Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You know, Potter," Draco began, hoping to project his usual calmness even as his heart hammered in his chest. "If you were decorating the house for my sake, I think you overdid it."

The house that he was following Potter into was a simply miserable space - dark, dusty, and unloved. It was far smaller than the manor, but it had the same taste of dark magic in the air. Draco couldn’t say he was thrilled with being here, but he knew his other options. Living with Potter had to be better than Azkaban, and if it wasn’t he could always go there instead. He still braced himself for Potter’s anger. Potter’s hatred. He had one small case with him. It wasn’t much. His mother had said she would send more when she could, but it all felt rather pointless when he wasn’t sure he would be welcomed.

“I don’t know,” Potter answered. “I’m sure I’m missing some of the charm of the Manor’s dungeons.” Draco felt himself tense, but when Potter looked back, he was smiling. “I’m sorry to bring you here, Draco. I know it’s a mess.”

“It’s fine.” Draco answered. He knew there had been a time when he would have given everything he had, gladly abandoned the Malfoy name to be called ‘Draco’ by Potter. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

“It’s not. I’ve just… I’ve been busy.” Potter explained. As though he needed to make excuses for what had happened barely a year before. As though it was Potter’s fault that the world had gone wrong. Potter cleared his throat. “Maybe we can decorate it or something, if you’d like. I thought, since you’re going to be staying here…”

That was a kind way to phrase it. Staying here. Like a guest, like someone with a real choice. Draco was here because his mother had realised Potter was his best chance of staying out of Azkaban and knew Potter was in her debt. Draco appreciated his mother’s sacrifice. She’d already lost her husband to that place, and she’d done what she could to keep Draco from it. Even if it meant he wouldn’t be able to contact her, even if it required him to hand himself over like a piece of meat. Potter was still staring at him, so bloody hopeful that Draco wanted to punch his face in.

“That sounds good.”

“Brilliant,” Potter looked younger then. Like Draco, he wasn’t even twenty yet. Still boys, playing at being men, a hero and a villain in roles that were set out by people far more knowing than they had ever been. Roles they had played, and now the performance was over and they had to step up for the new parts they had been cast for.

“Your room’s just up here. I’m sorry it’s not perfect but-” He shrugged, and pushed open the door.

It was a small room, around the size of one of the guest rooms at the Manor that the family used for people they didn’t like that much. But there was a double bed, a desk, and bookshelves. Draco could see that there were a lot of books about potions-making, and ones about runes, about magizoology even. Potter had clearly used what knowledge he had of Draco to pick these.

“Uh, the sheets are new,” Potter mumbled, gesturing to the green sheets that were there. Draco wasn’t sure if the colour was mockery or kindness. “And the bathroom’s just down the hall. I’m up another set of stairs, and I can use the bathroom there, so that’s yours. I added a lock for the inside, if you want privacy-” he tapped his fingers on the doorframe, and Draco glanced at it to see that there was a lock which appeared to have been manually screwed into place. It seemed like Potter really did want to give him space.

But Potter kept standing in the doorway awkwardly, as Draco lifted his case onto his bed.

“I need to see,” Potter murmured after a few moments. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just… Well, I promised Hermione and Ron I’d make sure you didn’t have poisons or anything.” He sounded like a fucking child.

Draco knew he was flushing with anger, but he nodded sharply. Better to agree than have Potter force him. He was the heir to the Malfoys, he would not allow himself to be bruised and beaten like a common muggle. He’d learned the spells to hide bruises, Mother insisted he left prepared for marriage, but that wasn’t the point. And Potter had argued for him to be allowed to keep his wand, which was a mark that Draco reluctantly had to award in Potter’s favour.

Potter stared into his open clothes, gazing at the neatly folded fabrics within. “Did your mum-” he started.

“I can use packing charms, Potter,” Draco hissed, waving his wand and sending the contents of the case across the bed. The clothes neatly arranged themselves in folded piles for Potter’s inspection, before they could be banished into the wardrobe and drawers. Potter reached in for what remained - there were a few books, a pair of photographs, some tie pins and cufflinks, and the box his mother had given him that morning.

Potter started by flicking through the books. They were inoffensive, star charts and astronomy mostly. Draco wasn’t stupid enough to bring tomes of dark magic to Potter’s house, although it looked like Potter might well have his own. He cast a couple of diagnostic charms on the jewellery - they only had protective spells on, not even a method of communicating. Then he picked up the photographs. The first was Draco and his mother on the day of Father’s trial, the summer of Fifth Year. It had been a good day, even if the brand on Draco’s skin had burned. They’d stood side by side under the glare of the world and known that even with the Dark Lord circling they had been free. In the photograph, his mother’s hand rested on his shoulder, a silent reassurance, as he gazed out at the viewer, trying to project confidence he didn’t feel. After staring for a few moments too long, Potter put it down, and picked up the other photograph.

It was of Draco and the rest of the Slytherin gang in third year, taken by the lake on a sunny day. They’d got that Creevey boy to take it in exchange for a few coins - loose change for them, enough to ensure he could get his school supplies the following summer. Pansy was by Draco’s side at the centre of the photograph, one arm around him. Gregory and Vincent were behind, and Blaise and Theodore were at each end. They were all posing and laughing, and would move around, trying to get the viewer’s attention. Another diagnostic charm was cast, causing the figures in the frame to gesture rudely and pull faces, as his younger self smirked up at Potter. It was just an innocent photograph, but Potter looked over at him.

“Did you love her?” Potter’s voice was so gentle, so kind.

Draco nearly laughed. “I do. Like a sister. She’s interested in women, and I’m not, but… we were close. Always were. It was…” he hesitated. “We knew each other since childhood. I think today was harder on her than me.”

“What do you mean?” Potter asked. Draco stared at him coldly.

“You don’t have an owl, Potter. Anyway, I’m assuming you don’t want me writing to any of the Slytherins-”

“They’re your friends, Draco. I mean, we’d need to be careful about any of them visiting, but… I’m not…” Potter was frowning, opening and closing his mouth like some kind of aquatic creature. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Draco. We did this to keep you safe, remember?”

“I remember.” Draco answered, aware he was being uncharitable. “May I keep my photograph?”

Potter shoved it towards him as though it was burning, and Draco grabbed it, placing it carefully on his desk.

By the time he turned back, Potter had the box in his hand. It was a beautiful box - enamelled black, with constellations picked out in silver and diamond. Potter turned it over. “What’s this?”

“An heirloom,” Draco answered, his shoulders stiff and tense.

He reached out, showed Potter how to work the hidden catches that revealed the eight slots inside - seven filled with vials, each topped with a rune. The last space should have held a portkey, but Mother had decided it was better not to have that. Draco had known this set since his childhood, had sat on the floor of Mother’s bedroom tracing his fingers over the runes and memorising their meanings.

“What… what is it though?” Potter asked, looking at him. He grabbed one of the bottles, the one marked with Nauthiz, and unscrewed it, sniffing and then frowning. “Treacle tart… broom polish…” There was a pause, as he thought things through, then he stared at Draco. “That’s Amortentia, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Draco answered. Potter stared at him in vague horror, putting that to one side, and picking up the next - the poison under Algiz. “Don’t sniff that one, Potter.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a poison, and you dying on the first night we spend together won’t reflect well on me.”

“You have a poison?” Potter stared at him. “An heirloom with poisons? What…” There was a pause, as though Potter had just remembered he was dealing with the heir to a dark wizarding family. “What are the rest?”

Draco’s fingers danced across the vials, listing them from memory. “Love potion, aphrodisiac, poison, sleeping draught, fertility potion…” he paused on the next vial, skipping over it. “And this is a healing potion.”

“What was that one? Is it poisonous?”

“I wouldn’t recommend drinking the whole bottle.” Draco answered carefully. He didn’t want to explain to Potter that it was for getting rid of unwanted children. He knew Granger would have recognised this set and didn’t know why Potter was so oblivious. He flinched as Potter gathered everything other than the healing potion from the case and shoved them into his pockets.

“I’m sorry Draco, you can’t just… have a bunch of poisons and love potions.” Potter said, awkward. “I can empty them for you if you want the bottles, or just… I’ve got a safe, so…”

“The ingredients are expensive,” Draco snapped at him, closing his own fingers around the healing potion. “I’d like to keep the sleeping draught.” A statement, not a request. That way when Potter denied him it wouldn’t sting so badly.

Potter nodded, trustingly holding out the vials. He picked out the correct one, slipping it back into the case, and tried to ignore the way Potter ran some spells over his suitcase, checking for hidden compartments. Potter smiled at him awkwardly, and Draco tried to decide if the shape on the wallpaper his eyes had settled on was a stain, mould, or a particularly hideous pattern.

“Dinner’ll be at seven,” Potter mumbled. “So you’ve got some time, if you want to finish unpacking.” And then he practically fled the room.

Draco waved a hand to lock the door, then carefully put his possessions into their new places. Mother had assured him this wouldn’t be forever, that in a few years people would have forgiven Draco and he could go back to his life. But for now, this was where he was and what he had to survive. He knew he’d have to show his face at dinner. But for now, he laid down on the bed, and twisted to watch his friends playing in the photograph. They’d been happy then.

Chapter Text

Draco watched the photograph until he heard the bells downstairs announcing that it was half six. He’d been caught up in his memories, of a life before the war, when the return of the Dark Lord and all that it would bring had simply been the stuff of nightmares. They’d just been children at that point. If things had gone differently, if the Dark Lord hadn’t risen, perhaps they still would have been.

But Draco carried memories no child could shoulder, and he knew that Potter had the same. The photographer and one of those boys were dead now. He made himself get ready for dinner, because that at least he could control, fastening emerald cufflinks in the sleeves of a silk shirt.

His fingers were trembling a little. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how he felt, or the lingering effects of crucio. Idly, he found himself wondering which Potter would prefer. Potter who had chosen to save him - been forced to save him. But Potter was… Potter was the saviour of the wizarding world. If he truly hadn’t wanted to marry Draco, he wouldn’t have. It was just that Mother had asked, and… and Potter was too good a man to let Draco get sent to Azkaban, even if he should have allowed it, should have encouraged it.

For Draco, the time since the end of the war seemed to be both a rapid blur and long moments, stretching out impossibly. Finding Potter in the drawing room with his mother, the two of them sipping tea as though Potter was simply a distant family friend who happened to be in the neighbourhood, was one of those moments that lingered. He remembered his mother explaining her plan. That she didn’t want Draco going to Azkaban, not even after the changes the Ministry had brought in.

Draco understood. They might have been meant to make things at the prison more humane, but it would not end well for him. A lot of the other prisoners wanted him dead, for one reason or another. Blamed him for where he had failed, or where he had succeeded. And Potter… Potter had approached it like just another battle.

Draco had left the family ring with his mother, wore the one that Potter had given him - it was made of silver with an emerald and a smaller ruby to each side. It was beautiful, and Draco wanted to throw it into the fireplace because Potter had tried to pick this for him, and he didn’t deserve this. He deserved to be in Azkaban, knowing the others would kill him. He deserved to have died at the battle, in the fire like Crabbe but…

But Potter saved him, because Potter had a saviour complex and made mistakes and was too damned good. Potter had decided to save him, and from that moment on he was at war for Draco’s soul– challenging the Ministry, demanding that Draco was given a wand. He made up lies about midnight trysts at school that had never happened, a love that had been consuming the two of them until it had halted in his grief at Sirius’s death, and Draco’s desperate attempts to keep his family alive. And then… and then after the war, the two of them had stumbled back together.

To hear Potter tell it, it was a beautiful story. It wasn’t his story, but it could have been. All he needed to do was nod at the right places, because no one was going to argue with the World’s Saviour when he said he had been desperately in love with a Death Eater, that Draco had saved him at the Manor, that they had even… that they had even written to each other. Potter had produced notes - including some in Draco’s hand (Draco suspected Granger’s role in those forgeries). Potter’s friends testified, confirming the lies with a calmness Draco could never have imagined. Potter himself was a star on the stand, the media’s darling as he set out how worried he’d been, knowing his love was with those monsters. Draco had watched Potter, and wished that a word he said was true.

And in the end, it worked. They were to marry, and Draco’s sentence was suspended. Potter had already lost so much, and none of the Wizengamot could bring themselves to make him suffer further, to lose the boy he had been in love with for years. Draco got away with a marriage instead of a death sentence, and Potter got stuck with him.

That morning, they had stood before Potter’s friends and exchanged vows that tasted like ash on Draco’s tongue. His mother had cried, and Draco had known that it was relief. Potter kissed him, in front of them all, their hands still bound with ribbon in Gryffindor red. Draco had known this was his chance. A chance he didn’t deserve, but one he had to live with.

The bells rang out again. Seven. He was late to dinner.

He walked down the stairs like a marionette. He wondered if he should have offered to cook - not that he knew how. Potter was still a hero, still had a life to live. Draco supposed this house was his life now, living here, keeping it clean and homely– the same path he’d seen his mother tread.

Draco tamped down on the resentment that bubbled within him. Potter had saved him. He had to be grateful. Potter had thrown away much of his own status to save Draco’s life, and that deserved… that deserved gratitude. Respect. Obedience.

Draco had served the Dark Lord, had found ways to keep his family alive. And Potter had given up so much for him.

Potter was sitting at the table, but he looked up when Draco entered. He had discarded his suit from earlier and was wearing muggle jeans and a t-shirt. He grinned. “I’d hoped you’d join me.”

Draco could see that the kitchen looked cleaner than he would have expected, and there was a smudge of dirt on Potter’s nose. He reached out without thinking to brush it away. “You cleaned?”

“It was a mess. I just thought, since you’re staying here, I should try-” Potter rambled, then cleared his throat. “I wasn’t sure what to make for dinner so uh, I made breakfast.”

If there was a logic to Potter’s words, it was lost on Draco. But Potter was smiling, and Draco found himself smiling back.

Potter grabbed the plates from the oven, where they had been staying warm. He was using a towel to hold the hot plates, and Draco frowned at him. “Potter, you do remember you have magic, don’t you?”

“Y… yes?” Potter blinked at him, and he looked kind of adorable in a way, so confused by a simple question. “I just… I got used to cooking. With the Dursleys.”

“Your muggles?” Draco asked quietly, and Potter nodded. Draco had never heard much about Potter’s life outside of Hogwarts.

“They used to get me to cook them breakfast before school.”

“Like… in the holidays?” Draco asked, afraid that wasn’t what Potter meant. In confirmation, Potter shook his head.

“Uh. Before… Before Hogwarts.”

“Oh…” Draco hesitated. He wasn’t at all sure what to say to him about that. “I… Do you want me to cook from now on, or-”

“Do you know how?” Potter asked, looking at him curiously.

“My mother taught me a couple of spells…” Draco answered carefully. “Not much, but you won’t starve.”

“I don’t… I don’t mind cooking for you.” Potter answered. “But I can teach you, if you’d like. I find it helps to… to do things with my hands, sometimes.”

“You don’t have to be this nice to me, Potter. You’ve already done more than enough.” Draco stared at him. “You don’t have to try and be… decent about it all.”

“I don’t mind.” Potter answered. “It’s lonely, on my own. And…” He shrugged, gesturing at the food. “It’s getting cold.”

Draco nodded, picking up his cutlery. He could tell Potter had no idea what the different things were - this was a fish knife - but he appreciated the effort. He picked up the cutlery, looking over at Potter. He felt like there were things he needed to know, but he didn’t know how to ask, didn’t want to give his fears voice.

Potter was eating hungrily, but kept breaking off to smile shyly at Draco. “I thought maybe we could decorate your room first, or the library, I think it might still have a boggart in but I can deal with that and then we could think about colours. I don’t know if you have any plans for what you want to do…”

“Not really.” Draco had never planned to survive the war. Eternity stretching out before him felt a little… empty.

“Well, we can think about it. I’ve been offered a role as a junior auror, but Hermione says it’s probably better to leave that for a year - we can do correspondence courses and get our NEWTs that way, and then we’ve got those to fall back on…” He kept smiling. Draco carefully reminded himself that he wasn’t allowed to hex Potter for smiling.

“I don’t think I passed sixth year…” Draco pointed out, mostly to interrupt Potter before he started discussing what colour curtains they should get or which lessons he wanted to take.

“I spoke to Professor McGonagall. She said since it wasn’t an exams year, she’s willing to pass you as long as you catch up, and you can take the exams after two years if you need the extra time…” Potter was still looking at Draco earnestly.

Draco didn’t think he had any idea how to respond to someone being earnest. Manipulative, he could handle. He got the feeling that Potter really was just trying to help, and he wanted to rage at him, to scream and smash the dinner glasses because were they really… were they really pretending any of this was real? That they cared about each other? Potter had saved his life. He didn’t need to make Malfoy like him.

Draco ate despite his lack of appetite, because at least then Potter tended towards monologuing rather than expecting responses. So he carefully cut up the sausages with his fish knife, and let Potter talk through the subjects he was studying.

“If you can come up with some suggestions as to which classes you want to take,” Potter said, still smiling, “we can go to Diagon Alley this weekend. Get the books.”

“I don’t think people in Diagon Alley want to see me, Potter.” Draco pointed out. “I think most of them are just happy pretending I’ve disappeared off into nightmares.”

Potter stared at him. “Hermione, Ron and I are going. You can come if you’d like, but if not just let me know the subjects and I can fetch the books.” He sounded a little hurt, which Draco felt was ridiculous. Potter seemed to want to play happy family. And it stuck in his throat.

“I’ll give you a list.” Draco muttered. That was something.

He wanted to be at home. He wanted to be able to have tea with his mother, and talk with her, or lay beside her and listen to her reading. He wanted to feel safe. But safety wasn’t something he got, not any more. He was vaguely aware he should offer to do the washing up, but he couldn’t face Potter a moment longer.

“I’m tired, and I need a shower.”

“Just down the hall,” Potter reminded him. “Goodnight, Draco.”

“Goodnight, Potter.”

“I’d like it if you called me Harry,” Potter said, and Draco nodded, not planning to do that.

Draco got up from the table, head held high, and went upstairs to his bathroom. Then he changed into his pyjamas and went to lay on his bed. With a flick of his wand, he closed the lock from the bed and lay there staring at the ceiling, wondering if Potter would want any more from him tonight. Nausea bubbled inside of him, and he waited, until he heard Potter walking past, climbing the stairs up to his own bedroom.

Then he curled up, his knees drawn to his chest. The curtains were open, and there was enough light in the room to watch the photograph, watch as a younger version of himself spun Pansy in circles until they were both laughing. Eventually, it was too dark to see, but he kept facing the photograph anyway, straining his ears to listen for Potter’s footsteps.

Chapter Text

Draco didn’t get much sleep that night. He lay awake as the room slowly got lighter. The house made noises in the dark, but he was used to that - it was just how old houses were. It felt familiar, in a way. More familiar than it should have been.

He’d been married to Potter for almost a day, and the only things that had been asked of him were to go to Diagon Alley, which he wasn’t sure he could do, calling Potter Harry, which he refused to do, and deciding on NEWTs. He supposed he could probably do that.

He didn’t need to take any particular subjects. It wasn’t like it mattered - it wouldn’t lead anywhere, he wouldn’t ever have a career. Even aside from the marriage with Potter, no one would want to hire a Death Eater, and that was what he was. He reached down, running his fingers over the bandage at his left elbow. He didn’t deserve to be here. He deserved to be rotting in a cell with Father and the rest who bore the Dark Lord’s mark. Potter’s kindness should have gone to someone who deserved it.

He curled up into a ball, crying silently. This was his life now, his home, and his mother would expect him to conduct himself with a degree of dignity, with self-respect. She’d always taught him to hold his head high, no matter what came his way.

He thought through his fifth year grades - he’d been so distracted in sixth year, he would need to start over regardless. Potions. That at least was obvious, even if his chest twisted as he thought of Professor Snape, who had been brave enough to carry out the mission he had failed, who had kept him alive and shown him kindness. Charms seemed to be a good choice. Ancient Runes - he found the symbols comforting in a way, the idea of magic stretching back further than bloodlines. He wished his mother was there to help him decide. He couldn’t ask Potter, and there was no one else he could speak to. Defence Against the Dark Arts had never been his favourite subject, but he supposed Potter would be taking that one, and there should be at least an overlap in their studies. He watched the sunlight creeping higher up the wall, trying to think about what he had enjoyed. Astronomy, perhaps. His mother had taught him the constellations as a child, and watching the stars had always made him feel closer to her. He grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, writing out the list so that he could hand it over at breakfast.

When he heard the pipes creaking, he went to wash as well, spelling the door locked, before dressing neatly and heading down to the kitchen. Potter was standing there in his pyjamas, cramming bread into some metal box that stood on his counter.

“Morning, Draco,” Potter greeted him with a brilliant smile, looking far better rested than Draco felt. Draco nodded a greeting, putting the piece of parchment down, and Potter glanced over, picking it up and reading it over. “Thanks for this. Potions… We’ve got a room downstairs I think you could use for brewing, if that’d help. I can get the books and some ingredients this weekend if you are sure you don’t want to come.”

“Certain, Potter.” Draco answered, watching as the box regurgitated the bread as toast. “People are happier pretending I don’t exist.”

“They shouldn’t…” Potter murmured. “I mean. People stare. People always stare, but-”

“They stare at you, Potter, because you are a hero. They stare at me because they know I should be in Azkaban.” Draco pointed his wand at the kettle, setting it to make some tea for the two of them, crushing down the childish part of himself that liked how he and Harry fitted together in the kitchen, how easily they moved around each other. He ended up sitting at the table with a cup of tea and some toast, as Potter grabbed a seemingly endless supply of spreads.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I’ve got butter, honey, jam - strawberry and raspberry, marmalade, marmite, peanut butter-”

“Thank you.” Draco interrupted, wondering if the cupboard had a limit to what it held or if its supplies were endless.

Potter sat down as well, that inane smile still on his face. “Astronomy’s a bit tricky in London, but I’m sure we can go and visit the Weasleys if you need to make star charts, I’d never seen as many stars as I saw there-”

Draco didn’t argue. He knew the Weasleys hated him for good reason - his aunt had killed one of their sons. Still, if they chose to hex him, that was their choice and he would handle it. He could handle anything Potter threw at him. He was a Malfoy. He was Narcissa’s son, and he would act like it.

Draco tried to hold onto those words, to wrap them like a blanket around himself. He was here, he was Narcissa’s son. He would survive. He took the toast Potter proffered. “Did you decide which subjects you’re taking?” Draco asked, to fill the silence, to stop Potter trying to find ways to help him. He didn’t understand. He already owed Potter his life. Potter didn’t need to do any more.

“I’ve not decided yet,” Potter admitted, shrugging. “I mean, I started a few but…” He stared down at his plate, lapsing into silence. “It doesn’t feel right, does it? Going back to being students, after-”

Draco hesitated. A dozen things to say formed in his mouth - that Potter had done what he could, that he had saved people, that he deserved to carry on with his life just as much as Draco deserved to rot. None of them seemed to come out. Instead, he shot Potter the haughtiest look he could. “I knew it, Potter. You’re just scared I’ll get higher marks than you in Defence Against The Dark Arts, and you’ll have to hang up your wand in shame.”

Potter grinned at him, and Draco wondered if he had found the right thing to say after all. Potter was smearing something which smelt awful onto his toast, and Draco watched him curiously.

“I thought I might take a look upstairs later, see if I can make one of the rooms a study or something,” Potter was saying, fidgeting with his cutlery as he spoke. “Maybe try and get that boggart out of the library. What are your plans?”

“Do you need me for anything?” Draco asked, because he was here and it only felt like he should be useful.

“I’ll do the first clean myself,” Potter answered, and Draco nodded with a sick feeling in his chest. It was likely that there were all kinds of dark artefacts in the room, and Potter didn’t want him anywhere near them, because Draco was a Death Eater and a monster.

“I’ll take a look at the books you left in my room, I think some of them were NEWT standard,” Draco said simply to kill the silence. Once he had eaten he waved his wand at the plates, setting them to wash and dry themselves. Potter stared and Draco wondered if he should have done the dishes by hand. If Potter wanted him to do it by hand, he’d have to say.

Draco returned to his bedroom, and spent some time spelling the door closed before realising that it was pointless and removing the spells. He thought for a moment, and then set up a few perimeter spells - one to let him know someone was on his landing, another that they were stopped outside the door, and one if anyone touched the handle.

He picked up a potions book from the shelf and took it over to the desk, setting it up beside the photograph of him and his mother. She looked concerned. He watched her for a moment. She’d not been frightened, that day when his father had been sent away. But it had been different when that had been his own fate.

He couldn’t face her gaze. With a murmured apology, he turned her away and tried to read. The words blurred. It didn’t feel real, trying to study, trying to get on with life when his shame was burned into his arm, a brand that would never ever leave him.

His alarms were triggered at midday, but the door didn’t open. When he went to look, he found a plate of sandwiches waiting there, with a glass of apple juice. He floated them inside, sitting back at the desk, surprised to find he was smiling.

At seven, Potter called him for dinner. He was eager to talk about the improvements he had made, and Draco tried to nod and smile at all the right points, the way he had at the trial. His mother had always made it look so easy.

Another night passed without sleep, and without his alarms being triggered. A strange fearful anger bubbled in his chest. If Potter wanted him, then Potter would have to be the one to cross the space between them. He wouldn’t refuse, but he wouldn’t ask. He couldn’t bring himself to do that.

The following morning, Potter had made a larger breakfast, like the one they had had for their first meal as a married couple. He looked at Draco, frowning. “You look shit, Malfoy.”

“No I don’t.” Draco answered. He knew he looked impeccable. He always did - he was careful with his appearance. Vain, some said, which reminded him of sneering comments about the peacocks in the manor grounds. But the comments did not matter, he was always fastidious about how he looked.

“How’ve you been sleeping? Bed too hard? Too soft?” Asked Potter, as though Potter himself hadn’t spent months sleeping in a tent in the middle of fields, as though Draco hadn’t got used to snatching moments of rest in the Room of Requirement in sixth year. Draco suspected Potter was mocking him, but he had no easy comeback to give.

“It’s fine, Potter.” Draco answered, staring at the teacup in front of him. He thought his mother had the same set - these were nicer than the mismatched mugs that Potter had been using before.

“Draco…” Potter tried, and then shook his head. “And you’re sure you don’t want to come to Diagon Alley this weekend?”

“I’m certain.”

“Is there anything I can get you? Anything you want or… or that would help with…” Potter trailed off. “Did you want to get a cat? Hermione always says Crookshanks is good company.”

“If you want a cat, Potter, get a cat.” Draco answered again. His fingers twitched, and he wanted to tear at his arm, but he carefully focused on breathing. He thought back to times he had been terrified, and he could see his Aunt’s face in front of him, see his own frightened gaze reflected in a blade. He knew how to keep emotions tucked in. If he could do it then, he could do it now.

He was just so tired.

After breakfast, he went back to his room. This time he did risk spelling the door locked, and spent an uneasy couple of hours napping in the chair at his desk, his head cushioned on his arms. It didn’t solve how exhausted he was, but it meant he could at least think as he looked back at his books. He drew up a list of basic potions ingredients. He knew his mother would pay for them if he asked. But he couldn’t write to her, not unless Potter was alright with it. He didn’t want to ask, because all the time he hadn’t asked, he had hope that he would be allowed. He could avoid the pain of Potter saying no.

He presented Potter with the list at dinner. “I think these are what I will need for Potions for the sixth year course.”

“Alright,” Potter agreed, not even bothering looking through the list. Draco wondered if he could have added poisons on there without Potter noticing.

That evening, he didn’t sense Potter going up to his own bed. The clock chimed one in the morning before he stepped out, wrapping a silken robe over his pyjamas. He made his way down the stairs, pausing at what he found waiting for him. Potter was still in the clothes he’d been wearing earlier that day, sitting in an armchair and staring blankly at the fire, a discarded and half-drunk glass of firewhisky to one side, the bottle near empty. He looked like he’d been there for a while.

Draco could have gone back upstairs to bed, but he didn’t want to leave Potter in that kind of state. He walked over and took a sip of the whisky before Potter seemed to spot him.

“Draco?”

“Not the worst whisky I’ve had,” Draco told him conversationally. “Why are you still up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Harry muttered, and he ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up in that infuriating way it always did, his gaze lingering a moment too long. “Sorry. Did I disturb you?”

“You didn’t. Did I?”

“No… it’s… it’s good to have the company.” Harry waved a hand and another glass came to join the one he had. He poured some of the amber liquid into each, looking up at Draco. “You want a drink?”

Draco took one, holding it up, and glanced at Potter. “What are we drinking to?”

Potter hesitated, staring at the glass in his hand. “Fallen friends and second chances?”

Draco knocked his glass against Harry’s own, draining it, aware of how Potter was staring at him. He knew that look. He knew Potter wanted him, and he decided there was no point waiting, because for some incomprehensible reason Potter seemed to refuse to make the first move. At first he’d wondered if it was some kind of torture, making him wait, or else that Potter was shy. But it wasn’t those things. Potter wasn’t going to do this, unless Draco wanted it.

That realisation settled in his chest, a fountain of hope bubbling up inside of him before he could think better of it. He stepped forwards, wrapping his arms around Potter’s shoulders, and leaned in for a kiss.

“Draco?”

“There are better things we could do this evening than sit here and drink.” Draco told him, biting at Harry’s lip and then leaning in to kiss him deeper. He wanted Harry to know he wanted this. Not because of debt, or because of fear. Not even because Harry’d saved him. But because Harry had been what he wanted since he learned how to want.

And after a moment, Harry seemed to realise, pulling Draco closer, strong hands running down Draco’s back. Harry moaned against his lips. “Have you… before?” Potter asked, still breathless from Draco kissing him, glasses knocked askew.

Draco looked down at him and arched an eyebrow. “Potter, I look like this, and I lived in a mansion full of Death Eaters for over a year. What do you think?” He’d expected an answering smirk. Instead, Potter’s face looked… concerned. He seemed to be drawing back, and Draco didn’t want that, didn’t want to lose whatever this was and replace it with more awkward formality from the man who was his husband, for Merlin’s sake. “Anyway, I’d messed around with the guys in my year and on the Quidditch team.” He grinned, leaning in to nip at Potter’s ear. “You?”

“I…I was a bit busy.” Harry panted, his hands running down Draco’s sides. “Caught up in saving the world and everything. But I know the theory.”

Draco laughed at that, pulling back to gaze into Harry’s eyes, and he was smirking. “Scared, Potter?”

“You wish.” Harry answered, and it was easy - easy to keep kissing him, to pull him up the stairs towards Draco’s bed, because that was closer. To put down the photographs so they wouldn’t see. It was easy to undo the ties to Potter’s robes, unbutton his shirt, while Harry simply cursed at the buttons and reached for his wand. Draco ducked out of the way, risking a smile.

“Uh, I’d rather you didn’t use cutting charms around me, Potter. After last time.”

Harry did laugh then, and Draco was laughing as well, reaching out for another kiss as he guided impatient hands to the buttons of his shirt. They were both too drunk, but this felt right. It felt like they’d been dancing around this for years, and now, finally, things were falling into place. Draco allowed hope to spark within him as Harry fumbled him out of his clothes, pressing hot kisses to his throat. His hands brushed the bandage at Draco’s arm, and Draco gently shook his head. “Not there.”

Harry seemed to understand, fingers skimming the bandages almost reverentially. Draco tilted his head and moaned, because Potter seemed to like the noise. Because Harry gasped and pressed closer, muttering under his breath and making Draco laugh as a bottle of lubricant came flying into the room.

“Not elegant, Potter.” He muttered, before Potter was kissing him again, lying Draco down. The room was dark, which was a relief. He didn’t want Harry to see his scars. He could see the outline of Harry, and he learned his body by touch.

Potter fucked like a boy, not a man. His touches reminded Draco of laughter, of stolen moments and friendship, of heat and bodies warm from quidditch, not marble and the scent of death and the distant sound of a snake slithering over the floor. Harry was strong. He’d made Draco bleed, left him bruised in fights on the quidditch pitch and in corridors. But here he was careful with Draco, treated him with tenderness Draco had learned not to expect. When Draco came, Potter spilling from his lips, Harry pulled him close and kissed him, shaking with his own climax. Harry didn’t complain even though calling him ‘Harry’ was one of the few requests he’d made. Draco tried to press down on the feeling of warmth in his chest, the one that filled him at Potter’s smile.

He couldn’t afford to feel anything for Potter. That wasn’t the point. They were just… married enemies turned maybe-friends who had had sex because it was better than another night of remembering. He clung to that knowledge as he fell asleep.

Draco woke to a pounding headache, and the realisation someone was in bed with him, their arm flung possessively over his chest. He winced a little on the inside, cracking his eyes open, and feeling a sudden irrational flush of hurt that his mother hadn’t brought him tea, the way she always did. It helped, waking up to see a cup there on his bedside cabinet, charmed to keep warm, knowing she would have added potions to ensure nothing would come of how he had been used. She never forgot, and he felt fear for her, more than for himself. He was careful, holding still as he glanced down, wondering if he could identify who was with him without waking them.

Harry. It was Harry’s warm brown arm across his chest, and everything fell into place. He wasn’t at the manor. He was at his ‘home,’ and they’d both been drunk, and he’d… he’d taken Potter to his bed.

He scrambled out from the sheets, rushing to the bathroom, locking the door and turning on the shower. He let himself throw up in the toilet, peeling off the bandages across his arm so he could wash.

There was a knock on the bathroom door, he’d woken Potter. A moment later he realised that he wasn’t actually afraid of waking him like he’d been with the men at the manor. “Draco?”

“I’m hungover, Potter. Leave me be.” Draco tried to keep his voice steady.

“I’ll make breakfast,” Potter called, ever helpful. “I’ll leave you some clothes outside…”

Draco went to stand under the shower. He wanted to feel clean. He heard Potter moving around outside the door, but the door stayed closed, and eventually he stepped out, rebandaged his arm, wrapped himself in a towel, and cracked the door open.

There were some of his clothes there, waiting. Not the ones he would have chosen - it looked like Potter had been searching for what might be ‘comfortable’. He took them with an amused huff, and then spotted what else Potter had left. A cup of tea, and a scribbled note next to it. Ron swears this is the best potion for hangovers.

He returned to the bathroom to dress, then picked the tea up, taking a sip. It tasted of ginger and cardamom, but it was warming, and it chased away the remaining headache. He wanted to retreat back to his bedroom.

He knew Potter would be waiting for him downstairs. He drained the cup before he headed down to greet him.

Chapter Text

Potter appeared to have succeeded in emptying the cupboard, providing even more accompaniments for toast than he had the previous day. Draco was feeling a little unsteady on his feet, although the tea had helped with that. As he watched, Potter plated up some more toast, and carried it over. He ran his fingers through his hair as he put it down on the table.

Draco found himself contemplating the fact that somehow, ridiculously, Potter's hair was worse today than it had been the previous night. Potter too seemed to be in a strangely foul mood – looking around the room, staying back at an awkward distance, glancing towards the door and then stepping away from it.

"Are you... feeling alright?" Draco asked to shatter the silence, as Potter seemed to be working himself into a state. Draco had seen Potter angry before, countless times. He had made it a point of pride to know how to anger Potter by fifth year. But this seemed like fear, and he couldn't understand why. Potter had faced down the Dark Lord for Merlin's sake, he couldn't possibly be afraid of fighting Draco. Seven years of schooling, bloody noses and black eyes, indicated how that particular fight would end.

"Fine." Potter snapped, and then took a deep breath. "I'm good. Really good. Thank you, Draco. You?" His words sounded forced, and he kept glancing between Draco and the door.

"I'm fine." Draco told him. He was surprised to realise that was the truth - that he'd slept better than he had for a long time the preceding night. When he wasn't exhausted, everything felt a little less terrible. Potter's metal box chucked out some more toast. Potter grabbed it and made to add it to Draco’s plate, then thinking better of it and taking a slice for himself.

"Potter," Draco said, keeping his voice level. "What on earth is wrong?" Even as he said it, he realised what the problem was. Potter had been drunk the previous night, and Draco had been available and easy. Now, Potter was regretting it. He was willing to marry Draco to save his life, but drew the line at touching him. Draco carefully crushed the sense of disappointment that bubbled inside of him. He knew that heroes didn't fall for people like him.

"I just..." Potter stared at him, and shook his head, and Draco allowed himself to feel a spark of offence there, because it hadn't been bad, last night. Potter'd enjoyed it, he didn't need to act like it was the worst thing ever. "I'm sorry about last night."

"I won't tell anyone," Draco sneered, trying to transfigure all that pain into anger. "No one need know that Saint Potter had sex with a Death Eater."

"Malfoy-" Potter began, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Draco had a sudden urge to keep pushing, to prove to himself what Potter was like, to get the treatment he deserved. He was probably in range if Potter wanted to take a swing at him. Rather than worry about that, he buttered another piece of toast. "It's not about you being a... having been a Death Eater. I took advantage, and it... it won't happen again."

Draco stared at Harry. trying to make sense of his words. It was far too early in the morning for shit like this to be happening, and he didn't understand it. "I don't understand what you're talking about, Potter."

The smile Potter gave back was more like a grimace. "I know you don't, Malfoy." He paused for a moment, clearly lost in his own thoughts, then looked up at Draco. "I might go and see Ron and Hermione later. Do you want to come?"

"No." Draco told him honestly. "I will if you want me there."

"Not if you don't want to," Potter answered. "Uh, you can take a look around if you want, I can show you the library or... or you can go there, if there's any books you want, or any... I meant what I said about decorating it." He was standing there, looking at Draco like he wanted to say something, but Draco didn't know what the problem was. "You can always say what you'd like and I can sort it out..."

Potter wasn't meeting his eyes. Draco tried not to feel offended, because it really hadn't been that bad the previous night. He pushed aside his pride, reminding himself he was here to survive. "Have you decided on your subjects yet?"

"Not yet. I'll talk to Hermione and Ron, see what they think. What do you think?"

"I think... I think that you're stubborn enough that you'll do whatever you want, and then get a good grade. I know what you're like." Draco tried to put false confidence in his mouth, and for a brief moment it worked, and Harry smiled.

"Are you really going to be okay in here on your own?" Harry asked, as though he half-expected to return and find the boggart upstairs had eaten Draco. "Do you need anything, or is there... is there anything I can do?" Harry sighed. "I promise I won't... last night shouldn't have happened."

"You weren't complaining at the time," Draco muttered, pushing away the rest of his toast because he suddenly didn't feel very hungry.

Potter sighed, and looked at him. "I find you attractive, Draco. But you're here as my guest, and I am meant to keep you safe, not..."

"Potter, we both enjoyed last night. It doesn't have to mean something. Sometimes things are just fun."

"Yeah," Potter stuttered, and he looked relieved. Draco tried to ignore the ache in his heart at that, because he knew it had meant something to him. He wondered if Potter had just found he was the closest warm body. But that... that didn't sound like Potter.

The rest of breakfast was a subdued affair, although at the end Harry looked up and smiled. "You are right about Defence Against the Dark Arts. Ron's been telling me it's an easy E, and-"

"Potter, you defeated the Dark Lord. They should give you an O."

Harry grinned, just for a moment, looking more cheerful than he had all morning. "We'll see. Thanks." He hesitated. "I'll talk to Hermione, see if she knows anything else you'll need for your classes..."

"Thank you," Draco answered. Potter still seemed off, somehow, but he had cheered up a bit. Draco told himself there were worse things in life than having meaningless sex with his husband.

"Is there anything else you need? I know you didn't bring much and-" Potter started, then frowned. "I mean. I was going to ask anyway because we're planning for Diagon Alley this week, but-"

"No, I'm fine, thank you." Draco reassured him. He managed to keep a civil tongue until Potter had stepped into the green flames, and then he headed back up to his room. He lay in the spot Potter had lain that morning. The pillow smelled faintly of him, and Draco took a deep breath. Harry hadn't been scared of him, he didn't think. He told himself he didn't need Potter. Potter had done enough.

Eventually, he gave up on lying there and returned to his books, flicking through them absently, unable to focus on any one page for long. He stayed in his room through the day, even through lunch. Poking around the kitchen seemed like it was a sure way to get accused of poisoning Potter or something equally ludicrous. It was alright. The books were at least interesting, and there were a few he could use to prepare for his studies.

He carefully righted both photographs on his desk, smiling as he saw the younger Slytherins wave. He knew that a photograph wasn't the same as being able to talk to his mother, but he smiled at her anyway, and after a moment she smiled back.

By the time Potter Flooed back home that evening, Draco was feeling a bit more positive. He had slept well the previous night, and that was important. Potter called up the stairs that he was home, and after a few moments Draco ventured down.

The first thing he noticed was that there were some flowers in the dining room, which hadn't been there before. Beside the vase there was a set of runestones. Potter looked up at him and shrugged. "Hermione says she didn't need these, and I thought it would be a start, until we can get you some more. If you want them, or..." Potter trailed off again, and Draco considered. He had a set back at home - at the manor. But he hadn't brought them, and he didn't think he could get them now. He picked them up to take a look at them.

"I can use those. Thank you, Potter." It wasn't so hard, thanking him. He supposed this was survival. But Potter seemed to relax, smiling brighter than ever. Joy bubbled up in Draco, and he wasn't sure he could blame it on simply being alive. Potter muttered something about food, walking through to the kitchen.

Potter clattered about in the kitchen. He seemed to be determined to cook like a muggle, and after a moment, curiosity overcame Draco. He settled down at the kitchen table to watch, poking at the runestones so that he wasn't obviously staring. Potter seemed sure about cooking at least.

"How were your friends?"

"Good, thanks. They said hello. Hermione said she's taking runes too, asked if you'd like to write to her, and you guys could meet up if you wanted..." Harry suggested. "Ron's still not sure about doing his NEWTs, but I'm pretty sure Hermione'll insist."

"I wouldn't recommend being on the wrong side of Granger," Draco conceded.

"That's a good point," Potter answered, smiling as he began to grab things from cupboards. Draco watched, intrigued, as Potter picked up a knife and began to slice up peppers and then chicken.

"You always cook... that way?" Draco asked, watching him.

"It helps. It's something I can do - I know I'm good at it, and it's not... it's not life or death." Potter answered, running his fingers through his hair again. "Did you have a good day?"

"Looked in the library," Draco answered carefully. "There's a lot there."

"I know it's a bit of a mess, but when we decorate it... any ideas of colour?" Potter asked, friendly. Seeing his friends seemed to mean he would act normally, at least.

"Pale green?" Draco suggested after a moment.

"Not pale red?" Harry was smiling, and Draco found himself mirroring the expression without meaning to.

"Pale red is pink, Potter. And anyway, at school..." Draco felt his smile slip for a moment, but he kept talking. "We all said that red walls would send anyone a little mad."

Potter laughed, and Draco let out a breath he hadn't meant to be holding. It didn't make sense. Potter was beyond confusing, and deeply frustrating - kind and welcoming one moment, and awkward the next. "Wouldn't want to send you mad. Pale green works, mostly I just think we need some light in there." Potter hesitated. "There's a pen and paper over by the fridge, if you grab it..."

"What's the fridge?" Draco asked as he got to his feet, looking around.

"The one with the photographs," Harry told him. Draco walked over, found photographs of the Weasley family glaring at him, and images of Harry, Ron and Hermione when they were younger. A picture too of Lily and James, and one of Sirius and Lupin. He didn't look for long. The pictures weren't for him to see. He found a small notepad and pen and took it back to the table.

"I thought maybe we could start with the library, as long as your room's alright for now? That way we have a study space if we're going to be learning... I can show you the brewing room after dinner..." Potter spoke, mostly to himself, and Draco tried to nod and smile when he was meant to, jotting down the plans Potter made. A pen felt strange in his fingers, but he could get used to it.

"I gave some thought to lessons. I thought... well, Hermione and I discussed it, and we thought we could carry on with what we started before it all..." Potter shrugged. "I mean, I made a start on Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration and Potions... I think I might not do Herbology yet, because there's nowhere here to grow plants, and I think I might drop Potions for now." Potter took a deep breath. "If I can do Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms... that's three." Potter seemed to be mostly trying to reassure himself. "It's not... I mean. There's a lot of other things I'm meant to be doing right now."

"Oh?" Draco looked at him curiously.

"I mean, I'm trying to pass school but... well. There's a lot of people who want a piece of me, and I'm meant to be Teddy's godfather, and..." Potter shook his head. "Sorry, Draco, you don't need to hear about all this. We should send a letter though, telling the Headmistress our subjects."

Draco nodded, remembering the amusement in the Dark Lord's voice as he had asked Draco if he intended to babysit Tonks' cub. "I... I can write it, if you'd like." He probably needed the practice at writing Draco Potter. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a few deep breaths. He was grateful. Potter had saved his life. He owed Potter everything. He just had to remember that. It would get easier.

"Thanks," Potter smiled, and Draco wondered if he had any parchment he could use - he refused to send the Headmistress of Hogwarts a letter on paper of all things. Harry was cooking the food now, and it seemed to take a long time, as he poured in various things from various jars and never once grabbed his wand.

The food was good. Draco wasn't used to muggle cooking, but he liked this - some stupid part of him liked the fact Potter had made it for him. As though Potter actually cared, as though he wanted to keep him well. Draco knew it wasn't that - Potter simply needed to eat and was too much of a hero to let Draco starve - but he could pretend.

After dinner, Draco felt anxiety begin to bubble. He wasn't sure what to expect now - if Potter would want him, or if Potter was still disgusted. He didn't want to ask, because he knew that he was meant to know the answer already.

"Maybe tomorrow we can take a look at the library," Potter said carefully. "And then the day after I'll go to Diagon Alley. Are you sure there's nothing else you need?"

Draco shook his head, he didn't trust his voice to hold steady if he spoke. He missed his own stuff, missed who he had been before the war had come. But he knew he owed Potter everything. It was thanks to Potter he got to live, got to study, got to pretend in at least some small way that his life was normal. "Schoolbooks and potions ingredients." That was more than he deserved. More than he was worth.

After dinner and cleaning up the plates with magic, he headed up to shower. He sat on his bed, closing his eyes to focus on the perimeter spells he had active. Potter walked past his room on his way to his own bed. There was the sound of Potter's shower, then it stopped, and he heard the floorboards creak as Potter went to his bedroom.

He lay awake that night, again, watching as passing cars made lights move across the ceiling. Potter might have expected him. No, he thought to himself. Potter was probably disgusted with him, disgusted by what he'd done. He wondered if Potter had told his friends, what they had said.

The next morning, Potter seemed cheerful. He made them both a full breakfast.

"I need some parchment if I'm writing to the school," Draco told him, careful to look down - he'd cast a glamour to hide any sign of tiredness, but he couldn't be certain it wouldn't be visible if Potter looked too closely.

"Sure, uh, I think there's some in the library actually." Potter told him. He was in a good mood, excited about decorating the library and his trip to Diagon Alley the following day. Potter got to spend time with his friends, and Draco knew he deserved that, but he kept thinking about Crabbe. He’d got his friend killed. Harry saved his friends, and Draco had destroyed his.

He knew that Weasley hated him. It seemed likely as not that spending time with Weasley would remind Potter of everything Draco had ever done wrong, and he'd pay for it when Potter got home. But he went to the library with Potter after they had eaten and let Potter flick through the books until he found the spells he wanted for decorating. He wrote the letter to the Headmistress, and listened as Potter set out his plans for the room. There were curtains full of doxies, and Draco at least knew how to remove those.

He'd spent some time in the war just... trying to keep the manor presentable. Servant's work, really, but he knew that the state it was in bothered his mother, and it was his own way of trying to help her. People were always watching, and his family was disgraced, but he could at least try and keep things clean. It felt familiar to cast those spells again, to make things better.

Potter kept smiling over at him, and Draco refused to meet his eyes. He was tired, and he didn't understand why when Potter had been there, he had slept fine. Better than normal, and usually if there was someone else in the bed he'd lay awake all night. But Potter... Potter was different, Potter had always been different, and Draco resented that.

Potter seemed pleased with their progress when they broke for lunch, but Draco didn't want to carry on with the cleaning. He'd been stuck inside since he married Potter. Grimmauld Place was considerably bigger than a cell in Azkaban, but he still wanted to scream, to drop to his knees and beg to at least be allowed outside if he didn't go past the hedges - but Grimmauld Place didn't have grounds.

Draco smiled, the placid vacant expression he'd seen his mother use before. "I have a headache, would you mind if I go and lie down?"

"Of course... uh, do you need anything? Potion? Paracetamol? Water?" Potter offered. Draco ignored him, heading to his bedroom. He didn't manage to fall asleep, but he at least managed to rest a little, before Potter called him for dinner.

Potter didn't join him that night, either. The next morning, Potter was flipping pancakes when Draco walked in. "I'm off to Diagon Alley, you're sure-"

"I'm sure, Potter." Draco answered, and they ate in almost silence. There was tension in the way Potter kept looking at him, but he left without saying anything.

Rather than eating lunch, Draco managed a brief nap when he was alone in the house. Then Potter returned laden with books and everything Draco could possibly need for his subjects. It felt like falling deeper and deeper into debt that he’d never be able to repay, as Potter showed him what he'd got.

"It was good. It looks better there." Potter was telling him, blathering on about which shops were open and what he'd been able to buy. Draco let the words wash over him. He remembered walking with his mother down those streets, before the world had turned upside-down. He wished he could write to her.

"Do you want sex tonight, Potter?"

"What?" Potter stared at him, trying to follow the conversation. "I don't... we weren't... what?" He blinked. "Draco, we don't-"

"You got me those books." Draco said with a shrug. "And honestly, I'd rather know." It was blunt, but he could be blunt. He could manage. It wasn't asking Potter for sex. It was just finding out information that he could use.

"Malfoy, you're not-" Potter began, and Draco glared at him.

"Potter." He spat the word. "Remember? You were there."

"What... Draco, what's wrong?"

"I'm going to bed." Draco stormed out of the room. He'd barely reached the stairs when panic began to build in his chest. He'd left the books there, things that he needed and now Potter would be fully within his rights to burn them, or lock them away, and he knew it would break Mother's heart if he never got his NEWTs. He could hear Potter approaching, and it felt like his own heart was going to leap from his chest. He was breathing too fast, struggling to gasp for air. His legs felt weak.

He collapsed to his knees. Not an elegant drop, but a fall. He wrapped his arms around himself as he lay on the floor, trying to pull the emotions that were flowing through him back under control. He waited for Potter's anger, for his rage. He knew Potter was easy to rile up, and he'd done it now, he was sure of it. He tensed as Potter's hand brushed his shoulder, waiting for the punches to start.

"Draco, Draco, breathe..." Potter was murmuring, his voice soft, rubbing his hand up and down Draco's back. "There we go, it's okay, it's alright, it's a panic attack, Ron has them sometimes, I know it feels like you're dying but you're not, it's alright..." His words kept coming, and Draco was aware that he was crying, shaking as Potter pulled him close.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered. "Please, give me another chance." He could do better. He could be better, he knew it, he'd just lost his temper for a moment. "Please still let me study, I won't... I won't be a problem, I swear I can behave, I..."

"Draco..." Potter's voice sounded strange, like he was fighting with his words. "I won't stop you from studying. It's okay. It's alright, come on, let's get you up to bed and I'll get you some water, you're just..." Potter seemed to hesitate, not sure what to say there. "You just need to lie down, you..." Potter paused. "You have that sleeping draught, don't you? You should take that, get some rest..."

Draco let Potter take him to his room. He felt dizzy, unstable. Potter helped him into his pyjamas, but there was nothing desiring in Potter's touches - they felt almost cold. Then he helped Draco take a sip of his sleeping draught, and got him a glass of water. Potter tucked a blanket around him, and sat on the edge of his bed. "Get some sleep, Draco. It's alright."

Draco felt his eyes close under the weight of the sleeping potion. Potter's fingers were in his hair, but they were gentle. When he opened his eyes again, Potter had gone and it was light outside.

Potter had left his books piled up on the desk. Draco stood up and approached them, scarce able to believe they were real. There was a note on the top, which he picked up and opened.

Hi Draco, I've gone out for the day to get some more food and because I thought you might need some peace and quiet. If you need anything and have to get in touch with me, there’s a black-framed mirror in the bathroom. If you pick that up, we can talk through it. I'll be back later this evening. I hope you slept well. I've got the wallpaper in the library sorted. See you later, Harry.

Draco read over it twice before the words sunk in. He'd managed to chase Potter away from his own house. But he was safe here, at least for a little while. He was rested, no matter how artificially, so he picked up his charms book and started to flick through it.

There was a section on healing spells. That seemed a good place to start, the kind of thing he would need to know. He found it, and he began to read over the descriptions. Some of these would have been good to know before, might have helped when he'd seen the prisoners in a bad way. But Draco knew he was too much of a fucking coward to have used the healing spells on them anyway.

He put the book aside, looking at ancient runes for a little while. That at least was calming - at least until he reached the page on Eihwaz, and he found himself thinking about the bottle that Harry had taken - the bottle that was meant to ensure he didn't find himself in trouble as a result of letting Potter... he grabbed the Charms book again and flicked back to the healing section.

The book set out clearly how to check for a child - at least a magical one. How to test for the weak signature of foreign magic that would be visible even a couple of days after conception.

Draco didn't want to find out. He knew that for men it was to do with magical compatibility, but he also knew that Potter was strong enough with his magic that he could ride roughshod over any normal concerns. And if he was with child... a sense of calm settled over Draco. If he was, then he was going to need to be careful. He was going to have to keep Potter on side, find a way to ensure Potter didn't ever get angry with him.

He studied the spell for a short while, hoping against hope that it would end up coming back blank and he would be able to forget about it. Potter would be back soon. He had to know before then.

He concentrated, directing his own magic at himself. "Conceptum Revelare" he whispered, and watched as the magic passed through him, then lifted up before him in a pale green light. As he stared, a yellow sphere coalesced in the middle of it.

A trace of foreign magic.

The room seemed to spin as Draco sat down on the bed and tried to remember how to breathe.

Chapter Text

Draco took a few moments to gather his thoughts about himself, to keep his breathing calm. He didn't dare look at the photographs on his desk, didn't dare look at anything until the initial panic had subsided. He felt angry with himself - how hadn't he seen this coming. It was expected once you were married, and Potter was so powerful that he wouldn't need compatible magic to create a child. Draco should have seen it coming. His mother wasn't here to help now, and he wanted her desperately, wanted her advice, wanted her to hold him in her arms and stroke his hair. Needed her to promise that they could get through this, that they were Malfoys, that they had ancestry stretching back centuries and nothing could hurt them. But he wasn't a Malfoy anymore, and nor was the child growing inside of him.

His first thought was of a snake, curled in his stomach, ready to bite, but he didn't like to think of snakes. He made himself focus, and the image reshaped itself, a scorpion within him, tiny for now, but with a poisonous sting that would tear apart what he managed to build up, that would slowly poison him from the inside. But this child... it wasn't the child's fault that they were the child of a Death Eater. And Potter was many things, but he wouldn't hurt an infant – Draco was sure of that at least. If he could get the tiny life inside of him out into the world, keep them safe from Potter's anger and Potter's quick fists... they would be okay. Both of them would find a way to be okay.

He was certain that Potter could be no worse a father than Lucius had been, and Draco considered himself to have had a good childhood. He'd been loved by his mother, and that had been enough - that had been more than enough. He remembered sitting in the grounds, as Mother had waved her wand and painted light above him, tracing out constellations, even though Father would be angry at her for coddling him. The child didn't need Potter's love.

He returned to his book, reading through for charms to strengthen an unborn child, to support them, because the little scorpion inside of him was going to be loved. Draco was sure of that. He'd done so much in his life that was awful, but he could do this. He would find a way to make it alright, keep the child quiet and out of Potter's way. Potter would realise the advantage of having an heir soon enough. He just had to make sure that Potter didn't find out yet. He could manage that, could find a way to keep his little scorpion safe.

He rested a hand on his stomach, even though he knew it was far too early to feel anything, far too early for the child to even feel his magic. It wasn't a child yet, but it would be. "I'll keep you safe," he promised, and he meant it. He'd try harder, he'd find a way to make Harry happy, he'd do whatever it took, whatever was needed, if it would keep that tiny white spark of light alive within him.

Potter had said he'd be back by the evening. Draco wanted to make him happy, avoid any questions as to what he had done that day, so he got up and went to clean the house. That was easy at least, his magic eager to have something to do rather than simply sit there worrying. Potter had been kind, so far. As long as he didn't provoke him, he had no reason to doubt that such kindness would continue.

He remembered fifth year. He'd been laughing with his friends, calling out insults, and Potter's fists had collided with his jaw, with his stomach. He made himself breathe through the memories. They had been children then, and he'd been trying to make Potter angry. He could manage to keep him calm. For his tiny scorpion, he could do anything.

He'd asked Narcissa once, how she bore it all, how she kept her head high through every disgrace and every pain. She had simply smiled at him, and brushed his hair from his eyes. One day you'll understand. Today, Draco had begun to understand. He'd do anything for his tiny ball of light. His scorpion's little spark of foreign magic.

He spent time exploring the house, far more than he had done so previously. Several of the bedrooms were in a truly appalling state - he suspected they might actually have had wild animals loose inside them. But he got to work. He was careful not to trigger any wards or dark artefacts, using his sixth year Charms book as a guide for basic diagnostic spells. He cleaned and aired out rooms that hadn't been used, chased away dust, cleared windows, and even used a handful of potion ingredients to create a mixture to strip away grime.

He heard the front door open as he was cleaning the windows in the library, carefully rubbing his potion across the glass and then clearing it away with a wave of his wand. He heard Potter call out from downstairs. "Draco, I'm back!" He was cluttering around downstairs, and Draco managed to finish cleaning the window he was working on before he heard Potter enter the library.

"Wow..." Potter breathed, and then walked over. "This looks amazing Draco, thank you."

"Sorry about yesterday," Draco mumbled. "I don't-"

"Don't worry about it. Honestly. I get it, you're nervous and I made things worse, I'm sorry about that..." Harry ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up in all directions. "You don't owe me anything, Draco. Thanks to my parents and godfather, I've got more than enough money, and I... I brought you here so you’d be safe. That's all. And I know I fucked everything up by getting drunk, but it won't happen again. I promise."

Harry smiled at him, and Draco smiled back. The smile didn't feel forced on his lips, even though he was aware it should have been, that he shouldn't have felt comfortable with this.

"Thanks. Sorry, I just... You've done a lot for me."

"You saved me at the Manor, remember?" Harry answered. "We were shits to each other as kids but then... then the war came. And we're not... We can make this work, Draco."

"I'd like that," Draco answered, and he didn't flinch when Harry's arms wrapped over his shoulders. He leaned into his embrace, because despite everything part of him still felt like Potter was safe. "I got a lot of cleaning done today, do you want to see?" It felt silly to offer, but he wanted to prove to Harry that they could make this work, and in a way this was all he had to offer.

"I'd love that," Harry answered, as though it wasn't silly to offer at all. He gestured with a flourish. "Lead the way."

Draco carefully stoppered the remainder of the cleaning potion he had produced, and began to give Harry the tour of his own home.

"This looks amazing, Draco." Harry reassured. "You've done incredibly."

Draco thrilled a little at that. He'd done something right. It wasn't much, but it was a start, something he could build on to prove to Potter that he and his child were worth keeping around.

Potter seemed genuinely delighted, kept reassuring him and saying how much better things looked, and Draco couldn't help preening a little at the kind words. He told himself this was a good sign, that he really could get Potter on side.

He wished he had his mother to ask for advice, to see if she had any ideas of what would help - Potter kept insisting on doing the cooking, and made it clear he didn't desire Draco. In desperation, he tried to think, recalled all the times he had seen Granger helping Potter with his homework. They were both taking Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Potter seemed to have a lot of commitments that took him outside the house. Draco was sure he could manage to teach himself Transfiguration on top of his other subjects, he could be useful that way.

He buried the flush of anger at himself for not working harder in sixth year, because now he had to catch up. But he could manage it. There had been a time, before the war, when Draco had allowed himself to dream of being a Healer, of being able to soothe away bruises the way his mother could. It was a foolish dream, because no Malfoy worked for a living, and because no one now would want their injuries treated by a Death Eater. But he knew the subjects – Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Herbology and Defence Against The Dark Arts. He'd be close to a full set, and he didn't need to know how to grow plants if he could purchase them. He was unhireable, but at least he'd be able to treat any injuries that occurred, and his little scorpion wouldn't need to worry.

He could picture his mother's smile as she gently rubbed a salve onto her own skin, telling him that it didn't hurt any more. How she'd freely wasted expensive supplies on the smallest cuts and grazes that he'd ended up with. How she'd never once been angry with him.

"Draco?" Potter asked, resting his hand on Draco's shoulder. "You did wonderfully. Are you alright?" He frowned. "Have you gone anywhere?"

"No, I was inside all day." Draco insisted, careful to fight down panic. Potter had to have wards on this place, had to have proof that he hadn't left. He was just asking. Even if it was a test, Draco knew he'd passed. He kept himself breathing, reminding himself that he hadn't done anything wrong. Potter was fair. Annoyingly so, at times.

"Okay..." Potter was frowning again, looking at him with concern that Draco didn't understand. "Did you eat?"

Draco shook his head.

"Shit." Potter muttered, mostly to himself, but he didn't seem to be angry at Draco. "Okay, sorry I should have... come on, let's get you some food..." He headed back down to the kitchen, muttering to himself. Draco couldn't make out the words, but he didn't seem to be angry at least.

They reached the bottom of the stairs when the doorbell rang.

Draco glanced at Harry, and Harry shrugged. "Must be one of the Order, or..." He drew his wand, and Draco mirrored the gesture. If some dark wizard had come to murder Potter, he would fight them. He would protect this home and his child.

Potter waved a hand, silently opening the door.

A blonde young woman stood outside humming to herself tunelessly. Her eyes lit up when she saw Harry. "Oh, hello." Luna beamed at Harry, and then at Draco. "I didn't know you'd be here, Draco."

"I live here now," he told her.

"Oh, that's good," she smiled at him, wandering in as Potter put his wand away. "Your old house was very cold and not very nice, this is much better."

"Luna, why are you here?" Potter was asking, and some part of Draco felt protective over her and wanted to move Potter away. He could handle her, he didn't need... He took a steadying breath. He was with Potter. Potter meant her no harm - Potter had saved her.

"Oh, I just wanted to go for a walk in the forest, and I saw a thestral, and I thought maybe it would be good for it to go and visit the thestrals we left in London." Luna answered, walking around the hallway and picking up various objects, turning them over in her hands before putting them back down. Draco was glad he'd carefully removed a couple of Dark artefacts earlier that day.

"Thestrals we-"

"When we went to the Ministry, Harry. We left them, and they're still here, so I thought maybe it would be nice..." She paused, her words trailing off, and shook her head before she looked up at Draco. "It's good you're here, Draco."

"Yeah," Draco replied, careful to smile. "You should be in school though."

"I know, I just... I just wanted to go out, for a little while. It felt..." she shook her head, and then smiled. "You've still got a blue fairy, you know."

Draco's answering smile was genuine. "And what's your view on the house. Any nargles?"

"No, not yet." She smiled to herself. "There will be, but they don't like places that are empty. They're not like boggarts or ghouls..." she turned to Harry. "Draco let me borrow one of his textbooks on Care of Magical Creatures. It wasn't very good though. It was missing all kinds of creatures. It didn't even have anything about Blibbering Humdingers..." She sighed to herself, and Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I remember. You tried to demand a quill so you could add corrections."

"I was helping," she told him firmly, and then smiled. "Draco, do we have more of your mum's chicken soup tonight?"

"Uh..." Draco hesitated, glancing over at Harry and shrugging. "I know the spell, if that's-"

"Uh..." Harry nodded. "Yeah, sure..." He looked confused by the entire situation, and Draco didn't want to be standing too close when he realised why he and Luna knew each other.

Draco headed to the kitchen, but Luna and Potter both followed him. He pulled out three bowls and focused - he knew where his mother kept a supply of her soup and knew the technique to summon a small amount then multiply it. It was at a greater distance this time, but he could do it. Then he cast careful heating charms.

A few moments later, he had three bowls of warm soup. He floated them over to the table, and Luna smiled at him brightly.

"I didn't know you two knew each other." Harry said carefully, and Draco made sure not to flinch, not to look worried.

"Oh, we do. He'd come and sit with me sometimes when I was at his house, and he'd bring me food. You should try the soup Harry, it's very good."

Harry did as she told him to, looking at Draco curiously. Draco ate his own soup in silence, before he realised something that made him speak out. "Luna, you did remember to tie up the thestral, didn't you?"

"It wanted to be with its friends," Luna answered. Draco winced.

"You're using the fireplace to go back to the school tonight."

"But-"

"You need to be in school," Draco told her with as much authority as he could manage.

"Alright then, but... I miss when you'd visit me." She smiled to herself. "It was nice, sometimes, sitting with you. It was like having a friend."

"Luna, I was a Death Eater."

"You weren't a very good one, were you?" Luna asked, and she managed to ask it in a way that didn't sound like an insult. "Harry wouldn't let you stay with him if you were." She reached across the table, and patted his arm. "And I know you stayed with me every full moon to keep me safe from Moon Frogs."

Draco didn't quite know what to say to that, but Harry was giving him a very considering look. Eventually, Harry cleared his throat. "You should go back to school, Luna. And the food was delicious, thank you Draco."

Luna nodded, standing up and embracing Harry tightly, then walking over and doing the same to Draco. Draco stood there awkwardly, not quite sure of the correct response.

"Will you write to me, both of you?"

"We can do that," Harry promised, and Draco nodded. Luna was the first person he'd seen other than Harry since the wedding ceremony, and he was glad to see that she was back to her normal bizarre self. She paused in front of the fireplace to wave, before throwing in the powder and stepping into the green flames.

"She..." Harry started, then shook his head. "Thank you."

"It's a simple summoning and multiplication spell, Potter. You should try cooking with magic some time."

"That isn't what I meant." Potter smiled again. "There's more good in you than you realise, Draco."

Draco didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't answer. After a moment, Potter yawned. "I might head to bed if that's alright. I've got to visit Teddy tomorrow, and I'd like for you to come with me."

Draco could recognise an order when one was given. He nodded.

Chapter Text

“Someone should write to the school,” Draco said carefully, as he used his magic to clean the bowls. “Tell them about Luna - and probably go and collect the thestrals, because they shouldn’t be in a city.”

“Luna just needed a break from school,” Potter argued, and Draco took a deep breath.

“She needs help. She’s been through a war, Potter, and she’s still a child really. The school should know so that maybe… maybe they can do something.”

“I’ll write to them. And you should write to her, she clearly wanted to talk to you.” Potter said it so easily, and Draco nodded. He knew a few people he considered friends had gone back to Hogwarts. He wasn’t foolish enough to try and write to them without Harry’s permission, not when he had his scorpion to protect. But he knew that he could rely on them to keep Luna out of trouble, and he could suggest she spend time with them - and maybe that would get her to share some information about how they were. “I’ll write to her this evening if that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Harry looked over at him and frowned a little. “You should have eaten lunch.”

“I was busy cleaning,” Draco answered, because that was the easiest explanation to give, and it wasn’t a lie, not exactly.

“Still… Hermione can do that sometimes, she gets distracted by things… there are time spells, so they can set alarms, if you’re struggling to remember…” Potter fumbled through the words, and Draco only just managed to hold back a comment because unlike Potter, he had been raised magical. As a child he’d often woken to the warm brush of his mother’s magic against his mind as she used an alarm spell to gently remind him to come to breakfast.

“I can do that,” Draco promised. It was only later that night, standing under the shower and monitoring his perimeter spells, that he realised what Harry had given him. He knew now he’d be able to eat, even if Harry was out, and he could write to Luna. His shoulders began to shake, as he stood under the warm spray, sobbing in silence. For a week his world had shrunk to Potter and his confusing, ludicrous demands, and now there were other things opening up, his world no longer quite so painfully limited.

He pressed a hand against his stomach, remembering what the book had said about using magic to strengthen an unborn child. The two of them were going to be alright, and he’d make sure the house was ready for them. He wondered if Potter would allow him to take one of the spare rooms as a nursery, or if it would be better to fashion a crib for his own room.

That night, he laid awake and tried to imagine what it would be like, living the rest of his life here. Potter was kind. Potter was kind and this place was safer than Azkaban for him, he was grateful for that. And thanks to Potter… there was a life growing within him. The potential for a positive legacy. For his child, he would make sure to keep Potter happy, to stay out of Azkaban.

As the night drifted on, memories swirled in Draco’s mind. The raucous laughter of the Death Eaters as the Dark Lord criticised his mother and his aunt for what their sister had married, for the fact that his cousin had married a werewolf. He’d turned to Draco, Will you babysit the cubs? And Draco had sat there, trying to breathe, knowing they all knew he was worthless. A few months before, he had thought he could serve the Dark Lord, remove Dumbledore, restore the family’s honour. And now… now he was a joke, and everyone knew it.

A year later and he would be babysitting the cub in question, Potter’s godson. He tried to ignore the sudden nausea swirling through him, because his child needed to be Potter’s heir. Potter had to need the child, because if not he could dispose of them without a thought, and Draco couldn’t… Draco couldn’t let that happen. But if Potter wanted… there would be no way out for him. If he ran, the aurors would track him down, drag him back to where he belonged.

Potter probably hated Mother too much to allow him to leave the child with her. Draco curled up smaller in his bed, his knees tucked up against his chin. They would be alright. He would find a way to make things alright, and he would look after Teddy if he needed to because… because if he could keep Teddy from upsetting Potter, keep him quiet and out of the way, then Potter would know that Draco was capable of it. He could use this. If he could play the situation well enough, it would strengthen rather than worsen his child’s position.

He tried to cling to that thought all night, to use it to calm himself when sleep wouldn’t come and the memories got too loud. He had something to fight for now, and he would not fail them.

Potter seemed to be in a good mood the following morning, humming to himself as he made breakfast. “Have you written that letter to Luna yet?”

“I was going to do it this evening, or tomorrow, sorry.” Draco answered. Writing to Luna was something he was looking forward to, like his studies, and he needed to pace himself, to have positive things that he could look forward to.

“It’s no problem, just reminding you - I always forget when I’m meant to be sending letters.” Harry grinned. He was still wearing his pyjamas. “I uh… I hope you don’t mind, but yesterday I bought Teddy a couple of toys and I thought maybe…” He quickly levitated a matching pair of teddy bears onto the table. One was a fluffy dark brown, and the other was sleek and almost-silver. “I thought maybe we could give him one each. The blond one is from you.”

Draco nodded quietly, not sure he could trust himself to speak at that moment, because an inconvenient lump had formed in his throat. He ate the food Harry put in front of him, because he needed to keep his strength up and Potter was already suspicious about his diet.

“Are you ready?” Harry asked.

Draco stared at him for a moment, before deciding it would be best to point out the obvious. “Potter, you’re wearing pyjamas.”

Harry glanced down, and swore under his breath. “Oh, uh. I’ll go get changed, and I don’t know if you wanted to grab a book or anything…” There was something in the way Harry was speaking that made Draco suspicious. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, Potter was lying about, but Potter had never been any good at not telling the truth.

Draco wasn’t quite sure what the correct dress code was for meeting the aunt that had been disowned before you were born, or for meeting the first cousin once removed that you had hoped to never meet. So he pulled on some smarter clothes and checked himself in the mirror. He looked like he was standing with authority and confidence. It was authority and confidence he didn’t feel, but it would hold, at least for now. He told himself he was ready to be brought in disgrace before the woman who had been thrown from his family, who had fallen but nowhere near as low as Draco had.

By the time he came downstairs, Potter was already waiting, a brilliant smile on his face. “Do you want me to go first or-”

Draco nodded, grabbing the bear that Potter held out towards him and picking up some of the Floo powder. Potter strode forwards. “Tonks cottage.” He threw the powder and stepped into the flames.

Absently, Draco wondered what would happen if he didn’t step forwards, if he stayed here. But that could anger Potter, and he couldn’t risk that. He threw the powder. “Tonks cottage.” He stepped into the flame, arms crossed around his waist because he disliked how the Floo shook you. And then he stopped, and stepped out, brushing off the dust with a silent wave of his hand. He looked up, and froze.

It felt like a scene from the previous year, and his mind literally refused to process what it was seeing. Bellatrix was standing near the fire - but she wasn’t holding Harry at wandpoint, she was embracing him. A short distance away, his mother was sitting with an infant on her lap, and Draco was afraid for them, but that wasn’t what he was looking at. Draco understood the concept of weapon focus - that if someone had a wand on you, that was what you would focus your attention on, not their face. But here, it meant he couldn’t look away from his aunt. It didn’t make sense. She was dead.

She couldn’t be here.

She looked up, and stepped forwards, her hair reflecting the light of the flames, but as she smiled he realised - it wasn’t her. It wasn’t Bellatrix, somehow. This was… this must have been Andromeda. She gazed at him, and her eyes were kind, but he still couldn’t quite understand. “You must be my nephew…” She seemed to reach towards him, then changed her mind and offered him her hand to shake. “It’s good to meet you, Draco.”

“Thank you,” Draco answered politely, shaking her hand. Now that he had dismissed the immediate sense of threat, he was looking around the room, and his attention turned to his mother. She smiled at him, letting Potter take the baby as she walked to stand beside him. He made his face stay impassive.

“Drommy said she and Harry could catch up over tea, if we wanted to talk?”

“Potter?” Draco asked, and Harry looked over, his arms curled gently around the infant he was holding. “May I go and… and speak to my mother?”

“Course. We’ll have lunch together, but…” Potter paused. “Actually, Narcissa, can I just have a quick word?”

His mother turned and walked to Harry, leaving Draco standing awkwardly.

“I’ll show you through to the drawing room…” Andromeda told him, walking ahead and letting him follow her.

Draco followed awkwardly in her wake.

“It really is good to meet you, Draco.” Andromeda repeated. “I know the circumstances are difficult, but Cissy speaks highly of you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tonks.” Draco answered, considering what had been said. “If you and Potter are close, then why… why weren’t you at the wedding?”

“Call me Andromeda, dear. Now, the day my Nymphadora got married was the happiest of my life, I was so…” Andromeda began, then shook her head, showing him into the drawing room and using her wand to warm a teapot, then pour out two cups. “No. The reason was… I knew Cissy would need that day, and that my being there would only cause problems. So I made sure that Teddy had one of his checkups at St. Mungos booked for that day.”

A thrill of terror ran through Draco, and he took a steadying breath, careful to keep his arms at his sides. His child couldn’t have a werewolf for a playmate. “Does…does Theodore take after his father, then?”

“Theo-” Andromeda repeated, before shaking her head. “Teddy is short for Edward.” Draco resisted the urge to comment on the fact that the two names were almost identical in length. “And in answer to your question, it’s his mother he takes after - he’s a metamorphmagus. It can cause health problems when they’re young if they rearrange their vital organs, so he has checkups regularly. I have a portkey to get there immediately in an emergency.” She gestured at the locket at her throat.

“Oh… I… hope he’s alright.” Draco answered carefully, murmuring thanks when she passed over a teacup. It felt strange, trying to be polite with this woman that he’d been brought up to despise. But he would do it, because hopefully then he would get to speak to his mother. He was relieved he at least didn’t need to worry about his child’s second cousin being a threat.

“He’s responding well to treatment.” She smiled at him. “Harry said you’re taking some classes this year?”

Draco nodded, rattling off his subjects. “I didn’t study much in sixth year, but I will catch up.”

“Of course you will, Cissy says you’re a smart boy. Let me just fetch some biscuits for you… Cissy still likes the ones with jam?”

Draco nodded again, trying to sit smartly, to look calm and in control and everything he had been brought up to be. As Andromeda left the room, he heard his mother’s voice - raised just a little more than was respectable. He hurried to the door, pushing it open and straining to hear.

“-such things matter, it’s traditional to ask before the wedding.” There was real emotion in her voice, and that frightened him - his mother was always in control, never outwardly emotional. If she was this distraught, Potter must have been considering sending him to Azkaban. He didn’t understand. He’d been trying so hard, and Potter had just bought him all those textbooks. He couldn’t make out the words of Harry’s garbled reply, not without edging down the corridor, and he was to wait in the drawing room.

Andromeda reappeared with a plate of biscuits, and Draco quickly returned to his armchair, making himself smile and thank her as he took a biscuit. Andromeda watched him curiously. “Draco, I know… I know things might be difficult right now. But I want you to realise… your mother loves you, a great deal. Now, I’m not a fool. I realise that she’s only so eager to get back in contact with me after all of these years because of you.”

“I…” Draco wasn’t sure how to respond to that, because that was true, and yet Andromeda had welcomed him and treated him with a kindness he didn’t deserve. He was Death Eater scum. He would never be wanted in society. His arm seemed to itch, his mind burning with awareness of the brand that marked him as serving the Dark Lord.

“I know it’s not my place to ask, but please don’t cut her out from your life. You’re all she has.” Andromeda smiled, a little sadly. “She needs you.”

“I don’t want to cut her out!” Draco protested, feeling tears welling up. “I miss her so much, I-”

Andromeda gasped softly, and then walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing her face against his hair. “It’ll be alright, Draco. I’ll make it alright.” She sounded so like his mother at that moment that the tears did spill, and he hid his face against her sleeve. She stroked her fingers through his hair with tenderness, the way that Mother had when he was a child. “Harry’s a good boy. I’ll make things alright.” She stepped aside after a moment, pulling a handkerchief from a pocket for him so he could dry his face. She looked down at him and smiled, just as the door opened, and his mother walked in. Andromeda nodded sharply, and walked out, back to Potter.

There was a moment where Draco sat frozen, his mother at the entrance to the room. Then she drew her wand and locked the door. She walked over to him and held out her arms. Draco rose and rushed to her, her arms enfolding him as her hand rubbed his back.

“I heard you and Potter argue, Mother.”

“It was nothing. He simply… was insensitive, that is all.” She took a deep breath. “A misunderstanding.” She gazed at him, tipping his chin up with her hand, looking closely. “You haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Well enough, Mother.” Draco promised. “Is he… does he want to get rid of me?”

“No,” she answered. “He’s aware of how precarious your position is. He was concerned about how you had been eating and sleeping, but…” She shook her head, dismissing that from concern. “Has he been kind to you?”

Draco nodded, because it was the truth. Potter’s actual actions to him had been careful, tender. The confusion Potter seemed to create without even trying wasn’t an intended cruelty, he didn’t think.

“Is there anything else you need from the Manor?” Narcissa asked gently. “He said you’re going to be studying for your NEWTs.” Draco looked at her, and he could see the pride shining in her eyes.

“Maybe some more clothes, if there are any… Potter has been very generous. I’m going to be taking Ancient Runes, and I know there are a few books in the library that would be useful. I might have to ask you to send more.”

“Of course,” she was smiling now, and Draco already understood. If Potter would allow him to write for books, the two of them would be able to correspond on the flyleaves. It could be dangerous but it was a risk he was willing to take if it would mean she would be able to speak with him.

“I missed you, Mother. How have you been?”

“Good. Concerned a little about how my precious boy was doing. I’ve been… I’ve been trying to clean the Manor, that keeps me busy.” A shiver ran through her, but she tried to conceal it, and Draco wondered what it would be like to remain in that place, with all that had happened.

“I… I’m glad you’re speaking to Andromeda. She and Potter get on, so…”

“Andromeda has promised she’ll open up ways of communication,” his mother reassured. “And Potter… you’re sure he hasn’t…” She looked at him, and there were so many questions in her eyes.

“He’s been kind,” Draco repeated. “He… he really seems willing to let the past remain the past. I’ve been trying to tidy the house a little, he doesn’t let me cook. He does it himself, the muggle way.”

Mother’s lips pressed together in silent disapproval.

“He’s good at it though, mother,” Draco answered, feeling a little defensive. “And it’s interesting to watch. Oh, the Lovegood girl appeared yesterday evening, and I made her some of your soup.”

“How… how is she?” Narcissa asked carefully. “After everything?”

“Well enough. She seemed… content.” Draco answered. It was hard to tell with Luna, but he thought she was satisfied with her life. “And I am trying with Potter, to make him happy.”

“I know you are,” Mother smiled sadly, stroking his hair. “You’re such a brave boy, Draco. I’m so proud of you for trying to do this. Drommy says Potter normally visits at least once a week. If you can persuade him to let you come… if I can’t be there, I’ll meet with Drommy another day.”

“I’ll try,” Draco replied, and the two of them sat down, Narcissa summoning the plate of biscuits and the teacups. “Have you heard any more about Father?”

“Not yet. Last I heard he’s still alive.” Mother’s face was cold, closed off. “He isn’t my concern any more, Draco. My worry is you. I want you to stay out of trouble, do you hear me?”

“I will, Mother.” Draco promised. The conversation drifted on, and he reassured he was well, that Potter seemed unwilling to demand spousal consortium, that he was excited to commence his studies and would be doing so at the start of the following week. He didn’t mention the child growing inside of him because it would complicate matters, and Narcissa seemed to be only just holding herself together.

Eventually, Andromeda’s voice drifted through the door. “Cissy, if you can unlock this we can have lunch.”

Lunch was a strange affair. There was tension between everyone there, and no one seemed willing to say much. But they ate, and Teddy seemed delighted to add two more of his namesake to his collection, babbling away and grabbing at them from his position in Andromeda’s lap.

“If it’s alright with you, Andromeda, I’d like to go home now.” Harry said softly. “I think I need to have a conversation with Draco, about what we discussed.”

“Of course,” Andromeda replied. “Good luck, both of you.” She swept first Harry and then Draco into an embrace. Mother nodded smartly at Potter, and then shook Draco’s hand, before leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll be in touch.” There was such a certainty in her voice, and Draco drew strength from it as he returned to the fireplace.

Chapter Text

As he stepped through to their house, Draco felt himself tense. He was certain that something was upsetting Potter, and there was something in the way he'd said that they needed to talk... Draco got the horrible feeling he'd done something wrong, but he didn't know what. He made himself keep his arms at his sides. Curling up around their child could land him in more trouble, could draw attention to it when he needed Harry to be ignorant about the child for their own safety.

"Draco... uh..." Harry hesitated, his entire body tense with energy. "Shall we go sit down?" He gestured through to the living room. "We... we should talk. Why don't you go and... uh, I'll grab some tea." Harry sounded more nervous than Draco had seen him, and Draco had the vaguest memory of fourth year, of watching from a distance as Harry tried to get up the courage to ask a girl out.

He went to sit as he was told, curling up at one end of the sofa. He kept the movement natural, tucking his knees up against his chest. The fact it would offer some protection to the little scorpion growing inside of him was a comfort, if Harry did lash out. He thought of the train back in sixth year. How he'd been terrified and angry at the world, and Harry's frozen body had been an easy target for him to hurt.

"Hey..." Harry's voice was surprisingly soft as he walked into the room carrying two teacups on a tray. Draco didn't think he'd ever get used to how Potter did things like that the Muggle way. "Do... do you mind if I sit with you?" Potter asked, and he looked at Draco as though he was something fragile, breakable.

"Fine by me." Draco answered. Harry sat down at the far end of the sofa, passed him his own teacup.

"Did... did you and Narcissa have a good talk?" Harry asked, and Draco wasn't sure if it was a trick, or if Potter just wanted to fill the silence.

"It was good to see her. After... I miss her, a lot. Thank you for that." If Potter was expecting the way most people did, Draco would have been making it clear how thankful he was. But Potter... Potter wasn't like that. Potter didn't seem to act that way, and it was confusing but reassuring in its own way even if he didn't understand it.

"It's alright... Andromeda..." Potter hesitated, staring at the cup in his hand. Draco resisted the urge to point out you were meant to drink the tea, then gaze at it. "She said a few things that I... That I hadn't realised. And I'm sorry. I haven't been good to you."

Draco could have laughed at that. "You got me the textbooks." Harry had been beyond kind to him. Better than he could have expected, definitely better than he deserved.

"I know. That's not..." Harry was still staring at his drink, but he lifted his head and looked at Draco. It looked like he was close to tears.

"Potter?" Draco reached out for his hand. "What's wrong?"

"I thought... I've not been clear, about anything. And that's... I thought you knew." Harry's hand wrapped around his own, squeezed softly.

Draco returned the squeeze and stared at him blankly. "If there's something I need to know, perhaps the best way forward would be to tell me?" He would manage whatever demands Potter had of him. At least then it would answer the questions that had hung unasked over their relationship. If Draco knew what was expected, he could work out how to use it - he was smart, and he had good survival instincts.

"You can write to your mum. And your friends. And uh, leave the house, just let me know where you're going and when you'll be back so I'm not... I worry about you." Harry hesitated. "Anything you're not sure of, you can ask me. And I wouldn't... I'd never hurt you, Draco."

Draco thought of school, thought of punches and curses and lying bleeding in the bathroom, and held his tongue.

"If you've got any questions-"

"You upset my mother. She... I heard her raise her voice at you. She never raises her voice." Draco was almost in awe of that simple fact, the idea that Potter could do something that caused that much of a problem.

"I... asked her something very stupid." Harry admitted. "And she... she thought I didn't want to marry you."

"You didn't want to marry me." Draco argued, trying to ignore the fact their hands were still linked, ignore the comfort that he drew from it.

"I wanted you to be safe. And it... I'm ashamed of myself, because I managed to make sure you were safe, but I didn't let you know that. What... What Andromeda said, about her expectations of marriage, before she met Edward... What your mother's been through..." He shook his head, and Draco's heart ached for him, even though in the back of his mind he was already planning who to write to now it was permitted.

"You've been kind to me, Potter." Draco tried to reassure him. He thought of how the Gryffindors were always in each other's space, how they would embrace each other for the slightest reason. Perhaps that was what Potter needed now. He held out his arms, and let Potter curl against him. He rubbed his hand over Potter's back, feeling the strength of the muscle there.

"Just... please, Draco. I need you to know that I won't hurt you."

"I know," Draco soothed, even though he wasn't sure that was true.

He could feel Harry crying in his arms, it didn't make sense. Harry had been so good to him since he arrived, and yet Harry seemed to think he'd failed.

"Maybe on Monday we can start to look at our books, sort out timetables, or-"

"I can draw them up," Draco reassured him, knowing that it had always been Granger that had done it for Potter when they'd been at school. That at least was something he could do.

"Thanks," Harry muttered. "You'll write to your friends, won't you? They can come visit if you'd like."

"Pansy tried to hand you over to the Dark Lord." Draco reminded and Potter laughed.

"Well, he's dead now so we don't need to worry about that. It never... I never meant to make you lonely, Draco." He hesitated a little. "You... you look exhausted. Have you been sleeping?"

"Not great." Draco conceded.

"What would help?" Harry asked. "You could nap this afternoon, if it-"

"Can you stay?" Draco asked, the words escaping him before he could stop them. He'd slept better when Potter had been in his bed than at any other time in this house, and he knew his child needed him to sleep, to help them grow strong.

"Course. You want to go to your room, or-"

"Here works." Draco answered, adjusting so that he was settled with his head in Potter's lap. Potter hesitated only a moment before he started to stroke his fingers through Draco's hair, and Draco felt himself relax. Potter waved his hand to summon a book, and Draco felt himself relax, because for whatever stupid reason his mind had decided that Potter being there meant it was safe.

He was asleep too quickly to question that impulse.

When Draco opened his eyes, the room had darkened. He was aware of fingers combing through his hair - but they were gentle, careful. He remembered Potter. Remembered what they had spoken about, the fact he could write to his friends, to his mother. He allowed himself a moment simply to savour that knowledge.

A lamp had appeared on the arm of the sofa, and it seemed like Potter had almost finished reading his book. Draco felt rested, and that sensation was such a relief he could have cried. Rather than showing such weakness, he stretched.

"You could have woken me," he pointed out, sitting up when Potter moved his hand away from Draco's hair.

"You looked peaceful," Potter answered. Draco found himself wondering if Potter could truly be so without guile, truly eager to help and with no hidden edge to his words. "You were exhausted, weren't you?"

"I..." Draco paused, not quite sure what answer to give. He'd gone longer without sleep. He'd slept well when Harry was there. He needed to double check his sleeping draught to ensure that it wouldn't cause problems for the child within him. "I'm managing well enough."

"I don't doubt that you believe that." Harry shot him a grin. "Look... is there anything I can do to help? I mean, you said that worked for you, right?"

"I can hardly ask you to spend your afternoons patting my hair, Potter. Even I'm not that spoilt."

"That wasn't…" For a moment, it looked like Potter might answer with sincerity, and Draco didn't think he could handle that, couldn't manage to have his emotions touched when they were already raw. But then Potter smirked. "Wasn't thinking of that. I can try and sort out my room, fix the bed up so you could sleep there if it'd help."

Draco hesitated, and then looked at Harry. "What do you mean, fix the bed up?" He'd not bothered looking in the room Harry was using when he was tidying the house. That was Harry's space, and he wouldn't enter it unless he was told to.

"Oh, uh..." Potter shrugged, suddenly awkward. "It's a bit of a mess is all. It's a single bed, but it works fine."

Arching an eyebrow, Draco stared at him. "You gave me a double bed."

"You were having a shit time, and I wanted you to... I mean, you're used to a manor." Potter flailed slightly. He shrugged. "I just thought you should have the best room, and I was gonna sort mine out eventually."

"If you want to share with me, it makes sense to use my bed." Draco said the words before he thought any better of it.

"Okay. Just... if it..." Potter hesitated. "If you need me to go, I won't mind. Kick me out in the middle of the night if you need to. I don't... I mean, I don't know much but..."

Draco was careful to press his lips together and not to agree with that last statement of Potter's. "I'm willing to try it. I want to do well in my studies, and they will definitely be easier if I am not exhausted, assuming you are willing to..." It was humiliating to ask to be held, especially when there was no hidden meaning, no desperate attempt to soothe another's wrath. But his scorpion needed him to be rested.

"I'll go cook, you can write to Luna," Potter reminded him. Draco headed up to the library to grab some parchment, planning on sending her a quick note. He knew that Blaise and Pansy had both returned to the school to complete their studies, and that he could trust them to keep an eye on Lovegood and keep her from trouble. And if Luna showed them his letter, it would be proof he was alive and well enough to write.

He'd finished the letter by the time Harry called him to dinner. The food was good, warming, and Draco ate hungrily. The exhaustion of the morning and the conversation that had followed left him famished. After he had got the dishes to wash themselves, he went to shower, and then to lay down in his bed. He'd pulled some of his pyjamas on, hoping that was correct, what Potter wanted. He made sure they had long sleeves, so the bandages at his elbow would be covered. He didn't understand why Harry would do this.

It wasn't long before he felt his three layers of wards pinging, one after the other, and Harry pushed open the door. He was wearing pyjamas as well, but his were mismatched and his hair was sticking up worse than ever. Harry walked over, sitting awkwardly at the end of the bed.

"Look... Draco, we don't need to do this. And I don't want anything from you. I just... I just want you to sleep."

Draco shuffled up, and nodded, lying stiff as Harry moved in beside him. It felt weird. He hadn't shared a bed with someone without them wanting sex. But when Harry said he didn't want anything... he said it almost like it was a reassurance, not blame.

Draco found himself pondering what would happen if Potter took a lover. He was surprised to find he disliked the idea. It would be bad for his scorpion, could divide Harry's attention. He pushed those thoughts away. It was so strange, lying there, aware of his husband's warm body less than a foot from him. But the same part of his mind that had made him relax earlier helped him feel calmer now. It wasn't long before he could hear the noise of Harry's snores.

The noise didn't upset him. It was a promise that he wasn't alone, that he and his child would have Potter's protection as long as they were careful. It soothed him to sleep.

The next morning, he woke to the sensation of a warm hand rubbing his side. He froze, tensing at what the touch might want of him, and his eyes blinked open obediently. Potter. He fought down a smile as he moved to sit up, untangling himself from Potter's limbs. "Should I fetch some tea?"

"That would be amazing," Potter agreed, tugging on his own pyjama shirt to hide a thin sliver of skin that had been revealed. Draco went to get it ready, preparing two cups of tea. He was going to take a look at their study schedules today.

When he returned to the room, Potter was still blinking sleepily at the world, his glasses set at an angle. Draco held out the tea for him before he took his own cup. Potter took a sip, and smiled.

"Did you sleep okay, Draco?" Potter asked, and Draco nodded, a little ashamed of the truth. "Do you want to do more tidying today?"

"I can, I know you've got other things to do." Draco answered quickly. He wondered if he could write to his mother and ask for some clothing he had left behind when he'd first moved in with Potter. His gaze went to the wardrobe in the corner of the room. He'd have space there for a few more robes and dress-shirts, if Potter permitted it.

Potter nodded, easily, and Draco tried to ignore the way his chest felt lighter and easier without the constant fear he had been feeling. Potter seemed easy to please, and Draco knew he could learn how to keep him happy. It seemed almost painfully easy to earn Potter's kindness.

Chapter Text

Draco spent Sunday working on the house – because he wanted to do something useful, and because for once he wasn't tired. Harry showed him the room he had put aside for brewing, and so Draco got to work on that as a priority – adding various charms around the room to strengthen and secure it.

Harry stood in the doorway watching, a sleepy smile on his face. "What are you doing?"

"Potter, I endured six years of Potions with you. You might not be taking Potions as a NEWT, but you may need to use this space. I've seen you manage to cause explosions on quite simple potions. Given that I live in this house and will likely be in the room with you at the time, I'd rather you didn't bring the entire place down on you." The words slipped out before Draco could stop them, but Harry was smiling, and Draco's chest felt strangely warm.

"I knew you cared."

"About getting through my NEWTs without being crushed alive, yes." Draco answered, hiding a smile that he hadn't meant to allow. "There are all kinds of methods to protect spaces that will be used for preparation, and if we're working at the NEWT level some of the ingredients can be quite dangerous if handled incorrectly. So I'm ensuring an adequate air supply, reinforcing the walls, and putting up certain barriers."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Harry asked, and Draco felt his smile falter.

"Professor Snape used to talk a lot about this work, and when I was... Fifth year. When I was a prefect, he taught me because he knew I..." Draco shrugged a little. "I was interested in making some potions for myself, just... to test them, really. Not to sell them, I wasn't planning anything as gauche as having a job. I just thought... it'd be good to learn."

"If you wanted to brew potions, I'm sure George…" Potter started, and fell silent when Draco looked at him and shook his head.

"No one would trust something brewed by a Death Eater, Potter." Draco's wand hand shook a little. He supposed he was tired from casting the protective spells. He checked them against his mental list, and nodded. "I was also going to set up a proximity spell in the corridor outside – some of the potions we're handling don't take well to sudden interruptions." He lowered his wand though, because he didn't want Potter to spot the way he was shaking.

"Do you need tea or anything?"

"I'm fine, Potter. Do you have any regular commitments that I need to plan your timetable around?" Draco tried to focus, to ignore how he felt.

"I try to see Teddy on Fridays and Wednesday mornings. But uh, Andromeda wouldn't mind if I need to move that. The rest is just..." Potter shook his head and shrugged. "Whenever the Ministry comes calling."

"You don't owe them anything," Draco told him. He carefully laid out the equipment on two tables, and then ran through the ingredients layout to check that nothing had been stored beside something likely to cause problems. "You already saved everyone once. That's enough."

"I wish," Potter groaned in frustration, sitting on one of the tables and swinging his legs. "I'm pretty sure all it did was prove to them that they could rely on me to do stuff for them again. Some of them are still frustrated I took the year to... to do my NEWTs, but..." Potter ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up. Draco pondered for a moment the fact his own hair stayed smooth when Potter stroked it while this seemed to be worsening the problem.

"I think you're doing the right thing." Draco told him, looking at him. "You've given enough, Potter. If you let people keep taking, they'll tear you to shreds."

Potter looked at him for a moment. Draco wasn't sure he liked that look - it wasn't hungry, but it felt like Potter was seeing far more than he should have.

"Mondays are normally pretty quiet. And Friday evenings are often events..." He hesitated, and gave Draco a curious look. "You're not planning to work?"

The question felt like a punch. Draco could feel his throat going tight, and he took a breath. He needed to answer rather than panic.

"My family are wealthy enough that I can be provided for. I don't... I don't currently have access, but I'm sure if you ask my mother she'll gladly give you whatever you wish." Draco knew that was true -- if it came to it, Mother would sell the manor to ensure Potter had the money he wanted. And Potter had said he didn't expect Draco to pay for the books.

Worse than that though was the fact Draco knew he couldn't get a job. People like him, people who were disgraced... they didn't work. Not when people knew he was scum. Lovegood didn't, of course. Lovegood didn't know anything. But most people, decent people... they despised him. They all knew he should be in Azkaban, rotting alongside his father as he waited for one of the other prisoners to end his life.

The room seemed to be spinning, and then strong arms were around him. He could smell Harry, could feel Harry's hand rubbing his back, and there was such strength there but none of it was directed against Draco. He didn't understand.

"It's okay, Draco..." Potter was saying, and it wasn't okay, but Draco wanted it to be. "You don't need to work, it wasn't... I just thought you'd get bored in here all day."

"I'm not... not quite sure what part of 'Death Eater scum' you're struggling with." Draco whispered, his voice uneven. He hadn't expected Potter's arms to tighten then, but they did. Potter led him from the brewing room up to the kitchen, sat him down, and gazed at him in concern.

"You aren't scum, Draco. You made mistakes. You were a kid."

"You didn't make mistakes." Draco pointed out, trying to breathe slowly. "You didn't let... you weren't marked."

Harry snorted, pushing his fringe out of his eyes, baring the scar. Draco wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry, because that was different. That was so different.

Harry handed him some water, and Draco took a sip, trying to focus. He had to stay calm, for his scorpion. Pointing out his past mistakes wasn't going to endear him to Potter, and he did need Potter to like him.

"You okay?" Potter asked after a few moments. Draco nodded, thoroughly ashamed of himself. Potter went to cook, and Draco summoned some parchment with a wave of his hand to prepare study timetables for them both. He could do that at least.

Potter handed over a plate of food just as Draco was checking the syllabus for Transfiguration. "I know we're studying this week, but I thought we could see Ron and Hermione at some point, if they're free. She's doing Ancient Runes, and it'd be good to... good to see her."

"We?"

"Well, you're taking Ancient Runes as well, and I don't know anyone else who is. It's not exactly an enthralling subject."

"I'd disagree..." Draco mumbled, taking a bite of his food. "But yeah. If you... I mean, don't you want to see your friends alone?"

"You're my friend." Potter answered, with a smile that looked a little hesitant. Draco nodded, pushing some more of the food onto his fork. He didn't understand how he had ended up as Harry's friend, but he knew he could use it to survive. He would survive. He might not have been a Malfoy in name, not any longer, but he was still one in spirit. He remembered the motto.

Sanctimonia Vincent Semper.

The first two days of study went well. Draco had a full timetable -- he was attempting to teach himself six subjects, five of which to examination level. But it was good to be doing something with purpose again. After all the pain of the past fourteen months, being able to study made Draco feel real again. He'd sent brief letters to Pansy and Blaise, telling them to watch over Lovegood, promising he was being treated well, and asking how their studies were going. Nothing that was incriminating.

Wednesday morning, Harry smiled at him across their cooked breakfast. "Just got a message from Andromeda, she's gone to visit your mum this morning with Teddy so I thought maybe we could see if Ron and Hermione are available?"

Draco nodded mutely, trying to be glad his mother would at least have company. He was coming to detest the image of her alone in the manor, walking down the hallways that were stained with memories without him there to help her clear those thoughts away.

He wondered how he would get on with Weasley and Granger - Ron and Hermione, now, he supposed. Granger had always been tolerable, aside from her academic abilities that so infuriated his father. Weasley though had frequently made it clear he despised Draco.

It crossed Draco's mind that he really needed to get his hands on a book that would cross-reference various charms and potions with pregnancy to ensure he didn't hurt his scorpion by making a mistake. Hopefully any hexes Weasley felt like throwing wouldn't be too dangerous. He was beginning to get tired again. After sleeping with Potter in his bed, he'd thought that maybe he could sleep alone. But it wasn't working. Still, the glamour to hide his exhaustion was holding so far.

Potter went to yell into the fireplace, and returned after a few moments with a broad smile and smudged soot on his face. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Barrier charms, Potter."

"I haven't seen them-"

"Well they're in the textbook, and you were meant to be working on Charms on Tuesday afternoon." Draco sighed. "I'll teach you later."

"Not now?"

"Maybe I want to try and show you the importance of reading your books," Draco teased, feeling a slight warmth on his face he didn't dare question too much.

"Hermione and Ron say we can come straight over." He grinned. "Uh, they're staying near the Weasleys for now, but they've got their own place in the village."

Draco felt a sudden wave of relief crash through him -- he wasn't sure he was going to be able to face the entirety of the Weasley clan in his rather delicate condition. "Lead the way."

He took a pinch of Floo powder and followed, bracing himself for being held at wand point, for being hurt. He had a better chance here than Azkaban. He tried to cling to that thought as he stumbled from the flames.

It was Granger - Hermione - that greeted him with a gentle smile, far kinder than he deserved. "Hey, Draco."

"Hello, both of you."

"Malfoy," Weasley nodded his head in acknowledgement, and Draco didn't bother to correct him. If Potter didn't want to be associated with him, he could hardly blame him for that.

"Sit down, Ron can you make us all some tea?" Hermione asked, and she was smiling brightly. "Harry was telling me you're taking Ancient Runes, and you're the only one in our year other than me who is. So I wondered if you could show me how you're approaching the first assignment."

Relieved he'd scheduled Ancient Runes for the first half of the week, Draco began to explain. He set out what he'd been looking at so far and what was of interest to him. "Honestly, my main concern is how runes have been used for healing magics -- especially as symbols of things that wouldn't be spoken aloud, as hidden shorthand hiding in plain sight down the generations."

Hermione beamed and started to talk through her own approach. She was more interested in the militaristic use of runes and how they were used carved in bone and stone to send messages and create lasting barriers.

Draco tried not to think of the snake at his elbow, of the word his aunt had cut into Granger's flesh. He focused instead on the opening sections of the textbook. "I..." He swallowed and looked down. "It's a shame you can't come to the Manor, we had all kinds of things with runes-"

"There was that box!" Harry said quickly. "You had all kinds of poisons and stuff, with runes on the lid." Harry seemed delighted to have something meaningful to contribute to the conversation, although judging by Hermione's expression she hadn't really understood what that box meant. Instead, she addressed Draco's invitation.

"I'd rather not step foot in there again."

"I can ask my mother to send a few of the books if you're interested, and there's... well, I'm not sure what hasn't been destroyed or... or taken. But I can ask Mother to let us know."

"Thanks, Draco." Hermione looked at him, and she wasn't angry. She seemed happy to pretend they were still students, still children playing at learning rather than anything else.

The conversation passed peacefully until lunch. The food was good, and Draco was careful to say thank you, to behave politely. But Weasley continued to stare at him with suspicion, and he had no answer to give.

"Malfoy, you better be looking after Harry." Weasley told him. "He's been having a lot on his plate."

"I'm doing all I can." Draco answered, because that was true. It felt like a wave of tiredness threatened to overwhelm him. Harry gave him a concerned look, but let the conversation carry on.

"I know Draco's got some Astronomy work to do, so maybe he can come out here and do that while we go out for a meal or something," Harry suggested, and everyone agreed. Draco nodded, suddenly exhausted and trying to hide it.

"So how is married life treating the two of you?" Ron asked with a broad grin. "I mean, you haven't killed each other yet, so Ginny owes me three knuts."

"You're gambling on when Potter and I will kill each other?" Draco asked.

"Well, you two always tried before." Weasley shrugged. Draco returned the gesture, seeing the logic to it. Yet Harry hadn't made a single move to harm him since he had arrived. Instead, he'd been almost generous. "Perhaps I can go home after lunch, and... and the three of you can continue to reminisce."

"Will you be alright?" Harry asked. Draco nodded, thanking them both and excusing himself once the meal was over. He returned to Grimmauld Place and didn't try to run because he knew it would be pointless. Anyway, he had a plan to put into action.

He needed to know if any of his schoolwork posed a threat to his scorpion. There were books out there for that. He had a small amount of money and could order from Flourish and Blott's. But he needed to ensure it wasn't traced back to him. He couldn't ask a friend.

That gave him an idea. What he could do was pretend it was for Pansy. Concentrating on how she used to write, he copied her handwriting. He ordered a book on pregnancy and magic and addressed the delivery to Grimmauld Place. If it was found, there would be an excuse -- Pansy had the book sent there for safe keeping. He was sure if it came to it, he could trust her to cover up his secret.

He sent the note off as soon as the ink was dry. Then he sent a missive to his mother, informing her that one of his classmates was interested in runes and that he wanted to know what had survived the destructive tendencies of Death Eaters and Aurors. He didn't mention which classmate, not wanting to upset her. He also added a few sentences saying he hoped she had enjoyed her time with Andromeda, and that he would like to see them soon.

Feeling strangely bereft without his signet ring, he was just writing the address when the fire glowed green. A moment later, Harry stumbled out.

"I was just writing to my mother…" Draco supplied, defensive, hoping Potter wouldn't demand to read his mail.

"Well done. Thanks for today, Hermione seemed delighted to have someone to actually talk with about this stuff. We try but she can be a bit... you know." Harry grinned. "But you're good for her. She said maybe you two could meet up on a study date."

"Maybe." Draco agreed. Granger at least was tolerable, part of him wished to see her again. Potter continued with that inane smile, but then looked a little less certain.

"You looked tired there."

"I've slept better," Draco admitted. "But I can manage…"

"I'm sure. Look, is there anything I can do to help?" Potter asked, because he was always offering to help, and he seemed to mean it. Draco decided to risk trusting him.

"If you want... it'd be good if you could stay with me again tonight." It was deeply embarrassing to ask for such a thing, but Draco could do it because he knew he needed to rest.

"Course, Draco. I could read the Charms book this afternoon, try and teach myself barrier charms, if you need to sleep." Potter offered it so easily, so thoughtlessly. "Got space for you on my lap."

Draco considered for a moment, but then he decided it was a good plan and settled down on Harry's thighs, his gaze directed past Harry's knees. As those gentle fingers brushed through his hair, he wasn't sure what to make of how safe he felt there.

Chapter Text

Saturday morning, Draco was woken by Harry’s arms tightening around him. Harry was cuddly in his sleep and when he first woke up, but he was careful. When he was awake he never pushed, so he was still in the process of waking up at that moment.

He felt Harry’s face nuzzling at his hair and allowed it, thinking through the progress they had both made in their first week of studying. Draco had found he was behind, yes, but he wasn’t as horrifically behind as he feared and that was good. He could work with that. He was hopeful he’d be able to take his NEWTs in at least Charms, Defence and Potions this year. The others might have to wait, but he was going to see how things went.

Harry’s body tensed behind him, and this time Draco barely flinched. Harry carefully untangled himself from Draco’s body, leaving him feeling a little cold and more abandoned than he’d want to admit.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright, I understand I’m in bed with a Grindylow,” Draco answered. “Should I make you tea?”

“Draco, you are a miracle.” Harry muttered, still dopey from sleep.

Draco got out from the bed and pulled his dressing gown over his pyjamas, careful not to look back at Harry, not to notice how Harry fitted in his space. This was temporary. As Draco walked down to the kitchen he pressed a hand to his stomach. It was far too early for the child to show, but as soon as it did he would have to abandon any comfort he found in Potter’s arms. Potter would find out, of course, the scorpion inside him forcing his own body to betray its secrets. But that was a problem for another day.

He quickly prepared the tea tray, pausing to point his wand at his stomach, to take another glimpse at his fragile secret. "Conceptum Revelare.” He knew he was taking a risk, testing like this, but he needed to see the child, needed to know they were there. The pale green of his own magic lifted up and there again was his child’s magic, a brilliant yellow sphere, no larger than the nail of his little finger. He gazed a few moments longer, before waving the magic away and carrying the tea up to Harry.

Harry was sitting up by the time he returned, looking considerably more awake and a little less dishevelled.

“Thanks.” Harry grinned at him. “Knew there was a reason I married you.” Almost as soon as he said it, he looked uncertain, as though he wasn’t sure if he’d overstepped.

“You married me for my tea making skills? You do know most people have house-elves for that.” Draco pointed out.

“My house-elf is at the school and sometimes puts maggots in my tea when he’s having a bad day,” Harry whined, taking a hot gulp of tea and then grinning. “I’ve got a surprise planned for you today...”

“Why, Potter, does that sentence fill me with a deep sense of terror?” Draco asked over his teacup, earning a slightly more bashful grin from the other man.

“It’s a good surprise! I promise. Well… eighth year students are allowed to use the Floos at Hogwarts on weekends, because… well, some of them have jobs or family or… or whatever. So I thought. I mean, they’re waiting on us saying yes, but Parkinson and Zabini both said they were free today so I thought I could go out for a walk or something and you could see-”

“Thank you, Potter. I would like that.” Draco was glad his hands were full, so he didn’t do something foolish like try to kiss Potter at that moment. He didn’t think he could face seeing Greg. Draco wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to see him or Theo, both of whom were, after all, the children of Death Eaters. But Pansy and Blaise had always stayed at a remove, with no direct familial involvement.

“Brilliant, I’ll go and let them know…” Potter answered, clambering out of bed. Draco tried to ignore the fact Harry’s shirt had managed to get tangled up, exposing a swathe of warm brown skin. He shouldn’t stare. Potter had let him come here out of kindness, had shown Draco more care than he ever could have deserved. Draco didn’t get to desecrate someone like Potter with his soiled touches.

Potter returned to the room after a couple of minutes, frowned a little, and walked over to tap Draco on the shoulder. “Draco? You okay? You’re just…staring.”

“I’m fine. Sorry.”

“I can tell them you’re ill, if you need… And I was going to say we can go to Andromeda’s for dinner, but we can do that tomorrow if you’d like?”

“I think just seeing Pansy and Blaise would be enough for today,” Draco said quickly. “But if Andromeda’s around tomorrow…” He knew seeing his friends would be exhausting. He was desperate to see them, but he knew that they would have questions, and would demand answers. He didn’t want to have to navigate his aunt on top of that.

“Sure. Sorry, I just… I only found out last night they could definitely make it, and you were already asleep by then…” Harry finished his tea. “See you at breakfast?”

“See you at breakfast.” Draco answered. It was strange. The way the two of them lived together - not quite in overlap, but close enough that any absence was felt. Harry had a room he rarely slept in, and Draco… Draco knew he couldn’t let this continue. That he had to pull away. He just wasn’t sure how, not when it was so easy to be in Potter’s embrace. He thought of his parents, and their separate bedrooms. The way that Mother had always sung under her breath when it was just the two of them, how she had promised she would keep him safe.

She’d kept that promise.

He was here. He’d come here to be safer than at Azkaban, but part of Draco felt safe here. As safe as he’d felt as a child when Father was out at the Ministry and he’d walked through the grounds holding his mother’s hand.

He pushed that thought, that sense of safety, away and went to get dressed. Potter had made toast, and was eating it as Draco joined him in the kitchen, helping himself to the slices that had just popped out from Harry’s toast-making box.

“I’m going out for a walk and to pick up some food,” Potter explained, as though that was normal behaviour. “I’ll be back around lunch, but feel free to still have Park-Pansy and Blaise here, if you want.”

“Thank you.” Draco tried to convey his sincerity in his words. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get used to how kind Harry was. How he seemed to be willing to give whatever he could, for anyone who needed it. Draco thought he’d have to keep an eye on that impulse, to stop Harry getting himself hurt.

“Have fun, try not to destroy the house,” Harry teased with a smile, and Draco smiled back. He wondered at how easy it would be to slip into calling Potter Harry, how easy it would be for them to make a life out of what had been thrust upon them. But he knew that he couldn’t let that happen.

Once Harry left, Draco went to smarten himself up. He needed to look in control, for his friends if nothing else. He sat by the fire in the living room trying to read, the words seeming to slip away if he stopped concentrating for even a second.

At half ten exactly, the flames turned green and he stood to greet his guests. It was Pansy who came through first. She ran straight to him and embraced him tightly. He let her cling to him, pressing his face into her dark hair, feeling her trembling in his arms. A moment later, Blaise stepped through and they nodded at each other.

“We got your letters,” Pansy promised, as Blaise drew their wand to cast spells to block any monitoring charms. Draco tensed a little. He didn’t want to get his friends into trouble with whatever they said, so he’d deal with Potter’s anger later if it came to that.

“He’s… he’s letting you write, then? Is he… is he reading them?”

“No. It’s alright. He’s good to me.”

His words didn’t seem to sway them. Draco was aware he should be a good host, fetch the guests tea, but these were his guests. It was more important to spend every moment he could with them. They settled together around him, Pansy on the arm of the sofa as Blaise sat beside him in what was normally Potter’s spot. He’d forgotten what it was like to just be in another person’s space, the way they always had been as children. Silence fell, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, after a few moments of simply enjoying their presence, Draco cleared his throat.

“How’s the school?”

That at least got Blaise talking all about the arrangements made for the returning students; how the school was rebuilding itself and several of the classrooms were moved around, how a few of the students were using wheelchairs, or sporting magical prosthetics, how Slughorn was being kept busy by a demand for Wolfsbane potion. Draco nodded along at the right points.

It was Pansy who interrupted, her pretty face set with a stubborn expression.

“Draco…” She reached out for his hand. “Greg’s worried you hate him.”

“I thought he… after everything… and I can’t invite him here, can I?” Draco asked them. “And Potter… Potter’s been patient, but there’s a difference between letting me study and … given Greg’s father, you know?”

Pansy’s lips pressed together, but she held her tongue, because she was a good friend. Draco was grateful for that.

“Which classes are you taking?” She asked after a moment, and Draco relaxed a little. Talking about school was easier than talking about the war. Eventually the conversation moved on.

“How’s the Quidditch team looking?”

“Appalling,” Blaise sighed, tossing their head back with a sigh. “Honestly Greg’s probably the best-looking guy on there.”

Draco smirked. “You know what I meant.”

“It’s a disaster.” Pansy laughed. “Harper’s alright - he’s not you, but he’ll do. Greg’s struggling to match up with…well, without…” She swallowed, and Draco was hit with the realisation that his friends were just children as well and the war had hurt them too. “Vaisey’s scoring is… he’s the best we’ve got, but we’re going to get slaughtered by Gryffindor. And of course… that’s what everyone wants. Harder we lose, happier the other Houses will be.”

“You were brave to go back.” Draco told her, and she managed a watery smile.

“I had to. I’m the prefect, and…. Blaise, too.”

“Much to Slughorn’s delight,” Blaise groaned, putting their head in their hands. “Honestly, I’m wondering if I can get him set up with my mother, at least then we’d be free of him.”

“He’s not so bad,” Pansy muttered. “Right now, anyone who is on our side…”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you,” Draco answered, even though that had never been an option.

“You’ll be back for the exams though, right? So we should keep a bed for you in the dormitory,” Blaise suggested hopefully. Draco looked away.

“I don’t know. I mean, maybe, but I might be with Potter.” By then, everyone would know about the secret growing inside of him. If Potter hadn’t gotten rid of him by then, Draco… Draco didn’t want to risk the Slytherin dorms. Not when people knew he was carrying the Chosen One’s child. Not when people knew he was a Death Eater. Equally hated by both sides.

“He can’t demand sex when you have exams!” Pansy protested, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I… I’ll speak to the Headmistress, if he’s being unreasonable there must be something-”

Draco shook his head. “He’s not… he’s being kind. Patient. It’s alright.” He was a little shaken by Pansy’s belief that they could do something. The war had happened, and his friends still thought that fairness mattered.

They talked. They spent an hour reminiscing, and Draco fetched his old photograph. The three of them crowded around it to look down at their younger selves. They’d been so innocent then. Potter came back with some shopping, and Blaise dismantled the protective barriers they’d put up as Pansy smiled obsequiously at Harry. They didn’t want to stay, not with Harry there.

Both of them embraced him before they hurried back through the fire, making their excuses about needing to go back to school. Harry’s arms wrapped around Draco from behind, and he leaned into the embrace. “How were they?”

“Good. It… Thank you.” Draco didn’t have the words for how much it meant, but Harry smiled and shrugged the thanks away.

“Maybe we should go out for lunch? There’s a cafe not far from here…”

Draco had never liked using the Floo Network, but it was definitely worse now. He kept his arms wrapped around himself, feeling a bit sick as he stumbled out into his aunt’s parlour. For once, Potter wasn’t coated in soot.

“Well done on the barrier charm.”

“I’ve been practising,” Harry answered with a smile that made Draco’s heart twist a little in his chest.

He didn’t want to examine that too deeply. Luckily, before he could, his aunt walked over to cuddle Harry and shake Draco’s hand. Little Teddy was curled up in a crib nearby, and Draco spotted the teddies that he and Harry had given in the crib beside the little boy.

“Thank you for letting me come and visit, Andromeda,” Draco said politely, his aunt’s name still tasting strange in his mouth.

“Thank you for coming,” she said as she went to sit down, gesturing for Harry and Draco to take the sofa opposite her armchair. “I saw your mother on Wednesday, she’s so happy you’re writing to her Draco, she really does miss you.”

“How is she doing?” Draco asked, before he could stop himself.

“She’s managing.” Andromeda said softly. “I know… I’ve suggested she could move here, but she’s not sure about leaving the Manor…”

“I’ll speak to her,” Draco reassured. “Thank you. I worry… I worry about her being there by herself.”

Harry looked almost painfully concerned, but before he could say anything Teddy began to fuss. Draco’s eyes went straight to Potter, seeing how he responded was vital information for his scorpion. If it made Potter angry he’d have to be careful. He could do that. He could do anything for his child.

But Harry was immediately on his feet, walking over to Teddy and scooping him up in his arms. He shushed him softly and bounced him with a look of love in his eyes. Draco took a shaky breath, crossing his arms unconsciously.

“Do… do you need me to take him, Potter?”

“I’ve got him, haven’t I, Teddy Bear?” Harry asked, walking around the room for a moment, before sitting back on the sofa, closer to Draco to show off the child.

He wasn’t trying to hand him over, wasn’t demanding Draco keep the kid quiet. Instead, he was smiling down at Teddy with affection that Draco couldn’t quite understand. What Harry was doing was working, Teddy was gurgling happily and raising one podgy hand towards Harry’s glasses. Harry beamed and stuck his tongue out - childish, utterly relaxed and at ease with a babe in his arms.

“You… you’re good with him, Harry.” The name escaped before Draco could stop it, and Harry looked at him, almost shyly, and nodded.

“Thank you.” Harry hesitated, clearly aware of Draco’s slip. “You hadn’t… thanks.” He glanced down at the child in his arms. “I don’t… I mean, I want… wanted kids. But there’s no rush, and there’s always adoption, and if you don’t…” Draco sat there frozen, unable to work out what to say. Thankfully, Teddy started wiggling and Harry redirected his attention. “I’ve got the best little godson, don’t I Teddy? That’s enough…” Harry looked almost guilty, and Draco placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

“He’s lucky to have you, Harry. We both are.”

Harry looked up at him, and just for a moment Draco allowed himself to picture kissing Harry and telling him about their scorpion. He wouldn’t, not yet. But watching the care with which Harry held Teddy, he felt more secure than before. Harry wasn’t going to hurt either child, Draco was almost certain of it.

Harry and Andromeda talked, and Draco joined in when he could with updates on how his studies were going. At one point he ended up holding Teddy. He gazed at the little boy, whose hair gained a blond streak matching Draco’s own. Draco supposed he would be alright with his child being related to this little one. He wondered if perhaps they would be allowed to play together - he’d wanted friends his own age when he was little, perhaps his child would have one.

The food that night was amazing, and the two of them stumbled to bed far too late, having been caught up listening to stories of Andromeda’s childhood. It was strange for Draco, picturing Mother as a little girl. But he was glad she hadn’t been alone at that age. He changed into pyjamas while Harry went elsewhere to get dressed. He was careful to ensure the Dark Mark was covered before Harry returned.

Monday morning came and Draco felt nausea stirring within him. He pushed Harry’s arms away, frantic, and rushed to the bathroom just in time. He heard footsteps behind him and was surprised when Harry’s fingers brushed across his back.

“I can go, if you want, I mean…” Harry was saying, and Draco moaned weakly, sweeping his foot out to try and keep Harry close. Harry took the hint and shushed him softly as he rubbed his back. He handed over a glass of water so that Draco could swill his mouth out and then take slow sips.

“Maybe you should just rest today,” Harry suggested. Draco hesitated - he’d put most of today aside for Ancient Runes. He needed to study, needed to do something. But he couldn’t… slowly, he nodded.

“I’ll see how I feel. Thanks, Harry.”

He didn’t think he’d be capable of work at that moment. He also slowly realised why, exactly, he’d woken up ill. He’d known before he was on a countdown before Potter found out what had happened, about the life growing within him, but he’d thought… he’d thought he had a little more time at least.

But no. His scorpion was reminding him of his priorities, of his goal. He couldn’t keep playing at having a good life with Potter, because his child mattered more.

Potter was looking at him in concern.

“You should go and lie down.”

He kept trying to touch Draco’s forehead, muttering about what might have made him sick and talking about looking up diagnostic spells. That last one sent a fresh wave of nausea through Draco.

“I’ll do some research after I’ve rested. I want to work it out for myself.”

Potter seemed to agree to that, supporting Draco back to his bedroom and settling him with care on the sheets. He placed a glass of water and a bin within reach.

“I’ll be back soon, you just stay there.” Draco nodded. He would normally have said something about not feeling up to leaving, but he didn’t want to risk causing problems right now.

“Draco, a book arrived for you.” Potter called out from downstairs. Draco closed his eyes, pleading with Merlin, Circe, Morgana and everyone else out there that Potter wouldn’t open the book, or that if he did Potter would be foolish enough not to put together the information that was there on the page in front of him. Harry came hurrying up the stairs and handed it over, still in its brown paper packaging.

“Thanks,” Draco mumbled, curling up a little around his stomach and hoping Potter wouldn’t demand to see what he had ordered. He wondered if it would be better to refuse than to show it, or lie that it was Pansy’s. That was the plan, he reminded himself. He could lie and say it was Pansy’s.

“Do you think you can manage some toast, if I bring it up?” Potter asked, his voice painfully tender. Draco nodded and used the time Potter was gone to hide his new book. He picked another one from his shelf so that he could show Potter that instead and hopefully hide his scorpion for a little longer.

Harry ended up sitting beside him on the bed reading while Draco waited for the nausea to pass. By lunchtime he felt stronger, and they moved to the library to continue their studies.

Chapter Text

"I really think you should go and see a Healer." Harry told Draco at breakfast. He hadn't been able to face a cooked breakfast, and the smell of one had nearly set off another bout of nausea, so Harry had used his wand to vanish the food and used his box to make them toast. "It's been like this for almost a month now, if it's an allergy or something..."

"It's fine." Draco insisted, the way he had been insisting every time they had this discussion. If nothing else, this entire situation was serving to confirm every rumour the Slytherins had ever started about Potter and his inability to process basic information in front of him.

"Do you want me to talk to Hermione? She's been looking at some medical things in her spare time, so-"

"It's fine, Harry." Draco stood straighter and kept his voice firm. He really didn't want to have this argument today. He knew he was going to have to, at some point, but he couldn't face that right now. It wasn't that he was scared of Harry. Not exactly. He'd been scared of Harry in the past, but that was before weeks spent in each other's company. Before Harry had proven himself willing to sacrifice his reputation to help an enemy and asked for nothing in return.

But he was afraid that when Harry found out the truth, he'd blame Draco. Or that he'd refuse to have anything to do with either of them. That he'd accuse Draco of doing this to trap him, when that wasn't it. Draco had just thought... they were married. It was what married people did, and Harry had agreed.

Some nights, Draco had nightmares of Harry forbidding him and his scorpion from ever being close to him, choosing to focus on Teddy as his heir... But he wouldn't throw them out. Even in the nightmares, Harry didn't throw them out. He just left them in Draco's room, made it clear they were never to be seen or heard.

The worst part about those dreams was the fact that he knew a few brief weeks ago, he would have felt there were much worse things than Harry's benevolent neglect. Now, used to sleeping in Harry's arms, the thought of losing his affection stung.

He knew he would eventually lose Harry's affection. That one day the scorpion growing inside of him would reveal the truth, and Harry would pull away. But he just wanted to postpone that moment for as long as possible. It was selfish. But Draco had always been selfish.

"And you're sure you should be messing around with potions?" Harry was asking, a frown on his face. "You don't think it's that, do you? That's making you ill?"

"I'm not messing around with potions." Draco shot a sharp glare at him, then looked away, wondering when he'd gotten so bold. "I'm just... It's good practice. It's a complex potion, and it requires several of the techniques that I might be asked to demonstrate in the exam."

"You know I'd pay for the ingredients, if you wanted." Harry asked, and Draco felt his stomach sink, because this was another argument he didn't like having. He'd written to the Headmistress after his meeting with Blaise and Pansy and got confirmation that the school was desperate for Wolfsbane. And so he'd started to work on producing batches of it. It wasn't healing. But it was closer to it than any other path he could see in his future.

"My mother is more than happy to provide the ingredients." Draco answered, feeling anger bubbling up from within. "We may as well put the Malfoy fortune to some use, and... for now, at least, Slughorn seems willing to accept my work. As long as it's accompanied by a note from the Chosen One confirming that his husband isn't poisoning the afflicted students."

"I never did like that man," Harry muttered. "Look... Draco, I get this matters to you. I just... don't want you getting sick." Harry always made it sound so reasonable, and Draco wanted to tell him the truth. Wanted to explain, to apologise, but he couldn't because apologising for his child might make Harry think he could get rid of it, and Draco couldn't face losing the one positive thing he had done.

"I'll be careful. I'll up the air circulating charms." Draco tried to sound reassuring. He knew that the potions weren't the problem. He was careful, he had to be with a child. But it was something he could say to comfort Harry.

"Thank you." Harry smiled at him, reaching out so their hands brushed. Draco tried to push away thoughts of this being forever, of this fantasy of getting to live out his life happy. A moment later, Harry settled that he wouldn’t be able to hide much longer, and with that confirmed his fears that that could never be. "I think if you're not better by Sunday, we should talk to Andromeda. Maybe she can work out what the problem is."

"Maybe." Draco gritted the word out. He had a deadline.

He didn't want to tell Harry. To ruin everything, to risk Harry's anger or his hurt. But he couldn't let Harry ask his aunt. She'd been so kind the past few weeks, taking an interest in Draco's studies and showing him affection that Draco knew he didn't deserve. He could already picture her expression as Harry innocently listed off Draco's symptoms.

She'd know. Of course she would, he was certain it was obvious. That was why he didn't want Hermione to be told. She’d know, she'd blame Draco for taking advantage, and turn Harry against their child. The world seemed to swim around him, and he didn't know what he could do to make things better.

The hands on his shoulders were a surprise, but Harry guided him gently to sitting, rubbed his back, and murmured soothing words. Draco let Harry's voice wash over him for a few moments before he looked up.

"You're sure you'll be okay in the potions room? I can bring some reading down if you'd like." Harry offered it so easily, and Draco knew he'd lose that kindness soon. He knew that to others it would look like he'd taken advantage of Harry's goodness, and he didn't know how he could argue against it. Because thinking of Harry's expression if Harry found out what he had expected... Only it wasn't that simple, it hadn’t been just that. He'd had Harry because he'd wanted him. He still wanted him. And he wasn't sure how he could explain that.

He couldn't let the panic take him again. He had to make potions, he had to study, he had to prove that he had some value, however small. That the Ministry had been right in their choice to spare him.

"Draco..." A glass of water was pushed into his hand, and Harry looked at him with concern. "I know McGonagall said you've been sending more than enough Wolfsbane. Maybe today we can just... study some theory?"

"Are you volunteering to read books for me, Potter?" Draco managed, and Harry grinned.

"Yeah. Must be love." Harry's eyes widened a second after he'd said it, and Draco cleared his throat. Potter hadn't meant anything by it, Draco knew that. He just wished that Harry had.

"Theory sounds good for today. I'll go and get my books." He just had to work out what to do in the next few days, how he could tell Harry the truth in a way that wouldn't put his scorpion at risk. He rested his hand over his stomach, mentally telling the child that he would make everything alright. He hoped it wasn't a lie.

A few minutes later, they were settled in the library. Harry's body was angled towards his own, and Draco found himself sneaking glances at Harry as he turned the pages in his book. It didn't take him long to realise that Harry was doing the same.

"What is it, Potter?"

"You." Harry laughed, and shook his head. "I just... never thought we'd get this."

Draco hesitated, then reached out to take Harry's hand, folding his fingers around Harry's own. He'd slept with the man. He was carrying Harry's child. Every night, Harry's arms were around him so he could sleep. Despite their growing intimacy, his heart still broke at the tenderness inthe way Harry moved closer, leaned in and kissed him softly for a moment, then pulled away.

"I don't... I don't expect anything of you, Draco. Not... not like that. But... I'm glad you're in my life." He sounded stubborn, Draco realised. Draco wondered how long he'd rehearsed that in his head, in a desperate attempt to sound confident when he said it.

"I'm glad too." Draco leaned in and kissed him back. This was temporary. He knew it was. But he was selfish enough to take it while he could.

Harry got an owl that evening while just the two of them were sitting down for dinner. It was an officious looking tawny that bit at Draco when he had tried to take the letter from it, drawing a bead of blood from his fingertip. Draco glared as he stuck his finger in his mouth.

"Here, can you just stir this?" Harry asked, calling Draco over to attempt not to ruin his cooking while he retrieved the letter. Draco cautiously tried to mimic the movement that Harry had done, hoping that the owl would leave them alone. It hopped up on top of the door jam and hooted loudly.

"I think, Potter, that it wants you to respond. If you want this food to be edible I should put it under a stasis."

"Go ahead," Harry agreed, sitting down at the table. Draco paused the cooking, and moved over to stand beside him as he opened it. Harry's face fell.

"What is it?" Draco asked, bracing himself for the worst.

"Oh, it's... it's the Ministry. They're asking me to come in... they've said I've got a spot on the auror programme, and... well, it's a generous offer, and they say it... they've been asking for weeks, and I keep putting it off but..."

"No." Draco hissed, before remembering he didn't get to make that decision. He took a deep breath, and looked up at Harry. "Harry, do you want to be an auror?"

"I guess? I mean I'm good at-"

"Do you want to be an auror now? Or do you want to get your NEWTs and spend time with your friends and... and heal. Because you deserve to heal."

"That one." Harry conceded. "But people are counting on me, aren't they? And-"

"I'm counting on you." Draco snapped the words. "We're counting on you." He couldn't imagine the idea of his child growing up without Harry there because Harry had got himself killed doing some stupid job out of some mistaken sense of loyalty.

"Wh..." Harry stared at him, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

An easy lie sprung to Draco's lips. To claim he meant Ron and Hermione, even Teddy. But he had a deadline, and he needed Harry to know.

"Harry, I'm pregnant."

"Draco, you're... you're a guy. We had... I'd have noticed." Harry stared at him, looking horribly lost.

Draco crouched down, picking up Harry's edition of the Charms textbook for the year, which was supporting a wobbly table leg. He opened it to the healing charms, flicking through to the right page. He gestured at the spell.

"Look..." He'd done this so many times the past few weeks to catch a glimpse of his scorpion, to remind himself he wasn't alone. He could feel Harry's eyes on him. "Conceptum Revelare."

His own pale green magic swirled up, and there was the yellow sphere. Their child's magic. A little larger than before.

"H... how?" Harry asked, gazing at the light until it faded, then reading the page. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

Draco nodded, still gripping his wand and wrapping his left arm around his stomach. He had never planned to fight Harry. But he was ready to if he had to, if Harry gave him no choice.

Harry held his hands up, staring at him. The owl at the door hooted angrily, and Harry picked up a quill, scribbling briefly. After a few moments, he held the note out to the owl.

"I've said no. Not now. I've got to work out some stuff first."

Once the owl was gone, he walked over to Draco. Draco was aware he was trembling, as Harry carefully took the wand from his hand, and guided him into the living room.

"Draco...."

"Please don't hurt them." Draco whispered as he found himself sitting down on a couch.

"I... I won't... This... this is why you were sick, isn't it...?" Harry's touches were reverent, devoted. Draco heard himself gasp, felt tears running down his face, and then Harry's arms were around him, pulling him close.

"Draco... It's okay. It's okay. We're going to be alright, I promise you." Harry's voice was careful, and he called over the book, flicking through it. "How did this-"

"It's meant to be compatibility. If someone's magic matches, but... you're just powerful, Harry. I didn't mean for this to happen but... I promise, they'll be well behaved, they won't cause you any bother, or-"

"Draco, they're... they're a child." Harry's smile was damp. "They'll get to cause all the chaos we never could, alright?" He leaned in, and kissed Draco. It was surprisingly chaste, and heartbreakingly gentle. As though Draco was something precious, something to be protected. Draco didn't think he'd ever understand that.

"Thank you."

"You never should have had to feel like you needed to face this alone..." Harry hesitated, staring at Draco's stomach. "Can... can I touch?"

"You won't be able to feel anything yet."

"I know. But... can I?" Harry asked, and Draco was reminded of how careful Harry always was, how he never treated Draco like something that was just there for his use. He nodded, lifting his shirt. Then he felt Harry's hand rest against his stomach.

Relief flooded him. For the first time since he'd found out about his scorpion's existence, he had hope that it would all work out for the best.

Harry gazed up at him, and it wasn’t anger or hatred. It was care.

“Draco… whatever you need. I’ll make sure we’re okay.” Draco knew he meant it. Harry hesitated, glancing down at the hand he still had resting against Draco’s pale skin. “Have you… does anyone know?”

“No one.” Draco said quickly. “I just… I thought I could hide it, and then… if I could prove to you I could be good, keep quiet, not argue… you’d… you’d let them live.”

Harry’s arms were around him in an instant, pressing careful kisses to Draco’s face.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me, Draco, I…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you weren’t able to tell anyone. And I won’t let… I won’t let any harm come to them. Not if I can stop it. And Draco, stop trying to not argue with me, it never works out.”

Draco swallowed, and then swallowed again, trying to stop his tears from falling because it didn’t make sense, Potter was being so nice about all of this. He could feel the answers he should say, but his voice shook as he answered.

“I wouldn’t have to argue if you didn’t do stupid things.”

Harry grinned, and Draco took a deep breath, pushing himself to take advantage of Harry’s current good mood.

“Does this mean I can…. That I can stay sleeping with you, when… I thought you wouldn’t want to hold me when you knew, but-”

“Of course. If you want me. Draco, any time you don’t want… you only need to say, and I’ll stop. I won’t force my presence on you. But I like… I like keeping you safe.” Harry stared at him, and Draco could pick out the anger there in his expression that he was trying to hide.

He knew he shouldn’t press. But Harry was upset, and he didn’t want that.

“What… what is it?”

“I was meant to keep you safe, Draco. And I just… I just keep failing you.”

“You’ve never failed us.” Draco said. “We… when do you want to tell people?”

“I don’t know anything about… like…” Harry hesitated. “When’s it safe to tell people?”

Draco frowned at him, not quite understanding the question. “We could notify people tomorrow. Their magic is strong. They’ll be fine.”

Harry seemed to be thinking something.

“Those potions your mum gave you. The poisons and stuff… she knew this might happen, didn’t she?”

“She wanted to make sure I was prepared for whatever you might do.”

Harry squeezed him, with surprising gentleness.

“I still don’t understand. But I’m trying to.”

Draco nodded slowly.

“Tomorrow. I can… I can write to my mother, and… You can tell whoever you…” He hesitated. “Is it alright if we don’t tell Father? He wouldn’t approve, and… I don’t want certain people knowing, not yet.”

“Honestly, Draco, I couldn’t be happier if I never had to deal with Lucius Malfoy again.” Harry promised, pulling him into a gentle kiss. Draco wondered if they were going to have sex that night. He wasn’t afraid of it. He wanted it, but in an abstract way - he’d rather spend the night curled up in Harry’s arms, if given the choice.

Harry wanted to give him the choice. He was held, and he knew he was safe. He slept peacefully.

The next day, he spent his morning drafting a brief letter to his mother, informing her that he was well and that his marriage had proved fruitful. He followed the news with his usual reassurances that he was well, and asking to see her when she was available. Harry, meanwhile, had invited Hermione and Ron over for lunch. Hermione appeared from the fireplace first, smiling at Draco as though she was glad he was there.

“Draco, I wanted to talk with you about the use of Algiz, I know it’s sign is protection but I’m finding references-”

“Poisons,” Draco supplied quickly. “For purebloods being married off into situations where they would be in danger, they were often given a vial of untraceable poison marked with Algiz, it’s an old tradition but-”

“But one that some families keep?” Harry asked as he joined them, a tray of tea at his side.

“Your mum didn’t know you’d be safe.”

“Safer with you than in Azkaban. And she… she hoped. And she was right to hope.” Draco promised as Ron stepped from the fire. He looked between Draco and Harry. Harry took a protective step closer, resting a hand on Draco’s stomach, and Draco wasn’t sure of what to make of the way his soul thrilled at such careful possessive touches.

“Oh. Oh, Harry-” Hermione looked between them. “I… I mean, I didn’t… I didn’t expect-”

“What?” Ron asked as Hermione looked at Draco, seeking confirmation. He nodded, and she squealed, rushing forwards to hug Harry and then Draco. Draco allowed it, knowing that sometimes Gryffindors were just like that.

“I’m pregnant.” Draco stepped closer to Harry as he said it. Harry was safe. Harry would keep the child safe.

“I mean, it makes sense the two of you are compatible-” Hermione started, and Draco flinched because he wished that was why.

“It’s… he’s… I mean, the most powerful wizard alive, it’s not-”

“So what, the kid’s Voldemort’s?” Ron asked. Draco flinched at the name, looking at Harry in terror and silently shaking his head, watching Harry for any sign of anger. And Harry did look angry.

For a second, tension hung in the air, and Draco’s mind started to race, wondering where he could apparate to, how long he could keep running.

“Ronald!” Hermione stared at him. “You have the sensitivity of a teaspoon. No. It’s Harry’s. Harry killed Vol-” She paused, seeing Draco wince at the name. “Harry killed him. Harry is powerful, yes, but their magic is compatible.”

“It’s just that Harry’s strong.” Draco repeated, because it was cruel to keep saying that, offering what he wanted to be true but knew wasn’t.

Hermione stared at him, and then spoke very slowly as though Draco was confused.

“You can use each other’s wands.”

Draco whimpered softly, turning towards Harry, and Harry cuddled him close.

“Draco, you can use my wand. We are compatible.” Harry’s face was nuzzing into Draco’s shoulder, and Draco could feel himself trembling in Harry’s arms. The conversation continued, but Draco didn’t pay it any mind. Harry’s magic wanted him. The existence of their little scorpion wasn’t just some horrible misfire. They were meant to be.

Harry and his friends kept hugging and talking and Draco barely paid any of it any mind. He saw an owl perch on the windowsill, carrying a note. He approached it cautiously, taking the letter from it.

”I’m at Andromeda’s. We are waiting for you.”

“What is it, Draco?”

“Mother wishes to see me.” Draco hesitated. He knew Harry was with his family. But he needed Harry with him. “Can… Can we go and see her?” He was willing to delay it, of course he was. But Harry nodded quickly, immediately getting to his feet.

“Ron, Hermione, great to tell you. We’ll have to meet up soon and talk but… well. This is important.” Harry hugged his friends again, and then Hermione was hugging Draco, and then she got another hug off of Harry. Finally, they left, and Harry smiled. “You ready?”

Draco nodded, a little nervous.

“I don’t see why you’re scared, Draco. I’m the one that they’ll be mad at.” Harry stated, and Draco stared at him.

“They’ll think I… that I did it deliberately, to trap you…”

“Did you?” Harry asked, but he was smirking as he said it.

“Of course not.”

“Then what-”

“You didn’t… we haven’t. Since that first time. And I get… I know I’m…” Draco shook his head, right hand going to rest over the bandages on his left arm. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I know you don’t want me like that.”

Harry stared at him, narrowing his eyes. He was clearly trying to work something out, but Draco didn’t understand what it was.

“Draco…” Harry hesitated. “I’ve… I didn’t want to take advantage of you. With what Andromeda said, it was pretty clear you didn't feel you had much choice in the matter and..." Harry frowned. "Did you really think I didn't like you, Draco?"

Draco shrugged a little, not sure he could manage words at that moment.

Harry leaned in, pressed a careful and heartbreakingly chaste kiss to Draco's lips.

"I want you. But I'm happy with what we have. With whatever you can give me."

Draco nodded. He wanted to allow himself to fall into those words, into the possibilities and dreams they opened up. But he knew that his mother wouldn't be kept waiting for long, and he definitely didn't want her to appear at an inopportune moment.

"We should go and see them, before they come over here and make a scene."

Harry nodded.

"And I'll be careful if your mum offers me any drinks."

Draco laughed, threading his fingers through Harry's and approaching the fireplace. He threw the Floo powder in and only let go of Harry's hand when he stepped forwards into the flames.

He emerged from the fireplace and found his mother looking at him, her lips pressed close together in concern. Her sister was nearby, frowning. His mother didn't embrace him, but Draco had expected that. She wouldn’t, not when there were other people around. Almost immediately, Harry stepped out from the fireplace beside him. Mother's nose wrinkled a little in distaste.

"Barrier charms, Potter." Draco reminded, waving his wand to vanish the dirt from Harry's skin.

"I guess you already know, Andromeda?" Harry asked carefully, looking between the two women and wrapping an arm around Draco's waist. Draco could sense the nervousness in him, even though it didn't make sense. Harry had nothing to be nervous of here.

"I do." Andromeda sighed. "And I would be a hypocrite to blame you, given when Ted and I... But you are young. I didn't think I was young, back when we..." She sighed, wiping her eyes, and Draco knew she was thinking of the child and husband she had lost. "But what's different is you will have our support. Both of you."

Mother nodded smartly in agreement.

"Perhaps, Harry, you could help me grab some tea for everyone?" Andromeda asked, and Harry reluctantly relinquished his hold on Draco, walking out of the room with her. As soon as they were alone, Mother embraced him, pressing her forehead to his own.

"Do you need me to fix this?" she asked, and Draco knew if he agreed she would do whatever it took to make everything right. She always had.

"I think it's already fixed," Draco told her, looking into her eyes. "He... he really is taking good care of me, Mother."

"If he wasn't... I would find a way to get you to safety." Mother said with such determination that he knew it was true.

"I know."

"Well... you've... you've done well. You've secured a future for yourself, and..." She sighed softly. "It's not going to be easy for you, you know that? People are going to talk. But you've done well..." There was such sadness in her eyes, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Andromeda and Harry returned shortly afterwards. Harry had somehow ended up carrying Teddy, while Andromeda passed around drinks for everyone. Draco watched Harry curiously. "You... you really are good with him."

"Yeah... I thought maybe I could borrow him one night, try and get some practice in." Harry explained. "I've not really dealt with babies before, and I want to get it right."

"I'm sure you'll be brilliant." Draco reassured him.

"You... plan to take an active role, then?" Mother asked, and she sounded almost confused.

Harry lifted his chin up stubbornly and nodded. "Yes. I do. This is my kid, and my husband, and I want them to be happy."

Andromeda beamed in response, while Draco noticed that his mother looked more than a little shocked. But she nodded.

"I'm glad to hear it." She didn't actually sound glad, more uncertain, but Harry didn't seem to notice. "Drommy and I are here to help you." She looked at Draco as she said it, but Harry clearly thought she was speaking to both of them if his huge grin was anything to go by.

"Thanks. We might take you up on that, especially as we get closer to NEWTs, Draco's already overworking himself..."

And the conversation moved on, and they finished their drinks. Draco couldn't help thinking about how right everything felt at that moment. As though things were fitting into place. Teddy fell asleep. Finally, they were able to make their excuses and leave.

They stepped back into Grimmauld Place, and Draco turned and kissed Harry.

"Thank you for that."

"You don't... I should be thanking you." Harry shook his head. "You are remarkable." He hesitated a little. "We don't... we don't need to do anything. If you don't want to."

"And if I do want to?" Draco asked carefully.

"Last time, you were confused and you..." Harry shook his head. "You didn't seem sure if you wanted to-"

"I do." Draco said. "Trust me to just... make the right decision. To know what I want." Harry's lips were soft under his own, and it was easy to take Harry's hand and lead him to Draco's bedroom. "You... do want this, don't you Harry?"

"I do." Harry promised. They stepped in, and Draco waved his wand to draw the curtains and turn all the lights down as much as possible. He laid his photographs down so they wouldn't see anything inappropriate.

"Draco, it's dark in here." Harry sounded almost amused, and a moment later a few glowing orbs of light lit up the space, circling through the air. "I don't want to walk into the furniture."

"Maybe sit on the bed, and we can turn the lights off again?" Draco suggested, and Harry's eyes narrowed again.

"Draco, I know you've got the Mark. That's not going to change how I feel about any of this."

Sudden embarrassment crept down Draco's spine. He'd been so caught up in everything, he'd almost allowed himself to forget. "There's bandages over it."

"You don't need to have them-"

"Yes I do." Draco insisted. "I just... I just don't want to see it."

"Okay. Well I won't touch the bandages, not if they're important." Harry answered, gesturing to the space beside him. Draco hesitated, moving to sit next to him. He was aware of the lights, and he felt anxiety bubbling in his chest. After all, if Harry was going to see him in the light, he'd see the faded lines of the duel they'd shared in the bathroom.

Those scars were a permanent reminder of past mistakes he'd made. How foolish he'd been. And he was frightened in case seeing them would be something that Potter - that Harry couldn't forgive. He lay down, a little stiff. He tried to remember how to breathe.

Harry leaned in and kissed him, going to unbutton the first of the buttons on Draco's shirt.

"We don't need to go any further than you want-" Harry was murmuring as he unfastened the buttons.

An orb of light passed painfully close, and Harry froze. For a moment, Draco feared he would be sent away. And then Harry's fingers reached out, tracing the outline of those scars.

"I didn't realise they'd left... left such a mark."

"Pomfrey and Snape did wonderfully at... at healing it, really. If they hadn't it would be a lot more obvious." The scars were little more than pastel lines now. "I... I'm sorry. For what I tried... what I did."

"You were falling apart, Draco." Harry didn't seem to be willing to argue over it right now. "And we can talk about that, if you want, or we can... we can leave it. Until you're ready. But we..." Harry shook his head, leaning down, pressing a row of tender kisses to the line of the scars. "I want you, Draco." He said it so simply, so honestly. And Draco knew he could say no if he wanted to, and that would have been alright. But he didn't want to say no.

"I want you too, Harry. I've wanted you for a long time."

He would never have expected the degree of care and reverence that Harry showed him that night. How he made it clear he cared about Draco's pleasure, how he wasn't afraid to touch the scars. And afterwards, when Draco found himself smiling without meaning to, Harry laid down behind him and held him close.

Harry's hand rested against where their scorpion slumbered, and Draco allowed himself to hope. There was something about Harry that just... made it easy to hope with him. Draco was beginning to picture a future that didn’t leave him afraid. He was beginning to picture a family.

Chapter Text

Draco had never expected to be happy. That sounded awful if he thought about it for too long, but it was simply the truth. His duty was to ensure the continuation of the Malfoy name, the Malfoy reputation. It was to live the life he was meant to, not the life he wanted to.

Yet he found happiness. As months passed, he found himself happier than he ever could have dreamed of being. He had his child. He had a husband he cared for, that he was devoted to and who adored him in turn. He had a family - his mother, his aunt, and little Teddy. He had friends who visited on weekends, and other friends who he would see with Harry. He had the chance to study what wanted, and to be useful. He was able to single-handedly meet the school's Wolfsbane demand. He had a sense of purpose.

Spring came and he watched Harry dance around their living room with Teddy in his arms, and a sense of contentment he had never known settled in his heart. He knew he loved Harry. He didn't think that Harry loved him, not the way that Draco loved him, but that was alright. What they had was enough. Harry was kind. Harry was a good man and showed every sign of being a loving father. That was enough. More than enough.

Love wasn't necessary for a marriage. A marriage could thrive with kindness, with care. And he couldn't deny that he had both of those in abundance. He was careful not to overexert himself as he began to prepare for his NEWTs, drawing out revision timetables for himself and for Harry, making sure that they both took regular breaks, because that was something he could do for the man who had saved his life. Who had given him a life.

Harry found him sat over his textbooks in the library, frowning at the pages like they had insulted his mother.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Harry asked, moving to sit beside him and half-perching on the arm of Draco’s armchair. He leaned down for a look at the page.

"Patronuses." Draco muttered. "It's... I can't do them."

"What?" Harry frowned. "Almost all the DA could produce them, even if not all corporeal ones, but-"

"Dark wizards can't produce Patronuses, Potter." Draco answered, unable to stop smiling at the little wrinkle of annoyance on Harry's head when he heard Draco use his surname.

"Okay, but I don't see how that's relevant."

Draco gestured towards the sleeve covering his left arm, and Harry snorted.

"Yeah, but that doesn't make you a dark wizard, and anyway Snape could produce a Patronus, so..."

"How are you getting on with your Defence studies?" Draco changed the subject. "They will expect you to answer some theory, you can't just coast by on your reputation."

"I should be able to." Harry whined, and Draco arched an eyebrow at him. It felt better now that he wasn't expected to always hold his tongue or say the right thing. "But fine. Okay. We can study, and then you and I can practise Patronuses together. Fair?"

"If you insist." Draco agreed, grabbing his book and beginning to ask Harry theory questions. Harry kept mixing up key dates and figures.

"Harry, come on," Draco sighed, waving the text book at him. "You need to focus. You can do this. I know you can."

"I just..." Harry groaned, staring blankly at the floor. "I don't know what I'm doing next, Draco. The Ministry still want me and... and once I've done my NEWTs..."

"Just try with this, alright?" Draco reached out and threaded his fingers into Harry's own. "I can help. But you need to try so that they don't get a lasting hold over you."

That seemed to work. Harry turned to him, listening to the questions and actually trying to give the right answers. He wasn't flawless - far from it. But he was doing well enough that when they broke for lunch, Draco felt a little more hopeful that Harry would pass the theoretical section of their exam.

They ate soup together, and then Harry grinned. "Patronus time?"

"I'll try." Draco offered. "Just... don't be surprised if I can't manage it."

"That's okay. It's easier than you think," Harry answered, all broad smiles. It struck Draco that Harry was good at trying to teach people - not for theory, but for the practical side of things. That's what he'd done when Draco had still been seeking Ministry approval with Umbridge. He'd been helping people. Because that was what he was good at.

Harry walked over to the spare room they had set aside for charms practice, and Draco followed even if he felt a little anxious and painfully aware this wouldn't work. Harry slotted in behind him, one hand on Draco's wand hand to guide it, the other resting over the child that was continuing to grow. Harry was gentle with his changing body. He was bigger now. It couldn’t be missed, but Harry wasn’t afraid of that. Carefully, Harry moved Draco's arm, tracing the shape of the spell.

"Think of something happy." Harry told him. Draco tried. He thought of flight, how it felt to soar. He repeated the gesture, said the words, and nothing happened. He tried again.

This time he thought of lazy mornings in Harry's arms, of the certainty that he and his child were safe. Of how Harry kissed him like he had a value.

No glowing creature appeared, nor a shining silver vapour. But Draco found that he wasn't devoured by maggots the way some of the children's tales said he would be, so he supposed that was a positive enough sign.

He tried thinking of friendship, of hope, of the trust he had in his unborn child. And yet each time he was reminded of his own failures, of how he had let his friends down. And there was no faint wisp of light.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered after he'd been trying for what felt like hours. He was exhausted and ashamed, hating how he was just proving his own worthlessness to Harry with every wave of his wand.

"You don't need to be sorry," Harry told him firmly. "It's alright. You tried. And we can practice again another day, if you want." Harry's arms were around him, holding him. There was no disgust or anger there, no sign of hatred. Harry pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he smiled to himself.

"I'll try. But later. I need to check on some of my potions." He untangled himself from Harry's arms and went to look at the potions which had been simmering over a low heat for several days. He could make complex potions and cast complex charms, but the Patronus was beyond him.

Harry didn't treat that like a failing. He told himself it wouldn't matter, that he could pass his exams without it. He was still afraid that one day Harry would realise how much better he could do than Draco, but Harry seemed to be fighting that realisation.

March faded into April, and Draco noticed a change come over Harry. He was still studying hard and spending his spare time with Draco and with Teddy. It was simply that he seemed to have less spare time than before. Previously, he'd had the occasional evening when he'd needed to go out, and Draco had waited for his return reading in the library or talking quietly to their child.

Now though, it felt like at least three evenings a week Harry would be shrugging on formal robes and walking over to the fireplace to meet with whoever it was that he was meant to be impressing this week.

"Harry..." Draco frowned at him. They'd just been settling down for Friday dinner when an insistent owl had flown in through the window, and Harry was staring at the note angrily.

"Sorry, I have to go-" Harry mumbled, and Draco held his hand out for the note.

Dear Mister Potter,
Auror Robards requests your presence this evening as we are meeting a delegation from New Zealand, and they are eager to hear of your experiences during the Second Wizarding War. We hope that this trip will form the foundation of a long and successful alliance between our nations.
Please confirm attendance by this owl.

"You could say no." Draco told him, handing it back. "They keep demanding more from you."

"I..." Harry sighed, running his fingers through his hair and making it stick up. "They say it's important. And it'll help me get a job-"

"Is this really what you want for the rest of your life?" Draco asked. "Leaving us behind so you can go and shake hands with people you don't care in the least about?"

"It's what I'm good for." Harry muttered, then looked up. "Sorry, Draco, I'm not trying to make you feel unwanted or-" Draco frowned a little at that. It wasn't about him, and he wasn't sure why Harry couldn't see that. It was concern, not jealousy, that guided him.

"I don't feel unwanted. But you're exhausted."

"The anniversary's coming up." Harry sighed. "There's a big party at Hogwarts I have to go to, but a lot of other ceremonies and..." He swallowed. "I'm not sure I want... But I have to go."

"I'll come with you." Draco sat up a little smarter.

"What?" Harry frowned. "Draco, you don't have to-"

"I'm your husband. Look, I don't want to face anyone tonight. Write a reply saying you'll come and explaining that you are having a meeting tomorrow with Auror Robards, with me present."

"I can't just ask for a meeting-" Harry protested, and Draco stared him down.

"Yes you can. You are Harry Potter. You can ask for whatever you want." He leaned up and kissed him. "Go and impress people tonight. And tomorrow we can go to the Ministry and see what we can sort out."

"I don't want to... they're not always... some of the aurors don't think much of you, Draco." Harry protested, but he was writing down the note Draco had suggested. "I don't want you to get upset."

"I won't get upset, Harry. I know how to manipulate the Ministry. Trust me, if you don't know how, you will get taken advantage of. But I can do this. I was born to do this, Harry. Can you bring me the other letters they've sent? I need to make a timeline."

"Thank you." Harry leaned in for another, deeper kiss, then walked off to go and get changed. He returned with an untidy pile of notes, each requesting his presence at some event or other, to meet foreign dignitaries and present awards. "I'll see you later, Draco."

"I'll see you." Draco promised, going over to the kitchen table and spreading out the requests. He took a few moments to simply read over a few of them, and then he got to work.

Harry apparated back in at half one in the morning. He looked tired, pale and miserable. Draco looked up from the table and smiled at him, getting to his feet and walking over to embrace him.

"How was it?" Draco asked. Harry shrugged, reaching out to rest a hand on Draco's stomach. Draco allowed the touch, leaning against him and smiling. "I've got an idea of how to approach this. Do we have our meeting?"

Harry nodded, clearly exhausted, and let Draco guide him up to bed. Draco helped make him comfortable, and finalised his plan in his mind. He laid down so that Harry could wrap around him, and smiled to himself. He was going to fix this, he was going to protect his husband because this was something that he could do.

He could tell Harry was nervous the next morning based on the complexity of the cooked breakfast that Harry had made. "I know they've said yes to the meeting, Draco, but you really don't need to go if..."

"What are you so frightened of?" Draco asked curiously. "They can't hurt me even if they want to, not while I'm carrying your child. And there are no insults they can throw my way that I haven't heard before."

"I..." Harry shrugged his shoulders, still seeming tense, but he handed over Draco's plate of food. "I just don't want you to be upset."

"What upsets me is seeing how they treat you, Harry. You've done enough. You saved everyone. You aren't a performing kappa to be made to bow at every passing wizard."

Harry shrugged his shoulders, and Draco looked across at him. Harry was still young, still hurt by the war even if he was trying to hide it. And Draco hated the Ministry for continuing to press on those wounds, continuing to demand more from someone who had already died for them.

He focused on staying calm. He was going to the Ministry as Lucius Malfoy's son, as entitled and as demanding as his father had always been. He was going to the Ministry as Harry Potter's husband, to protect him from himself and the demands that would otherwise crush him.

"What do you want out of this, Harry? Do you want to stop doing their tasks completely or…?"

"Just... just one a week would work," Harry mumbled. "I'm exhausted. And I'm still not sure if I want to be an Auror."

"You can decide that when you are ready," Draco told him. "If you joined the Aurors, I would worry about you. Of course I would worry about you. But I'll support you if that's what you choose. And between us, there's more than enough money for you to not need to work."

"What do you think I should do?"

"Work out what makes you happy, and do that." Draco answered with a shrug. Harry smiled at him, lips twisting a little in a smirk.

"Oh, I already do."

"Pervert," Draco muttered, wandering over to neaten the collar of Harry's robes. He felt a warmth settle inside of him at the knowledge he was causing Harry happiness. He stole a moment's kiss, then pulled away. "Ready?"

Harry nodded. They Flooed in, Draco first and Harry a moment behind. Draco had to pause for a moment beside the ornate fireplace in the entranceway of the Ministry so that he could catch his breath and stop himself from being sick. Harry's hand rested on his back, concerned.

"I'm fine. Your brat doesn't like the Floo Network," Draco muttered. That made Harry smile at him, his expression nervous, and hopeful, and painfully earnest.

"It's not far," Harry explained as he lead him up to an office. Harry knew the way they were going well, which was good because Draco could follow him. He kept his head held high, staring out with challenge at those who gazed at him. It wasn't long before they were shown into the office.

Harry might not have known what a grapefruit spoon was or how to use a fish knife, but he had good enough manners that he offered the single chair on their side of their desk immediately to Draco after they were called in. Draco sat down, feeling the eyes of the Head Auror upon him. Harry stood close behind him, until Robards waved his wand and summoned a second chair. Harry moved the chair so that he was close enough to take Draco's hand.

Draco watched the Head Auror curiously, choosing to reserve judgement for now despite the fact that the man was looking at him with ill-concealed hatred.

"Mister Potter, it's good to see you. Excellent work last night, they all spoke very highly of you. Now, I know you wanted to speak this morning, but if you could make it brief. I have other appointments. If Mister Malfoy is having any problems..."

"Mister Potter," Draco interrupted, lifting his hand to show his wedding ring, "is having problems with how you are working with his husband. You are demanding he sacrifice his studies to provide you with someone to show off to foreign dignitaries. You are aware that as we are both in the process of completing our final year at Hogwarts, we have examinations required for us to gain NEWTs."

Robards frowned at Draco with clear dislike. "As I have already explained to Mister Potter, we are happy to forgo the Auror entrance requirements given his prior experience. If Mister Potter hasn't told you that, I would suggest you take it as a sign that he doesn't wish for you and your kind to be poking around in Ministry business."

"Oh, Harry has told me that," Draco answered, with a simpering smile. Let the man underestimate him. He knew what he was doing. "I understand the generosity of your offer, and how useful it would be for you to have him starting down the path towards being your replacement. It would be quite the coup for you all, I am certain. However, Harry more than anyone has earned the right and time to choose his own route forwards in life. Therefore he's going to be unable to keep up with the current round of engagements."

Harry's hand squeezed Draco's, and Harry mouthed 'thank you' at him. Draco smiled back at him, returning the squeeze.

"So what do you suggest? We just leave him with a pregnant Death Eater for company?" Robard stared at him, and there was a hint of anger now in his voice. "You won't be able to destroy Potter's reputation."

"I'm counting on that." Draco answered, giving Harry's hand another reassuring squeeze. "The thing is, people will... people will naturally take Potter's side. That's what kept me from Azkaban. And so I feel we have two options. One is you continue to demand all he has, and he will be forced to make a total break from the Ministry, I am certain will be covered with some delight by The Prophet and the other papers. Or you announce your support for him continuing his studies and being there for his young family, drop the engagements down to no more than one a week, and he will in turn continue to offer his time when properly scheduled and appropriate."

A frown creased the Head Auror's face, and he stared at Draco suspiciously. "That's blackmail."

"No, it's explaining what the situation is. Harry is allowed to make his own decisions about what he wants in life. And I will support them," Draco smiled up at Robards. "You would be wise to do the same." He offered Robard's his hand to shake. "Thank you for making time in your packed schedule to speak with us today."

Robards shook his and Harry's hands, even if he didn't look happy about it. He sighed, and turned to Harry.

"It was never our intention to overburden you. I will try to ensure we hold back. And we are grateful for your continued support."

And then they were crossing back to the fireplaces. Harry pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek. "That was incredible, Draco. How do you... how did you stay so calm?"

"Practice and determination." Draco answered with a smile. "You are welcome."

"I..." Harry took a deep shuddering breath, and Draco was startled to realise that Harry was shaking a little, overwhelmed.

"Let's get you home, then we can go and sit on the couch," Draco insisted as he went to grab the powder. He got Harry home and wrapped himself around Harry as best as he could. Harry started to tremble in his arms, and Draco just held him close, promising that it would be better from now on. Harry gazed up at him with love, and Draco didn't know how to handle that.

Draco focused on studying for NEWTs, rather than allowing himself to consider the looming anniversary. One year since the Battle of Hogwarts. One year since the Dark Lord was vanquished, one year since Harry had saved everyone. One year since so many deaths.

He found himself lost in thought more often as the anniversary drew closer, but thankfully their little scorpion tried to keep him busy, distracting him whenever his thoughts grew too heavy with regret. More than once, Draco found himself waking in the middle of the night, wondering if he should refuse to attend the celebration. But he'd look at Harry, and see nervousness similar to his own in Harry's eyes.

"We can do this." Draco tried to put all his sincerity into those words as the two of them stood by the fireplace. Harry looked smart, even though his hair was its usual mess. He was wearing red trimmed robes, and he kept glancing at Draco nervously. Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out an old pair of Father's cufflinks. It was a simple enough spell to transfigure emeralds into rubies, and once he completed the spell he fastened them at Harry's sleeves. "I'll be with you."

Harry nodded, taking a few deep breaths. "Any problems, we can go straight home, okay?"

"I know." Draco reassured him. He found it endearing, the way Harry was concerned for him when he was more than capable of facing whatever was thrown his way. He knew that this was important for Harry. He was ready for another evening of snide whispers and curious looks, but Harry was worth it.

They stepped into the flame, emerging in Hogsmeade at the Three Broomsticks. Several of Harry's friends were going to be getting here early for drinks, and most of Draco's friends had decided to avoid the celebration this year.

Harry kissed Draco on the cheek, going off to track down non-alcoholic Butterbeers for them both. Draco stood there, a little tense, scanning the crowd for any sign of Harry or Hermione, or even Ron. He spotted Hermione after a moment, and she waved a hand at him. He pushed through the throng of people to join them, and it wasn't long until Harry arrived as well.

"You look wonderful, Draco," Hermione said with a bright smile.

"I look like I've eaten a quaffle."

"A big quaffle," Ron contributed helpfully, as Harry settled in beside him. Draco was aware of people staring at him and Harry.

"Malfoy," a voice called out. Draco took a steadying breath and turned to see one of Hufflepuff's old chasers staring at him. "It's true then. You're having You-Know-Who's baby."

Harry reached for his wand, but Draco shook his head, smirking a little. "Yes. I'm twelve months pregnant, a true miracle." He sneered up at the chaser in disgust. "It's not Voldemort's, you imbecile."

The boy flinched at the name, while several of Harry's friends laughed. Thomas grinned at him broadly from where he was half-draped across Finnegan. The Hufflepuff boy stared for a moment, then stormed off. Harry kept a protective arm around Draco's side.

Draco wasn't looking forward to the celebration. There was too much pain, too much loss, for that. But he was glad to be sitting beside Harry as they marked the anniversary. Harry needed - Harry deserved - to have someone with him for this day, for these memories. And Draco knew that this was something he was able to do. To stand beside him, and help split the gazes of the people around. To let people mutter and murmur, and to stand as a sign of new hope and new life, even if that was never what he had meant to be. All because Harry needed him.

He held on to Harry's hand as they walked towards the castle. It was a familiar journey, but the outline of the buildings had changed. Everything had changed. But Harry didn't let go, and he could hold on to that.

Chapter Text

They survived the party. Draco was glad to find Luna at least, and most of the others were willing to give him a wide berth. He stood to the side as Harry greeted people, and he couldn't help being glad that he was here because Harry shouldn't have had to be alone and face everyone talking about what had happened. Draco could at least draw attention away from Harry, ensure he had a few moments when he needed them. It wasn't much, but it was all he could do for him.

Eventually, they were able to go home. He helped Harry out of his clothes, showered with him, and took him to bed. He lay against him, feeling the steady beating of Harry's heart. Harry's hand brushed against his side, and he knew that they were going to be okay.

The next week was a struggle. The Ministry wanted to borrow Harry for more events, more commemorations. For both Draco and Harry, the memories of what had been lost felt rawer than they normally were. And the NEWT exams were looming.

"Draco?" Harry asked one evening. The two of them had ended up curled side by side on the sofa, flicking through textbooks in a desperate attempt to cram just a little more information into their aching minds.

"Hmm?" Draco looked up from his text book to find Harry staring at him, almost shy.

"I..." Harry looked almost painfully nervous. "I've got a surprise for you?" He smiled a little anxiously. "I know you've been studying more than me, so I uh... I set up one of the spare rooms. For the kid, when they... I mean, I thought maybe they could have a crib in with us for a start, but-"

"I'd like to see." Draco answered, smiling. He knew Harry thought he was being subtle as he set up the room. Harry hadn’t been subtle. More than once, Draco had caught him with flecks of paint visible on his clothing.

"I... I made it green for now, but we can change it if you want," Harry explained, bouncing off the sofa. Draco put his book to one side and held out his hands, demanding Harry help him up. Harry did and pressed a brief kiss to his lips, and then he lead him along to one of the bedrooms on the same floor as Draco's own. Draco couldn't help thinking of his room as theirs now, when Harry was there every night. Harry pushed open the door and smiled anxiously.

Draco stepped into the room. He'd been prepared to lie and say that he loved it, but the room was beautiful. It was a pale green with windows enchanted to give a view of the countryside. There was a crib with a mobile above, showing the different animals of the Hogwarts houses. There were shelves full of children's books, a changing table, and a wardrobe. There were a few toys scattered around. Draco thought his scorpion would be comfortable here.

"I asked Ron for recommendations of children's books and spoke to his mum..." Harry smiled shyly. "Andromeda too. And I thought..." he hesitated and gestured to a photo frame on one of the shelves. "Maybe we could take a photograph together, so our child has that."

"It's lovely," Draco said, and he meant it.

"We... Narcissa said that it isn't my place to ask about names, but..." Harry looked at him curiously. "Did you have one in mind?"

"Scorpius." Draco answered instantly, his hand resting over his not-so-little scorpion, knowing it wasn't long until they appeared in the world. "If it's a boy, Scorpius. Shaula for a girl."

"Oh?"

"Scorpio is... it's a constellation that's only visible in July. Shaula is the brightest star in the constellation. And... well, when it was just me and them who knew... I used to think of them as a scorpion. As this poisonous... as this dangerous secret. But I... I wanted them. Even when I didn't know we'd get this." He swallowed. "Middle names... it's your choice, that one. But I thought... well, if you wanted James, or Lily, or..."

"Scorpius," Harry said the word to himself, smiling a little. "Your family uses constellation names, right?"

"Yes. My mother's side does." Draco agreed, watching him. "What were you thinking?"

"Maybe Shaula Leah or Scorpius Leon?" Harry suggested, and he was smirking a little as he said it. Draco rolled his eyes, but kissed him anyway. They were ridiculous, Gryffindor names. But they were from Harry, proof Harry accepted their child. Proof that Harry wanted them, and Draco could accept a little ridiculousness for that. He smirked back.

"Come on, let’s go to bed."

"Draco, it's not that late yet."

Draco arched an eyebrow at him, and after a second Harry laughed and rushed towards their room.

NEWTs came. They were an inevitable looming mass on the horizon, and even their distance from Hogwarts didn't allow them to escape their dreaded exams.

Given how far along Draco was in the pregnancy, they decided it would be better to take a room together in Hogsmeade rather than sleep in the dormitories at school. Draco adored Blaise and got on passably well with both Gregory and Theodore, but he didn't want any of them to be responsible for helping if his scorpion decided to make an appearance at an inopportune moment.

At the start of the year, Draco would have been devastated at missing the time with his friends. But he got to see them a lot now and had spent a few weekends revising in the library with them. He wrote to Blaise and Pansy often, and they were planning to visit over the summer, although both had made it clear that they weren't going to help with the child. It had been decided to make Ron and Hermione godparents, mostly because, unlike Draco's friends, they were excited about the arrival of the baby.

Draco had plans to go to St. Mungos a week after exams, but he also knew they would be able to get there faster if the need arose. Andromeda had gifted him with one of the emergency portkeys that she had for Teddy, and he wore it all the time.

Due to the difference in their subjects, Harry only had three sets of exams. His first one was Charms, which was on Tuesday. So on Monday he walked Draco to the school for his Ancient Runes exam. Draco and Hermione were the only students taking the examination, but Draco didn't mind that. He was glad for her company. She walked him back to Hogsmeade, going over exam questions and the different symbols. Then she returned to Hogwarts, and he went to cuddle up against Harry's side.

"Does she always insist on replaying every exam?" Draco asked as he skimmed over the notes that Harry was working on.

"You need to be clear she can't keep talking about an exam once it’s over," Harry told him, going in for a kiss. Draco indulged him briefly, before pulling away with a smile.

"I have to study. Charms tomorrow."

Charms was probably the examination that Draco had been most nervous about, but he got through it. Then he had Potions. He had to take his practical exam in a separate classroom, which had been carefully charmed in order to ensure he wouldn't be exposed to any harmful fumes. He was also given a written list of the ingredients of a poison to identify, rather than a sample of the poison itself. He still produced the antidote for it within the time limit. Harry had spent the morning with Teddy and the afternoon preparing for Transfiguration, but he still was at Hogwarts after the Potions exam to greet Draco. They ate dinner together in Hogsmeade before Draco had to return to the school for Astronomy.

He spent Thursday asleep while Harry did his Transfiguration exam. Draco hoped he'd do well. He'd tried to make sure he prepared him for it, but he knew that Harry could panic sometimes under pressure. Sure enough, Harry admitted he had accidentally exploded a vase he was meant to be transfiguring, but he reassured Draco the rest had gone well. Draco picked ceramic shards from Harry's hair and gave him a kiss.

"This time tomorrow, it'll all be over."

"I never, ever, want to do an exam again."

"Aurors do exams," Draco pointed out with a smirk, and Harry shrugged and cuddled up closer. Draco kissed him in return. He wasn't sure what Harry would end up doing, but he would be there to support him in any way that he could be. He thought that Harry would be there for him as well.

The final exam was Defence Against the Dark Arts. The theoretical paper was challenging because it had clearly been updated to reflect recent events. Draco found himself staring blankly at the paper for several minutes when he turned a page to find himself faced with the question, "How did Death Eaters breach the defences of Hogwarts Castle during the period of 1996-1998?" He was shaking a little, and only snapped out of it when he heard Harry's voice breaking through the silence of the exam room.

"What the fuck?"

"Mister Potter-"

"What kind of a question-" Harry was starting to rant, and several of the examiners looked nervous. Draco twisted around and gave him a reassuring smile, and that seemed to calm Harry down. Draco flicked past that page, and scribbled the answers he could. Even skipping that page, he hoped he'd answered enough for a good grade. Eventually the exam was finished, and he could leave his desk. Harry was embracing him instantly, as several of the students glanced his way.

"Draco... Draco if you aren't able to do the practical, that's okay."

"I'm not letting them win." Draco spat, and Harry looked into his eyes and nodded. They ate lunch together in the Great Hall. Draco never imagined he'd eat at the Gryffindor table, but it seemed easier than leaving Harry’s side, and the separation between houses didn't seem as enforced as it had been. Pansy and Blaise made their way over. Both of them looked pretty exhausted as well, and Pansy threw her arms around Draco's shoulders.

"I heard about the exam."

"It's alright," Draco told them. "I know I've passed." He smiled over at Blaise, who was fiddling with their wand, and after a moment they smiled back at him.

"And otherwise?" Pansy pressed. "Everything's set up, and-"

"It's fine, Pans. I'll get good doctors."

Blaise didn't look so sure at that. "They're willing to sabotage your NEWTs."

"It's the child of the Chosen One. I couldn't be safer." Draco reassured them, and tried to ignore the worried expressions on both his friends' faces. Harry frowned.

"Draco..." Harry seemed concerned, then turned to Blaise and Pansy. "You really think he's at risk?"

"I'd say you should make sure someone stays with him." Pansy answered. "Theo fell off his broom badly at the start of the year, had to go to St. Mungos, and... well. If Slughorn hadn't gone to fetch him back... he was in a worse state than when he went."

Harry looked upset. More than that, he looked angry. But he nodded. "Someone will stay with him."

Draco wanted to argue, wanted to say he could look after himself. But he wasn't going to put his scorpion at risk. He managed to eat, and then they went to wait to be called for their practical.

Eventually, one of the examiners called out "Potter, Draco!" And he stepped into the examination room. He squared his shoulders a little because he was more nervous about this exam than most. He wasn't so worried about the actual result, as long as it was a passing grade, but he knew some of the examiners were aurors. He walked in and found himself face to face with Auror Robards.

The man smiled. "Mister... Potter."

Draco crossed his arms, trying to work out why Robards had chosen to examine him and not Harry. He supposed they didn't actually care what grade Harry got, but were looking to humiliate him. Two could play at that game. He smiled, inclining his head politely. "Auror Robards, a pleasure."

"I saw they were letting you take this exam, and I thought it would be best to see for myself how you were doing. After all, you are regularly alone with Mister Potter, and I would hate for him to come to harm."

"We're alone every night," Draco agreed, keeping his voice sweet. "And don't worry, I'm more than capable of protecting him."

The auror frowned, but he nodded. "If you could produce a shield charm?"

"Protego," Draco demonstrated, waving his wand through the air in the familiar pattern, trusting it to protect him. It did, easily deflecting the spell sent his way. He held the shield for a few moments and then allowed it to drop. He was already feeling tired, but he refused to show weakness. Proximity alarms were easy to demonstrate, as were various wards - he'd grown up knowing those. Disillusionment charms he had used during the war. Disarming the auror was a pleasure - especially as given his condition, he wasn't able to fetch the man's wand.

Robards seemed to be disappointed by how easily Draco was meeting the spells he was being asked to handle.

"We do normally ask our NEWT candidates to engage in duelling practice at the end of their examination, however due to your circumstances that would clearly be inappropriate. It was decided therefore, that you producing a Patronus would be considered sufficient to cover that part of the test."

Draco nodded, not immediately acting, playing for time. He could refuse, but that would be a reason to fail him. Or he could attempt it, and fail for that reason. After the question he had faced earlier, he didn't want to fail.

The idea hit him just as he was aware he was running out of time. Harry would be almost finished with his own exam by now. It would be a risk, but it could work. Refusing or attempting the spell would cost him the exam.

He drew his wand and moved into a casting stance, standing with one foot slightly forwards. Then he cried out, his wand slipping from his hand as he gasped for air. He rested one hand on his stomach, looking around the room and stumbling to his seat. He gasped for air with deep, frantic breaths. He whimpered and risked a glance at Auror Robards.

The auror was almost frozen, staring at Draco in horror. "Mister Mal-Potter-"

"The nurse?" Draco asked. "Can... can you get the nurse, or-"

"I think you are right, you should go to the Hospital Wing," Robards agreed. Then he was half-pulling Draco up to his feet and pushing him over towards the door.

"My wand-" Draco protested, and the auror summoned it with a flick of his wrist then handed it over. He pushed Draco out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

Draco stared at the closed door in mild disgust and went to lean against a suit of armour to wait for Harry. It wasn't long until Harry emerged, and he looked concerned.

"Draco, there you are-"

"Did they tell you I was in the Hospital Wing?" Draco asked, and Harry frowned.

"No, why would you-"

"I pretended to need it. I just got shoved out into the corridor." Draco muttered, and he felt a bit sick, even though he knew it was an overreaction. He knew he'd faked it. "It was Robards. He wanted to fail me."

Harry looked angry, but he focused on embracing Draco and leading him to an empty classroom so he could sit down and get his breath back. As he did, he explained his act.

The expression on Harry's face was somewhere between disbelief and admiration, and he kissed him when he had finished.

"Can we put in a formal complaint, after-"

"Yes. But for tonight, can we just... can I go home?" Draco swallowed. "I know there'll be afterparties, and you can go. But I'm just-"

"I want to stay with you." Harry promised. "The parties can wait. Tonight, I just need to hold you."

Draco didn't feel like arguing with that.

Draco had never actually expected to complete his NEWTs. Not since the end of Fifth Year at least, when all of his plans for the future came crashing down around his shoulders with Father's arrest. But he woke up the day after his final exam, in his own bed and with Harry's arms around him. He felt hopeful that the rest of his life would be like this, waking up slowly in his husband’s arms. He knew that Harry would be a good father. Better than his own had been.

If Draco could have changed anything about his life, he would have wanted Harry to love him back. But he wasn't greedy, not about this, no matter what people said. Potter loved their child and was kind to him. That was more than enough.

"We don't have to study today, do we?" Harry mumbled into his shoulder, and Draco twisted to look at him. Harry's hair was always a mess first thing in the morning - worse even than it remained throughout the day. But that mess suited Harry. Draco smiled to himself, looking at him curiously.

"No, Potter, we don't have to study now that we've finished our NEWTs."

"Good." Harry yawned, and pulled the blanket tighter around them. "We'll be okay, won't we?"

"We'll be fine. Go back to sleep." Draco insisted, and he felt Harry's body relax. He smiled, reaching for Harry's hand and studying it. He had fallen hard. He thought of those ridiculous letters Hermione and Harry had forged, the ones that had saved his life. The ones where he had confessed feelings for Harry - feelings he hadn't felt then but felt now.

It didn't matter. His life was good, and he had a future. He didn't think his mother would be disappointed by his plan to stay with Harry for as long as the other man would have him.

Draco drifted off to sleep a little later and was woken by Harry untangling himself from where he was looped around Draco as he went to get breakfast. Draco smiled to himself as he heard Harry going upstairs to wash then heading to the kitchen. Harry floated in two plates of food just as Draco was getting to the point where he would have to get up.

"Really?" Draco arched an eyebrow. "Breakfast in bed?"

"Breakfast in bed," Harry agreed, slipping back under the covers. He pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek, and smiled. "You made it through NEWTs, you deserve a treat."

Draco nodded and laughed softly. "I suppose this can go on the list of things that my mother must never find out about." He smirked, putting on a high voice. "Only Muggles don't bother with the effort of going to the dining table for breakfast, Draco dear."

Harry's nose twitched in distaste. "Well, that makes no sense. We've got vanishing charms, and the Dursleys never..."

"You never have to see them again." Draco promised, because sometimes Harry needed to hear that. Harry nodded and leaned in for another kiss before he began to eat. Draco watched him fondly between bites of his own food.

"Draco?" Harry asked. "You okay?"

"More than okay," Draco promised. "Just... I'm happy."

"You looked like you're... thinking." Harry muttered at his breakfast. "Did I use the wrong fork again, or-"

"No." Draco shrugged. "Just... glad I ended up here, I guess. You've been kind to both of us."

He'd been expecting Harry to smile at that comment. Instead, Harry frowned deeply. "Draco... you two are my family, of course I'm-"

"I know you would be regardless, Harry. You're always..." Draco shrugged a little, staring at his plate. "You're good to everyone, Harry. I can still appreciate it."

"That isn't the point." Harry stared at him. "I'm good to you because I love you."

Draco almost dropped his fork. "You...what?"

"I... love you?" Harry repeated it carefully. "I thought... I thought you knew, I... oh god, Draco, I... I'm sor-"

"Don't." Draco lifted his hand, pressing a finger to Harry's lips. "Don't apologise."

"But you don't.... you don't?" Harry started, and he suddenly looked ill.

Draco reached out and took Harry's hands. "You idiot, Harry. I love you. I just... I didn't realise you felt the same."

"Oh." Harry blinked, and then kissed him, moving to wrap his arms around Draco. Draco quickly waved what remained of breakfast over to the side, indulging in another kiss. Harry grinned. "I love you. I love you."

Draco laughed, and kissed him again. Breakfast had gone cold by the time they returned to it.

That afternoon, Harry was fussing at the nursery, and Draco was watching him, when a sudden sharp pain shot through him. He cleared his throat. "Harry, I think we'd best head to St. Mungos."

Harry looked up, dropping the photoframe he'd been cleaning. Draco aimed a quick reparo, let the pieces of glass soar back into the frame, then cleared his throat again. "Harry, now."

Harry rushed to grab the bag Draco had prepared and held onto Draco as he activated his portkey. They emerged a moment later in a brightly lit atrium, and Harry waved over a Healer. Draco kept a tight grip on Harry's hand. It was all going to be alright. He knew that it would be, as long as Harry was there. Another sharp wave of pain crashed through him, and someone forced a potion into his mouth. He didn’t let go of Harry's hand.

Draco was aware of Harry’s hand holding his even before anything else came into focus. He was lying in a bed under a blanket, and Harry’s hand was gripping his own. He tightened his grip for a moment, letting Harry know he was there, waiting to see what Harry said to him. There was a momentary pause, and then Harry’s fingers tightened back.

“It’s okay, Draco. It’s okay.” Harry’s voice was calm, and Draco allowed himself a few moments to bask in that comfort, before reality slowly flooded over him. He remembered that they’d gone to St. Mungos using his portkey.

He remembered Harry, and then - “Are they alright?” Draco gasped, surprised that his voice sounded a little rough.

“Yes. They’re fine,” Harry told him, and he felt some of his pillows getting adjusted before Harry carefully moved him to sitting. Slowly, Draco opened his eyes, and found Harry was sitting there beside him. He looked exhausted, and his hair was worse than ever. But seeing Draco, he smiled. “You, on the other hand, gave us a fright.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently…well. Remember how you feared that our magic wasn’t compatible-”

“Yes…” Draco stared up at him, trying to understand. He was sure their magic was compatible. It explained a lot. It had been a comfort through everything. Surely Harry wasn’t about to take that away from him.

“It turns out you could not have been more wrong,” Harry stroked his fingers through Draco’s hair. “You gave us quite a scare. Our magic is so similar that the baby's is almost exactly like ours. So your magic got tangled with his, and there wasn’t enough difference between the two of you for a quick and easy delivery. It took them a while to fix it without leaving you injured. It’s alright though, they managed to separate the two strands without leaving either of you powerless…”

“Where’s-”

“They’re just being checked over by a Healer, but I’ll go and fetch them…” Harry lifted Draco’s hand and pressed a kiss to it as though he was a knight in some historic tale, and then walked out.

Draco winced at being left alone. He felt exhausted. But it wasn’t long until the door opened, and Harry walked back in, a tiny bundle of blankets in his arms. He sat down beside the bed, and Draco reached for his child.

“Scorpius Leon Potter…” Harry murmured, gazing at the baby - their son - with reverence. The boy took after Harry in complexion, his skin a warm brown, but he still had a shock of Malfoy-blond hair. The child blinked up sleepily, and Draco saw that he had grey eyes flecked with green.

“Hello, Scorpius,” Draco murmured, gazing down at the baby. The child seemed impossibly small and impossibly adorable. He allowed himself a moment to consider the enormity of the future stretching ahead of him, the fact this child could have cost him his magic, but he couldn’t. All that mattered was Scorpius.

He smiled, and gestured for Harry to sit beside him. It felt right, cuddling up against Harry’s side, holding their son. Draco kept watching Scorpius, fascinated, as a sense of tiredness crept over him, his magic exhausted by all that had happened.

He drifted off and woke to the sound of the door opening. His mother stood there, and she smiled. “Draco?”

“You… you should meet him…” Draco murmured. Mother approached, and Draco handed over his son, recognising the love that she looked at the boy with. The same love she showed Draco.

“Andromeda and I have decided that we can manage to turn the bedroom next to mine into a nursery, if you two ever need some time alone-”

“You’re moving in with Andromeda?” Draco asked. He saw the concern flicker in his mother’s eyes, hidden almost instantly.

“I know it’s not ideal, Draco, but… I thought this would allow me to be closer to the three of you, and…”

“I’m glad you’re not there any more, Mother.” Draco promised. He was only too aware of how horrible it would have been for her to be alone in that space, surrounded by memories that she couldn’t free herself from and without him there to comfort her.

“Thank you, Draco.” Mother pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You don’t need to worry about me though. You’ve got this little one.”

Draco allowed her affection. Mother never showed any kind of fondness in public, even though he knew she felt it. The fact that she showed it now meant that she had accepted Harry as part of the family.

“His name is Scorpius.” Draco told her. She nodded her approval, reaching out to stroke those wispy strands of hair.

He yawned, and curled against Harry. His mother thanked them both politely and then left.

Harry gazed at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, mostly,” Draco replied.

Harry laughed a little, but it was a good sound. “I’ll keep Scorpius out of trouble. You get some rest.”

Knowing that Harry was there and that Scorpius was safe, Draco allowed himself to drift off.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks weren't easy. Not that Scorpius himself was a problem. He slept peacefully most nights and when he didn't, Harry was quick to go and check on him and hold him close. Draco got used to waking up to the sight of Harry walking around their room, holding their son against his chest and singing half-remembered songs to him. If it had just been the three of them, if they could have walled out the world, it would have been perfect.

But the world wasn't going anywhere. In the eyes of the world, Draco was a Death Eater. Harry's act might have saved him from Azkaban and the marriage might have gone some way to restoring Draco's reputation, but it hadn't gone far enough to stop rumours circling about Scorpius's parentage. The rumours that the child had somehow been fathered by Voldemort were much less entertaining when they were printed in the gossip columns. Harry had to endure more than one check by the Ministry to ensure that he wasn't somehow being manipulated or forced into the situation.

Harry bore the speculation with more grace than Draco could have managed. At least no one doubted the child was Draco’s, there were enough photographs out there that proved it. The fact that, to him, Scorpius clearly looked like Harry's child didn't seem to be more widely accepted. But Draco knew the truth. They both did.

Draco gazed absently at the smouldering remains of a Howler that had arrived just as they had been tucking into pancakes. It had interrupted their morning and yelled at him for tricking the Saviour of Wizarding kind.

"Is it over?" Harry called out from the hallway where he had taken Scorpius. Scorpius didn't like Howlers and would scream every time one went off. Draco could hear his son's soft sobs and Harry's quiet noises to shush him. He made himself take a couple of deep breaths, then spoke once he was sure that his voice would hold steady.

"It's over."

Harry walked back in, coming to stand beside him. Scorpius's cries had subsided to sniffles, and Harry looked at their boy with obvious love. "I'm sorry, Draco."

"It's alright." Draco winced a little. "I'm just sorry that Scorpius and you have to listen to my hate mail."

"We'll sort out something." Harry said firmly. "I'll speak to Hermione. There must be something that can be done..." Harry handed Scorpius over, and Draco cradled their son as Harry's arms wrapped around his waist. He rested his chin on Draco's shoulder. "We should go to Andromeda's today."

"Have you told the school that we’ll be at Aunt Drommy’s?" Draco asked quietly. He knew the NEWT results were due that afternoon, and he didn't want to miss them. Harry smiled and nodded, and Draco finished the rest of his breakfast with Scorpius supported on his lap.

He was nervous about NEWTs on his way to his Aunt's house, but he told himself it would be alright. Whatever results he got, he was still going to have the support of his mother and Harry. He could be a good father even if he had failed every one of his exams.

Andromeda seemed to realise their tension. She'd got freshly baked cookies waiting for them on the patio. She embraced Harry tightly, checking on Scorpius who was curled up in a sling beside Harry’s heart, before smiling at Draco. "How are you all doing?"

"We got another Howler this morning," Harry told her, and she frowned. Harry always said the Howlers were for them, and that made Draco feel warm inside in a way that he couldn't quite explain. He was always the target, but Harry never blamed him or seemed angry, at least not at him.

"I'm sorry," Andromeda sighed. "I got a few of those when Ted and I..." She shook her head, and smiled. "Big day for the two of you today, isn't it?"

"I guess..." Harry shrugged a little. "The Ministry still keeps asking me to come and work for them. But I've told them not yet. I want time with Scorpius while he's small, and..." Harry glanced over at Draco. "I need to work out some things."

"That seems like a good idea," Andromeda reassured him and reached out to pat his shoulder. Before she could say more, Draco spotted a couple of owls approaching. He raised his hand.

"They're here."

Watching them get closer and knowing they had the answers was almost agonising. Draco's mother joined them from inside the house, and the four of them stood waiting in silence. Eventually the owls landed, and Draco reached for his results letter with trembling hands. He tore it open once he had it, taking a look and nodding. It certainly could have been worse, and he pushed down the hurt he was feeling.

Harry thrust his paper into Draco's hands without opening it. "What did I get?"

"It's good," Draco reassured him once he had cracked the seal and unfolded it. "You passed. O in Defence, E in Charms and Transfiguration."

Harry nodded, reaching for the paper again. He read it over twice as though uncertain what he was seeing. He smiled nervously, and then looked at Draco. "How did you do?"

"O in Potions, Charms and Ancient Runes, E in Astronomy, A in Defence." Draco reeled off, glancing at his mother. Narcissa smiled at him, and he managed to smile back. "Not as good as I would have liked, but... I passed Defence, so..."

"You did well," Harry said quickly. "That's... that's really good." Harry paused, seeming to see that something was wrong. He frowned, concentrating. "You needed an E in Defence to be a Healer, right?"

"Yes." Draco shrugged a little, trying to blink back any tears that threatened to spill at the knowledge that Harry had bothered to learn that for him. "But I passed it, so that's good."

"You could retake. If you wanted, I mean." Harry shrugged. "They sabotaged you in the paper."

"Maybe one day." Draco pushed those thoughts aside. They weren't his concern right now. He had a son and a husband who needed him. Mother walked over and embraced him for a moment.

"I never doubted that you could do it, Draco."

Draco nodded, and then smiled as his mother very awkwardly hugged Harry. The moment only lasted a second or two, but for Draco it was confirmation that everything would work out, that Harry was her concern as well. Draco paused, and then whistled for the owl. "I have to write to Blaise and Pansy. Granger too."

Harry cursed under his breath, earning a disapproving look from Mother. Andromeda fetched some paper for the two of them. Harry kept smiling at Draco, and even if Draco hadn't gotten the grades he'd hoped for, he smiled back. He'd passed. He'd made his mother proud, and he felt like he had done what he had needed to for whatever would come next. He still doubted he would ever get a job, but he would at least have the qualifications for it if he needed them.

He watched the owls flying off to their friends, and he felt a sense of calm settle over him. Scorpius began to whine, and Draco was instantly on his feet, going to reassure his son. Harry walked over to stand beside him, folding a spare bit of parchment up into a crane and enchanting it so it hovered over Scorpius's head.

"You learned that off me?" Draco asked, and Harry nodded. Draco smiled. "You deserve your E in Charms, Harry."

Two years later, Draco watched his son running around Andromeda's garden, chasing after Teddy. The older boy had a streak of blond in his hair again and he was laughing. Mother and Aunt Drommy were having tea, and Harry was sitting with them talking through his plans for the renovations he was working on for Grimmauld Place.

Draco was scrabbling about in the mud, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing a bandage on one side. He was trying to check on some of the plants he was growing. He'd decided that this was the year he was going to take examinations in Transfiguration and Herbology and retake Defence in the hope of scraping an E. If he could do that, he would have the qualifications needed to be a Healer.

There had been a long time when Draco hadn't allowed himself to consider the future. When he hadn't thought he had a future. But now he had a plan. He was making potions that were needed in the Hospital Wing of the school, and he wanted to continue and maybe even learn some of the more practical side. He wanted to show Scorpius that no matter what mistakes you made, it was possible to have a future. The boy deserved to know that. Draco thought his life might have gone differently if he had known, but he didn't regret where he'd ended up.

Harry laughed, loudly, at something his mother said, and Draco couldn't help smiling to himself. Scorpius peeled away from Teddy to come and sit by Draco, staring at the plants in wonder.

"This," Draco explained, gesturing to the nearest plant and waving at its soft green leaves, "is Origanum Dictamnus, more commonly known as dittany." He paused, and gently took the stick that Scorpius had begun to chew on from his mouth. "You shouldn't eat things you find on the floor, Scorpius."

Scorpius blinked at him softly for a moment, then nodded with the seriousness only a toddler could manage. Draco stood and reached down, lifting the boy up into his arms, and walked the short distance to where the rest of them were talking. He settled down between his mother and his husband, casting a few non-verbal cleaning charms over his son to neaten him after playing. His mother poured him a cup of tea.

Harry smiled, and it was an honest smile. Draco leaned against him, letting Harry embrace Scorpius and trying to commit this moment to memory. He'd tried to cast a Patronus a few times over the past two years, and nothing had come from it. But as he focused on his family, he knew that the scars were healing, and one day he thought he might manage it.

Even if he never could, he had Scorpius, and he had Harry. They had a life and a family, and that was enough.