Chapter Text
Harry was a bit overwhelmed by the congratulations and the excitement around him at the defeat of Voldemort, so he was relieved when Professor McGonagall gave him a chance to escape under the invisibility cloak and find Hermione, Ron, and Draco.
He found Ron and Hermione on a bench, just inside the Great Hall.
“It’s me… Wanna get out of here?” Harry said quietly to his friends, who nodded.
Once they left the Great Hall, Harry tugged his invisibility cloak off with a sigh.
“Now let’s find Draco,” Harry said eagerly as they walked further into Hogwarts, passing Peeves, who was singing a tune about “Voldy going moldy.”
“Harry…” started Hermione hesitantly, “about Draco… is- is there anything you need to tell us?”
Harry felt himself flush. “Oh- I- I erm- we’re sort of together? Like… romantically. It happened pretty quickly because we thought we were gonna die, but… yeah,” Harry said. Briefly he wondered if Draco would be angry he told them without him. He tried to hide the flush creeping up his face by pulling the marauders map from his pocket.
“You’re what ? You’re gay? And Draco ?! What about Ginny?” Ron exclaimed in bewilderment.
“Oh Ronald, please don’t act so surprised,” Hermione gave him an almost pitying look, “remember all those times they snuck off together? Or how Ginny commented about Draco loving him?” she turned to Harry, “she knows too, doesn’t she?”
Harry nodded.
“Did you tell her why you went into the forest?”
Harry nodded again, “I told her everything. The horcruxes, our travels, um the Draco stuff.”
“And she was ok with that?” Ron’s shock wasn’t really all that surprising to Harry. He opened the map to avoid looking at his best friend whose mouth was still agape.
“I solemnly swear I’m up to no good,” Harry said quickly before continuing, “yes. Ginny knows, and she’s happy for me. Which you could at least pretend to be instead of being a-”
Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Draco in the dungeons beside another name. Lucius Malfoy.
“Dammit. We need to move. Now,” Harry said, shoving the map into Hermione’s hands, and breaking into a sprint.
“Harry, what-? Oh no,” Hermione gasped, and he heard her footsteps, along with Ron’s, following close behind him. He was sure that Hermione and Ron said something else as they ran, but Harry couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of his own heart beating in his eardrums.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione tore through the halls, and down the stairs towards the dungeon.
His stomach sank at the sight of white blond hair on the floor surrounded by a pool of blood with a knife in his back, but he felt the slightest bit of relief when he realised it was the long hair of Lucius and not Draco.
“Check his pulse, I’ll check on Draco,” Harry panted to Hermione, who nodded. Then he turned into the doorway and the sight was even worse than he’d imagined.
Draco was pale, out cold, and covered in his own blood.
“No no no no, fuck. This is not how it was supposed to go. Don’t die on me you fucking idiot,” Harry breathed in a panic, then called, his voice shaky, “Ron! Hermione! Get in here!”
Harry bent down next to Draco, and pressed his fingers to his neck. He felt Draco’s pulse but only faintly.
Hermione let out a startled shriek. “Oh my god. Harry is he…?”
“He’s alive, but just barely,” Harry croaked out, “I’ll need your help though. I’m shite at healing spells.”
“Ron go get Madam Pomfrey. Tell her it’s urgent, and she’ll need blood replenishing potions,” Hermione ordered, “Harry I- this is-”
“Please, you have to try,” Harry’s voice cracked, “I can’t- I can’t lose anyone else.”
Hermione nodded, and started unbuttoning his shirt. “I can try to put some of the blood back, but this wound- this will be difficult, even for an experienced healer-”
“I suppose it would be a bad time to tell you to try not to kill me,” Draco rasped.
“Draco- you’re-” Harry started, tears fresh in his eyes.
“Draco, no talking. You need to conserve energy,” Hermione ordered, casting a spell that was vaguely familiar to Harry; similar to one that he’d watched be cast on Draco before. He stared as the blood slowly crept back into Draco’s body, as if time was being rewound. But even Harry could tell she wasn’t going fast enough.
“Hermione it’s not-”
“I know! I’m trying! Please- please just let me concentrate. And keep him awake,” there were tears flowing from her eyes as she said it, but even through her panic, she kept working. Hermione’s hands were shaking, as she seemed to try to work faster.
Harry directed his attention back to Draco, who was looking at him with heavy lidded eyes. Harry grabbed Draco’s hand, “I was thinking we-we should live together, after- after this is over. That’d be nice right?”
“I’d like that, you know, if dying weren’t on the table,” Draco’s voice was soft, and his breathing shallow.
“You’re not dying. I’m not losing another person I love. Not like this, not when we’re so close,” Harry’s voice cracked from his tears.
Draco’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Oh don’t look at me like that, you prat. Yes, Draco, I love you. Now stay alive so I can tell you again without your blood all over my clothes,” Harry told him softly.
Draco let out a low chuckle, much to Hermione’s visible irritation, and replied, “I’ll hold you to that.”
“He’s in here!” Harry heard the sound of Ron’s voice along with several other footsteps.
Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, carrying a basket of potions and other medical supplies, alongside her was a man in St. Mungo’s robes.
“Thank you Miss Granger, you’ve done enough,” Madam Pomfrey said gently, placing her hand on Hermione’s shoulder.
But only once the St. Mungo’s healer went on Draco’s other side and started the same spell that Hermione had done did she stop. Her hands were still shaking as she stood. She made her way over to Harry, who was still gripping Draco’s hand, and hugged him from behind before settling beside him.
“We’ll need to at least partially close the wound before taking the portkey, or he won’t survive it,” the healer explained to Harry, as he finished directing most of Draco’s blood back into his body, and a very thin layer of skin started to cover the wound. Madam Pomfry opened Draco’s mouth and put a few drops of one of the potions she’d brought in.
A little bit of colour seemed to have returned to Draco’s face, but it was only a small comfort as Draco’s eyes started to close again.
Madam Pomfrey whispered something into the healer’s ear, who nodded.
“We’ll need to do further examination once we get to the hospital, but he should be good to travel,” he explained to Harry, then turned to Madam Pomfry, “we can transport them together. It will be faster that way.”
She nodded and returned to the hallway.
“Who else-?” Harry started.
The healer turned to Harry. “Mr. Potter… You will need to let go of my patient’s hand,” he told Harry, his lip slightly curled in amusement, then continued more gently, “you can meet us there, but I suspect you could use a bit of rest first.” The healer smiled brightly, its brilliance highlighted by his deep complexion.
Harry nodded, and slowly released Draco’s hand.
The healer looked at Hermione, “he’s fortunate you arrived when you did. He wouldn’t have survived otherwise. You should consider becoming a healer.”
Hermione looked pale and exhausted. She shook her head, “I’m sorry sir, I- I don’t think I have the stomach for it.”
He nodded, “I can appreciate that. If you change your mind, my name is Healer Atkinson, and I’d be happy to give you a recommendation.”
Hermione nodded, looking uncomfortable, “I have other ambitions, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
As they spoke Lucius Malfoy’s body was levitated into the room by two other healers, the dagger still embedded in his back. One of the healers, a tan woman with long braided hair, was holding a hairbrush, which Harry assumed to be the portkey.
“We’re ready sir,” the woman said to Atkinson, who nodded, then levitated Draco to be beside his father.
After they left with a swish, Ron finally entered the room, looking irate.
“They wouldn't let me in,” Ron explained, then looked at Harry, “you're covered in blood, mate.”
Hermione rushed to wrap her arms around Ron in a crushing hug. Harry followed, wrapping his two closest friends in his arms. They stood together like that for what had felt like hours.
“I should tell you everything that’s happened,” Harry said, as they pulled away.
Ron shrugged, “you can. But it can wait. We’ve got time now.”
Harry nodded, and smiled at him weakly, “y-yeah. Yeah I reckon we do.”
***
Draco awoke feeling lightheaded, but alive.
Somehow, he was alive.
He looked around the room, which was mostly empty, save for Pansy, who was sitting at his bedside reading witch weekly. He turned his head to look at her. She looked up at the sign of movement, and immediately stood and left the room.
If she hadn't shouted, “he's awake! Someone get Harry,” he would've been annoyed, but a part of him was too tired to care. He felt a wave of drowsiness return as the door flew open again, and he found he couldn't resist its call…
The next time Draco awoke, he felt significantly less groggy than the first. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, and looked around to find Harry, sound asleep, with his arms folded onto Draco’s hospital bed.
Draco couldn't resist the urge to muss his boyfriend's hair. “Not very responsible to sleep on the job, Potter,” Draco teased, his voice coming out like sandpaper.
Harry sat up immediately, smiling, and with glasses askew. “Draco! You’re awake.”
“Astute observation.”
Harry rolled his eyes, then asked, his voice thick with concern, “how’re you feeling?”
“Never better. Put me on the pitch now, no other seekers would stand a chance,” Draco replied sardonically.
“You’re such a git,” Harry responded, but his tone was light.
“True. But it's one of the things you love about me. Which, Harry, by the way, I believe because I’m not dead, and you're not covered in my blood, you owe me something.”
“Do I?” Harry said, clearly feigning cluelessness.
“Three sweet words that I’ve been longing to hear. Oh how they've kept me going through the long hours,” Draco said dramatically.
Harry laughed, “you're so bloody dramatic. You’ve been asleep.”
Draco batted his eyelashes sweetly.
Harry rolled his eyes again, then grabbed Draco’s hand, looking more serious. Draco felt himself flush. “Draco Malfoy, you're annoying, dramatic, frustrating, and you know exactly how to drive me mad.” Draco opened his mouth to protest, but closed it as Harry continued, “you're also intelligent, witty, handsome, and kind when you want to be. Despite our past, and in spite of everything we've been through, I love you, and I want to keep falling in love with you until I forget the time when I wasn't.”
Draco felt his cheeks burning, and he opened his mouth to speak, but words seemed to fail him.
“Was that… was that good enough?”
“That was… acceptable,” Draco replied a bit too overwhelmed to come up with anything else, then said very softly, “I love you too.”
Harry grinned, “sorry, didn't catch that?”
“I love you too, you dickhead, now go bother some other poor ill person,” Draco replied, lightly shoving him, which earned him another laugh.
Draco’s mind wandered as their laughter died, and he asked more seriously, “my father… is he…?” Dead ? Draco couldn't finish the question, but Harry understood.
“No, but paralyzed from the waist down. The knife hit him in the spine,” Harry explained.
“I-I see,” Draco replied, then after processing for a few more moments spoke again, “I’m surprised to feel… relieved that he's alive.”
Harry nodded, looking a bit surprised, “you are?”
“Yeah, I’m- I’m not a killer and I- well, he was acting strange-”
The door swung open to show Hermione, who looked excited to see Draco awake, she turned, as if to get other people.
“Wait- Hermione,” she turned back to face him, “I don't think I’m ready to see everyone else just yet.”
She nodded, “do you want me to leave you two-?”
“No, it's alright, you can stay,” Draco said, smiling weakly, a wave of exhaustion was slowly creeping up on him again, but he was able to stave it off for a time.
She pulled up a chair.
“I was just telling Harry, father, he was acting strange- like a completely different person. It was terrifying.”
Hermione nodded, thinking for a moment, “do you know why?”
Draco felt a small flash of irritation, but it fizzled out due to his exhaustion. “No, of course I don’t. I don’t read minds, Hermione. You seem to have an idea, though. Go on.”
“I have a hunch, I suppose. Do you remember the books I gave you on muggle religion and extremism?”
Draco shrugged. “Only a bit. That was several months ago, if you recall.”
“Do you remember when they talked about cults?”
“Yes, but Hermione, what's that got to do with my father?”
“Do you remember the worst crime a cult member can commit?”
“Leaving?” Draco said it as a question, processed and then sighed, “merlin. I left.”
She nodded, “you left.” There was a pause. “Hold on… Draco, did- did you think I was just giving you random books for the sake of it?”
“...yes?”
Hermione sighed dramatically, then huffed, “I thought you’d at least connect the dots with that one. Christ. I made all of my choices for a reason .”
“You could've told me that before you gave them to me? Or when we talked about it?”
“This is Hermione you’re talking about. She enjoys being cryptic,” Harry said, and he and Draco laughed together.
“Where’s your critical thinking? This is a part of the thirst for knowledge! Honestly Draco, I expected better,” she sighed.
Draco sobered, “is my mother alright?”
Harry and Hermione exchanged an uneasy glance.
“Harry. Is my mother alright ?”
Harry took in a shaky breath, “as far as I know. She’s alive, but still awaiting trial.”
“ Trial ? Why? She saved our lives at the manor and she-” Draco started, fuming.
“I’m sure she’ll get out after we testify. The ministry is just being very strict with all of the Death Eaters right now. They want to ease the public’s worries,” Hermione interrupted gently.
Draco paled in spite of himself.
“The aurors know what happened. You’re not going to Azkaban, or even getting a trial. It was obvious what side you were on,” Harry explained, as if having read Draco’s mind.
Draco felt himself relax a bit, and said, “it feels strange knowing that it’s all over now.”
They both nodded, but Harry’s expression was still one of unease.
“I don’t think it’ll ever be fully over. At least, not for me,” Harry sighed.
Hermione put her hand on Harry’s shoulder with a comforting smile, “we’ll grow around the pain. It’ll get easier with time.”
“Easy for you to say, you aren’t surrounded by bloody reporters any time you leave the house.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“I know you didn’t. It’s just something I have to live with now,” Harry sighed.
“I think- I think I’m getting tired again…” Draco started, his eyelids growing heavy. He felt Harry pressed a kiss to his forehead as he drifted off once again.
Draco was in St Mungos for four whole days, two of which he was mostly unconscious. Ronald told Draco several times that he preferred him that way, which sparked an argument between the two of them. They argued less when Ron brought out a chess board, as Draco was passable at the game. At least, he’d thought so, until Ronald wiped the floor with him four out of five times.
In the evening on the fourth day, Harry flooed both himself and Draco to Grimmauld place. As they stepped through the fire, Draco felt a comfort he didn’t anticipate, almost like being home.
“I hope you’re not planning to put me in the spare room again,” Draco commented as he laid down on the sofa.
“Why?” Harry said, sitting beside him, “don’t like dust bunnies?”
Draco snorted. “Didn’t you know? The whole reason I agreed to live here, you see, is I just love how clean it is.”
“We can fix it up. It'll be our project. Don’t look at me like that. Yes, our project. You will be required to help,” Harry laughed, then added, “by the way. I um got you something. Well, more like us, something.” He gestures in front of them, showing off a large metal contraption, with glass at the front.
“What is it? Something muggle from the look of it,” Draco asked curiously.
“Yeah, it's a television,” Harry told him excitedly, as if it were obvious.
Draco stared at him blankly.
“You're telling me you read all those books about muggles and none of them talked about telly?”
Draco shook his head. Harry gasped.
“Oh you’ll love this. I rented loads of films on vhs, so we have plenty to choose from while you recover. It'll play moving pictures, with sound and everything. Just like wizarding pictures.”
Draco’s eyebrows flew up, “I thought muggle pictures didn't move.”
“It's more complicated than that but erm- well here, let me just show you.”
Harry picked up a long, flat, box and punched one of the knobs on the top of it. The telly responded by roaring to life, as if by magic. Small people were behind the glass talking about the weather.
Draco lit up, “are you certain this isn't magical? It was really invented by muggles?”
Harry nodded. “Now what genres do you like? I've got a few…”
By midnight Draco and Harry had watched a few different films, all of different genres, Draco’s personal favorite being Clueless, which seemed to surprise Harry, who preferred Jumanji. Harry tolerated all of Draco's questions around every distinctly muggle aspect of the films.
“Hey Draco?” Harry spoke as the credits started to roll for their last film for the night. Draco’s head was on Harry's chest as they both laid across the sofa.
“Hm?” Draco lifted his head, he hadn't meant to nod off, but he found Harry was so comfortable.
“Sorry, were you asleep?” Harry said with a little concern in his voice.
“Almost, but I didn't want to sleep here anyway,” Draco replied groggily.
“I was actually about to suggest going upstairs,” Harry yawned.
Draco shrugged, “I would say yes, but I don't have any desire to get up.”
Harry laughed, “do you want me to carry you?”
Draco flushed, “can you? I mean I think we're around the same weight so I’m not sure if it'd be a good-”
Harry raised an eyebrow, casting a featherlight charm, before standing, Draco securely in his arms.
“Oi! I’m not that heavy,” Draco murmured into Harry’s jumper, “this is embarrassing.” He could feel his face growing pinker.
“You’d do the same for me. Technically you are still injured,” Harry said with a shrug.
“I’m really not. The healers said I’m all fixed up. Besides, would you even let me?”
“That-” Harry pushed open the door to Sirius’s old bedroom, “-is besides the point.”
He laid Draco on the bed before settling beside him.
“How’re you feeling?” Harry asked, brushing the hair off of Draco’s face.
“Alright, it's not really painful anymore,” Draco explained, “mostly I’ve just been so fucking knackered.”
Harry nodded. He was staring.
“Harry? Is there something on my face? You're ogling.”
“Am I not allowed to ogle my boyfriend?”
“I suppose you are… Is there something you wanted?”
Harry nodded again, “you.”
Draco felt a flush creep up his cheeks.
“What I wanted to say- I mean- only- do you want to have sex? Properly I mean. It’s ok if you’re not ready or not up for it since you just got out of the hospital I don't mean to rush y-”
Draco cut him off, “yes. Yes, absolutely I do.” Draco’s cheeks prickled as if on fire, and he wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck kissing him.
Harry pulled away for a moment, smiling, “brilliant. That’s- that’s great.”
They kissed again, even more passionately. Harry pulled off his own jumper before helping Draco remove his.
Draco had a scar from the knife incident, it was light pink against his pale skin, shaped almost like a star. The healers had told him it was open too long for dittany to prevent heavy scarring. Harry had told Draco it didn't matter, but it was the first time he had actually seen it. Draco found himself a bit self-conscious, especially considering Harry’s last reaction to his scars.
Harry stared at Draco for a few moments. Discomfort flickered in his gut.
“Is-is something wrong?”
“Sorry you just- you look really good,” Harry said dumbly.
Draco guided Harry’s hand across his chest, “don't just look. Touch me.”
Harry nodded again, kissing Draco’s neck with renewed fervor. He sucked along Draco’s collarbone, leaving a trail of deep red hickeys. “You bruise easily,” he observed quietly against Draco’s neck.
“Wh-what’d you expect? I am rather fair.”
“I know- I guess I just hadn’t really thought about that before,” Harry murmured, tracing a hand over Draco’s waistband, “this ok?”
“ Please . Touch anywhere you’d like,” Draco said emphatically.
Harry kissed around Draco’s nipple before licking experimentally. He seemed pleased by Draco’s response, because he kept going. Harry reached into his pants, thumbing his prick.
Draco let out a soft moan.
Harry pulled down Draco’s pants to give himself better access as he stroked. Draco instinctively grabbed a fistful of Harry’s hair as he kissed down Draco’s torso, then up his thighs.
“Impatient, are we?” Harry paused, removing his hand from Draco’s prick, a slight twinkle in his eye.
Draco felt his face flush, “I’m appropriately patient given the situation.”
“We have plenty of time, love,” Harry said, running his tongue along the shaft, before taking the head in his mouth.
Draco gasped in pleasure. His fingers curled more tightly in Harry’s hair as he took Draco further into his mouth. “Where did you learn-?”
Harry’s pace quickened as Draco let out a hiss of pleasure. Then Harry paused, muttering a quick spell onto his fingers that Draco wasn’t really in the state to process. Then he felt a finger cold and wet against his arse.
“This ok?” Harry asked, his voice low. Draco nodded and he inserted his finger.
“When I said anywhere- fuck - I meant it,” Draco breathed.
Harry smiled, taking Draco’s prick back into his mouth, adding another finger. Draco responded by producing a whine of pleasure that he was sure he’d never in his life made before. All of Harry’s movements on his prick were a bit clumsy, but, Merlin and Salazar, it felt so good that Draco didn’t care.
Harry added another finger, but picked his head up again. Draco let out a little whimper of protest.
“I’d like to fuck you now,” Harry said calmly, but the flush on his face told Draco that he was growing impatient too.
“Please,” Draco breathed out.
Harry took his fingers out, and quickly fumbled out of his trousers and pants. He then coated his own prick with whatever spell he’d used before.
Draco took the moment to appreciate how attractive Harry was kneeling above him. He was what Draco had imagined the muggle gods looked like, not really in a muscular way, but handsome, tan, as if every curve of his body was crafted with intention. It solidified Draco’s devotion; he started to understand religion because truly he would do anything in the world for Harry Potter.
Harry gently spread Draco’s legs apart, giving a soft nervous smile. “Ready?”
Draco nodded fervently, feeling incredibly teased. Harry positioned himself over Draco, brows creased, his glasses slipping down his nose a bit. Draco reached up and pulled them from Harry’s face, giving him a small smile.
When Harry pushed inside him, the first sensation that hit Draco was pressure. It wasn’t entirely painful, but it wasn’t entirely pleasant either. He winced.
Harry seemed to sense his discomfort, paused, and asked gently, “you alright?”
Draco nodded, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist, “I will be, just keep moving. Slowly .”
Harry pushed further inside him slowly, as instructed. “This feels- fuck- you feel so- amazing,” Harrry breathed out. His hands, on either side of Draco’s head, were gripping the sheets tightly.
Draco let out a moan, tilting his head back as Harry hit deep inside him. “ Yes . There. You- you can go a bit faster-” Draco breathed, digging his nails into Harry’s back.
“Are you sure?” Harry asked, clearly exercising a lot of restraint.
“ Please ,” Draco whined, a sound he surely would’ve been embarrassed about if he weren’t so overwhelmed by pleasure. Harry obliged him, gradually building his pace until he developed a rhythm.
“I-I won’t last long, you feel too good,” Harry panted. Draco moved his right hand to intertwine their fingers together against the sheets.
“Me too,” Draco replied with another moan as Harry hit deep inside him again.
Harry kissed Draco again, intensely passionate, their intertwined bodies fit together perfectly. As Harry pulled away, the feelings overwhelmed Draco with such great force he couldn't contain himself, “H-Harry I-” Draco started, panting, “I love you.”
“F-fuck Draco, I love you too,” Harry replied, his forehead glistening with sweat.
Draco felt the familiar pressure building deep in his gut, the nails on his left hand still digging into Harry’s back.
“I’m close,” Draco breathed out. Harry nodded, kissing him again, more hungrily, as if he were trying to pour all of his feelings into him. Draco was happy to receive them as the pressure inside him peaked into an orgasm.
Draco cried out as he came. Not long after Harry cried out too, filling him up with heat before collapsing beside him, panting.
“Where- the hell- did you learn all that?” Draco breathed out, the sticky feeling of sweat starting to prickle against his skin as his senses returned to him.
“Oh erm- I did some- research while you were in the hospital. I- I got a book,” Harry replied, equally as breathless.
Draco turned to him, raising an eyebrow, and repeated, “you got a book?”
Harry, who was blushing and avoiding eye contact sheepishly, nodded.
Draco snorted, “and where did you happen to acquire this mystical sex book that somehow made you know exactly what to do?”
Harry put his glasses back on before reaching into the drawer and placing a red book in front of Draco. He was still blushing furiously.
Draco let out a laugh as he opened the book, there was a note on the inside cover.
Treat him nicely, or I’ll kill you. xo, Pans
“Please don’t make me think about that any more than I have to,” Harry grumbled, bright red.
Draco stifled his giggles to give Harry a kiss on the cheek, “it was certainly useful, but I’ll give her an earful about it if you’d like. Now, I'm in need of a shower.” Draco stood, stretching, and stepped into his pants.
Harry frowned. “You’re leaving?”
“You’re welcome to come with me if you'd like. Maybe we could have a bath after. I just hate being all sticky.”
Harry’s frown disappeared, replaced by a grin, and he replied, “I reckon that could be arranged.”
The two men spent the following days lazily: watching telly, having sex, and taking baths in the tub that was far too small for the both of them. They spoke of future renovations, and how the hell they’d accomplish it without sending Kreacher to a premature or perhaps timely grave. Draco jokingly suggested that they offer to mount his head on the wall as a compromise, and Harry promptly shot him down, citing that the elf would be “far too happy about it.”
The day of Draco’s mother’s trial came, a blindingly sunny spring day, which, Draco thought pessimistically, was actually a horrible sign.
“Perhaps the weather is a sign. It’s stealing all the joy from everything else, so today will actually go terribly,” Draco said as they stood in the entry hall, slipping on their shoes.
Harry gave him an odd look, “usually people take pleasant weather as a good sign.”
“Perhaps the pleasant weather is simply a ruse for unpleasant surprises to come.”
Harry shook his head, chuckling softly. “If the weather were bad you’d be saying that was a sign as well. You’re sounding a bit like Luna with your anxious conspiracy theories.”
Draco scowled, “I’m terribly offended by that comparison.”
Harry gave him a chaste kiss, “stop worrying about everything.”
Draco sighed, resting his forehead against Harry’s shoulder, “an impossible task, darling, truly.”
“You’re up for it, I just know it,” Harry said, “besides, your mother is certain to win.”
“What makes you so sure?” Draco replied skeptically.
“Well, I am the chosen one,” Harry grinned.
Draco stood up straight, and replied, laughing, “well oh glorious chosen one, you lead the way.” His expression softened, “wherever you go I’ll follow.”
Draco laced his fingers with Harry's and smiled at him. He hoped whatever life had in store for them next was both peaceful and absolutely normal.