Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sound of rain drummed against the leaves overhead, a steady, relentless rhythm that drowned out everything else or at least, Harry wished it did.

Beneath the rain, he could still hear them: the distant shouts, the sharp casting of spells, the crunch of boots on wet earth. They were closing in.

Harry crouched behind a gnarled oak tree, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. His dark hair clung to his forehead, rainwater streaming down his face and into his eyes. He blinked them away, his green eyes scanning the shadows between the trees. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, ready to spring into action at the slightest movement.

Run, Harry! Don’t stop!

Sirius’s voice echoed in his mind, desperate and raw. Harry could still see his godfather’s face, pale and drawn, as he shoved Harry out the back door of their cottage. Go! We’ll hold them off!

Harry had hesitated, he’d wanted to stay, to fight alongside Sirius and Remus, the two people who had raised him, who had given him everything including his freedom.

But freedom was a fragile thing, and it was slipping through his fingers now.

Harry’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. The acrid smell of smoke still clung to him, the memory of flames devouring the cottage still vivid in his mind. He could still hear the crackle of fire, the shouts of the Alpha Force Unit as they stormed the property.

Sirius had fought like a demon, his Omega instincts sharp and feral as he protected his pack while Remus had been restrained, his Alpha strength used to shield Harry rather than attack but it hadn’t been enough.

A twig snapped somewhere to his left, and Harry froze. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum. He pressed himself closer to the tree, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The rain was a blessing and a curse — it masked his scent, but it also made it harder to hear his pursuers.

“Spread out!” a voice barked, too close for comfort. “He can’t have gone far!”

Harry’s stomach churned, he knew that voice. It belonged to the man who had led the raid on the cottage, the one who had looked at Harry with cold, calculating eyes as he barked orders. The one who had called him a feral Alpha like it was a curse.

Harry’s jaw tightened, he remembered Sirius telling him the fact that he could read and write alone classified him as feral.

He risked a glance around the tree, his eyes scanning the forest. The agents were closer now, their black uniforms blending into the shadows. Harry counted four of them, maybe five, moving in a loose formation. They were methodical, relentless, like wolves circling their prey.

Harry’s mind raced, squeezing his eyes shut. He needed a plan, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess of fear and anger. He couldn’t go back; the cottage was gone, consumed by flames. He couldn’t stay here — they would find him eventually. His only option was to run, to keep moving until he could lose them in the dense undergrowth.

But his legs felt like lead, his body heavy with exhaustion. He’d been running for what felt like hours, his clothes soaked through and his muscles screaming in protest. Every step was a struggle, every breath a battle.

Yet, he couldn't let Sirius and Remus' sacrifice be in vain.

The thought of his godfathers gave him a burst of strength as he pushed off the tree and darted deeper into the forest, his feet slipping on the wet leaves. The rain was coming down harder now, the sound of it drowning out his footsteps. He could hear the agents shouting behind him, their voices growing fainter as he put distance between them.

He was so close, so close to the edge. Maybe, he could head to an Alpha refuge to regroup or —

Then, something slammed into him from behind, knocking him to the ground. Harry hit the mud with a grunt, the air driven from his lungs. He tried to roll over, to fight back, but a heavy weight settled on his back, pinning him down.

“Got him!” a voice crowed, triumphant.

“Fuck,” one of them panted, keeling over. “Only fifteen and he’s that fast?”

Harry growled, thrashing against the hold, and he almost managed to buck the agent off when he felt a cold metal clamp around his wrists — suppression cuffs, designed to neutralize an Alpha’s strength.

The cold metal of the cuffs bit into his wrists, their enchanment glowing faintly as panic surged through him, sharp and suffocating. He sagged forward.

“Let me go!” Harry roared, his voice raw with desperation.

The agent laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “Hang tight.”

Harry’s vision blurred as they dragged him to his feet. He caught a glimpse of the cottage in the distance, its roof caved in and flames licking at the walls. Sirius and Remus were gone, he didn’t even know if they were alive or dead.

All he knew was that he was alone.

Five years.

It had been five years since Harry had seen the sky without bars, five years since he’d felt the warmth of the sun on his skin or the crisp bite of winter air. Five years since he’d heard Sirius’s laugh or tasted Remus’s cooking— even Sirius’s burnt attempts at breakfast would have been a luxury now.

Harry lay on the cold, hard floor of his cell, staring up at the cracked ceiling. The room was small, barely large enough for him to stretch out, and the walls were stained with years of grime, piss and neglect. A single, flickering bulb casted a dim light over the space, doing little to chase away the shadows.

He shifted, the chains around his wrists clinking softly. They were always chained, the Alphas here; too dangerous to be left unrestrained, or so the guards said. Harry’s lips curled into a sneer beneath the muzzle strapped tightly to his face. It was a cruel, dehumanizing thing, made of leather and metal, designed to keep him silent.

But Harry had been silent long before they’d muzzled him.

He hadn’t spoken a word since the day they’d dragged him into this hellhole. Not when they’d beaten him, not when they’d shocked him, not even when they’d tried to break him.

He’d learned early on that his silence infuriated them, and that small act of defiance had become his armor. Let them think he was mute, let them think he was broken. They didn’t need to know the storm that raged inside him.

The door to his cell slammed open, and Harry didn’t bother to turn his head.

“Get up, you filthy mongrel,” a guard barked, his wand pointed at Harry.

Harry didn’t move. He stared at the ceiling, his jaw clenched beneath the muzzle.

The guard’s lip curled in disgust, and he flicked his wand. A sharp, electric shock jolted through Harry’s body, forcing a low growl from his throat. His muscles spasmed, but he refused to cry out.

“I said get up,” the guard shouted, stepping closer.

Harry slowly pushed himself to his feet, purposely slow just to piss off the guard. He towered over the guard, his impressive height and broad shoulders a stark contrast to the man’s wiry frame. The guard took a step back, his wand trembling slightly, and Harry’s lips twitched into a grin beneath the muzzle.

“Today’s your lucky day, mutt,” the guard said, recovering his composure. “You’ve been assigned.”

Harry’s stomach dropped. Assigned. The word sent a cold wave of dread through him. He’d seen what happened to the Alphas who were assigned.

The guard grabbed Harry’s arm and yanked him forward, the chains rattling as he was led out of the cell. The hallway was lined with similar doors, each one hiding an Alpha in various states of submission. Some were silent and vacant-eyed, their spirits long since crushed while others whimpered or cowered at the sight of the guards.

Harry’s Alpha instincts recoiled at the sight, these were supposed to be his kind, his pack, but they were shadows of what Alphas should be. The trainers had turned them into puppets, their strings pulled by the whims of Omegas and the cruelty of the system.

The guard shoved Harry into a larger room, where a group of trainers stood waiting. One of them stepped forward, a clipboard in hand.

“Harry Potter,” the man said, his tone bored. “You’ve been assigned to the Malfoy family. Consider yourself lucky, most Omegas wouldn’t touch a feral Alpha like you, but young Omega Malfoy has a… unique taste.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The trainer smirked and flicked his wand, sending another shock through Harry’s body.

“None of that,” the trainer said. “You’ll behave for your new Omega, or you’ll regret it.”

Harry clenched his fists, the chains biting into his wrists. He wouldn’t behave, he’d spent five years in this hellhole, and he wasn’t about to let some Omega break him now.

The guard grabbed Harry’s arm again and dragged him toward the door. As they stepped outside, Harry caught a glimpse of the sky, gray and overcast, but still beautiful. He inhaled deeply, the cold air filling his lungs as he felt the lurch of Apparition.

Wherever they were taking him, it couldn’t be worse than this.

The room was warm, a stark contrast to the cold, grimy cells Harry had grown accustomed to. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, the light reflecting off polished marble floors. The air smelt faintly of lavender and something sweet, a far cry from the stale, metallic scent of the Alpha Unit.

Harry stood in the center of the room, his chains clinking softly as the guard shoved him forward. His eyes swept the space, taking in the figures before him. A platinum-blonde Omega stood near the center, his bright gray eyes wide with curiosity and excitement.

Behind him, an Omega man lounged on a velvet chaise, his sharp features twisted into a sneer as his gaze landed on Harry. At his feet sat a tall, blond Alpha woman, her posture unnaturally submissive with her head bowed low.

"It's an honor to be of service to the Malfoy family,” The guard bowed to both the Omegas and intentionally ignored the Alpha on the floor, “Here is the beast you requested.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening beneath the muzzle. He didn’t need to see either Omega's expression to know what they thought of him. He’d seen it a hundred times before; disdain, disgust, the kind of look one might give a stray dog.

Yet, even now, after years of suffering at their hands, he couldn’t bring himself to hate them — not completely. Sirius had been the best Omega Harry had ever known, and that was the image of omegas he wanted to cling to. It was the one thing that kept him from losing himself entirely.

The boy stepped forward, his eyes lighting up as he took in Harry’s appearance. “Alpha,” he breathed out, his voice soft and almost reverent but then he paused, his brows furrowing as his gaze landed on the muzzle.

“Why is he muzzled?” He demanded, whirling around to face the guard. His tone was sharp and nothing like the soft voice he used to speak to Harry just a moment ago.

The guard stammered, clearly caught off guard. “W-Well, you see, it’s protocol to muzzle them, sir. For safety.”

The omega's scowl deepened, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “He will be the father of my children,” he snapped, gesturing to Harry. “He isn’t some animal, take it off, immediately.”

“Now, now, Draco,” The man chided from his seat.

Harry’s eyes narrowed, he tried to tamper his surprise at the display; he knew better than to trust the Omega, they usually had an ulterior motive for anything they do.

The guard hesitated, glancing nervously at the man on the chaise. He waved a hand dismissively, his expression bored. “Do as he says.”

With trembling hands, the guard stepped forward and began to unbuckle the muzzle. Harry stood perfectly still, his muscles tense, his eyes locked on the guard’s face. The moment the muzzle was off, Harry lunged, his teeth bared, his chains rattling as he strained against them.

The guard stumbled back with a yelp, his face pale. “See? He’s feral!”

“He’s perfect,” Draco sighed, his voice dreamy. He stepped closer to Harry, completely unfazed by the display of aggression. His gray eyes sparkled with something Harry couldn’t quite place — admiration, maybe, or fascination.

Harry glared at him, his chest heaving. He wanted to snarl, to shout, to tell this spoiled Omega exactly what he thought of him.

But he couldn’t. The Ministry’s laws were clear: Alphas who spoke were punished with a Dementor's kiss and Harry had seen what the kiss did to people. He’d seen the vacant eyes, the broken spirits, no, he wouldn’t risk it.

No one even knew he understood them and he rather it stayed that way.

So, he stayed silent, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes burning with defiance.

Draco tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re strong,” he said softly. “There’s life in your eyes, you're everything an Alpha should be.”

Harry turned his head away, his chains clinking as he shifted his weight.

The man on the chaise finally spoke, his voice cold and cutting. “It's feral, Draco. Untrained. Dangerous. Are you sure this is the beast you want?”

Draco didn’t even glance at him. “He’s exactly who I want,” he said firmly. 

Harry’s eyes flicked back to Draco, his surprise returning.

The guard stepped forward again, his wand pointed at Harry. “Shall I…?”

Draco waved a hand dismissively. “No, leave him be.”

As the guard retreated, Draco stepped closer, his gray eyes locking with Harry’s. “Shall we get going, then?” he asked with a grin. 

Harry just stared at the blond man, his expression impassive. What an odd Omega.

The moment they stepped out of the Ministry’s oppressive halls and into the open air, Harry felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in years — freedom. It was fleeting, of course, as the chains around his wrists and the Omega at his side reminded him, but it was there all the same. The sky was a pale gray, the air crisp and cool, and for a moment, Harry allowed himself to breathe.

That moment didn’t last long.

Draco reached for Harry’s hand, his fingers brushing against the Alpha’s calloused palm. Harry reacted instantly, a low, warning snarl rumbling in his chest as he jerked his hand away.

Lucius, who had been walking a few steps ahead, jumped at the sound, his grip tightening on his cane.

“My word,” he said, his voice sharp with disapproval. “Perhaps, we should muzzle the beast, Draco, he’s clearly unstable.”

Draco, however, didn’t seem the least bit fazed. He smiled, a self-assured expression on his face that got on Harry's nerve immediately. “Relax, Father,” he said, his tone dripping with casual confidence. “He’s just adjusting, aren’t you, Alpha?”

Harry didn’t respond. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Instead, he glared down at Draco, his lips curling into a silent snarl in warning.

"I'm going to apparate with you, now," Draco informed him, Harry stepped back again.

Draco, undeterred, looped his arm through Harry’s, resting his head against the Alpha’s bicep. Harry stiffened, his muscles tensing as he fought the urge to shake the Omega off. He tolerated it, barely, his teeth gritted and his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

“Hold on tight,” Draco said, his voice light as if Harry had a choice in the matter.

Before Harry could react, the world twisted around him, the familiar yet disorienting sensation of Apparition pulling at his stomach. It had been years since he’d last Apparated, and the experience was just as jarring as he remembered. When they landed, Harry stumbled slightly, his chains clinking as he caught his balance.

Draco chuckled, his grip on Harry’s arm tightening. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, his tone teasing but not unkind.

Harry shot him a glare, but Draco either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

They arrived at the Malfoy estate, a sprawling manor that loomed over the grounds like a castle. The sight of it made Harry’s stomach churn; it was a symbol of everything he despised — wealth, power, and the oppressive system that had ruined his life.

Lucius gave Harry one long, appraising look before turning on his heel and striding up the steps without a word. The Alpha who had escorted them from the facility lingered nearby, and Harry’s eyes lingered on the woman for a moment, his curiosity piqued.

Draco huffed, rolling his eyes. “He’s always in a mood,” he said, his tone dismissive. “Don’t take it personally.”

He tugged on Harry’s arm, pulling him gently but insistently toward where Narcissa stood. “Come on,” Draco said, his voice eager. “I want to introduce you to my mother. Her name’s Narcissa.”

Harry resisted at first, his feet dragging against the polished floor, but Draco was surprisingly persistent. Reluctantly, Harry allowed himself to be led, his chains rattling with every step.

Narcissa watched them approach, her silver-blonde hair gleamed like polished metal. Her piercing eyes settled on Harry, sharp and calculating, and a faint snarl tugged at the corner of her lips — subtle but unmistakable.

Harry didn’t need more than a moment to decide: he didn’t like her, not one bit.

Draco released Harry’s arm and bounded over to his mother, quick and eager. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, his voice bright and brimming with pride as he said, “My own Alpha just like the fairy tales you used to read to me."

Narcissa’s stern expression softened for a fleeting moment as she returned the hug, but her voice was low and firm when she murmured, “Dragon, you know that’s a secret.”

Harry blinked rapidly, his head snapping toward her in surprise. For a split second, he glanced around, half-expecting to see someone else — perhaps the older Omega reappearing but no, it was unmistakably Narcissa who had spoken. The realization hit him like a jolt, leaving him momentarily stunned.

Narcissa released a low, calming rumble, the sound vibrating softly in the air as she pressed a kiss to Draco’s crown. Harry watched the interaction with a mix of confusion and intrigue. He’d never seen an Alpha behave so… gently. Even Remus, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, had a certain roughness to him. This was different—soothing, almost maternal.

It was strange, unsettling in a way he couldn’t quite place, but it also sparked a flicker of curiosity. Was there more to the Malfoys than he’d initially thought?

“Sorry,” Draco said, pulling away with a sheepish grin. He glanced around as if checking for eavesdroppers, then added, “But Father wasn’t nearby, so it’s fine, right?”

Narcissa’s gaze shifted to Harry, her silver eyes sharp and calculating. She didn’t speak, but the weight of her stare was enough to make Harry’s skin crawl. It was as if she were dissecting him, piece by piece.

Harry met her gaze head-on, his own eyes blazing with defiance. He didn’t care what Narcissa thought of him. He wasn’t here to impress anyone.

Draco, seemingly oblivious to the tension, clapped his hands together in glee. “Well, come on, Alpha, let’s get you settled.”

Harry allowed himself to be led away, his mind racing. This place was a gilded cage, and Draco was its charming jailer but as much as Harry hated to admit it, there was something… interesting about the Omega.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, it was overwhelming. The walls were lined with portraits of stern-faced Omegas, their gazes cold and judgmental as they followed him.

Harry’s chains clinked with every step, the sound echoing in the silence like a grim reminder of his place in this world. He kept his eyes forward, his jaw clenched tight, but his mind was racing.

The opulence of the Malfoy estate was a stark reminder of everything he’d lost, and Draco’s kindness felt like a trap waiting to spring.

When they reached a set of double doors, Draco pushed them open with a flourish, the heavy wood swinging inward to reveal a room that took Harry’s breath away.

The room carried the faint scent of lavender and something sweet and uniquely Draco. The room was large and luxurious, with a massive four-poster bed draped in silken sheets that shimmered in the light.

A plush rug covered the floor, its softness a stark contrast to the cold, barren cell Harry had called home for the past five years. 

Draco stepped inside, graceful and sedate as he turned to face Harry with a bright smile.

“Here we are” he said, as he bounced onto the bed, sinking into the soft mattress with a contented sigh, and propped himself up on his elbows. His gray eyes sparkled as he looked at Harry, waiting expectantly.

Harry hesitated at the threshold, his eyes scanning the room. It was too much; too soft, too warm, too everything.

He felt out of place, his chains rattled as he stepped inside, the sound harsh and discordant in the serene atmosphere. He glanced at the floor near the side table, noting how hard and cold it looked. It was a far cry from a bed, but it would do, he lowered himself to the floor, his back against the wall, and stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable.

Draco frowned, sitting up fully. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion. He tilted his head, his hair falling into his eyes. “You’re sleeping on the bed, Harry.”

Harry jolted at the sound of his name, looking at Draco, it had been five years since anyone had called him that.

To the guards and trainers, he was just “mutt” or “beast.” Hearing his name now, spoken so softly by Draco, sent a wave of emotion crashing over him. His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard, trying to push back the lump rising in his throat.

Draco slid off the bed and knelt in front of Harry, approaching him slowly. He reached for Harry’s hands, his fingers brushing against the cold metal of the chains. Harry tensed but didn’t pull away, his green eyes flicking down to watch Draco’s delicate hands at work. The Omega’s touch was light, almost reverent, and Harry couldn’t help but notice how small and fragile Draco’s hands were compared to his own. He was sure he could crush them if he held on tight enough.

“You don’t need these anymore,” Draco murmured, his voice gentle as he unlocked the cuffs.

The chains fell to the floor with a loud rattle, and Harry flexed his wrists, the skin raw and red from years of restraint. The absence of the chains felt strange, almost leaving him feeling naked, like a part of him had been stripped away.

Draco’s hands lingered for a moment, his touch warm against Harry’s calloused palms. He looked up at Harry, his gray eyes filled with something Harry couldn’t quite place.

“There,” Draco said, his voice breaking the silence. “Better?”

His throat felt tight, his chest heavy with emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. He simply moved his gaze away from the Omega.

Draco stood and reached out a hand, his palm upturned in invitation. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Harry hesitated, his eyes flicking between Draco’s hand and the bed but Draco’s expression was open and sincere, and for the first time in years, Harry felt a flicker of trust.

Slowly, he stood to his full height and slipped his hand into Draco's.

“You’ll sleep here,” Draco said, patting the space beside him. “I won’t have my Alpha sleeping on the floor like some common servant.”

Harry’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but he quickly suppressed it. He climbed onto the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight, and lay down stiffly, his body tense. Draco settled beside him, pulling the covers over them both.

For a moment, they lay in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of fabric. Harry stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. 

Draco shifted closer, his body heat radiating against Harry’s side. “You’re safe here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Harry’s breath hitched, and he turned his head to look at Draco. The Omega’s eyes were half-closed, his expression peaceful. He looked so young, so innocent, and yet there was a strength in him that Harry couldn’t ignore.

“Sleep, Alpha,” Draco said, his voice soft as he turned his back on Harry, “You’re home now.”

Harry closed his eyes, the words echoing in his mind. Home.

As the sun rose, its pale light filtered through the sheer curtains, and the first thing Harry noticed was the warmth.

It was gentle, enveloping, and so unlike the cold, hard floor of his cell or the scratchy, threadbare blankets of the Alpha Unit. His body was curled around something — no, someone — and his arm was draped possessively over a slender waist.

His nose was pressed into the curve of a neck, where a scent, rich, sweet, and intoxicating, filled his senses. Honey, vanilla, and Omega. It was a scent that made his chest rumble with a low, involuntary growl, a sound he hadn’t made in years.

His lips moved instinctively, brushing against the scent gland, his breath hot against the delicate skin. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, his hips shifting lazily, seeking friction, seeking more. A haze of sleep and instinct clouded his thoughts, and for a moment, there was nothing but the warmth, the scent, and the softness of the body pressed against his.

The body beneath him let out a soft, breathy moan, the sound vibrating against Harry’s lips. It was a sound of pleasure, of contentment, and it sent a jolt of heat through Harry’s veins. His grip tightened around the Omega, his fingers digging into the silk fabric of pajamas. His hips moved again, this time with more purpose, chasing the heat that felt so good, so right.

But then a voice broke through the haze, soft and sleepy but unmistakably pleased. “Harry…”

The sound of his name, spoken so intimately, so sweetly, was like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head.

Harry’s eyes flew open, and he froze, his body going rigid. For a split second, he didn’t understand what was happening. The warmth, the scent, the body in his arms, it all felt so natural but then reality came crashing down.

He was in bed with Draco. He was rutting against Draco.

Harry jerked away as if burned, scrambling backward until he tumbled off the bed and landed hard on the floor. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs, but he barely noticed, his heart was pounding, his chest heaving as he stared up at the bed in horror. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but all he could think was, What have I done?

Draco propped himself up on his elbows, his hair disheveled and his gray eyes half-lidded with sleep. He looked down at Harry, a faint pout forming on his lips. “Why did you stop?” he whined, his voice tinged with disappointment. He shifted on the bed, the silk sheets rustling softly.

Panic and shame swirled inside Harry as he spat on the floor, trying to rid his mouth of the lingering taste of Draco’s scent— honey and something sweet, something that made his stomach churn. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his breathing ragged.

“That’s just rude,” Draco said softly, pouting as he rested his chin on his palm. “Do you not like my scent, Harry?”

Harry glared at him, making a show of spitting out more.

Draco tilted his head, his pout deepening. “Harry,” he said, his tone equal parts sweet and demanding, like the brat he was, “Come back to bed, you were fine a moment ago.”

Harry shook his head, his movements jerky as he pushed himself to his feet. He took a step back, putting more distance between himself and the bed. His instincts were screaming at him, torn between the urge to flee and the lingering pull of Draco’s scent.

Draco sighed, sitting up fully and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His hair was a mess of golden strands, and he looked every bit the spoiled, pampered Omega he was but there was a glint in his eyes, playful, teasing, and a little dangerous, that made Harry’s stomach twist.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Draco said, his voice light but with an edge of impatience. “It’s natural, you know, Alphas and Omegas… it’s what we’re meant to do.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head again, more forcefully this time. He couldn’t speak, but his expression said everything.

Draco stood and took a step toward him, his palms stretched out in front of him. “Okay,” he said softly, “You don’t have to be upset. I’m your Omega, I’m not mad.”

Harry took another step back, and held up a hand, a silent warning for Draco to stay away. 

Draco stopped, his lips curving into a small smile. “Fine,” he said with a sigh, “But just so you know, I loved it.”

Harry just glared at him, gritting his teeth. 

Draco’s smile widened, and he turned away, heading toward the door. “I’ll have breakfast brought up,” he said over his shoulder. “You must be starving.”

As the door closed behind Draco, Harry slumped against the wall, his legs giving out beneath him. He sat on the floor, his head in his hands, and let out a shaky breath.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

The door creaked open as Draco swept back into the room, balancing a large silver platter in his hands. The scent of freshly cooked meat, ripe fruit, and warm bread filled the air, mingling with the faint traces of Draco’s honey-sweet Omega scent.

Harry’s stomach growled audibly, betraying his hunger despite his best efforts to remain stoic. Draco set the platter down on the bed with a flourish, the array of food almost too lavish for a simple breakfast. There were slices of roasted ham, wheels of creamy cheese, clusters of grapes, and golden pastries dusted with sugar. A small pot of tea steamed beside a delicate porcelain cup, and Harry couldn’t help but notice how out of place it all felt in his world of deprivation and survival.

Interestingly enough, Draco didn’t join him on the bed. Instead, he lowered himself gracefully to the floor, sitting cross-legged on the plush rug. Harry blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. He’d never seen an Omega sit beneath an Alpha before. It was… unnatural. Unheard of. Yet here Draco was, sitting on the floor as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Harry watched him silently, his food forgotten for a moment. Draco seemed entirely at ease, picking up a slice of toast and cutting it into precise, bite-sized pieces with a knife and fork. The poshness of it made Harry’s nose scrunch in mild disgust. Who cut toast with a knife and fork? But Draco didn’t seem to notice Harry’s reaction, his movements deliberate and practiced, as if he’d been taught to eat this way since childhood.

The silence between them was strangely comfortable, broken only by the soft clink of Draco’s fork against his plate.

Harry nibbled on a piece of cheese, his eyes never leaving the Omega. Draco’s behavior confused him. He didn’t understand what Draco’s angle was, nor what his endgame could be. Why was he being so… kind? So accommodating? It didn’t make sense.

“I’m so glad I chose you,” Draco said suddenly, his voice soft but sincere. He didn’t look up from his plate, his fingers delicately holding the fork as he speared a piece of fruit. “Mother told me everything about Alphas since I was young. Not how they are now,” he added quickly, almost as if he were afraid of offending Harry. “But how they used to be.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up, he watched Draco intently, waiting for the Omega to continue.

Draco set his fork down and glanced up at Harry, his gray eyes bright. “She told me stories,” Draco went on, his voice growing warmer as he spoke. “About Alphas who stood equal with Omegas and Betas, leaders who provided for their packs, who protected their Omegas and made them feel safe,” He smiled faintly, his cheeks tinged with pink. “I always thought it sounded like something out of a romantic tale”

Harry’s chest tightened, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. He didn’t know what to make of Draco’s words, they were so far removed from the reality he’d known — the reality where Alphas were broken, subjugated, and stripped of their dignity. Yet here Draco was, speaking of Alphas as if they were noble.

Draco picked up his fork again, twirling it absently between his fingers. “She even showed me old books,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Books about how to present, how to provide, how to… please an Alpha.” He glanced at Harry, his expression suddenly shy. “I know it’s not what Omegas are supposed to want but Mother said it was important. She said it was how things were meant to be.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. The pieces were falling into place, and the realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

Draco hadn’t been raised like other Omegas. He hadn’t been taught to dominate or control. He’d been raised by an Alpha — by Narcissa and not just any Alpha, but one who had defied the Ministry’s laws, who had secretly passed down knowledge that could get them both executed if it were ever discovered.

Harry’s mind raced as he stared at Draco, his food forgotten. No wonder Draco wasn’t unsettled by his aggression, his defiance. To Draco, it wasn’t something to fear or suppress. It was probably the kind of behavior Narcissa had romanticized in her stories and old books.

Draco seemed oblivious to the weight of his words, his attention now focused on slicing another piece of toast. “I know it’s probably strange to you,” he said, his tone light but tinged with uncertainty. “But I like it. I like the idea of an Alpha who’s strong and protective. Someone I can trust,” He glanced up at Harry again, his gaze soft but searching. “Someone like you.”

Harry’s chest tightened further, a lump forming in his throat. 

After breakfast, servants came in to collect the trays while Draco said he would have to summon the seamstress so he could get new cloths.

So, as the door clicked shut behind Draco, Harry was left alone for the first time since he left the Alpha facility.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire in the hearth. Harry let out a harsh breath, the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly as he collapsed back onto the bed. The plush mattress sank under his weight, but the comfort did little to soothe his racing mind. He stared up at the canopy above, his thoughts a tangled mess.

“What the fuck?” he whispered, his voice a rasp from disuse. It felt strange to hear his own voice after so long, rough and unfamiliar, like a forgotten instrument pulled from the dust.

He ran a hand over his face, trying to make sense of everything that had happened since he’d arrived at the Malfoy estate. Draco’s strange behavior, the way he spoke of Alphas as if they were something noble, it was all so overwhelming and then there was Narcissa, with her sharp eyes and quiet authority, who seemed to know far more than she let on.

What was her angle?

Harry’s head jerked up when he heard the doorknob turn, the sound sharp in the otherwise silent room. His body tensed instinctively, his green eyes narrowing as the door swung open to reveal Narcissa as if he had summoned her with his thoughts.

She stepped inside with the grace of a predator, her hair in a bun and her piercing gaze sweeping over him, calculating and unreadable, before she closed the door behind her with a soft click.

“Draco’s gone to get the seamstress,” she informed him, her voice cool and measured. He already knew that, and he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. He kept his face blank, his expression carefully neutral, but his body remained taut, ready for whatever came next.

Narcissa sighed, a sound that was both weary and impatient, and moved closer. Harry’s instincts screamed at him to back away as she stepped into his space, almost within scenting distance. It was unnerving, having another Alpha so close, especially one as formidable as Narcissa. His jaw clenched, his muscles coiling like a spring, but he forced himself to stay still, to not show weakness.

“Relax,” Narcissa said, her tone firm but not unkind. She looked him over critically, her gaze lingering on the scars that marred his skin, the callouses on his hands, the defiance in his eyes. “Fit,” she remarked, almost to herself. “My Omega may take an interest in you.”

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion. Her Omega? Did she mean Lucius? What could an Omega like Lucius possibly want with him? The thought sent a flicker of unease through him, but he kept his expression carefully blank, refusing to give Narcissa anything that could be used against him.

Narcissa’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, as if she could read his thoughts. “I know you can talk,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Feel free to speak. I am an Alpha too, after all. I would be given the kiss just as quickly as you if I were shown to have intelligence and who would protect Draco if we are both gone?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected her to see through his silence so easily. He studied her carefully, searching for any hint of deception, but her expression was unreadable, her silver eyes sharp and unwavering.

Finally, he sighed, the sound rough and reluctant. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice deep and hoarse from disuse. It felt strange to speak to another, the words foreign on his tongue.

Narcissa’s smile widened, though there was no warmth in it. “Straight to the point, good,” she said, her tone almost approving. 

She took a step closer, her gaze boring into his. “I know you and Draco have just meant but I would like you to take on the mantle of protecting him.”

Harry blinked, caught off guard by the directness of her request. “Protect him?” he repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. “From what?”

“From everything,” Narcissa said simply. “From the Ministry, from his father, from himself. Draco is different. He doesn’t see the world the way others do and that makes him vulnerable.” Her expression softened slightly, a flicker of something almost maternal crossing her features. “I’ve done what I can to shield him, but I can’t be everywhere and if something were to happen to me…”

She trailed off, leaving the unspoken words hanging in the air. Harry’s chest tightened as the weight of her words settled over him. He didn’t know what to say, how to respond to the raw honesty in her voice but before he could gather his thoughts, Narcissa stepped back, her cool composure slipping back into place.

“Think about it,” she said, her tone brisk now, as if the moment of vulnerability had never happened. “But don’t take too long, the world isn’t kind to those who hesitate.”

She turned to leave, her hand resting on the doorknob, but Harry’s voice stopped her.

"How have you managed to not get caught by the Ministry?" It had been bothering him since he first heard her speak.

"I spent years perfecting the art of silence, Mr. Potter, my words reserved only for Draco and the rare moments when the Ministry’s watchful eyes weren't on me," She replied, softly.

“Why did you put those ideas of Alphas in his head?” he asked, after a beat of silence. “Why teach him to see us as equals?”

Narcissa paused, the room was silent except for the faint crackling of the fire. Then, she turned her head slightly, her profile illuminated by the soft light.

“Because Alphas and Omegas were always meant to be,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “One can't survive without the other so if we are to advance into a world where that could be true, I must start with my own offspring.”

Harry frowned, his mind racing. “How were you even able to raise Draco like that?” he asked, his voice low. “Didn’t Lucius object? Omegas are supposed to be protective of their young, everyone knows that.”

Narcissa chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Lucius had no interest in raising a child,” she said, her tone laced with disdain. “To him, Draco is nothing more than a legacy; a continuation of the Malfoy line of ruling Omegas. While he was busy climbing the political ladder, I made subtle changes to Draco’s education, careful to keep my lessons hidden behind closed doors.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in shock. It was brilliant, a level of cunning he hadn’t thought possible.

“Unlike most Omegas,” Narcissa continued, her voice steady, “Lucius lacks any semblance of maternal instinct so I took advantage of that.”

She turned fully to face Harry now, her gray eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made him straighten. “I raised Draco the way I saw fit and now, he sees the world as it should be — not as it is.”

Harry stared at her, his chest tight with a mix of admiration and unease. He didn’t know what to say, how to process the enormity of what she was telling him but before he could respond, Narcissa opened the door and stepped out, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

The door clicked shut behind her, and Harry let out a long, shaky breath, his mind reeling. Protect Draco? From the Ministry? From Lucius? It was a dangerous request, one that could get him killed if he wasn’t careful.

But as he lay back on the bed, staring up at the canopy above, he couldn’t help but think of Draco’s smile, his laughter, the way he looked at Harry as if he were something precious and wondered if the Omega was worth protecting.

The door burst open with a loud creak, startling Harry out of his thoughts as Draco swept into the room, dragging a petite Beta woman behind him. She stumbled slightly, her dark hair falling into her face as she tried to keep up with Draco’s brisk pace. Harry’s body tensed instinctively, his green eyes narrowing as he took in the newcomer. She was dressed in simple but well-tailored robes, a measuring tape draped around her neck and a small bag of sewing tools clutched in her hand.

“This is Pansy,” Draco stated, his voice bright and cheerful as he sat down on the bed, he moved with such careless energy.

He gestured toward the Beta with a flourish, as if presenting her like a prized possession. “She’s the best seamstress in the country. She’ll get you fitted for a proper wardrobe in no time.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, his instincts flaring as the Beta stepped closer. Her scent was mild, unobtrusive, but it was enough to set him on edge.

Betas were the backbone of society, neither revered like Omegas nor oppressed like Alphas. They served as mediators, enforcers, and, in some cases, reluctant accomplices to the Ministry’s cruelty.

Memories of the guards and trainers from the Alpha Unit rose unbidden in his mind; their cold, clinical hands, their mocking laughter, the way they’d treated him like an animal to be broken. His chest rumbled with a low, warning growl, his body coiling like a spring as he glared at her.

Pansy froze, her dark eyes widening as she took a cautious step back. “Draco,” she said, her voice tinged with unease, “are you sure he doesn’t need to be muzzled? He looks like he’s about to rip my throat out.”

Draco shot her a scathing glare, his gray eyes flashing with an intensity. “Suggest that again,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “and you’ll be out of a job. Permanently.”

Pansy’s lips thinned into a tight line, but she said nothing more. Instead, she raised her hands in a gesture of surrender and approached Harry slowly, her movements deliberate and cautious. Harry watched her like a hawk, his body tense and ready to bolt or fight at the slightest provocation but Draco’s presence kept him grounded, if only barely.

Pansy worked quickly and efficiently, her hands steady despite the tension in the room. She measured Harry’s shoulders, his chest, his arms, her touch light and impersonal. Harry’s growl never fully subsided, but he allowed her to do her job, his eyes never leaving her face. He didn’t trust her, didn’t trust anyone in this place, but he wasn’t about to give Draco a reason to doubt him.

Draco, for his part, seemed entirely unbothered by the tension. He lounged on the bed, his legs crossed at the ankles, as he watched the proceedings with a faint smile. “You’ll look stunning in proper clothes,” he stated. “I can’t wait to see you in something that isn’t… well, disgusting rags.” He gestured vaguely at Harry’s tattered, ill-fitting garments, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

Harry barely heard him, his attention still focused on Pansy. She finished her measurements quickly, jotting down notes in a small notebook before stepping back with a relieved sigh. “All done,” she said, her voice brisk. “I’ll have the first set of clothes ready in two days.”

Draco nodded, his smile widening. “Excellent, you’re dismissed.”

Pansy gave a small bow, her expression carefully neutral, before turning and leaving the room. The door clicked shut behind her, and Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His shoulders relaxed slightly, but the tension in the room didn’t fully dissipate.

Draco stretched lazily on the bed. “See? That wasn’t so bad,” he said, his tone teasing.

Before he could gather his thoughts, a soft knock sounded at the door. Draco perked up immediately, his smile returning. “Ah, that’ll be lunch,” he said, hopping off the bed with a bounce in his step. “Come on, Harry, let’s eat.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, his instincts still on edge, but he forced himself to follow Draco out of the room. Draco led the way, his steps light and unhurried, but Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking into something far more complicated than he’d bargained for.

The dining room was a grand, imposing space, its high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings and the long, polished table shimmered under the light of a chandelier, its surface set with fine china and silverware that sparkled in the soft glow.

The air was filled with the rich aromas of roasted meat, fresh bread, and spiced vegetables, but the atmosphere was anything but welcoming. Harry hesitated at the threshold, his instincts prickling as he took in the scene before him.

Lucius sat at the head of the table, his posture regal and his expression cold. He was already eating with precise and deliberate motions as if the act of dining were a performance meant to showcase his superiority.

His long hair was impeccably styled, and his sharp features were set in a mask of disdain. Beside him, Narcissa knelt, her head bowed and her hands resting in her lap. There was no plate in front of her, no indication that she would be joining the meal.

Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her expression was serene, but Harry could see the tension in her posture, the way her fingers twitched ever so slightly. It was a stark contrast to the elegant, commanding Alpha he’d seen earlier. She was never meant to kneel at anyone’s feet, and the sight of it made Harry’s blood boil.

Draco was deliberately ignoring the tension as he grabbed Harry’s hand and tugged him toward the table. “Come on, you must be starving.”

Harry allowed himself to be led, though his eyes never left Narcissa. He sat stiffly in the chair Draco indicated, his body tense and his senses on high alert. The chair was ornate and uncomfortable, its high back and rigid frame pressing into his back.

 Draco, meanwhile, was already piling food onto his plate, he pointed to various dishes, his voice animated as he described each one. “Try the roast beef, it’s delicious and the potatoes, they’re my favorite. Oh, and you have to try the bread. It’s fresh from the oven.”

Harry glanced at Draco, his confusion growing as more and more food was pointed out to. Though, Draco was right, the roast beef was tender and rich, but Harry barely tasted it.

Lucius was less than pleased as he set his fork down with a sharp clink, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. His icy gaze narrowed as it landed on Harry. “Draco,” he said, his voice cold and clipped, “must you put that beast at the dining table? It’s unsightly.”

Harry’s growl was low and immediate, his green eyes flashing with anger as he met Lucius’s gaze. The feeling of disgust was mutual, and Harry made no effort to hide it. His fingers tightened around the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening as he fought the urge to lunge across the room.

Draco, however, didn’t seem fazed, he frowned at his father, his tone firm but polite. “He’s my Alpha, of course, he’s sitting with me.” He glanced at Narcissa, his expression softening. “Mama should be on a chair, too, you know? Has she even eaten?”

Narcissa’s lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile at Draco’s words, though she didn’t look up. 

Lucius’s eyes narrowed, his voice sharp with warning. “Watch your tone, Draco, the beast shall stay where she is, as should all lessers. Now, order your Alpha to the ground.”

Draco’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists beneath the table. For a moment, the room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, Draco released a slow breath, his expression calm.

“No,” he said, his voice firm and unwavering. “My Alpha will do as he pleases. So, leave him alone and don’t talk to him, as a matter of fact, don’t even look at him.”

Harry’s head bowed slightly, his lips twitching as he fought to hide the smile forming on his face. The Omega had so much spunk, it was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Lucius’s expression darkened, but he said nothing more. Instead, he returned to his meal, the way he was cutting his roast showing his anger as his less than graceful movement stuttered.

Draco turned back to Harry, his smile returning as he gestured to the food. “Eat,” he urged.

Harry hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to Narcissa once more. Harry could see the faintest glimmer of pride in her eyes as she watched Draco. It was a small thing, but it spoke volumes.

Finally, Harry picked up a piece of bread and began to eat, the food was delicious, but he barely tasted it. His mind was too busy processing everything he’d just witnessed.

The tension in the dining room was palpable, the clinking of silverware against fine china the only sound breaking the heavy silence. 

It was Lucius who finally broke the silence. 

“The Alpha fights are this Saturday,” he said, his tone casual, as if he were discussing the weather rather than a brutal, life-or-death spectacle. “You’re required to attend, Draco.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Alpha fights. The words sent a jolt of recognition through him, and suddenly, it all made sense now.

The fights were a brutal spectacle, designed to humiliate and break the Alphas who dared to resist the Ministry’s control versus Alphas that were thrown in there willingly by their owners.

Winners brought their Omegas wealth and prestige; losers were buried in unmarked graves.

He remembered Sirius and Remus arguing about it years ago, when they were low on cash and desperate. Remus had been confident he could win first place, but Sirius had been vehemently against it, his voice trembling with fear as he begged Remus not to risk his life. Harry had been too young to understand the full implications at the time, but now, the memory sent a chill down his spine.

Draco’s head snapped up, his gray eyes wide with disbelief. “I don’t like going to those dreadful things,” he said, his voice firm but tinged with unease. “Nor do I enjoy watching my mother fight to the death.”

Lucius waved a hand dismissively, his expression one of bored indifference. “Nonsense,” he drawled. “She loves it, and she wins every time, doesn’t she?”

Draco’s jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists beneath the table. “She doesn’t love it,” he snapped, his voice rising slightly. “She —”

He stopped abruptly, his mouth snapping shut as if he’d caught himself just in time. Harry’s eyes flicked to Narcissa, he was sure Draco had been about to say something incriminating, something about Narcissa’s intelligence, her ability to speak, probably.

Draco swallowed hard as he forced himself to continue. “I don’t want to go, its barbaric,” he said, his voice steadier now. 

Lucius’s fork clinked sharply against his plate as he set it down, his icy gaze narrowing. “Draco,” he sighed, his voice low and dangerous, “You need to toughen up, you’re an Omega, and a Malfoy Omega, at that. You're too soft to those beasts, they don’t need our sympathy.”

He shook his head, his expression one of bitter disappointment. “I blame myself for not rearing you myself,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain. “No matter how tedious it would have been, it would have been far better than seeing how pathetic you are for Alphas.”

Harry’s hands clenched into fists beneath the table, his nails digging into his palms.

It was clear that Lucius’ hatred for Alphas wasn’t just born out of prejudice; it was a calculated move to maintain his own position in a society that valued Omegas above all else.

Harry wanted to lunge across the table, to wipe that smug, condescending look off Lucius’s face but he forced himself to stay still, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

Draco looked down at his hands, his bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. For a moment, it seemed as though he might argue, might defend himself and Narcissa with the same fiery defiance he’d shown earlier but then he stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor, and left the room without a word.

The silence that followed was deafening. Narcissa's body trembled with barely suppressed rage, her hands, still folded in her lap, were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. Harry could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw was clenched, and he knew she was fighting to keep her composure.

Lucius, seemingly oblivious, or perhaps indifferent, to the turmoil he’d caused, took a sip of his wine, his expression one of mild annoyance. “See?” he said, his tone almost conversational. “Soft.”

He kicked at Narcissa’s side, the movement casual and dismissive, as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture. She jostled slightly but didn’t move from her position, her expression still carefully blank.

“I blame you, beast,” Lucius said, his voice cold and cutting. “This is your doing, you’ve made him weak.”

The meal continued in tense silence, the air thick with unspoken words and simmering resentment.

Harry’s chest tightened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. He wanted to say something, to defend Narcissa and Draco, but he knew that wouldn't end well. Instead, he sat in silence, his mind racing as he processed everything he’d just witnessed.

His appetite was gone, his stomach churning with a mix of anger and helplessness as he stood to go look for Draco.

Harry followed the winding path through the courtyard, the scent of blooming flowers doing little to calm the rage in his chest

The courtyard was quiet, the air cool and crisp as the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured grounds. The old oak tree stood at the center, its gnarled branches stretching toward the sky like twisted fingers.

Beneath it, Draco sat huddled, his knees drawn to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around them. His platinum-blonde hair caught the fading light, but his usual sparkle was dimmed, his gray eyes clouded with sadness.

Harry found him there, his footsteps soft against the cobblestone path. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to approach. Draco was always so vibrant—either cheerful and playful or bratty and demanding. Seeing him like this, so small and despondent, was disorienting. It felt wrong, like the world had tilted off its axis.

“I’m sorry for leaving you, Harry,” Draco mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t look up, his gaze fixed on the ground as he picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. “My father isn’t exactly the kindest.”

Harry almost snorted, that was an understatement. Lucius was cruel, cold, and entirely self-serving. Instead, he sat down slowly beside Draco, his movements careful and deliberate so as not to startle him. The grass beneath them was soft, the scent of earth and leaves filling the air. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them like a thread.

Draco sighed, his shoulders slumping as he leaned back against the tree.

“I hate those Alpha fights,” he said after a long pause, his voice trembling with emotion. “They’re barbaric and inhumane, my father only cares about how much money she can rake in, but he doesn’t see what it does to her. He doesn’t see the broken bones, the bruises, the way she limps for days afterward.”

His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists. “And I’m the one who has to tend to her wounds because the infirmary refuses to treat Alphas. They have high pain tolerance, they have thicker skin — all bollocks. It’s just an excuse to treat them like they’re not even people.”

Harry listened quietly, his green eyes fixed on Draco’s face. He could see the pain in the Omega’s expression, the way his lips trembled and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. 

Harry wanted to trust Draco, but years of betrayal and pain left him wary. Still, there was something about the Omega’s sincerity that made it hard to stay guarded.

Draco’s voice grew louder as he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush of frustration and anger. “She doesn’t deserve this, none of them do," He paused, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I can’t stop the fights, and I can’t make my father see reason. All I can do is try to help her, but it’s never enough.”

By the time Draco finished, he was sagging against the tree, his energy spent. His cheeks were flushed, his hair disheveled, and his hands trembled slightly as he wiped at his eyes.

Harry watched him, his chest tight with a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite name. He wanted to say something, to offer some kind of comfort, but words had never been his strength. Instead, he reached out slowly, his hand hovering over Draco’s for a moment before he gently placed it on top of the Omega’s.

Draco looked up, his gray eyes wide with surprise. They just stared at each other, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. Then Draco’s lips curved into a small, shaky smile, and he leaned into Harry’s touch, his head resting against the Alpha’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Draco whispered, his voice soft and sincere. “For listening.”

They sat there together under the old oak tree, the world around them fading away as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

For the first time in a long time, Harry felt a flicker of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years: hope.