chair for Draco. “I didn’t know, you were coming,” Harry told Draco and smiled at him. Draco still looked nervous and didn’t answer right away. Ted seemed to take that as a clue – Merlin bless his observational skills – and excused himself to talk to some of his co-workers.

“You look handsome tonight,” Harry said as soon as they were alone, hoping to elicit at least a little smile on Draco’s troubled face. It worked, fortunately.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” Draco asked and his eyes briefly flickered up to meet Harry’s.

“What?” Harry couldn’t quite get what he meant. “Yeah, of course? Why wouldn’t it?”

A frustrated sigh escaped Draco’s mouth and he leaned with his elbows on the table. “I wanted to contact you earlier, but you must already been out. And then I didn’t know if I should simply try to get to your flat, but I wouldn’t even know how exactly. I figured that you might be here. Then I felt like chasing after you. I wasn’t quite sure if you’d rather go alone.”

Harry almost laughed with the relief that he felt. “Well, I wanted to ask you to join me today, but you sounded so busy and I didn’t really have a chance to talk to you yesterday. I was actually just thinking about you. I probably would have come to the Manor in about an hour or so.”

“Well. About these insufferably unpractical Floo calls – I got something for you.” Draco reached into the inner side of his robes and pulled out one of the wireless Muggle phones. “It’s all yours. You need me to show you how it works, right?”

Harry took the thing in awe and eyed its every side. “Yeah, I have no idea. And I can call you with this- Wait. Can we… You probably only just got here, but would you want to leave? Wanna come to my place? I need to talk to you about something and I’ll feel better if I could do that right now.”

Draco agreed immediately and Harry Apparated them into the foyer of the building, managed the Wards to allow Draco in, and they took the lift all the way up to his penthouse. He gave Draco a quick tour and complained with a smirk that Draco had never shown him all the rooms of Malfoy Manor.

“Listen, Draco,” Harry said when they sat down on the couch. He conjured them both a tumbler of whiskey before he spoke. “I’ve just noticed today that I’m a right git. You gave me so many opportunities to talk about me and my feelings. I feel like I’ve never asked you a thing. There are so many things I wondered about, but I never asked a thing.”

Draco listened carefully; his brows slightly furrowed again. “Things like what?” he asked in a small voice.

“Things that you care about. Maybe things that I find difficult to talk about. Like your late wife.”

“Oh, sweet Salazar’s sake,” Draco groaned and took a gulp of his whisky. “Please, show some decency.”

“What?” Harry asked, worried. “I think that we should talk about that. If you were close. When she died. If you’re scared of a relationship because you lost someone, maybe. I never gave you any room to talk about that. I only ever talked about me.”

Draco buried his face in his hands. It took a maddening minute before he huffed a dry laugh. “Well. I always told you that you’re so full of yourself, Potter.” Then he sighed, exasperated, and continued in earnest. “Yes, we should talk, I suppose.”

“Okay,” Harry said with relief. “Right. So… Please forgive me if I ask anything, er, indecent. Just tell me so.” He didn’t have to ask before Draco spoke, though.

“Yes, well. Her name was Astoria and she died 5 years ago. From a blood curse. We learned about it right after Scorpius’ birth. It’s a curse that runs in her family, but it hadn’t struck within generations.”

“That’s a really horrible thing to face right after your son has been born,” Harry said and swallowed hard.

“Yes,” Draco only said, his voice a little breathy. He took a sip of whisky and his contemplating eyes flickered to Harry. Draco then took his shoes off, pulled his legs up on the couch and scooted up closer to lean against Harry, his head resting on his shoulder.

Draco told him that they’ve always been close, but that it was an arranged marriage. Harry bit back the question why there were arranged marriages still as it would only shift the focus of this conversation. Instead he listened to Draco. He began a little clumsy, but soon he got carried away. The slices that he shared about his life with Astoria and later on Scorpius became much more detailed and colourful. Most of them were quite happy, fortunately.

“See, Astoria and me – we’ve always been dear friends,” Draco said after a small silence. His head lay in Harry’s lap now and Harry ran his fingers tenderly through Draco’s hair. “Just that, though.”

When Draco talked about Astoria’s death, he grew very serious. He said that he had braced himself for it and Astoria’s selfless mindset was really reassuring for both Scorpius and him. He also told Harry that Al played a huge part in pulling Scorpius out of his depression during their first year at Hogwarts.

“I didn’t think that it would feel so good,” Draco said suddenly. When he looked up into Harry’s eyes, he added, “Talking about that. To you.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Harry smiled. “You don’t really sound like you need any advice from me. Is it alright that I just listened?” Draco only nodded. “And well… You’ve been different, though. I’m not making that up, right? You seem to be so at home with yourself – why is it that you worry about us?” Harry ventured to ask.

Draco thought for a long moment then. “You change me.” His voice was very clear, his eyes focussed. “You change my priorities. You make me feel so… young. And I just can’t say no to you. There’s-“ Draco sat up and took Harry’s hands in his, his voice not as calm anymore. “I’m scared that I’ll never be the same again after you.”

Chapter Text

“Quilts? I’m not sure if we have any. Why do we need them again?” Harry asked with a frown into the muggle device. This phone was a blessing because now he could see Draco’s glare and his arched-up eyebrow. It made Harry grin.

“Merlin, you have indeed never celebrated Yule. Very well. If you don’t have any quilts just bring some blankets. For Albus, too. You have blankets , right Potter?”

Harry snickered and moved more Christmas decorations into place with a flick of his wand. “Yes, I do have blankets, Draco. I’m sure you’ll tell me all about why that’s relevant, right?”

“You’d rather have quilts or blankets because all the fires will be out at night,” Harry heard Scorpius say in the background. “Besides, with magical quilts the act of remembrance is usually more genuine.”

“I have no idea what you two talking about,” Harry said. “But I need to hang up. The kids will be Flooing in any minute now. When should we be at the Manor?”

Draco checked something next to the phone, then said, “The eclipse is at 10 in the morning. You can come in any time you want, but not later than 9 o’clock sharp, alright? Don’t eat. We’ll have brunch.”

“Wow, that’s early. But yeah. Sure. Anything else, darling?”

A musing hum came from Draco and Harry could see that he was suppressing a grin. “I’ll text you if there’s anything else. Enjoy your family time, Harry.”

“See you tomorrow, Harry!” Scorpius chimed in before they ended the video call.

With a fond smile on his face, Harry stored the phone in his pocket and set up some more Christmas decorations. Since James, Al and Lily were coming over this afternoon, Harry had decided to guarantee some festive vibes in his flat. The Christmas tree all alone did look a little lost, after all. When he found another box of Christmas decorations – one that solely contained Father Christmas figurines – Harry had started to arrange them all around the place.

When Harry was done, he sat down on the couch and automatically thought of his talk with Draco the other night. He still felt uplifted when he thought about it; Draco was so confident talking to him. Trusting him. Although Draco’s words were still stuck in his head, “I’m scared that I’ll never be the same again after you.” Harry had resisted the urge to answer that they’d last forever. No matter how much he felt these words to be true – hoped them to be true – it was exactly that kind of thing that scared Draco. So instead Harry had held him close and told him that Draco changed him a lot, too – for the better. 

The flaring Floo snapped his mind back into the present and he quickly got up from the couch to greet the kids. James and Lily came through first and Harry spelled away the ashes before they even hit the ground. He pulled Lily into a hug. She looked happy to see him with a wide grin on her open face.  James didn’t look as excited but aimed a few friendly slaps on Harry’s back that reminded him much of Ron.

Last through came Albus. In contrast to his two siblings, he was dressed in his Slytherin uniform. Harry just tried not to give too much thought to it and hugged him close. Al hugged him back with one arm, though he retreated quickly.

Harry tried not to be hurt by his bored expression. “It’s all right, they’re teenagers,” he told himself. Especially now that Harry had decided to step up his game and become a more present dad, he couldn’t help some anxiety creeping up his chest. It manifested in an oppressive lump right in his throat that hampered his breathing.

“All right – who wants some Butterbeer?” is the first thing Harry asked and luckily everyone agreed with more excitement than he’d hoped for.

The feeling that he would have to prove himself to his kids subsided as soon as they started talking about school, Quidditch and friends over warm Butterbeers. The genuinely fluent conversation eased his nerves a lot.

James told them all about one of his last Quidditch trainings during a snowstorm. Rosie hit their Keeper with a Bludger and some of the team members accused her on doing so wilfully, apparently. “They have no idea – she’d never do that!” James got his anger up a little. Harry and Ginny kept telling him to keep an eye on Rosie ever since she joined the team only this year, mostly just for the sake of it. Obviously, James did feel genuinely protective of his cousin. “She might be a nerd, but she’s slaying it as a Beater. Jacklin better learns how to fucking twirl.”

“Why would they accuse her?” Harry asked with a frown, noticing James’ language a little too late.

“She’s the Minister’s kid – I bet, that’s why.”

“Pity,” Al commented with a sip of his Butterbeer and James’ head snapped around to him.

“Something to say?” he asked, a little too harsh for Harry’s liking. Al just looked straight back at his brother with a piercing gaze. 

“Boys, please,” Harry just said. At least it made them break eye contact and Al rolled his eyes. Harry thought that it was better to move on and asked, “Lil, how are your mandrakes doing?”

“They are doing fine. I think they must be about the same age as James now. They started mating,” she grinned, and James choked on his Butterbeer.

“Oh,” Harry cleared his throat. “Oh, they do that?” He wasn’t really sure if he was asking Lily or James.

“Yes, James has a girlfriend.” Lily’s grin spread even wider while she watched James blush a little.

“I’m never letting you use my notes from second year again,” James mumbled, but actually didn’t look too offended.

Harry tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. “So you have a girlfriend, James? What’s her name?”

James told him all about Abby. That it took them two months until they had their first date. That she was one of the best sixth years in Transfiguration and that she wanted to become an Animagus once she was old and experienced enough. James wasn’t shy about the fact that he fancied her a lot.

“I bet you already miss her and cry yourself to sleep at night,” Lily said in a mocking tone, but James just shoved her by the shoulder.

“What can I say? I do miss Abby already. Al is the only one who can see his boyfriend during the hols.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat until he saw Al’s bored face. “Stop calling him my boyfriend,” he muttered with another eyeroll.

A short laughter escaped James’ mouth. “Might as well be, the self-righteous smart-arse.”

“Hey”, Harry cut in now. “Don’t talk about Scorpius this way.” Al’s gaze drifted up to him with an incredulous expression on his face. “And enough with the teasing.” Harry hesitated for a moment but thought that there wouldn’t ever be a perfect timing. So he cleared his throat and said, “I’m seeing someone, too. Er, it’s Scorpius dad. Draco Malfoy. I hope that I can introduce you guys sometime soon.” 

Apparently, this was nothing new to Al. Though, Lily and James seemed somewhat taken aback. “Oh, uhm,” James started to speak and paused briefly. “Well, nice to hear that you’re dating,” he said a little awkwardly but tried to give Harry a smile that made Harry’s chest feel too small for his heart.

“Thanks,” he said, a little surprised by his son’s reassurance. Harry wasn’t really sure what he had expected, but this was definitely more than he had hoped for. Lily just looked a little disgusted, but that was probably okay.

“Look, I got this cool parchment,” James said and fetched a piece of parchment and a pen from his bag. “It’s linked to another parchment that Abby has.” 

“Can I see it?” Harry asked immediately with a sense foreboding in his gut. Linked parchments like that could be bought in Diagon Ally, but Harry always felt nervous about magical artefacts. Especially when his kids were involved. When James frowned, Harry added, “I’m not gonna read it. I’d like to check it for curses and the like. May I?” James nodded and Harry got his wand out, tapping the piece of parchment a few times in quick succession. Using the Identification Spells that were his daily tools as an Auror felt like mounting a broom – Harry would never forget how to do it.

“Negative,” he said with a reassuring smile and shoved it back to James.

“What did this Moody guy say, you told us about?” Lily asked, squinting her eyes. “Constant…”

Harry smirked. “Constant vigilance.”

“Yeah that! I bet you’re just like him,” Lily laughed and took a huge gulp of her Butterbeer which left some foam right above her lips.

When it was almost time for bed, Lily and James decided to Floo home to the cottage and sleep there since Harry told them that he and Al would get up early. He kissed them goodbye and then ordered another Butterbeer for him and Al by tapping the menu for the house-elf service with his wand. The Butterbeer was served in an instant.

Al looked like he wanted to say something. So Harry didn’t push or interrupt him, but waited a minute for him to speak. “Uhm… I wanted to say thanks for your letter again. And, well… I’ll try to be better, too. I mean, if you try.” His gaze was pointed down at the table. Harry watched the way Albus’ ebony waves were tugged behind his ears; the adorable freckles that stood out against his pale face and how the rim of his pine-green irises was almost black in the warm candlelight. Harry felt an unconditional fondness for his son that he had been estranged from for too long.

Harry lay a hand on Al’s arm to catch his attention and his eyes lifted to meet Harry’s. He looked a little insecure and nervous, almost flinching away from the touch but he stayed still. “I will try. I promise. Is there anything you want to talk to me about?” Harry knew that Al was an outsider, but there was hardly a way to know how badly he had been bullied in Hogwarts. Minerva had only contacted him and Ginny once about an accident that Al was involved in. She didn’t give away any names, though.

Al took the Butterbeer and Harry’s hand dropped off his arm. “No,” he said. “Nothing that you could do anything about anyway.”

“Well, I’m always here to talk, though. Talking can help as well.”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t just talk. You always try something,” Harry was sure that Al intended to end the sentence with ‘ stupid’ .

Harry frowned and cleared his throat. “Like what?”

“Like talking to my Professors about it. Or other students when you’re guest lecturing. It’s making things worse.”

“What do you mean when you say worse?” Harry tried to sound calm and comforting. He reminded himself that whatever Al would tell him or not tell him – he shouldn’t let his anger get the better of him.

Al took a long swig of his hot beverage. His lips curled in a frown. “They are mostly ignoring me. Sometimes they hex me. I don’t wanna cry about it.”

“No, you’re not crying about it,” Harry was so glad to get something out of him. “It’s terrible that someone does that to you. Would you tell me who? I promise you I won’t do anything without your consent .”

“Oh, just some stupid Gryffindors. You know, they hate Slytherins.”

Harry swallowed hard, trying not to say all the wrong things. “Look, I’m sure not all Gryffindors and Slytherins hate each other. Do they group up on you? Do they hurt you?” Inevitably, a very distinct memory of his own dad, his friends and Severus Snape came to his mind.

“I don’t want your pity,” Al snarled.

“Look, I’m trying to… It’s not your fault that they treat you like that.”

Al looks a little startled at that statement. “Well, it is. To be honest, I used to blame you for being… well, you. But it’s because of my poor magic.”

“I’m sure you know that that’s no excuse. You don’t bully people for anything. Don’t ever think that they are right in treating you that way.” Harry would have liked to tell Al that his magic wasn’t poor, but he knew that Al wouldn’t believe him. Maybe Al was even right about his magic; it wouldn’t matter in any way to Harry. “Look, I love you no matter what. I don’t love anyone in our family for their magical skills or Quidditch talents or whatever. I love you for being you. I have a feeling that I haven’t told you that often enough, Al.”

Chapter Text

“Accio ‘Winter Solstice: Symbols and Ancient Runes’”, Scorpius murmured over his coffee with his wand raised. Almost immediately, a book came flying to him and he opened it up, skimming through some pages. “Look, dad. This one. Do you know it?” he asked curiously, lifting his head, and shoving the book across the table.

Draco took the book and looked at the rune that Scorpius marked with his index finger. “Releasing contained energies,” Draco read and after a musing sound, he said, “No, I think we’ve never used it on the Yule Log. Want to try it this year?”

“Yes!” Scorpius sounded rather excited. “I want to paint it with Albus. If they are here in time, that is.” He had a look on his watch and tapped his finger against it impatiently. “How long does it usually take to set up the Yule Log? What do you reckon?”

“Mh, depends. I’m sure you know most of the runes by heart. It won’t take you long to copy down the rest of them. I’m sure, Harry and Albus will be here in time.” Draco sipped his coffee and gave Scorpius a reassuring smile. It didn’t take another minute before they heard the Floo in the entrance hall. Draco couldn’t help but grin and shake his head when Scorpius and he instantly jumped to their feet.

“Albus!” Scorpius exclaimed before he even rounded the corner to the hall. Draco trailed behind him and saw the boys hug when he entered the room. Harry watched them with a fond smile on his face. His expression didn’t change when his gaze turned to Draco.

“Hey,” Harry said softly and came over. They lingered over a gentle kiss for a moment and Draco dwelled in the now familiar flutter in his chest when he felt Harry’s firm grip around his waist.

When they pulled apart, Draco returned the fond smile. “Hey,” he answered, feeling a little silly. Draco then went over to Albus to shake his hand and pat his shoulder while Harry greeted Scorpius. “How are you doing, Albus?” Draco asked him when Albus smiled up at him a little sleepily. “Excited for Yule and Christmas?”

“Yeah,” he just answered with a raspy voice and quickly rubbed his eyes.

“Let’s prepare the Yule Log right away now, shall we?” Scorpius clapped his hands once and his eager eyes floated between them.

“Alright let’s go into the main drawing room then,” Draco suggested and started moving.

He noticed Harry’s sudden inhale though Harry didn’t speak until they were on the threshold of the double door to the room. “Is this, uhm…” his voice trailed off and a sick feeling settled in Draco’s gut.

“Please, Harry. It is the drawing room of the Manor, yes. It’s not the room that you once knew, though.”

Harry only nodded and stepped inside, looked around carefully. Scorpius dragged Albus further into the room to kneel by the huge fireplace. When Albus looked back to Harry and Draco, he frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Draco inhaled, searching for an answer, but it was Scorpius who responded, “It’s about the war, Albus.” Even though the past sometimes hovered between them, Draco hadn’t exactly expected to see Harry wandering around the drawing room like it might spin him back to 1998. Harry sat down on the sofa eventually, his shoulders a little tense.

Refocusing on Scorpius’ quizzical face, Draco waved his wand to Accio the bucket full of paint that he had prepared for the solstice. He put it down next to Scorpius who already opened a page in the book full of runes and symbols for the solstice.

“You never told us much about the war,” Albus said while he watched Scorpius getting started with the runes on the Yule Log and Draco followed his gaze. It was a bunch of twigs and small branches, bound together with a cord. It looked just as plain as the one Draco’s parents used to have for the solstice. Even as a child he had been fascinated by its simplicity – especially in comparison to all the opulence that surrounded him.

“Yeah,” Harry said after a while, and Draco went over to sit next to him. “I know. Some of it is… really hard to talk about.”

“Well, the winter solstice is a very magical and meaningful time. Remembering and beginning anew all the same – that’s precisely the spirit of the festivities,” Scorpius pointed out, gaze not averted from the rune he was painting. Draco was sure that Scorpius’ casual tone claimed quite some self-control from him.

Draco knew that his son has always been fascinated by Harry Potter – long before he acquainted Albus. Ever since he’s been old enough to do serious research, he had read an awful lot of historical and biographical documents on the war and the Saviour of the Wizarding World. He even asked Draco to have a look at the official memories of witnesses that they kept in Pensieves at the Ministry. Draco had stalled him the past years and told him that he was too young. Soon he would have to comply, though.

“Chéri, please don’t try to persuade people into sharing war stories with you,” Draco said and put his hand on Harry’s. The touch seemed to wake him up from his daze and a small smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. His emerald eyes looked a little darker behind his glasses than usual. The sight of Harry’ expression sparked Draco’s desire to cheer him up; he wasn’t quite sure how, though. For a start, he just entwined their fingers and went back to watching Scorpius copy the runes on the branches and on the stones of the fireplace.

“Draco once saved my life during the war,” Harry said suddenly, his tone much more casual than Draco would have expected.

“Oh, Salazar – please,” Draco said in a rush, embarrassed. “You can hardly call it that.” Draco could see Albus’ curious expression and Scorpius suppressed a smirk in the corner of his eyes.

Harry only shrugged. “Well, you did. I would have died that day if you hadn’t lied to them.” Although Draco knew that Harry’s words were true to some extent, it was always hard for him to take pride in anything he had done before and during the war. He may have saved Harry’s life that day, but he thought himself quite a coward regardless.

“And about a month later, you saved mine.” Draco’s voice was a little quieter than he meant it to be. He had no idea why, but Harry looked a lot more at ease now.

“Sweet Circe, you saved each other – that’s so romantic and tragic! You never told me that you saved Harry’s life, too,” Scorpius sat back on his heels and looked between Draco and Harry in awe. “But we should really save this for later. It’s a perfect topic for a conversation over the ignited Yule Log on the day of the solstice. Let’s wait for nightfall, shall we?”

Harry looked a little amused now and Draco simply felt delighted by having Scorpius around. They watched their sons mostly in silence while Scorpius instructed Albus on the last few runes. As he didn’t take Ancient Runes in Hogwarts, he struggled a bit but looked concentrated when he delicately marked the timber with crimson red symbols.

“Have a look, Papa? Harry?” Scorpius asked when they were done, and they all knelt next to each other in front of the fireplace. The runes looked perfect to Draco.

“Looks like a dark ritual you would see in Muggle horror movies,” Harry choked a laugh, probably trying not to say anything indecent.

“It was a Blood Ritual once,” Draco explained with a smirk. “When I was a boy, my grandfather insisted we use the blood of a goat. Earlier on one would even use some human blood as proper sacrifice. This is enchanted paint, though.” Draco smirked when he saw Harry’s raised eyebrows and Albus’ fascinated expression.

“How is the paint enchanted?” Albus asked, eying the little bucket with the remaining colour.

“It contains various plants, mushrooms and seeds from around the grounds here. It’s an earth ritual after all. Once it was meant to celebrate the moment when the days become longer again in anticipation of the harvest. Life got a lot easier as soon as the days got longer and warmer. So you sacrifice some of the food – and classically livestock – you can spare on the shortest day there is in order to celebrate the turning point.”

Draco smirked when Harry and Albus nodded in unison. “And the runes? Do they have any impact?” Harry asked with a frown. “I mean – is it a tradition or a magical ritual?”

“It might only be superstition,” Scorpius answered, his voice pregnant with meaning, “but the solstices and equinoxes are a very potent time for magic. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s more to it than just that.”

As the moment of the solstice came closer, Draco fetched a small golden ball from his robes and pressed the button on it. The ball began to hover in front of them and enlarged itself. The metallic segments clicked and rotated as the globe opened its top half, revealing a model of the solar system. Little orbs floated in the golden bowl, swirling around quickly before they came to a halt and showed the current position of the planets and luminaries.

“I’ve never seen such a small planetarium,” Harry said while they all watched the planets in anticipation, though the orbs were unmoving to the bare eye.

“We’re waiting for… Three minutes and twenty-nine seconds past ten, precisely. Two minutes remaining,” Scorpius announced with a glance to his watch.

“What happens in two minutes? Will we have to do something?” Albus asked, excited and a little panicked all the same.

“Don’t worry, Albus. You’ll see,” Draco answered and pulled out his wand. With a swift motion through the air, he turned off all the lights and fires in the Manor. “We won’t have any lights on the day and night of the winter solstice. Not until the sun will be up again tomorrow,” he explained. While waiting, Draco leaned a little closer into Harry until their shoulders were touching and felt Harry’s arm on his back a second later. 

Right when the little orb that represented the earth gleamed, the Yule Log burst into flames, causing them to recoil from the flaring fire. The laughter from Harry’s surprise came from deep within his chest, sending vibrations through Draco’s back where they touched.

“You are going to love the next part of our celebrations,” Draco said while spelling away some minor patches of soot from everyone’s faces. “We’ll have some cake now.”

When they entered the kitchen, the small dining table, tugged away to the side, was already set by the house-elves. On a festive plate in the middle there was a traditional Yule Log cake, decorated with cranberries, nuts and chocolate cream.

“This looks so delicious,” Harry’s eyes were just as avid and sparkling as Albus’ and Scorpius’.

“It’s a bûche de Noël,” Draco informed him with a smug smile, his eyes flickering to meet his gaze. Just like he had hopes for, a crooked little smile tugged at the corner of Harry’s mouth at Draco’s display of his French expertise.

“Come again?” he said, not averting his eyes from Draco’s. Draco repeated the words while he started to cut the cake, amusedly torn between this small but exciting tension between him and Harry and not being too obvious about it in front of Albus and Scorpius.

Chapter Text

“It’s solar noon in… right now,” Scorpius pointed out with his wrist raised to his face. His gaze turned from his watch to the windows along the far wall of the kitchen as though he checked the position of the sun.

“Oh, look. Nothing went exploding,” Al smirked with a side glance.

Scorpius huffed a little laugh. “True. We should visit mum soon.”

Harry almost choked on his tee at the mention of Astoria. A sickening feeling in his gut left Harry a little short of breath. “Er, if that’s too… Al and me, we can totally stay here if you two prefer to go alone.”

“I want Albus with me if he’s okay with that,” Scorpius said, not one sign of trouble in his expression.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Draco said when they stood up from the table and Scorpius already headed for the door to the gardens. “It’s a beautiful family crypt in the grounds. You want to come?” Draco’s tender but firm hands gave him a little push by the small of his back and Harry didn’t have the heart to say no.

Harry cleared his throat and said in a small voice, “Sure. But I tend to cry easily, just so you know.” The stifling feeling already settled in his chest when he just thought about Draco and Scorpius losing their wife and mum. Up to now, it has been a faraway thought, especially as Draco was so accepting about her death. Harry couldn’t bear to think about Scorpius, though. Scorpius’ unwavering cheerful mood left Harry only more depressed.

While they walked across the snow-covered grounds, Harry already knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop the tears. He would have imagined to be hardened after all the deaths he witnessed at a young age. But ever since after the war, coping with death had only become harder for him. The worst thing was that it would feel misplaced to cry about a woman he didn’t even know. Especially when her closest loved ones would be around who, on top, appeared to be quite unclouded so far.

The Malfoy family crypt was a white marble building that reminded Harry of Greek temples, except it was much smaller and somewhat plain in comparison. Smooth pillars supported a pitched roof right above an arched doorway. Stepping into the building reminded Harry very much of crossing the gate onto a graveyard, though. It was uncomfortably cold in contrast to the fresh winter air outside and even though he detected some Air Freshening Charms, he could smell the dampness from the walls. About a dozen caskets were embedded in the cold stone walls and Harry noticed a staircase that descended below ground level.

Harry almost jumped when Draco touched his arm. He gave Harry a look as if to ask if he was all right. So Harry squeezed Draco’s hand in response.

There were several burned candles right next to Astoria’s coffin. A portrait and a plate with her name and her dates of birth and death hung above it. When Draco and Scorpius stepped up to the coffin, Harry stood behind Al and rested his hands on his shoulders. Harry couldn’t help but think about hedgehog mittens when Albus briefly glanced up at him.

Neither Draco nor Scorpius spoke while they stood there. Harry tried to take a minute to recall some of the memories that Draco had shared with him a few days ago and already felt his eyes tear up. Scorpius laid his hand on the casket for a moment, his eyes staring off into space and a fond smile on his face. It was too much for Harry. He tried to suppress a sob but took a shuddering breath, nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, abashed when all eyes turned on him. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” Harry squeezed Al’s shoulders before he lifted his hands to take off his glasses and wipe at his eyes. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you.” To his surprise, Al shifted a little closer so that their arms were touching.

“Don’t be silly. There’s no need for an apology,” Draco said softly. He remained by the casket just a moment longer before he came over to Harry, linked their arms and gently tugged him outside the crypt while the boys stayed behind.

Draco ran a soothing hand through Harry’s hair and pulled him in for an embrace. “You really don’t need to feel sorry for crying in a crypt,” Draco spoke right next to Harry’s ear.

With a sigh, Harry coordinated his arms to hug back. “I feel stupid. I didn’t know her and now I dragged you out of there.”

“You hardly dragged me out, Harry. That was my own decision. Now, don’t be so embarrassed. I know that emotions can be overwhelming. No need to hold back your tears.”

Draco’s hand on his back felt as warm and comforting as his words. Harry sighed again, only to ease his breathing. “I don’t know how you can deal with all of this. You always have it together.”

“Oh, darling.” Draco leaned back a little and cradled Harry’s face with his hands. “Everyone deals differently with tragedy. Everyone mourns differently. But we keep on living.” Harry hugged Draco tight again before pulling away and wiping away his tears.

“You’re right. We both know you’re right.”

“You okay, dad?” Albus' small voice came from behind Harry as he and Scorpius left the crypt.

With an unexpected force, this simple gesture unburdened Harry from his gloom and replaced the tears with a shaky laugh. “Yes, I’ll live,” he said and patted Al’s shoulder.

As they were walking back to the house, Al and Scorpius started bickering about their Charms class and soon pulled their wands. “Let’s rather not Repulso the poor vegetation. Let’s try Accio instead,” Scorpius said. He shoved his free hand in Albus’ coat pocket in a swift motion and drew out something that looked like a coin. Without any hesitation, Scorpius threw the shiny thing a short distance.

“Scorpius!” Al panicked. “Don’t throw that!”

“You know what it looks like. Picture it and summon it,” he said casually.

“Circe, you are a pest... I swear, I’m gonna Accio you instead,” Al snarled but raised his wand anyway, eyes fixated near the spot where the coin disappeared into the snow. “Accio coin,” he said, and then again. It flew into his palm the third time around.

Scorpius only smiled at Albus while he said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Albus. One cannot summon living beings,” and they continued practising Warming Charms and other little spells on each other while Draco and Harry kept trailing behind them.

“Those two…” Draco said with an inscrutable smile when they stopped again. Harry only huffed a little laugh in response. Scorpius magically gathered snow and some ice from a nearby fountain and started shaping it with some excessive wand movements. Gradually, the ice took the shape of a dragon.

“You’re such a show-off,” Al said with an eyeroll and shoved at Scorpius’ shoulder so hard that he stumbled over his own feet. A grin was plastered across his face when he caught himself.

“Well, it pales against your Transfigurations. Go ahead,” Scorpius watched the ice dragon in anticipation while Al seemed a bit reluctant. He shot Harry and Draco a nervous glance. But as soon as Scorpius added, “Please,” Al groaned a little annoyed and raised his wand, murmuring an incantation.

Harry watched in awe as the dragon sculpture – which already looked nice, to begin with – grew more and more detailed. Albus’ spells carved an elaborate pattern for the scales all over the ice; smoothed out the inner parts of the wings and added prominent, pointy horns on the head and along its spine.

“That’s beautiful,” Harry gaped. “The Transfigurations look so complex.” 

A wry laugh escaped Al’s mouth. “Great. I couldn’t manage the basic frame if my life depended on it, though.”

“And I couldn’t model those delicate lines,” Scorpius retorted with a pleased smile.

It didn’t take long before the sun began to set. They sat in the drawing room by the burning Yule Log which still was the only light source in the Manor. Draco fetched the magical quilts he had been talking about on the phone and insisted that Harry should sit with him to stay warm. Scorpius was delighted by the idea of cuddling in magical quilts on the day of the solstice and threw his quilt over Al and himself.

The patches of the quilts were of all sorts of materials – old and new, colourful and black, expansive and almost a little ragged, at least considering that it belonged to Draco.

“This one is from my bed in the Slytherin dorm,” Draco said with a grin and showed Harry a green-patterned patch of the quilt. Harry ran a hand over the fabric and was surprised to find it warm and almost vibrating with magic. Even more so, he was intrigued by the fact that he was touching a piece of cloth that had been with Draco ever since he’d been a teenager.

“You kept it that long? Magical quilts are such a heart-warming tradition,” Harry said. There was a happy flutter in his chest when Draco leaned in, his face hovering right above Harry while Draco tucked them in.

Draco smirked and settled down flush to Harry when they were perfectly covered in the warmth. “Yes, well. It’s a family tradition. My ancestors would hardly think of it as heart-warming, I’m afraid. My father and Grandfather Abraxas – they gathered fabrics from festive robes of the most pretentious balls and Ministry functions they attended. They would boast about it to each other all evening long whenever we got these quilts out. I’m surprised that they stitched them together themselves rather than hire a tailor.”

Harry tried to imagine a Lucius Malfoy who sewed a quilt together and tried to impress his dad; the thought almost seemed hilarious. He chuckled, freed one arm from under the quilt and travelled with his fingers over the green patch again. “What are the Slytherin dorms like?”

Draco and the boys shared an inscrutable look. “I’m afraid, that’s a secret,” Scorpius said. “There hasn’t been a non-Slytherin inside our common room for over seven centuries.”

“Oh, but… But I’ve been in the common room. In second year. Not in the dorms, though.” Harry snorted when he saw their startled expressions. “Seriously, you should see your faces.”

“For sweet Salazar’s sake,” Draco drawled, realisation written all over his face. “So it was you. Polyjuice, I suppose. In second year? Not bad.” He nodded in acknowledgement.

“Wait, you’re not jesting us?” Scorpius’ baffled expression slowly changed into one of admiration. “That’s super cool.”

“Yes, super cool,” Al mocked him with a smug smile. He paused for a moment before he told Harry, “Sometimes when it’s quiet enough, you can hear the water of the Great Lake in the dorms.”

“I’m not sure if that sounds eerie or romantic,” Harry said.

Scorpius’ eyes gleamed a little when he answered, “Eerily romantic sums it up quite well.”

“Salazar, stop having a crush on my dad,” Al sneered and flicked his finger against Scorpius’ temple. They began to scuffle under the quilt and Draco threw his head back in laughter. The exciting thing was, that it felt like family to Harry. Of course, Al has always been family. But spending time with Draco and the two boys – it felt like an addition to his family that he didn’t know he’d hoped for. For the first time in a long time, Harry felt excited about what was to come.

As if Draco could read his thoughts, Harry felt Draco’s hand in his nape and when he turned his gaze, Draco smiled at him. His eyes searched Harry’s expression, asking him if he was all right without speaking the words. Harry answered with a quick kiss on his mouth. 

After sunset – precisely at fifty-three after three, according to Scorpius – the light of the crackling Yule Log became even more evocative. The low light source sent long, odd shadows across the room and up the walls that flickered with even the tiniest of their movements; whereas all Harry saw in their dear faces was the warm light that tinged their skin a peachy orange, and the dancing reflections of the flames in their vivid eyes.

They spent hours reminiscing about meaningful and silly anecdotes, seamlessly switching between sincerity and laughter. Al and Scorpius told most of their stories together. One of them would talk and the other threw in bits of noteworthy information or interrupted the other simply for the sake to make fun of him.

Also, Harry took the chance to tell Al about his memory of visiting Petunia’s grave and that he safely kept the little mittens that Al’s been wearing that day; that he had been thinking about this moment at Astoria’s grave today. Albus didn’t revert to his typical banter and not even an eyeroll followed Harry’s words. Instead, he looked back at Harry, first a little surprised then a little funny, before they smiled at each other.

Chapter Text

When Scorpius had heard about Harry’s invitation to spend Christmas with his family, Draco had known that there wouldn’t have been a way out. Not even if he’d wanted it. The Potters and Weasleys and whoever else belonged to their kin spent part of the Christmas holidays in a rented cottage. “No one has a large enough place where everyone would fit,” Harry had explained with a shrug. “And it’s much less messy when everyone has their own bedroom. No one has to sleep on the couch. We’d share a nice, comfy double bed. Adjoined bathroom; no need to share one with others.” Draco had given in eventually and told Harry that he and Scorpius would stay for two nights.

The cottage was surrounded by forests in an undulating landscape. When he and Scorpius Flooed in the afternoon before Christmas day, the view from the windows in the living space showed that it was snowing very gently. But despite some frosty looking patches on the greenery the snow didn’t stick. The cottage wasn’t as rustic as Draco would have assumed. It was a large and spacious house with wizarding Christmas decorations like an enchanted Christmas tree that was surrounded by gentle snowfall, floating candles and Christmas fairies that sang carols whenever you passed them.

For now, there were the Potters, the Granger-Weasleys, Arthur and Molly Weasley, and George and Angelina and their two almost adult children Fred and Roxanne. The rest of the Weasley family would join them for Christmas dinner the next day.

After a hearty welcome, Albus showed Scorpius their shared bedroom on the first floor while Harry told Draco to follow him. All the adults had their bedrooms on the ground floor in a magically enlarged part of the house that reminded Draco of a hotel with all the doors off to the sides. But inside the bedroom looked cosy and vivid with subtle décor and blankets with snowflake patterns.

When Draco put his bag down next to his and Harry’s bed, he heard the door click shut. He turned around to see Harry lean against the closed door. Draco sat down at the foot of the bed and for a moment they only looked at each other. Harry’s cheeks were flushed, his green eyes gleamed with something that made him look kind and warm. Harry smiled before he pushed himself off the door and came over to stand between Draco’s legs. Draco rested his head against Harry’s belly and hugged his hips while Harry started combing his fingers through Draco’s hair.

“I’m so happy that you’re here,” Harry said and pressed a kiss to the top of Draco’s head. Draco wanted him closer so he urged Harry forward until he straddled Draco’s lap and they sat there in a tight embrace, Harry’s weight comfortable on Draco. Harry buried his face in the crook of Draco’s neck and inhaled deeply with a content hum that sent a shiver through Draco’s body. “You smell so good.”

“Mhm, just had a shower before we Flooed in,” Draco answered and started pressing little kisses on Harry’s neck and in his hair, trying to cover every spot that he could comfortably reach. Amused puffs of air escaped Harry’s mouth against Draco’s neck when Draco nibbled on a certain spot on Harry’s neck and he couldn’t bring himself to stop until Harry leaned away a little.

“No, you smell good. I mean, your fancy grooming products, too. But you…” Harry tilted Draco’s head up by his chin and leaned in for a kiss, warm and tender, while Draco felt ridiculously flattered. Those few words and the kiss felt so intimate that Draco forgot to breathe for a moment, interrupting the kiss to inhale, laughing.

Harry was grinning and pecked Draco’s mouth several times. “You’re so cute when you giggle.”

“I’m not giggling,” Draco said despite that he was. He chased after Harry’s lips until Harry gave in and kissed him in earnest again.

Harry sat up after a while and rubbed his legs that had gone numb. “Let’s join the others. We were about to have some tea before you came in. Ron will top it off with rum probably. And I bet we’ll have dinner soon.”

When Harry and Draco approached the huge dining table in the combined living and eating space, Padma pulled out the chair next to her. “Please sit with me, Draco. Ginny is talking Quidditch. Again,” she said, and Draco obliged. Even though Draco had no doubt about everyone’s hospitality, it felt good that Padma seemed so eager to talk to him in particular. Cups of tea were poured for him and Harry, spiked with a gulp of rum just like Harry had assumed. Harry practically beamed when Draco absently added two sugar to Harry’s cup.

“Well, too bad for you. Draco follows Quidditch, too,” Ginny said.

Padma raised her eyebrows at her wife. “Yes, but he’s much too polite to reject my offer to chat about the weather and Christmas décor before we can engage in a real conversation about the regeneration of magical cores after exhaustion or curse damage. Am I right?”

With a choked laugh, Draco agreed, happy about the diversity of subjects and people at the table. The conversations were much more intriguing than attempting small talk with his colleagues. Or attempting serious talks with the high society at benefits and other events.

~

Not long after dinner, Harry was feeling well-fed and content. Draco had somehow ended up talking to Arthur about phones, politely declining half the sherries and desserts that Molly kept on offering; Ron, Rose, George, Angelina and Fred put their heads together and mused about a possible new WWW product based on eggnog; and Hermione, her kids and Roxanne were casually chatting over on the couches. Except for his kids and Scorpius, Harry noticed.

So Harry got up to check on them, starting to Levitate a few beers and a very lightly mixed Bucks Fizz behind him. He stopped next to Draco and waited for a moment to interrupt Arthur’s enthusiastic speech on batteries, resting his hand on Draco’s back. “Hey, can Scorpius have a beer, too?” he asked him. “Just wanted to make sure that the kids are all right and drop this off.” Harry pointed at the floating beverages behind him. Draco agreed with a smile and Harry trailed off to climb the stairs.

The door to one of the rooms stood wide open and Harry was surprised to find not only James and Lily in there, but Al and Scorpius, too. Scorpius was the only one who noticed Harry and nodded his direction with a little smirk on his face. He sat in a lounge chair by the windows with a closed book in his lap. The others were sprawled across the floor, leaning over something and discussing it eagerly.

“No, you idiot. Like this,” Al said and raised his wand right in front of James, speaking an incantation that sounded like a Transfiguration to Harry. James muttered something and shoved at Al’s shoulder. It was the first time in a long time that Harry saw his three children together like this. Lily adored James and even though James was sometimes tired of spending his time with a younger teen, the feeling was pretty much mutual. However, Al usually kept his distance – this sentiment was rather mutual, too.

Harry knocked at the open door to gain their attention and three heads turned around. Lily and James were grinning when they saw him in the door and Harry couldn’t help the grin that tugged on the corners of his own mouth at the sight.

“All good, you four? Want some drinks?” Harry Levitated the beers and the Buck’s Fizz over to them and leaned against the doorframe.

“Yeah, look!” Lily hooted and pushed at James' shoulder till he fully turned around. His Christmas jumper that had read Jingle Bells earlier now showed the lettering Jingle My Bells with two bells dangling from a bow. Harry took in the jumper with a suppressed smile.

“Good job, Al. I’m sure mum will be proud. Just don’t wear it around your granny, James. Neither of us wants to get in trouble with her, all right?” Harry said with a grin and the kids agreed with him, laughing.

Before Harry left them to themselves again, Al said, “Thanks for the beer, dad,” and Harry’s grin grew only wider.

Chapter Text

Just like Draco had imagined, Christmas Dinner with the Potters and Weasleys was different to a Christmas dinner involving only him and Scorpius in the Manor. Very different. It was noisy and even a bit confusing when you didn’t know every redhead waltzing about the place yet.

Molly and Andromeda were drinking sherry in a corner and there were an awful lot of young people who looked about the age of Hogwarts graduates. Most of them were talking and laughing, trying out their Christmas presents – which consisted of an awful lot of prank gifts. “That’s Louis,” Scorpius told Draco in a low voice when Draco kept staring at a blond young man. “He’s one eight Veela.”

“Oh,” Draco hummed as it clicked into place. “That must be Bill’s and Fleur’s offspring.”

Scorpius nodded and kept on explaining. “Indeed. He’s talking to Molly – I think her father’s name is Percy Weasley – and her boyfriend. A Hufflepuff. Thomas if I’m not mistaken but I’m not quite sure about his surname. They both graduated two years ago.”

Draco nodded again, putting his arm on the backrest behind Scorpius to lean closer. “There are very many Weasleys. I think you encountered more Weasleys in school then I did. Didn’t think that was possible.”

“Yes, and they are very loud,” Scorpius pointed out, fascinated and without any spite. They watched Ron and Fred tug on either end of a Christmas cracker across the table. The WWW product went off in a colourful little firework and a loud snap that briefly caught everyone’s attention before they went back to their conversations. Hats, crowns, sweets, and figurines flew all across the room and Ron grinned happily when he fetched a cowboy hat and put it on top of his head.

“They are insufferable. Imagine growing up with them,” Albus said to Draco’s other side, his eyebrows arched up.

“Don’t be so sarcastic,” Draco told Albus, a little sharp to his own surprise. When he saw Albus’ startled expression, he added with a lopsided smile, “The Gryffindors won’t get it,” and Albus flashed him a grin.

“This is pretty tame, though,” Albus said, his voice a little softer than before. “It was much more of a fuss when we were younger. James used to fly his broom inside. Rose once broke her jaw when she nicked from him. I even remember the sound it made.”

Draco made a face, but Scorpius lit up. “She’s always been brave beyond compare, hasn’t she?” Albus only rolled his eyes, chuckling, and pushed himself off his chair to wander off into the kitchen. Draco remembered that Scorpius had been highly infatuated with Rose last year. He hadn’t talked about her much lately, though, and Draco took a mental note to ask Scorpius about it when they were alone after the Christmas days.

“Who is Arthur talking to?” Draco asked and nodded in the direction of Ron’s father. His lined face looked genuinely happy while he was talking to a red-haired young woman. Draco had a hard time guessing her age.

“That’s Dominique. She’s Louis’ sister and she just started her apprenticeship in the DMLE this year. Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. I think her Grandfather is supervising her programme,” Scorpius said.

“Ah, another one of Bill and Fleur. Who is the third child?”

“Victoire. Albus told me she and her parents are in France with their Grandparents. Ted Lupin is her boyfriend.”

Talking about all the Weasleys felt a little bit like engaging in all the tittle-tattle of Mother and her friends at tea parties and soirées when Draco had been a child. She probably still did that with her friends and for some reason the idea faintly amused Draco. Although, he and Scorpius were talking far less about pureblood relations, courtships scandals and fashion mistakes.

As if Scorpius could read his mind, he said, “We should visit gran in France next summer. I think we should invite Harry – it’s lovely in July.”

Draco swallowed wrong and tried to cover it up with a generous sip of his wine. July sounded incredibly far away to him. Especially when he thought about inviting Harry. To Narcissa Malfoy. He didn’t have much time to think about it because, of course, Scorpius found him out. He pursed his lips and observed Draco carefully, much too thoughtful for a fourteen-year-old boy.

“Harry will still be around in summer if you let him.”

Sometimes Draco didn’t like the idea of Scorpius advising him and caring for him in a way. Much less would Draco like the idea of ignoring his advice solely because he’s so young, though. And they have always been there for each other like that, only that Scorpius had grown so mature during the past few years.

Draco directed his thoughts back to their conversation, but his mind was too blank to say anything meaningful. Again, Scorpius spoke up before him, eyeing Draco curiously. “The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”

The words struck Draco in an odd way and he smirked when he saw Scorpius’ grin. “Is that so? One might think you’re entering unknown realms here, darling.”

“I’ve read it in a Muggle screenplay. Might as well be true, I suppose.” He shrugged and sneaked a sip of wine from Draco’s glass. But Draco considered his words a little more seriously than Scorpius had possibly meant them. His hesitancy about Harry felt misplaced and ridiculous when he thought about it now. At times, Draco just couldn’t help this feeling, though. Being with Harry felt powerful and fragile all the same. But then again – there was really no way of absolute certainty about a relationship. Draco knew that; he just had a hard time coming to terms with it.

Draco’s eyes darted across the room, searching for Harry then. He was sitting with Hermione on the sofa, one arm tucked over her shoulders, laughing and talking. Once again, Draco felt overwhelmed by this huge family. Draco was used to keeping family matters rather private and the Malfoys and even the Greengrasses hardly filled a proper dinner table. Even though there were no little children around, the teens and young adults were serene and loud. Draco thought that Astoria would have enjoyed herself much more within the colourful bunch of Potters and Weasleys than at all the aristocratic Christmas dinners with her parents and Mother.

“Mum would’ve loved this little Christmas getaway,” Draco told Scorpius in a low voice.

Scorpius looked at him with his big grey eyes, a little surprised. But his expression changed into a fond smile quickly. Leaning in and resting his head against Draco’s shoulder, Scorpius said, “Tell me why,” and Draco did.

~

It was late in the evening when Draco felt warm and a little giddy with wine that he joined Ron and George outside. They offered him a steaming Grog, but Draco declined, earning a joke and a few firm slaps on his back from Ron who still wore his cowboy hat. Draco listened to Ron’s story about a few shy customers and to George’s very graphic ideas on how they were planning to use the Wash-away-last-night Shower Wash. When the brothers went inside, Draco wanted to stay for another few minutes to relish the fresh air and the soft tingle of the Warming Charm out in the frosty night.

It didn’t take another minute until Harry stepped out on the back porch. “Hey,” he said with a warm smile and gleaming eyes. “You all right?”

Draco returned the smile, flattered by Harry’s thoughtfulness. “I’m great, really good. Just wanted to catch some fresh air.” He held out his hand and Harry took it immediately, shifting closer and gazing up into the starless night together.

“I’m so happy that you’re here,” Harry said after a while, voice low.

An amused puff of air escaped Draco’s mouth and he pulled Harry closer by slinging his arm around his waist. “You told me that yesterday.”

“Did I? It’s true, though. It’s very true.” Harry’s laugh sounded fond and Draco felt Harry’s eyes on him. “I was scared that you might have fled the ruckus ‘cause you don’t enjoy yourself.” He said it casually and with a smile on his lips, but Draco stumbled over his words. It was in this moment that Draco understood that Harry searched for his confirmation probably just as much as he did. Harry rushed into things without a second thought and yet he felt obviously much more insecure than Draco had guessed. Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was Scorpius’ words earlier; but the simple idea that Harry cared about him felt too much for Draco to process right now.

Almost too dumbstruck to answer Harry properly, Draco took his hands and leaned in for a tender kiss. Harry’s lush lips felt warm and tasted like whisky and cinnamon. Then Draco pulled away, just far enough to speak, sharing Harry’s hot breath in the winter air. His mind felt blank, but he just couldn’t leave Harry wondering. At least not about this evening, for now. “I didn’t mean to scare you, darling. Christmas with you and your family is the best Christmas gift I could’ve asked for.”

Chapter Text

The next morning Harry blinked his eyes open and it was still dark in the room. So he pulled Draco’s hand closer to his chest and closed his eyes again. His half-awake thought drifted to their traditional Boxing Day Quidditch match ahead; to the slight dizziness in his head that told him he had one too many whiskies; to work. Only one weak until he’d be in the Ministry again.

At the beginning of December, Harry wouldn’t have believed that his job could feel of minor importance, but it did. It felt good to know that he would have tasks and meetings and he missed arranging his schedule with Bulstrode. All the same, he would have less time to spend with his kids, with Draco. Albus would soon be in Hogwarts again and Harry would have no clue how he’d be doing unless they would both learn to communicate much more openly.

When Harry opened his eyes to semi-darkness, he noticed that Draco was propped up on one elbow, his gaze turned towards Harry. Though, Harry’s vision was too blurry to see anything without his glasses. “Good morning,” he mumbled with a smile.

“Good morning,” Draco answered and freed his hand from Harry’s grip to stroke through Harry’s hair, causing him to close his eyes again and hum into the touch. The firm touch sent shivers from his scalp all the way down to his crotch and Harry’s hand searched for the familiar heat of Draco’s skin under their shared covers. He made his hand big to cover as much of Draco’s midriff as possible. The slight curve of it, the lean muscles on his back, the pointy ribs that Harry touched with his thumb. Harry was so caught up in his exploration that he was almost surprised to hear Draco speak.

“You’re it for me, Harry.”

Harry blinked open his eyes and wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly. Almost automatically, he asked, “I’m it for you?”

“Yes, I’m serious. The things that I was scared about are the best proof. I’m scared this could end because I’m in love with you. I was just too much of a coward to acknowledge that to myself. But considering our past I can see why you want it to happen so quickly.”

Still a little dumbstruck, Harry reached up to cup Draco’s face in his hands. “You’re in love with me? I’m in love with you, too.” His voice sounded awed, even to his own ears and he felt a little silly. “What do you mean exactly with ‘considering our past’?”

Draco smiled and leaned down for a kiss that Harry interrupted by searching for his glasses. He needed to see Draco properly and was rewarded with a very fond smile and a calm and certainty in Draco’s slate-grey eyes that made his heart swell. “We both know what loss is, love. We know that life can be short.” Harry’s only way to answer was urgent snogging and he tried to put his everything in it.

After Draco’s romantic and thoughtful words, it almost felt inappropriate for Harry when his hard cock brushed Draco’s thigh. But then Draco’s hand was right at Harry’s groin, cupping his dick through the thin fabric of his pants. The sensation was almost too much on its own and Harry broke away from the kiss. “Fuck, I need to fuck you,” he blurted out.

With a smug smirk that made him look much younger Draco urged Harry on top of him, spreading his legs so that Harry could settle between them. Harry grinded down on him, not able to stop himself and focused on the heat that pumped through his body with every move. “Not like this,” Draco said, breathless, and stopped the movements of Harry’s hips. “Make love to me properly, Harry.”

“Merlin,” Harry moaned, then struggled to sit up and remove their pants. “The way you talk… You have no idea what you do to me.” Without wasting a second to think about it, Harry conjured some lube right into his palm and leaned over Draco to kiss his chest while he massaged his way into Draco’s body with two fingers, searching and pressing firmly into the tight heat. By now, Harry knew how Draco would move beneath him; how he would press against his fingers when he was begging for more without saying a coherent word. Soft puffs of air mixed with moaned words and Harry’s name.

“You’re so gorgeous, Draco,” Harry whispered when he removed his fingers and Draco shuddered a little. They were watching each other when Harry guided his cock to enter Draco’s pliant body. The sensation of sinking into him, melting together for the first time, was Harry’s favourite thing about sex. Harry still wore his glasses, so he could see and admire Draco’s expression properly. His pupils were dilated and his eyes feverish, his lips slightly parted and so tender looking that Harry needed to kiss him, lick them. And for a moment, they did only that. They lay there, connected, and explored each other’s mouths like it was the only thing that they needed.

Harry tucked one arm below Draco’s body and one arm below his neck, pulling him tight. Draco reciprocated the embrace by slinging his legs around Harry’s hips and his arms around his shoulders, and Harry started moving, slow and deep. His motions elicited the most delicious moans from Draco’s mouth, encouraging him to pick up his speed into a steady rhythm. Draco’s sounds became more demanding and less breathy while he pulled Harry so close that Harry just relaxed his weight onto Draco and buried his face in the crook of his neck; moving only his hips until he felt the heat spread in his belly and his thighs.

The heat unfurled in staccato thrusts while Harry pressed his face as close to Draco as possible. He noticed that Draco’s thighs started trembling. Still beside himself, mind blurry from his orgasm, Harry lifted his body and grabbed between them to jerk Draco off without taking his eyes off his beautiful face. Draco had his eyes closed and his brows furrowed when he came, his body arching upwards and his muscles contracting tightly around Harry’s softening cock.

“You look beautiful when you come,” Harry said and collapsed next to Draco, resting his head on his chest. He cleaned them up after a moment with a flick of his wrist.

Draco placed a kiss to the top of his head. “Did you know that your magic feels almost as good as sex?” His words elicited a grin on Harry’s face, and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing kisses to Draco’s body and whispering all the sweet, little things against his skin that he thought about him.

“We should get up,” Draco muttered after a while, his voice low and lazy. “I’m quite famished.”

Propping his head up to smirk at Draco, Harry purred, “Shower together?”

~

“Ah, our two lovebirds,” Ron greeted Harry and Draco with a grin when they entered the kitchen, lured in by the delicious smell. Ron and his mum looked like they’d spent all the morning in the kitchen, serving fry-ups, pastries, and tea. Harry couldn’t stop himself from summoning a plate and waiting for his food right next to Ron who was handling the pan.

“This looks so delicious,” Harry groaned. “Thank you two for cooking.” Molly only laughed and ruffled through his hair while she and Ron loaded their plates with breakfast.

Harry was carrying his plate out to the dining table as the sight of a few socketed feet dangling from the armrest of one of the couches caught his attention. Harry stopped dead in his tracks, causing Draco to bounce into him slightly, when Harry saw his three kids sprawled across the couch, leaning onto each other, and busying themselves with the Christmas presents Harry had gotten for all three of them – phones. Albus lay with his back against James shoulder, sharing the seat pressed closely to Lily. Scorpius sat next to them, his nose buried in a book instead of a phone screen.

“What is it?” Draco asked perplexed when Harry didn’t move. But when he followed Harry’s gaze, he smiled fondly and put his hand on Harry’s back. And Harry simply knew that Draco understood what’s on his mind.

“Can you do me a favour?” Harry asked, eyes still on the children. “Should I start being an idiot again, hit me. Or jinx me.”

“Oh, it will be my pleasure, Potter.”

Chapter Text

The sight of his drawing room filled with chatting and laughing people warmed Draco’s heart even more than he’d expected. After he had been invited by Harry’s family twice already, Draco had insisted on hosting a New Year’s Eve party at Malfoy Manor. Ginny had been tremendously excited about it. “My, it’s less than a week – I should start worrying about an appropriate evening wear,” she’d joked in an exaggerated posh voice and had elbowed Draco’s ribs none too gently.

Padma brought Parvati along who brought Luna along. The two were colleagues in the divination business and have been on a congress on the continent for the better part of Yuletide. Draco could hardly bite back his laughter when he saw Hermione’s expression while she listened to Parvati’s chatter about reading in the embers of Yule fires. She didn’t appear to be much of a fan of this branch of magic. In fact, the only one who couldn’t get enough details out of Parvati and Lunda was Scorpius.

“We’ve learned such a lovely method of fortune-telling,” Luna told them in her dreamy voice and her eyes darted around the room. “Oh, it’d be perfect for a New Year’s Eve celebration if you’d be inclined.”

“The Argenti-Aurumancy?!” Parvati was excited, obviously. “Yes! Let’s do it! I can’t wait to see everyone’s futures.”

Luna opened her bag and her whole arm disappeared in it. After rummaging for a minute, she pulled out two bottles that were filled with substances that looked like molten gold and silver. “The only thing we’d need is a Draught of Clear Sight. I’m sure Draco can find one in his well-assorted potion cabinet.”

Draco couldn’t possibly say no when he saw the excitement in Scorpius’ eyes even though Hermione and Padma looked a little thin-lipped. “Oh, I’m certain it will be fun. Let me fetch that potion. I’m sure I have a home-brewed one.”

When Draco returned with the potion, Luna and Parvati had already set up a huge bowl filled with a clear, thick liquid on the coffee table and everyone gathered around it; the children sitting on the floor and on the ottoman in front of the hearth while the adults rather occupied the sofas. “Here,” Draco said and handed the potion to Luna. Harry caught Draco’s wrist and pulled him down to sit next to him, linking their arms and pecking his lips. Draco didn’t miss that Albus, leaning against the sofa right next to Draco, grimaced at their show of affection, but smirked as soon as he looked away.

“So… what exactly happens? What is this about?” Hermione asked while Luna emptied the vial in the bowl. The clear liquid became even thicker and changed colour back to the metallic gleam that Luna’s glass containers had before. Its silver and gold shine was constantly moving in a swirl on itself.

Parvati clapped her hands together. “You simply extract some of the substance with your wand. It will turn into a harbinger, an indicator of what the next year will hold for you.”

Ron bellowed laughter and slapped Harry’s back. “Great! I’m sure we’ll see the grim tonight, mate.”

“Merlin…” Harry sighed, then chuckled. “But in retrospect, divination classes were fun. Remember how we made up all the gruesome ways we’d die?” 

“How can you think that’s even remotely funny?” Hermione asked and crossed her arms. Her question was met with protests around the room, though. Foretelling one’s death seemed to sound like a fun idea to most of them. Draco thought that Divination classes could have been fun after all. He’d never even set foot in the classroom back in Hogwarts, but Ron and Harry made it sound like a lot of fun. Maybe not exactly scientific, but fun.

“Oh, don’t worry, Harry,” Luna said with a smile. “We will only see the grim if you’re about to face your demise in 2021. I’d highly doubt that. You look like you’re of strong health and so freshly in love with Draco.”

Her droll words were met with serene laughter. It was Blaise who laughed the loudest. “You simply have to love Mrs Lovegood’s forwardness,” he said in his suave fashion. Draco didn’t miss the way Blaise briefly touched Luna’s shoulder, and sent a knowing smirk in Blaise’s direction when their eyes met.

“Couples can extract the charm together if you’re interested in the future of your relationship,” Parvati informed them.

“Let’s start with the youngest,” Ron suggested. Lily and Hugo looked excited when they both crouched closer to the coffee table and Lily sounded proud to announce that she was exactly two days older than her cousin. This reminded Draco of the fact that he would have to remember a lot of birthdays; better sooner than later.

Hugo had his wand raised but looked a little too shy to ask for any clear instructions. Luna was right at his side after only a moment, though. “All right, my dear. Just tap it with your wand and try to concentrate. Think of it like a memory – but in the future. Then pull it skywards.” Her explanation earned muffled laughter, so she added, “It’s a little bit like summoning a Patronus. But think of the future, not of a moment that has already passed. It’s much easier, too, by far.”

“Don’t worry, Hughie. You can do it,” Ron said with a reassuring smile. Apparently, that was all Hugo needed to put on a concentrated expression and raise his wand. He dipped the tip into the bowl, his arm slightly trembling from his nerves, and swooshed it upwards, distracting some of the substance with it. They all marvelled at the gleaming bubble that rose high before it transformed into a shimmering silver pig. It grunted several times and ran a circle mid-air before it puffed out of existence.

Luna congratulated Hugo before anyone could ask what this meant. “Oh, splendid! You’ll be blessed with luck next year.”

“Or wealth and strength,” Parvati added. “Not all symbols are unambiguous. It’s a really good omen either way, young man.” With his mouth a little agape, Hugo stared at the spot that his pig had just vanished before his face broke into a full-on grin.

Next was Lily whose bubble turned into a knot that pulled tight until it burst. “Luna awed at the sight. “A knot, how curious. This might be a love knot. You might meet the love of your life next year.” Next to Draco Harry chuckled a little nervously.

“Or the bane to your existence. Something that ties you down and won’t let go.”

“Oi! Parvati, come on! Is that really necessary?” Ron complained.

But Lily only giggled and didn’t seem all too startled about Parvati’s ominous sense of foreboding. “It’s all right, Uncle Ron. I’ll either meet a cute boy or face my demise. What can go wrong?”

Luna agreed with her and looked very thoughtful for a second. “That’s very true. It could mean either or – or both options all the same. They are not exactly mutually exclusive.”

Next to Draco Albus heaved himself up reluctantly, only after Scorpius shoved him, and held his wand to the bowl. He looked like he wanted to complain, but he didn’t say anything until his wand touched the liquid. “Like a memory but in the future, you said?” He sounded just about as nervous as he looked. Draco couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him, having to perform in front of an audience which he obviously disliked. That it was his family possibly made him feel even more pressured, Draco assumed. 

Luna reassured him with her breathy voice and mysterious timbre. Just like before, part of the thick substance extracted itself from the bowl and flew right into the air when Albus lifted his wand. It turned into a gold-and-silver-shining dragonfly that hovered on the spot for several moments, its delicate wings like a veil from the fast movements.

“Oh! I’ve never seen a dragonfly before,” Parvati enthused and fetched a small little cube from her pocket that she enlarged into a notebook to take something down eagerly. “What’s it again, Luna? Manoeuvrability?”

“Yes, or wit. It could mean that you’ll rise to a challenge or successfully flee from it. Oh, don’t worry,” Luna added when she saw Albus doubtful gaze and slouched posture. She leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made him grin.

“All right! I’m next.” Scorpius rubbed his palms avidly together and stepped up to the bowl, one hand on his back and his long, elegant wand courtly raised. It was one of those moments that Draco recognised himself in his son’s posture. When he performed the spell, a long stick with a bundle attached to the end appeared.

“A bindle! It’s the symbol of the fool! It’s such a lovely sign.”

Luna appeared to be delighted while Scorpius’ expression looked a little sullen. “Symbol of the fool… Well, what does it mean?” 

“Folly,” Parvati answered with a shrug. “Doing without thinking. Sometimes it’s also believed to foretell serendipity.”

Scorpius nodded and sat back down next to Albus, not looking thrilled at all about his harbinger. Just when Draco searched for the right words, Albus leaned in and told Scorpius, “Luna told me it’s rather a magic trick than serious divination. It’s just meant to get you in high spirits.” Arching up his eyebrows, Scorpius grinned back at Albus, relieved and a little abashed.

They watched Rose summoning an oak leaf which represented stability and honour due to Luna; and James’ gleaming fortune-telling ball transformed into a happy little Quokka. He insisted that this changed his whole view on divination magic since it was the shape of his girlfriend’s Patronus and her desired Animagus form.

Ginny and Padma were the first couple to perform the spell together and they were disappointed first when the ball took a heart-shaped form. “That’s so boring,” Ginny complained while Ron insisted that they should be glad since they hardly ever stop fighting.

But Luna provided for exuberant laughter when she told them that the heart would rather mean the act of two halves becoming one. “I’m sure you must be blessed with amazing sex next year,” she said like she was forecasting the weather. Both James and Ron only covered their ears when Ginny flashed her brother a cheeky grin and informed him that nothing much would change then.

“I’m next,” Harry said and squeezed Draco’s knee. “Together?”

“Together,” Draco agreed, and they took their wands out, holding the tips onto the surface of the swirling liquid. It was almost dizzying when Draco hovered right above the swirling sheen. He tried to follow Luna’s instruction from earlier, but apparently the spell wasn’t complicated at all. As soon as Draco felt the slightest movement of Harry’s wand, he followed his motion upwards and watched as the ball changed its shape and began to whistle a melody. 

“A northern cardinal,” Draco realised. 

“That’s one of the birds we saw in Mexico, right? The red ones?” Harry asked and leaned back on the sofa, slinging an arm around Draco’s middle. 

“Wait, when have you two been in Mexico?” Ginny grinned in disbelief.

Huffing a little laugh, Harry flipped his hand in a dismissive manner. “Oh, I’ll tell you later if you want to hear about it. What does it mean?”

“The cardinal stands for loyalty and devotion. It heralds love-“ – “Or rain,” Parvati interposed Luna’s explanation. “-and family.”

Draco felt his cheeks flush and cursed his pale complexion. He recalled Albus’ words that this was only trick magic; at the same time, a part of him wondered why it was a cardinal of all creatures. But then again – there were probably hundreds of symbols that one could bestow meaning upon if you only tried hard enough. Shaking away the thought, Draco tucked his arm over Harry’s shoulders and leaned against him. They shared a fond smile before watching the last few of their group learn about the fortunes that next year would bring.

A bell would grant Ron and Hermione either a spiritual epiphany or progeny. Ron seemed ecstatic while Hermione rolled her eyes, complaining about this unreliable branch of magic once again. After Blaise was content to be blessed with a lucky coin, everyone insisted that Luna and Parvati should know their fortunes, too. Apparently, they had already done so during their congress. Parvati gave a long explanation on all the possible meanings of hand-held fans which she’d already received when they’d learned about this endearing ritual on their congress.

Luna was awed that her symbol has changed, and she mused if this could mean that she has done something after the congress to alter her future. Seizing the opportunity, Blaise immediately engaged her into conversation about it.

~

It was a lovely night. When midnight rolled closer, they all went outside together to enjoy the fireworks that Draco had set up with the house-elves earlier. The fireworks exploded into fierce, sparkling dragons that illuminated the night sky and rushed over the snow-dusted grounds of the Manor, through the trees of the nearby forest, and all the way back to the terrace where they all were standing. The dragons deflagrated into a grand, final spark right in front of them; making everyone jump in surprise every now and then and interrupting their clinking glasses, hugs and well wishes of a happy new year. 

When some people went inside, Harry and Draco stayed on the terrace a little longer. A little far off, Albus and Scorpius sat on the steps that led into the frosty rose gardens, talking, and drinking from their crystal champagne flutes.

“Do you think that could have been us when we were that old?” Harry asked, following Draco’s gaze to their sons.

Draco thought for a moment before he answered. “No, love. We wouldn’t have been the same back then. We were very different, in fact.”

“Right gits.”

“Exactly.”

Harry chuckled and stepped closer to align his side with Draco’s and Draco entwined their hands. It took a moment before Harry spoke again. “I’ll have to work again the day after tomorrow.” His voice didn’t give away much, but Draco could imagine the question that he wanted to ask.

“I’ll have to work on some things, too. In January there is always so much bookwork to do after all the benefits in December.”

Harry nodded and rested his head on Draco’s shoulder. After a moment he turned his head to nuzzle the crook of Draco’s neck and Draco had to shuffle away from the tickling sensation it sent up and down his skin. With a grin that he couldn’t help, he pulled Harry close and folded arms behind his neck while Harry hugged his middle.

“Will we see each other this weekend then? When do you have to work?” Harry asked.

Draco thought for a moment. “Mh, I was thinking I should match my schedule with yours. Most of my work isn’t exactly bound to dates. I can brew and research and do the bookkeeping while you have office hours.” Harry pulled away a little to meet Draco’s eyes. “So, I thought… Maybe you just come to the Manor after work.”

In lieu of answering, Harry cupped Draco’s jaw and closed the small distance between their faces in a kiss. Just like it always was with their kisses, they experienced an enticing novelty and a welcome familiarity all the same, both not quite fathoming that they could evoke such a powerful feeling in the other and to receive it equally in return.