It was a good thing Seren Du was in the middle of nowhere, because the number of owls coming for Harry was beginning to get absurd. Now his friends knew it was safe to write to him, they were all more than happy to do so.
"Blimey, Harry," Sirius remarked when he was over one afternoon, watching another two owls swoop in through the window. "Even I wasn't this popular in school."
"You weren't planning a government coup," Harry pointed out dryly, scratching Susan's owl behind the ears. The other owl surprised him; he hadn't heard from Cassius yet this summer.
"True, but even so. Can't you pass a lot of this over to Susan, and just get updates from her?" The plan to sort out the Wizengamot was definitely more Susan's than Harry's. He was busy with the whole war on two sides situation.
"Nah, I like being in the loop. Besides," he added, offering both owls a bit of croissant off his plate, "half of these letters aren't even about that, we just wanted to keep in touch." It was a novelty to him, having this many people who actually cared what he was up to. He hadn't heard from Ron and Hermione, after convincing everyone in the Order that the Dursleys wouldn't let him receive owls, but from what the twins and Ginny were saying the two of them didn't seem enormously sad about it. The three younger Weasleys he actually liked regularly sent letters to him through Remus.
He opened Cassius' letter first, eyebrows furrowing at the short missive.
Dear Harry,
Just checking in to let you know I'm alright. Hope your summer is better than mine has been. My family are pretty enthusiastic about the current political situation, if you get what I mean. They want me to be involved as soon as possible. I've managed to hold things off for now, but I can't wait to get back to school.
I'm at a friend's right now, and will be for the next couple weeks, so you can write me back now but once I'm at home it's probably best you don't. Pretty sure my uncle's reading my mail. Luckily Draco and Pansy are acceptable people to write to, so they've been keeping me updated with that fancy ink Draco has. Slightly glad my guardianship situation means I'm not involved in Susan's law hunting project.
Before you worry your little Gryffindor head about me, I'm unharmed, and should stay that way until school. We Slytherins are good at surviving adverse conditions.
Enjoy your summer,
Cassius
Harry's heart ached for the Slytherin. He was about to start his final year at Hogwarts; after that, he would have no more excuses left for his uncle. He wondered which friend Cassius was staying with, whether it was the secret someone he'd mentioned over Christmas. He hoped so — Cassius needed someone in his corner right now.
Susan's letter didn't surprise him — her reaction to the news that Dumbledore had been forced into stepping down as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. It was poorly-hidden gloating, combined with fear now that the position would be held in interim by Minister Fudge. The only thing more dangerous than a political figure with a hidden agenda was a political figure with barely two brain cells to rub together.
"I've got another one for you," Remus announced, walking into the living room and tossing a letter Harry's way. He snatched it out of the air, smiling at the sight of George's handwriting. "Busy mail day?"
"The kid's getting more post than Gilderoy bloody Lockhart," Sirius grumbled, getting to his feet. "If you're here, I'd better scarper. Someone will notice I'm missing soon." He ruffled Harry's hair as he passed. "Stay out of trouble, Little Red."
"We're not calling me that," Harry insisted for the hundredth time. Sirius had declared that as an official Marauder — or soon-to-be one, once he got his animagus form — Harry deserved a proper Marauder nickname. He was testing a few out, and each was worse than the last. Remus said that James had been responsible for all of their nicknames the first time around, and there was a reason for that.
Remus took Sirius' spot on the sofa, and Harry jotted down replies to Susan and Cassius, sending their owls on their way. He thought about opening the letter from the twins, then looked at his watch; he was supposed to be down in the duelling room by now. "That'll have to wait," he murmured, tucking the letter inside his book and leaving them on the armchair. "See you, Moony!"
"Have fun, don't die," Remus called back nonchalantly, already engrossed in a book. Harry snorted.
Snape hadn't nearly killed him in at least a week now. Harry still needed the occasional Healing charm or potion by the end of his lesson, but he was getting a whole lot better. To his surprise, Snape was waiting for him in the entrance hall. "Follow me."
Instead of turning to the duelling room, Snape led him through the kitchen and out onto the back patio, continuing across the expanse of grass. "Most of your battles will not be in duelling rooms, on level ground," Snape told him, striding past the swimming pool. "They will be in corridors, or side-streets, or on grass. There will be trees and potholes and houses and puddles, things that you will trip over or have to work around. Things you may be able to use to your advantage."
Harry's eyes widened a fraction when they hit the tree line and kept going. He'd never actually been into the woods out here yet. He'd never needed to.
Snape seemed to know where they were going, and eventually halted in a small clearing. "We duel here today," he declared. "Use whatever you can to achieve your goals. Learn to think outside the box — you're good at duelling, yes, but you're also good at Transfiguration, and Charms. Winning isn't about playing fair."
"It's about surviving," Harry finished, familiar with the phrase by now. He flicked his wand into his hand, glancing around the clearing for anything that might be of use. A fallen branch, about ten feet behind Snape. The little muddy spot off to the left that could trip him up if Harry could nudge him in that direction. Trees that would make good coverage. This was much more Harry's style.
They bowed, and the duel began.
.-.-.-.
It was one of those rare times that Harry was left with only Snape in the house. Remus had been guilted into staying at headquarters for dinner, so the table at Seren Du was much quieter. Harry didn't mind too much, though. At least until Snape almost dropped his fork. His hand went to his forearm, and Harry's heart sank. "He's Calling you now?" Snape nodded.
"It's stronger than usual; this must be urgent." The Slytherin got to his feet, abandoning his half-eaten dinner. "I'll be back when I can. Hopefully Remus will be home soon; if you need him sooner, send Ceri. Don't practice any magic you can't reverse." A new warning, after Harry had accidentally stuck himself to the ceiling while practicing some of the spells he'd learnt from a lesson with Remus, and had waited there for an hour until Snape and Remus returned from their Order meeting.
"Be safe," Harry said in return. Snape nodded sharply, then swept out of the room to retrieve his mask and robe. Harry didn't watch him go; seeing the man dressed in Death Eater regalia made his stomach turn.
Harry finished his dinner morosely, though he perked up a little when Ceri offered him brownies and ice cream for dessert. It was a miracle they weren't all Dudley-sized, honestly. When he was finished, he took himself up to his room. The living room always felt too quiet when he was the only one in it.
Unfortunately, no non-reversible magic counted out his animagus practice. He was starting to get partial transformations now, just a little bit at a time, but Remus was worried he'd transform in some horrible way when there was no one home to help him, so he'd made Harry promise he wouldn't try if no one was in the house.
That left him with only a few options, but Harry was happy to take one of them. It had been a while since he'd worked on his wandless magic. He sat cross-legged in the centre of his bed, letting the tension flow out of his shoulders.
It was getting easier, the more he worked on his animagus transformation. Sirius said it was because he was getting used to accessing his core without a focus — the transformation was technically just very advanced wandless magic. Harry just thought he was finally getting used to having all of his core available to him.
He started going through everything he could remember from second year Charms — he'd already nailed all his first year spells. The Freezing charm and the Engorgement charm came easy, but the Shrinking charm stuck a little bit for some reason. He glared at the rubber chicken (a remnant fake wand) that was currently the size of a small dog, lying on his bed. He nudged at his magic. The chicken began to shrink. He was distracted by the sound of the front door opening, and leapt off the bed, hurrying down to see Remus in the hall. He deflated. "Harry, is everything alright?" Remus asked, not used to such an eager greeting. "Where's Severus?"
"He got Called," Harry explained. "I was hoping you were him."
Remus' smile faltered, and he cursed softly. "How long has he been gone?"
Harry checked his watch. "About an hour and a half," he replied. Remus relaxed a little.
"Good. We're not allowed to worry until it's been at least four hours, that's the rule," he insisted. Harry wondered how many times Remus had panicked before they'd had to implement that rule. How often he still worried, regardless.
"How was the Order meeting? And dinner? How is everyone?"
Remus hung his cloak up on the hook, walking with Harry up to the living room. Ceri had hot chocolate waiting when they arrived. "The meeting was fine; Arthur and Kingsley are a little worried about the movement of some of the known Voldemort supporters within the Ministry, but they haven't done anything overt yet. Dinner was as it always is."
"Loud and chaotic?" Harry said knowingly, earning a brief grin.
"Quite that, yes. Tonks sent a whole block of knives flying, it was just Kingsley's quick reflexes that saved it all. Bill nearly lost an eye in the process," Remus added, making Harry snort. He was so curious about the other members of the Order, the ones he didn't know. As much as he loved being at Seren Du and never wanted to leave, part of him wanted Dumbledore to make the decision to move him to headquarters, just so he could meet all these people. And see the Weasleys again, of course.
As they drank their hot chocolate, Remus told him about some new products the twins were working on, and how furious Mrs Weasley was about it all. Harry let him talk; it was better than sitting waiting in anxious silence for Snape to come home.
Harry scar began to ache a little bit, but in the way it did when Voldemort was happy. A few moments later, the front door opened. Remus spilled a little of his hot chocolate. They both jumped up and headed for the stairs. Snape didn't look hurt, and Harry let out a quiet sigh of relief, watching Remus run towards the man and run hands over his shoulders. His nostrils flared, trying to sniff out any hidden injuries with his werewolf senses. "I'm fine," Snape insisted softly, his voice gentle in the way it only ever was with Remus, and only sometimes; when he thought they were alone, or when Remus seemed particularly vulnerable.
"He's happy," Harry commented, grimacing against the pain in his forehead. "What happened?"
"He's discovered that the full prophecy about you was recorded and put in the Department of Mysteries," Snape answered, eyes dull. "He's going to start going after it."
"The Department of Mysteries? Isn't that, like, impossible to get in?"
"Not to get into, but to navigate, yes. Unless you're an Unspeakable, you'll be hard pressed to find your way around," Snape confirmed. Harry was glad to see the man's hands weren't trembling around his discarded mask; he hadn't been Crucio'ed tonight, then. "I'll go see Dumbledore in the morning, but this doesn't bode well." His eyes were fixed on Harry as he said that, and Harry raised an eyebrow. "Only those who are the subject of a prophecy can touch a recorded version of it."
And the prophecy Voldemort wanted… "Shit," Harry said. Snape nodded. "Well, at least I have a warning, now. Stay away from the Ministry." If Harry didn't go there to take it, then Voldemort himself would have to go into the Ministry to get it, and that was unlikely to happen.
He could see Snape begin to lean heavier on Remus, and cleared his throat. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you both in the morning." He knew they had some sort of routine for nights like this, just like they had routines for before and after the full moon. Harry didn't want to intrude on any of their private stuff. He hurried back up the stairs, briefly ducking into the living room to retrieve his abandoned hot chocolate before heading to his room.
So Voldemort finally had a plan. Harry wondered if Dumbledore would tell him the prophecy now that they knew Voldemort wanted it. Or, indeed, if he would tell Harry anything at all about what Voldemort was up to. As far as they were all concerned, Harry was stuck in Privet Drive with zero information and zero contact with the wizarding world. Knowledge was power, and Harry had more knowledge than Dumbledore would ever be able to guess.
.-.-.-.-.
Harry's fifteenth birthday crept up on him. It was the first time he'd almost forgotten to stay up until midnight; he'd been so busy training, and then he'd managed to turn his hair red while working on his animagus transformation, and he'd just lost track of the day. It was only when he was getting ready for bed that he saw the date on his alarm clock and remembered.
Nevertheless, he woke up early and surrounded by owls, all jostling for space as they offered their burdens to him. Harry laughed, setting about releasing the packages one by one. Sweets and books and a new passworded journal, a Tutshill Tornadoes pennant from Cho — forever trying to lure him away from the Harpies — and even Fleur and Viktor had sent him presents! It was by far the most Harry had ever been given on his birthday, and he wasn't even done yet!
Full of excitement, he bounded down the stairs and beamed when he saw Sirius at the breakfast table. "I figured if there's ever a time I can get away with sulking in my room the whole day, it's your birthday," the animagus teased, opening his arms for a hug. "Happy birthday, kiddo!"
Instead of waiting his turn for a hug, Remus merely wrapped his arms around both of them, kissing Harry's hair. "Happy birthday." He let go, nudging Harry to sit down in front of his plate of pancakes, overloaded with cream and fruit. "What do you want to do today, Harry?"
Harry bit his lip; he'd been hoping one of them might tell him about a surprise, like last year. "What are my options?"
"Same as usual," Remus replied, shrugging. "Flying, swimming, playing with Buckbeak. Maybe a trip to the cinema, if we're careful." Harry tried not to let his face fall.
"Or you could stay here and wait for your visitors to arrive," Snape drawled from behind his copy of the Prophet, eyes glittering.
Harry lit up, practically bouncing in his seat. There were only two people who would visit Seren Du. Sirius laughed. "I think that's decided it," he teased, making Harry blush. "It's fine, it's fine — you'd rather spend your birthday with your boyfriend, we get it."
Suddenly, Harry wondered if it was a good idea to have Draco over, with Sirius and Remus around. The teasing was bad enough when it was just Harry talking to them about the Slytherin.
Pretending his cheeks weren't as red as the strawberries on his plate, he wolfed down his breakfast. "They should be here in half an hour or so," Sirius declared, a wave of his wand summoning a stack of wrapped presents as soon as Ceri cleared the table. "Just enough time to give you these."
Opening presents in front of the three men was slightly less awkward than last year, now he was a little more used to them spoiling him. Defence books, some prank items, and a set of duelling robes that had to have cost a pretty penny. "This is brilliant, thank you guys," Harry gushed, beaming when Sirius ruffled his hair.
"Only the best for our pup turning fifteen! Love you, kiddo. Let Ceri put those away, let's go wait outside for your boyfriend." The dog animagus laughed, dodging the elbow Harry aimed at his ribs. Nonetheless, Harry followed him outside to the front drive, wandlessly summoning a bright red rubber bone from a few feet away. He'd bought it as a joke present for Sirius' last birthday, only for the man to become surprisingly attached to the thing. Harry flung it across the grass, watching his godfather transform mid-stride and go bounding after it.
Padfoot's inky fur gleamed in the summer sunlight; even as a dog, his improvement in the last year was obvious. Sirius hardly even looked like a man who had seen Azkaban anymore — if not for the shadows in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders, you'd never guess.
Indeed, all four of them were looking miles healthier than they had this time last year. Harry had caught Snape grumbling about needing to buy new trousers thanks to Ceri's cooking, and Remus teasing him that he was no longer two-dimensional. As for the werewolf himself, between his peace with his inner wolf and the training he was helping Harry with, he was broader in the shoulders and hiding some impressive muscles beneath his cardigans and mild-mannered smile. Harry was just glad Snape had stopped leaving Nutrient potions in pointedly innocent places for him to find. He knew he would never be as tall or stocky as his father, not after his childhood, but the Potions Master's expertise had corrected far more than Harry had ever thought possible. He actually looked his age, now!
So caught up in his introspection of how far they'd come in a year, Harry almost missed the crack of apparition signalling the arrival of their guests. He and Padfoot both turned their heads towards the noise, the dog dropping his toy and transforming back to a man in an instant — not quite quick enough to hide what he'd been doing from his smirking cousin.
"I always wanted a dog when we were children," she teased by way of greeting, leaning in to kiss Sirius' cheek. "Seren Du is treating you well, cousin. I'm glad to see it."
"You're always welcome to come share the benefits," Sirius replied, grey eyes scanning the woman in concern. "Pardon my saying so, but you look like you could use it." Indeed, Narcissa Malfoy was as perfectly presented as always, but she hadn't bothered to glamour over the dark circles below her eyes, and she seemed a little thinner in the cheeks. Harry felt a small spark of pride to see the dragon necklace he'd bought her sitting at her throat.
"My lord husband is putting my hosting skills to the test this summer," she said primly. "I can't say I approve of his choice of houseguests."
Beside her, Draco flinched minutely. Harry reached for him, not even hesitating to pull him into a chaste kiss despite their audience. "I'm glad you're okay," he murmured, hugging the blond tightly. He felt Draco's shoulders slump, the taller boy relaxing against him for just a second.
"You, too. Happy birthday."
Narcissa squeezed Harry's shoulder, smiling fondly at the pair. "Many happy returns, Harry, darling. I'm glad we were able to get away for the day — though I think Draco might've run away and come here by himself regardless."
Her son blushed, and Harry grinned.
"Why don't you boys go hit the quidditch pitch for a little while?" Sirius suggested. His gaze kept returning to Narcissa, his worry obvious. Harry figured he probably wanted to talk to her privately.
"Yeah, okay." Slipping his hand into Draco's, Harry turned towards the pitch, while the pair of Blacks strolled back to the front door. Draco's shoulder bumped against his.
"It's good to see you," he said softly. "You look good."
Harry would've blushed, if he wasn't reminded of the last time Draco had seen him; on the train home from Hogwarts, still raw from Cedric's death and terrified Sirius wouldn't be able to find a way to get him safely away from the Dursleys'. "I've been able to get some rest," he said eventually.
Draco snorted. "I could do with a bit of that." He did look like he hadn't been sleeping well. Harry squeezed his hand.
"We don't have to fly. We can just sit, if you want."
"No, no." Draco untangled their fingers, drawing his wand and his shrunken broom from his pocket, resizing it in one fluid motion. "I've hardly been able to fly all summer. It's… not always safe, to be outside the house." His lips twisted in a sneer. "Not always safe to be inside, either."
Harry's heart clenched painfully. Here he'd been enjoying his freedom, and poor Draco had been dealing with a nightmare made reality. "Come here for a second." He nudged the broom from Draco's hand, winding his arms around the blond's lithe hips. Automatically, Draco's arms came around Harry's shoulders, holding him close. He was tense, up until the moment Harry tucked his chin into the hollow of Draco's neck. A beat, two, then the Slytherin finally let go of his rigid posture, slumping into Harry with the quietest of sighs.
"It's good to see you," Draco repeated, barely louder than a whisper. "I've missed you."
"Me too," Harry breathed, closing his eyes to take in Draco's heartbeat against his cheek. Merlin, he'd needed this. He wished Draco could stay all summer; even when Harry had to leave Seren Du to go play Gryffindor Golden Boy, at least his boyfriend would be safe from the monster in his home. But it would raise too many questions. Draw too many lines they weren't ready to draw yet.
The two boys stood there for a while, just taking each other in, until Draco finally drew in a deep breath and dropped his arms. Harry kissed him, and when he pulled back they were both smiling.
"Let's chase the snitch for a bit, shall we?" Draco suggested. "We can talk after lunch."
They had so much to talk about, but Draco didn't look like he was ready for that, and quite honestly Harry wasn't either. He'd much rather just fly with his boyfriend on his birthday, and pretend they were normal, just for a little while.
.-.-.
Lunch was timed perfectly; just as the bell rang, the clouds that had been gathering all morning began to let loose their burden — Harry and Draco were both a little waterlogged by the time they made it inside. Snape made quick work of that with a couple of Drying charms, squeezing Draco's shoulder. "It's good to see you well, Draco," he murmured, his tone warm in that way only Remus and Draco warranted. Draco looked a little brighter for seeing the man, and a curl of guilt rose within Harry; here he'd been monopolising Draco's godfather, too. He was the worst boyfriend!
Ceri had prepared a feast fit for royalty, with another masterpiece of a cake; this one covered in small fondant foxes, which prompted an explanation for the two Malfoys.
"Corrupting him further, are you?" Narcissa remarked to Sirius, who grinned unrepentantly.
"That's so cool," Draco said, envy in his eyes. "Uncle Severus, can I—"
"I planned to brew the potion for you once you had returned to school," Snape cut him off smoothly. 'When it's safer' went unsaid, but the delay didn't bother Draco. He beamed, ignoring his mother's eye-roll.
"If I had known you'd start taking godparenting advice from this cretin, I might have protested more at your choice in companion," the Malfoy matriarch grumbled. It was all for show; Harry knew if she really didn't want Draco learning, Snape never would have mentioned it. Quite frankly, any advantage Draco could have would be worth it. "And here I thought I was your favourite family member," Sirius mock-gasped.
"Andromeda remains my favourite, as you well know," Narcissa replied. "Regardless of whether or not we're on speaking terms." Her grey eyes were sad. Sirius cleared his throat.
"About that. Recent events have put me back in touch with her daughter; she's an auror, you know." From the look on her face, Harry didn't doubt Narcissa knew exactly what her niece was doing with her life. "Obviously we've had to be fairly careful how we talk, with certain manipulative old windbags floating about." Remus snorted. "She helped me get in touch with Andi again. Explain my innocence and all."
Almost imperceptibly, Narcissa's grip tightened around her cutlery. "Sirius, I can't—"
"I'm not saying you have to," Sirius continued. "I'm just letting you know I'm working on sorting out how close to Dumbledore that side of the family is. I never could tell how much of a hand he had in her running off with Ted — not that I begrudge her that, he's a top bloke. But if you want me to pass on a message once I'm certain she can be trusted, I'd be happy to."
"I'll think about it," Narcissa said eventually, lips pursed. "Let's not do anything reckless, though. There's far too much at stake."
"Andi would rip the world in half for her littlest sister and you know it," Sirius argued gently, softening in the barest smile. "You need an out that can't be traced back to me, Cissa. Just in case the boys end up public; I'd be the first place your husband would look."
"We're being careful," Harry piped up indignantly.
"I know, pup, but things happen. You always need a back-up plan."
"I appreciate your concern, but I have it handled," Narcissa declared. "I'm worth far more at my husband's side than I would be cowering behind my sister's skirts." Her smirk was cold, and every inch a Slytherin. "I've always been a better dueller than Lucius, at any rate."
That drew a short laugh from Sirius. "And he knows it," he muttered proudly. "I know you want to help, but all the same… I think it would be worth getting back in touch."
"Andromeda would be pleased to hear you weren't as lost as she feared," Snape said, quiet voice cutting through the tension between the cousins. Narcissa's expression faltered.
"…I suppose," she said eventually. All of a sudden, she cleared her throat, and was smiling once more. "How rude of us, carrying on this dreadful conversation over Harry's birthday meal. I do apologise. Though I feel you've hardly noticed, with those moon-eyes you're giving my son." This smirk was equally Slytherin as the last, but much warmer, a playful glint in her eyes. Harry ducked his head.
"Mother!" Draco complained, his pale cheeks turning crimson. "Leave him alone."
"And miss my one chance of the year to watch my darling boy and his beau be so smitten?" she teased, smoothing her son's hair down with a saccharine smile. "I believe it's my right as a mother, after watching the pair of you be so utterly oblivious last year."
Harry wondered if it was possible to explode from too much blood to the face. He looked to his godfathers for help, but knew they would be useless. Sirius' grin spelled danger.
"Does my bitter old heart good to see young love," he sighed dramatically. "Harry's been positively heartbroken, unable to write to his boyfriend all summer. It's torture, watching him sigh away at the window, yearning for his paramour."
"Sirius!" Harry let out a strangled yelp, eyes wide. He didn't dare look Draco — or anyone — in the eye. "None of that is true!" Sure, he'd hated not being able to write to Draco. And maybe he'd spent more time than he should have worrying about how Draco was faring with Voldemort in his house. But there had been no sighing at windows.
"I do hope Draco has been a little more discreet in his pining, considering your company," Snape drawled, dark eyes alight with amusement. Great, now even Snape was getting in on the teasing!
"I haven't been pining!" Draco protested. "And I bet you were worse when you were my age. You're with a Gryffindor too, you know."
"But my Gryffindor knew where I lived in the summer, and knew that my parents hardly cared where I was," came Snape's easy retort. Remus' smile widened at the possessive, going starry-eyed like he always did when reminiscing about the good parts of his teenage years. Harry could hardly imagine it; Remus coming to visit Snape in his muggle town, sneaking away together for privacy over the summer. He grimaced — he didn't want to imagine it. "We're just glad you're happy, pup," Sirius said, eyes wide with feigned innocence. "After all those nights you spent gushing about Draco to me before you got together, pretending you only liked him as a friend, wondering if he would ever like you back—" He stopped talking abruptly; mostly due to his nose turning into a bright green teapot. "Oi! Little blighter!"
"Excellent wandless transfiguration, Harry. Well done," Remus complimented. "Though if you think it's going to stop him talking, you'll have to try a lot harder, I'm afraid."
"Narcissa, did I ever tell you about when Harry told me of his first kiss?" Sirius continued loudly, voice a little nasal thanks to the crockery on his face.
"We're leaving!" Harry declared, jumping to his feet. With a wide-eyed look at Draco, he grabbed the blond's hand.
"Oh, but you haven't finished your cake!" Narcissa protested, admirably stifling her laughter. Harry reached to snatch his plate, Draco's half-eaten cake levitating over to rest next to his.
"We're going upstairs." Cake in one hand and boyfriend in the other, Harry made for the door, his blush starting to feel permanent.
"Keep the door open!" Sirius called in their wake, cackling gleefully. Harry groaned, picking up his pace. Why had he thought it was a good idea to have Draco over with Sirius around??
He couldn't bear to look the Slytherin in the eye until they were far away from the kitchen, almost to Harry's room. Then he was blushing for an entirely different reason, Sirius' parting words echoing in his head. What would Draco think, Harry dragging him up to his bedroom?
"I'm sorry," he stuttered, skidding to a halt. "We can go to the other sitting room, or somewhere — we can't eat cake in the library, but I—" He was cut off by a kiss, Draco smiling against his mouth. They were both still blushing when they parted.
"It's fine." Draco pushed the door to Harry's room open, taking the cake from the Gryffindor's grasp. "You couldn't have picked up some forks on your way out?"
Harry rolled his eyes, transfiguring a pair of forks from a couple of quills on his desk. "I was a little busy trying to escape before Sirius said something that made me want to crawl in a hole and die."
The two boys made themselves comfortable on the bed, plate of cake between them. "I should've known he would pull something like that. He's been teasing me about you for ages," Harry groused.
"You can't help it that you're blinded by my good looks," Draco reassured airily. "You're only human."
"Oh, don't you start," the Gryffindor muttered. "You're just as bad as I am." He refused to be embarrassed about fancying his boyfriend, but Sirius' teasing was on a whole other level.
Draco grinned, shuffling over, careful to avoid knocking the empty cake plate. "I am," he agreed shamelessly. "I'm absolutely awful about how much I've missed you this summer. Positively Gryffindor about it. You've ruined my reputation."
Harry rolled his eyes, grinning as he let Draco crowd his space. "Your reputation is doing just fine," he argued, sliding a hand into the soft blond strands at the nape of his neck. "But it's nice to hear I'm not the only sappy Gryffindor here."
Draco hummed, kissing him in lieu of a reply. Harry shifted them to get more comfortable, pulling Draco half on top of him. He sighed into the kiss, hand moving to cradle Draco's waist, their legs tangling together. All of a sudden, Draco froze, pulling back. Harry frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Harry, I— about what your godfather said."
Harry almost groaned at the reminder of Sirius' embarrassing words, wondering which part Draco objected to most. Then he saw the look in the blond's eyes, hesitant and shy, and comprehension slammed into him.
They were in his bedroom. On his bed. Alone.
His pulse ticked up a notch— was Draco suggesting… what was he suggesting? They'd never been alone together like this before. Somewhere that wasn't a classroom, or a hidden corner of the school where they might be found at any minute. Somewhere with a bed. "Everything we've done has been great, truly—" Oh, Draco was talking again, Harry should probably pay attention. "— I just don't know if I— I mean, things are going— maybe we shouldn't—"
"Draco," Harry interrupted, brows furrowing. Draco was getting more frustrated with every word he tripped over, his body tense and uncomfortable. "Talk to me."
"Can we maybe just slow it down a bit?" the Slytherin blurted all at once, then bit his lip. "Fuck. I mean, just because we're up here in your room, doesn't mean we have to, y'know. Do anything." He wouldn't meet Harry's gaze now. The Gryffindor frowned.
"Do you not want me to kiss you?" he asked, suddenly worried. He tried to untangle them, but Draco held tight.
"No!" he blurted. "No, no, this is good. I just… oh, bugger it all," he muttered under his breath. "I know you've had that book, from George, and it's got all sorts of… stuff in it. But I— I don't think I'm ready to go any further than we have just yet. Even if now would be perfect for it, because we're here and alone and even though Sirius was teasing I bet he wouldn't even care if we did shut the door, and my mother just wants me to be happy, but all the same I can't— I don't— Merlin, I can't think when I'm looking at you like this."
Harry might be an idiot Gryffindor with blood flowing to lots of places other than his brain right now, but even he could put those pieces together. He frowned, stroking the back of Draco's neck. "Draco, breathe," he soothed. "We don't have to do anything. I'm sorry if you thought— if I was pushing, or something, I didn't mean to. I don't think I'm ready either," he admitted. He'd read the book cover to cover at this point, and maybe in the privacy of his bed at night he liked to imagine doing some of those things with Draco, but they hadn't done more than take their shirts off and rub off against each other so far, and the thought of getting naked together was… overwhelming, to say the least.
"Oh," Draco said softly, the wind taken from his sails. "You don't want to?"
"At some point, yeah," Harry murmured. "But not right now. I swear, I wasn't thinking anything like that when I brought you up here. I just really wanted to be with you, without all the teasing and stuff."
Little by little, Draco began to relax. His body pressed against Harry's, but it wasn't done to arouse. Harry adjusted them until he was on his back, Draco curled up under his arm. "You know you're always allowed to say no, right?" he said, tracing gentle patterns on the Slytherin's arm. Draco made a quiet, noncommittal noise, but didn't say anything.
Harry had once had a conversation with George, after he'd admitted he and Draco were together. It had started out embarrassing, as those sorts of conversations often did, but George had talked to him about consent and boundaries, and how it was only worth doing things if all parties were equally into it and involved. The older boy had insisted Harry should never feel pressured into anything, and he'd prank Draco for a week if the Slytherin ever tried.
He didn't think Draco had anyone like that, to have that conversation with him. Snape, maybe. But Harry didn't see that happening; certainly not in the same way George had done things. And Slytherins were a little weird about relationships and stuff; it was always a power play, to some degree. Maybe they didn't have chats about consent at all.
His heart ached, and he held Draco tighter, kissing his hair. "I swear, I'll never make you do anything you don't want to," he promised. "Even if we're in the middle of something and you change your mind, just tell me and I'll stop, okay? We can do something different, or hell, I'll go take a cold shower or something." He tried to get a laugh from his boyfriend, but barely managed a smile and an eye roll. "There's no rush to do things. I don't care if the other boys act like it's some sort of competition or whatever." The Slytherins were probably even worse than the Gryffindor boys for bragging about 'how far they'd been'. "They're all going so quickly, I doubt they really know what they're doing, anyway," he joked, and that got a quiet chuckle. Finally, Draco's stormy grey gaze met his. Harry smiled. "I just like being with you. Even if we just cuddle. Though I really, really like kissing you," he admitted, a little bashful.
"Kissing is good," Draco agreed, his fingers curling in the hem of Harry's t-shirt.
"We've got plenty of time to get to everything else," Harry insisted. He resolutely ignored the little voice in the back of his head telling him he'd die before graduation, that the war would get to him quicker than he'd like. That was no reason to push things. He'd rather die a virgin than make Draco uncomfortable. "Right?"
Abruptly, he thought that maybe Draco wasn't thinking as long-term as Harry foolishly was; sure, he made comments sometimes, but he'd never really said that he expected anything like that.
"I can see you panicking," Draco declared with amusement, kissing Harry firmly. "I wouldn't go into something as reckless and idiotic as dating the bloody Boy-Who-Lived if I wasn't in it for the long haul. You're stuck with me, Potter." There was a soft expression on his face as he spoke, one that made Harry's heart ache with words he hadn't said, words he desperately hoped Draco thought too, words he wasn't brave enough to voice between them yet.
"Then we can go as slow as we want," he said instead. "It'll be worth the journey, when we get there, and we know each other better." Every time things got more heated between them, he discovered a new part of Draco that made the blond moan, a sensitive spot or a way to touch him just right. The longer they took with that, the better it would be when things… progressed.
Draco's eyes darkened, and he tilted his head up, capturing Harry's lips with a ferocity that put a firm end to the talking part of that conversation.
For the first time all summer, Harry felt like he could truly breathe. Sure, it had been great having Remus and Sirius to talk to about Cedric and Voldemort and his fears, and they had gone a long way to helping him work through his grief. But lying there with Draco, first kissing and then talking quietly, cuddled together on his bed, Harry could feel the ragged edges of that hole in his chest begin to knit themselves together again.
Eventually the conversation faded out — Harry losing the words to talk about his emotions regarding what had happened in the graveyard; Draco not wanting to taint a nice day with discussion of the Dark Lord invading his home. Neither of them was truly okay, but there was nothing they could do to change that. Not yet. Summer would be over in a month, and then they'd have a whole other set of problems to deal with. They could worry about them together then; this was the last time they'd see each other for a while.
"Do you think the Defence teacher will be any good this year?" Draco asked absently, shifting up to look Harry in the eye without getting a crick in his neck. Harry scoffed.
"With the current track record? Unlikely," he muttered. "Merlin knows how half our year will pass their OWLs."
"Don't say that word," Draco protested. "It's all Father's been able to talk about this summer. Exams this, OWLs that, I'd better do the Malfoy name proud with my results." He grimaced. "I can't wait until it's all over. Exams, school, this bloody war. Then maybe I'll be able to live my own damned life."
Harry pursed his lips. He didn't often dare think about all that. What came after.
"Maybe I'll join you in professional quidditch," Draco continued. "Just to piss off father. We'd have to play on the same team, though; I've heard the schedules are a nightmare."
A warmth settled in Harry's chest. There was no doubt in Draco's voice about them staying together, after everything. No hint that Harry might not make it through.
"We can't both be seekers on the same team, though," he pointed out, deciding to go with Draco's fantasy; they could pretend they were normal teenage wizards, with no war and no prophecies and just their schooling to get through. They could dream.
"Don't be daft; I'd be a chaser," Draco retorted without missing a beat. "I know better than to think I can beat you to the snitch; you beat Viktor Krum, for Salazar's sake. The only reason I'm seeker for Slytherin is that there were no openings for chaser in our second year. Plus I was a little idiot who foolishly thought I could beat you with a faster broom."
"Then why didn't you switch in third year?" Harry asked, sure that one of the Slytherin chasers had graduated at the end of their second. Draco's gaze turned sheepish.
"Riling you up was fun," he admitted. "I didn't want to let anyone else have that pleasure."
Harry smirked. "Possessive little git," he teased fondly. "Staking your claim before you even realised you fancied me."
"You've always been mine, Potter," Draco agreed. Harry's throat tightened — how very true that was.
Pushing past the wave of unexpected emotion, Harry rolled on top of Draco, grinning smugly. "Maybe you'll get lucky in this year's match against me," he teased.
"Maybe you'll gest distracted looking at my arse," Draco retorted, even as his hands moved to cup Harry's.
"Draco, darling, I have a Firebolt," came Harry's swift reply. "You'll be the one looking at my arse. And remembering exactly what happened after I beat Viktor Krum to the snitch." That brief moment behind the greenhouse was still one of Harry's fondest memories — and the beginning of many a late-night fantasy.
"Then if you do win, you'll know it was because I was too busy imagining getting you out of your quidditch robes." They weren't trying to rile each other up again, but Harry couldn't help but grin against Draco's jawbone.
"Excuses, excuses," he whispered, kissing the soft spot beneath Draco's earlobe.
"Maybe I won't go professional," Draco continued, fingers tracing the ridges of Harry's spine. "Healer training is best done straight out of school, after all. I'll let you go chasing the snitch, and I'll be waiting to heal all the bruises when you get whacked by bludgers."
Harry closed his eyes, the picture forming in his head; coming home after a long day of training, kissing Draco hello and letting the blond fuss over his minor injuries. Maybe they'd cook dinner together — or rather, Draco would watch Harry cook, because Merlin knew the spoiled little pureblood had never stood at a stove in his life. But Harry would teach him. They'd figure it out.
"That sounds really good," he confessed, voice going somewhat hoarse with the power of the emotion welling in his chest. "We'll get a house, somewhere in London, because you'll be working longer days than I will and I can apparate or floo to wherever I'm training. We'll ward it so your mum and our godfathers can't come over unless we invite them, or Sirius will be a nosy bugger. Maybe on the days I'm not training, and you're not too busy, I can bring you lunch and we can eat it together outside the hospital."
Harry hadn't been to St Mungo's, but there had to be a park nearby or something. A tree they could sit under, sharing sandwiches on warm summer days, before Draco had to get back to another endless shift of healer training.
In his head, the dream went further — Draco would become a fully qualified healer, one of the best young healers St Mungo's had seen in decades. Harry would play for England, and take them all the way to the World Cup Final at least once. And when he was done with quidditch, either through injury or boredom, maybe he'd get a Defence mastery. He could write textbooks; something that would allow him to be at home with their kids. However many they had. Hell, maybe he'd even teach, once they were all old enough to be at Hogwarts.
Did Draco even want kids?
He wasn't brave enough to ask.
"Sounds like a solid plan to me," Draco murmured. "We've got it all figured out." He sighed, breath tickling Harry's cheek. "Just got to get a sodding Dark Lord out of the way, first. And my father."
"If your father tries to stop us, I'll hex him," Harry assured, not wanting to touch on the whole Dark Lord matter. He felt Draco frown.
"That's not what I'm worried about," the blond dismissed. Harry caught his eye with a quizzical look, and Draco's expression darkened. "He raised me, Harry. I know I've had mother, but… you remember what I was like, before. I wanted to be just like him." His face twisted in a grimace. "Part of me thinks I always will be, in the end."
"You were twelve, Draco. We're all idiots at twelve."
"But that's twelve years of idolising a monster. Twelve years of him shaping me into the perfect little pureblood heir. The perfect soldier for his master. You think I'm better, but I'm not, deep down. I'm exactly what he raised me to be. I'll always be a Malfoy."
"You're a Black, and you know it," Harry argued without hesitation. "Don't pretend your mum hasn't raised you, too. You're a Slytherin, Draco, that doesn't make you your father. Hell, Snape's more your dad than Lucius Malfoy, in the ways that matter. And look at him — he's certainly not the picture of a light wizard, but he's still a good man. He still has the love of a good man, and a family." "He just had to do awful things to get there."
"And he'll be damned if he lets you follow in his footsteps," Harry pointed out. He refused to let Draco believe, even for a second, that he might have anything but blood in common with Lucius Malfoy. "Don't think like that, Draco. You're a good person."
Draco sighed, pushing Harry's fringe back off his forehead. "I wish I could have your optimism, Scarhead."
Harry grinned, leaning up to steal a kiss. "I'm a Gryffindor, it's what we do," he joked. "Just trust me. Do you really think I'd let you end up like your dad?" Do you really think I'd love you if I thought you could be?
The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he held them in. He didn't want the first time he said it to be during such a grim conversation.
Besides, he felt like Draco knew anyway.
The blond settled under Harry's body. "Promise me you won't," he pleaded. "Promise me you'll stop me becoming like him."
In the back of his mind, Harry's memory flashed back to earlier in the summer, sitting distraught on the kitchen floor and looking up at Remus and Snape. Promise me you won't let me become like him.
"Easiest promise I'll ever keep," he rasped, echoing Remus' words with his heart thudding against his ribs.
Maybe between the lot of them, all those promises would be kept.