Archive of Our Own

Perhaps the first time he had been told that he was obsessed, he should’ve questioned what the difference was between obsession and any other interest, but he just shrugged and accepted that other people knew these things, and he perhaps was hyper interested.

But once the dust had settled, the battle over, and he stood in the Wizengamot defending the Slytherin, well… obsession was something that he had decided wasn’t a bad thing. Not when so many people seemed obsessed themselves with the idea of punishment for crimes that were far larger than a boy.

He’d been used as a pawn, and to him, so many had fallen victim for that very same crime. Draco Malfoy was no different.

So he had used his single minded determination to make others see his own way, and when the final gavel had been hit, the blond was free, and Harry rather believed that so was he.

He spent the following year between funerals, rebuilding Hogwarts, and visiting Snape in the hospital. There were too many things that took up all the space in his mind, that the place that once had been there for Malfoy was placed firmly in the back of his mind where it belonged.

The nights were long, but he’d learned that if he pushed himself truly to the end of the lengths of his consciousness, then he’d be able to fall into a dreamless sleep like trance, that would keep the nightmares at bay long enough to get a few hours of what passed as rest.

To him, it was more than he deserved.

Too many had died, too many had suffered, too many were still dealing with the fallout. The Weasley’s had been more than understanding when he’d broken up with Ginny, even if she hadn’t really understood it – and the blow up had been more than he’d expected; they had still and always accepted him in their home.

Even she had admitted that no matter how much she hated his guts, he was still like family.

So no, the obsession regarding Malfoy seemed to have just been the running imagery of a young teenager thrust into a war that predated his existence, and had left him seeing ghosts and enemies where there were none.

So far as he was concerned, Malfoy could finally do what he wanted to do, and Harry didn’t have to think or care about the man.

“This wall seems to be more resistant than the rest to the wards.” He muttered to himself, knowing that the goblins that were working on the warding with him still heard him. They were a largely silent bunch, and he respected that more than anything.

“’Tis perhaps a special curse, me thinks we should investigate the foundations.” Said Griphook, and Harry agreed. But the thought of going into the dungeons left him feeling claustrophobic.

“Fret not, Chosen One, we will do the digging. Keep working on the stonework with the masoners.” The ancient goblin said, and Harry nodded. He didn’t appreciate being seen so clearly, but he did appreciate that he didn’t have to say anything for these magical folk to understand him.

He rather thought that goblins were wise in a way that was overlooked out of wizarding centrist idealism, but that was a thought he only shared in the presence of Hermione, and occasionally Luna.

The delegation of goblins went into the bowels of the castle, and he took a step back, drinking deeply of his water goblet before he moved to the pile of large boulders to identify the next best stone for the placement, when he saw the shock of blond that was walking slowly up the path to the entryway of Hogwarts.

He wondered at the roll of his stomach, the slight jolt in his chest, but he pushed it all back as he began to use his magic to move the larger square like boulder into the air, inspecting it slowly, while he uttered the incantations that would allow for the ward to lace itself around the stone when the goblins had identified the cause of the structure rejecting the wards.

Sweat poured down his back, and he felt his muscles pleasantly tense – magic and manual labor left him feeling like he had never known how much a body could do until he’d encountered the perfect blend of both.

“Merlin, I had heard you were being used for labor on the castle, but I didn’t imagine it was literal labor.” He heard the posh accent, and he relegated the idle thoughts regarding the strange roll in his stomach, and the jolt in his chest to perhaps strain of his body, before he finished the spellwork, and placed the now prepared stone into the correct pile with brute magical force.

“Malfoy, can I help you?” he asked, taking a few measured breaths. He simply refused to be riled up any more by the man. He no longer saw him for the prat that he had in school, and if the other man saw him the same, that was simply between Malfoy and the lies in his own head.

There was a long pause, and he finally looked away from the large stone wall where he was mentally measuring the placements and the pile of boulders to his right, and toward the man who was standing there looking at him with an intense concentration that Harry could not get himself to understand.

“I came to see if there was a way that I could help. McGonagall sent me to you, she said you were the one that was in charge of placing students and alumni where they were best situated for the reconstruction efforts.” Malfoy replied finally, and Harry wished he could understand how the man could sound so posh and so casual at the same time.

It wasn’t quite something that he envied, but it was close.

“You are good in potions, charms, runes, and conjuration – correct?” Harry said, half to himself and half to confirm with the other man while he thought of all the different areas that were being restored currently.

“I… yes.”

“We need people to work on the runes and the potions for the foundation repair, as well as the warding of the leystones that will be placed around the castle when we are ready for that step.” Harry said, as he ran a towel over his face and drank deeply from his water cask.

“Go and find ‘Mione, she should be working with Nott and… what was his name,” he thought hard, “Davies, on the potions and runes work.” He put the towel back down, and caught the flush that had taken up Malfoy’s face, but chose to ignore it.

It was rather hot after all.

“They should be on the first floor in the rooms that were next to the great hall.” He finished, as he moved over to the pile of disenchanted stones, and began doing the mental maths to figure out the next one that would be good for the wall in question.

“How did you know which classes I was good in, Potter?” he heard Malfoy ask, just as he was about to levitate another boulder.

He paused, because he had truly expected that the man would just leave him be. They hadn’t been friends, and while Harry had long since wanted to let the past be just that, the blonde hadn’t seemed all that interested in moving forward.

“I…” he paused, because no matter what he said, it was going to show too much of his hand. He merely shrugged, and used his magic to pull the next boulder up and began uttering the spellwork that latticed around the massive stone.

He eventually felt the man leave him be, and in his absence, he thought about the question.

How did one say, because I watched you more than you could’ve ever known. I know you, Malfoy. Sometimes I feel like I know you more than I know myself. Sometimes I think about how good you are, and this world is so desperately unfair to those that it plays with. Because you impress me. he scoffed as he finished with the boulder and moved it to the correct pile.

No… there was simply no way to answer that question without admitting that he’d been obsessed.

So, silence had been the best option, and he’d been happy he’d chosen it.

~~**~~

“You sent Malfoy to work with our team today.” Hermione said, apropos of nothing as Ron and her sat down at the table finally to eat the curry they’d gotten in Hogsmeade on the way home.

“Yeah, he is good in runes, and potions, not to mention his charms work is going to be helpful when we get into the minutiae of the leystones.” He said, as he unpacked the curry rice, and began to plate it for Ron before himself.

“He asked me how he knew you were good in all of those subjects.” She replied, taking the Vietnamese spring rolls out of the package, and biting into one before she placed another on his plate.

“He asked me the same thing. Didn’t know what to tell him.” He said, promptly putting food into his mouth to end the conversation.

“Maybe that you’ve been obsessed with him since fifth year?” Ron said on a laugh, and he caught the amused look in Hermione’s eye before she muttered more like since first year…

He groaned, “I get it. I was a prat in school. Great, thank you. I don’t see how that has anything to do with making sure that he is put where he can make the most impact.” He knew he sounded defensive, hell he felt defensive and he couldn’t explain it.

“Mate, it’s okay. The war is over.” Ron said, and he leaned over and put his hand on Harry’s forearm, which immediately felt grounding. Exactly as the ginger had intended. “You are allowed to be interested in blokes, even if the bloke you are interested in is Malfoy.”

A pin could’ve dropped in the room and it would’ve held all the sound of a nuclear bomb.

“I’m… I’m not interested in Malfoy.” He whispered, and he knew his heart betrayed the truth of that. The dangerous fire that had ignited in his stomach, followed immediately by the ice cold awareness that came only with the sense of shame that he couldn’t explain.

“Oh Bunny.” But thankfully, his two mates dropped it, and the conversation finally moved on to other topics, leaving him to pack away the thoughts that were unwelcome and unnecessary into their tiny box, and put them in the shelf in the area of his mind that was suspiciously labeled, “Draco Malfoy.”

No, he wasn’t obsessed, or interested, or anything.

He just knew the man, just like he knew a lot of people.

That was normal, and fine thank you very much.

~~**~~

“Potter, Davies sent me out here to get some sort of stone for our project.”

Malfoy walked up on him just as he was placing a large piece of iron against the stone wall, and the goblins were crafting their spellwork around it in order to hold the foundation up through the structure.

He idly wondered why his stomach and chest continued to react every time the other man was near him, but he let his mind close those thoughts off, if he loosened is grip even a bit then the structure might collapse.

It was an interminable fifteen minutes, while his muscles began to cramp and his magic was helping him hold the twenty meter iron bar straight up, when he felt the presence of a soothing cool magic that pressed against his shoulders and back. It helped him focus instead on the pain that was beginning to shoot up and down his body, and instead on holding the bar; but he wanted to know who had done it.

The magic had felt like cooling ice on his fevered skin. It had been soothing in a way that he’d hadn’t known he’d needed.

When the goblins had finally finished the incantation, he let go of the bar, and immediately felt the cooling magic leave him, he turned around and was unable to tell who had cast it. The goblins were talking amongst themselves, and Malfoy was have a football pitch away from him.

He gritted his teeth as the pain lanced through his fingers into his wrists, before he nodded to the goblins and told them that he’d be taking an hour to rest before the next placement.

They all nodded at him and then began their conversation again.

“Hey Malfoy, sorry.” He said, grinding his teeth in order to make sure that the pain in his hands didn’t make an appearance in his face. “Yeah, there are stones that we want to use when we begin the warding over the entire hectare around Hogwarts and into the forest, but we haven’t been able to find enough yet.” He continued to rub his hand, as he moved past the blonde and toward the long oak table that held tools, stones, and other magical equipment.

“Here, these are the ones that we’ve found for now. Eventually we are going to need at least another sixty more.” He showed the small obsidian disks that are about the size of his palm.

“Alright, I will bring these back in and then I can do some research on where we might be able to find more of them.” He heard Malfoy reply, but he was too busy wondering if he might be able to get Hermione to hand him a potion or an ointment for his hand.

“Sure, okay, thanks.” He replied, moving away from the other man and walking toward the castle. If he was able to get something for his hands he’d be able to help the goblins with at least one more bar before the end of the day, which would mean they’d likely be able to finish the great hall wall by the end of the week.

“Potter.” Malfoy said, as he caught up to stand next to him.

“Yes?” he knew his voice sounded rough, but really, there wasn’t anything else he had to say about the stones for now, and he wanted to get to Hermione before the goblins began to complain about his tardiness.

“Here, let me…” but Malfoy stopped, and before Harry could ascertain what the man wanted with him, he felt as much as saw the long tapered and beautiful fingers as they wrapped around his left hand and that rush of cooling magic wrapped around his hands and immediately he felt them uncramp and the pressure on his joints relax.

The groan was impossible to suppress. It felt like a slice of the most soothing magic he’d ever been in the presence of, and it was soothing even deeper past the ache than he’d realized was there.

“Give me your other hand.” Malfoy said, and he did. The same magic flowed through and within moments his hands were back to new, and he felt his heart was racing as hard as it did when he was on the Quidditch pitch and he’d caught the snitch.

“Uh, thanks.” He said. Harry realized he sounded incredibly dumb, but he didn’t know how, or rather what else to say that wouldn’t sound impossibly wrong.

“No problem. If you, I mean… well,” Harry had never heard Malfoy sound so unsure in his life, and it did something to him. It melted something in him, and he felt like it was dangerous.

“If I what?” he asked, finally looking up from his hands to see the flush that had captured the cheeks of the pale blonde man.

“If you need any healing or help, don’t hesitate to ask. You don’t have to do all this alone, Potter.” And even though the start of the sentence had been said so softly, almost as if another man had said it, the end of it reminded Harry precisely who he was talking to. The sharp angles around his name, the way it sounded like an insult rather than a monicker.

“Right, thank you.” He replied, and then making sure the other man had the stones, he nodded once more and turned to head back to the goblins.

The feeling of the Slytherins magic left him feeling raw, exposed, and impossibly aroused.

He poured himself into the stone work for the rest of the day, and refused to think too much on how good the other man’s magic felt, and why… for the few moments when it was touching him, everything seemed to relax in his body for what felt like the first time in his life.

~~**~~

The body underneath him was perfect. Not in the way that marble is, or the way that one conceptualizes an angel, but more… every part of the man was everything Harry had ever wanted.

Long, lithe, and lean. So beautifully pale, and so responsive.

He trailed his bigger, calloused hands down the expanse of pale cream skin, and watched the path of gooseflesh that his touch left in its wake. But it was the sounds that the man was making that had him so keyed up.

The dulcet moans, and the ever so soft keening, that had him yearning, physically to bury himself entirely into the body that was trembling underneath him.

He pressed his lips against the soft pink nipples, and relished with delight at the shocked gasp of the man, watching as the buds hardened into sharp diamonds, and he let the smirk continue as he trailed soft kisses up the firm pecs, to the long expanse of neck that held such beautiful tendons stretched taut with desire.

When he reached the man’s lips, they were parted as if in invitation, and he helped himself to the taste of them. Savoring the way that they fit perfectly against his own, as if they were made precisely to be kissed by him, to kiss him.

The taste left him undeniably consumed, his cock was as hard as steel, and he pressed himself against the length underneath him, his girth matched in the slender long prick that was held tightly in the pastel blue panties the man was wearing.

When Harry leaned back, his heart gave a sharp jolt when he looked up into the gray eyes and platinum blonde hair of Draco, as the man was flushed and his eyes blown wide with desire staring back at him.

“Harry…”

He woke up and pressed his hand to his stiff prick, unable to stop the inevitable, and desperately hoping that he could forget what caused the intense wave of lust that felt like it was going to consume him raw.

He came with a sharp cry, so fierce that he fell back asleep before he could clean the evidence, and his last thought was bliss shouldn’t be something he tastes his dreams and wakes fearing.

~~**~~

The sun was setting earlier and earlier, and he was determined that they would be entirely done with the east wing before the first frost.

The goblins had recruited bunch of xenomancers from Romania, and with them had come Charlie who was training two small Wedge Edge Dragons. So far as Harry was concerned it was a beautiful chance to reconnect with one of the Weasleys that he didn’t get to see so often, get to hang out with some dragons that were small enough to not be as terrifying as fourth year (being that these ones were only the size of really large horses, each) and to interact with xenomancers face to face.

Or rather… not face to face, because he’d decided the first day that they were exactly not the sort that he wanted to interact with, and he left them largely to the goblin horde.

Instead, he worked with Charlie to get the dragons to lift the larger boulders up the hundreds of meters to the top of the tower parapets that were being reconstructed, all the while laughing and feeling free for the first time in ages.

It had been so long since he’d flown, he all but forgotten the joy in being able to let himself feel the air in his hair.

Charlie had caught him up on all of the drama of the reserve, letting Harry in on the fact that he’d finally decided he was going to ask his on again off again partner to commit.

Harry cheered it on, and suggested that they go out for drinks that evening to celebrate Charlie finally finding his bollocks after two years of chasing Dylan.

When the day was done, he felt pleasantly used, his muscles lax, his heart light, and his smile incapable of being dimmed. It was the first time in ages that it felt like the world did actually move on after war, and he relished it.

When they’d entered the pub, he’d called for two butterbeers and Rosmerta had laughed at his shenanigans, yelling that she was pleased to see him smile again and the first round was on the house.

He threw himself into the first booth that was free, and Charlie fell into the one opposite him.

“What about you Hare? Anyone finally on that radar of yours?” the ginger asked him, and Harry let out a laugh.

“You know me… there is no one out there that wants who I am, and I am good with not dealing with … all of that” he replied, letting out a soft chuckle as he sipped his drink.

“You know, Ron told me that Malfoy is working up at the castle now.” Charlie replied, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Ron meddles where he doesn’t need to. It’s okay. There is no antagonism. We barely see each other, and when we do, we keep is peaceful.” He continued to sip his drink, and his eyes looked up just as the front door of the pub opened and Malfoy walked in with Zabini, Nott, Davies, Hermione and Ron trailing in a few steps behind.

He couldn’t have stopped his breath from hitching at the way the blonde wore the silk top and the tight white pants, any more than he could’ve stopped the sun from rising in the morning.

“Oh Hare. You got it bad.” Charlie said on a bright laugh, and Harry felt himself flush.

“I really don’t know what you are on about.” But when Hermione saw him and Charlie and waved, he realized that it looked like he was waving them all over and he wished desperately that he hadn’t been on his second beer and first whiskey. He felt for all the world like he already wasn’t on the right foot.

“Potter, Weasley.” Malfoy said, as Zabini slid in, then Malfoy and Nott all on Harry’s side of the table, and Hermione, Ron, and Davies on Charlies.

He could feel the way that Malfoy was only a bit from him, that chilling lovely cool magic that seemed to thrum under the surface whenever he was near, made Harry feel like his skin was too hot.

A live wire, and he was ready to spark.

“Potter, nice to see you. How have you been?” Zabini asked, and Harry made every effort to relax. His body was his to control, and with some effort he was able to trap it down and find some essence of control under all the desperation he didn’t understand.

“Good. Haven’t seen you in a while. How was your trip to Italy?” he replied, and Malfoy perked up.

“How did you know Blaise went to Italy?” he asked, his voice was like smooth whiskey, and Harry felt the hair on his nape electrify.

“I was talking to Potter the day that I was set to leave. We passed each other in the portkey office while he was on his way out.” Zabini replied, and Charlie across the table laughed at something that Ron shared.

Harry looked at the man, and wished for the life of him that he could be so carefree, he’d been so easily happy not but ten minutes before the entire group walked in, and now he wanted nothing more than to leave and find the protection and safety of the house.

The night extended and he felt himself begin the slow and steady descent into relaxation, when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.

Nott had reached into Malfoy’s lap, and had held his thigh.

Malfoy for all the world, looked unbothered, but his thighs had spread ever so slightly, and Nott was moving his fingers as if teasing just out of reach of what was clearly the apex of the man’s thighs.

Harry felt all the blood rush first to his cock, and then to his face.

He shouldn’t be invading the man’s privacy in such a way. He shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t matter that Malfoy was being felt up at the table with everyone there.

It shouldn’t matter that Harry felt his palm itch and he could feel the ghost of the tight white fabric in his own skin.

“I think I’m heading out for the night.” He said a bit too loudly, and the group looked at him with what he understood was confusion. The night had barely started and they’d all been talking about going dancing just moments before.

But he simply couldn’t witness what was clearly the inevitable between the two at the other end of his booth as the night progressed.

“Are you sure, Hare? Didn’t you want to go dancing?” Charlie asked, and Harry looked at him, and tried to keep all his thoughts locked behind the iron wall that was barely keeping him sane and civil.

“Change of plans.” He replied, and with a bit of maneuvering, he was able to get out of the other side of the booth, and step back.

“Have a good night.” He said to the group in general, and with a nod, he walked up to the bar, paying the Pub owner for the table for the night, and walked out in the brisk late fall air.

No… no he simply wasn’t going to be bothered with what Malfoy did. That was fine. It was fine. He wasn’t obsessed, clearly, he was able to leave.

Let the man have a good time.

It was fine.

~~**~~

“Drake, perhaps you should talk to him.” He heard Zabini’s voice, and he paused for a moment before he remembered that he wasn’t in Hogwarts as a student anymore, and eavesdropping was not something he wanted to practice anymore.

Harry pushed into the room, and watched as Malfoy and Zabini appeared to be looking at the verge of a heated argument. He felt his brow raise, and looked at both of the men, before he cleared his throat.

“Zabini, since you are here, I wanted to know if you had it in you to help with some runes on the astronomy tower. I know how good you were in that class.” Harry said, unclear what could’ve caused the fight, and hating that his first thought was the scene at the pub a few weeks prior.

The idea that Malfoy needed to be coached to talk with Nott, since a sick and disgusting oily feeling in his stomach, and it took a far bit more of his willpower to ignore it than he’d expected.

“Of course, Potter. Now?” Zabini asked, though Harry noted that he hadn’t stopped looking at Malfoy, or that Malfoy hadn’t stopped looking at Harry.

“If you have the time. If we can get the rune work done this evening, then we can meet our goal and let everyone take a break for the holidays.” His voice was firm and even, and he’d never been more proud of himself.

“Then show the way.” Came the smooth drawl of the dark skinned man.

They walked out of the room together, and the weight of the room left behind them.

“What runework do you need done?” Zabini asked, and he let a sigh of relief escape. He really didn’t want to confront whatever was happening in that room.

“We need to add some protections to the tower to make sure that…” he felt his throat constrict, and he pushed through it as manfully as possible. “No one can fall. We also need to have some runwork that will allow for field of vision clarity, and perhaps some identification runes to help with constellation identification.” He finished.

His body jolted, when he felt the heavy hand rest on his shoulder, and he stopped.

“You are allowed to mourn, Potter. He… Dumbledore was a complex man, and quite literally a bit mad, but he also did his damnedest to protect a lot of people.” Zabini said, and to Harry it was the first time outside of Ron and Hermione that he’d heard a similar sentiment uttered.

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he briefly considered leaning into the other man, but refrained.

“Harry.” He said instead, and let himself relax. Sometimes people deserved to be close because they’d earned it by simply understanding.

“Alright, then Blaise it is.” The taller Slytherin replied, and with that, they continued on to the tower, talking about what types of runes would be needed and in what order they needed to be placed.

~~**~~

The day of Yule he found himself in the War Heroes ward of Mungo’s sitting at the bedside of Snape, who had only just recently woken up out of his magical coma.

The first evening he’d shown up after the man had woken, he’d sat in silence, while the Potions Master had stared at him with confusion, agony written on his face. Neither knowing what to say, with the potion master physical unable to speak, and Harry so relieved he felt like if he spoke he’d get sick.

But now, he had come prepared. Ready to have conversations, to discuss whatever the man wanted, needed to know.

He’d handed two vials to the man nearly the moment that he’d entered.

“The first is your memories. I did use a few of them when working on your trial, but I swear to you I kept as much private as I possibly could. Dum…Dumbledore had prepared a evidence kit in your defense that was released from protection wards at the ministry the moment you were admitted to Mungos after the war.

I only used your memories that I needed to, to corroborate evidence that he provided.” He paused, and then he handed the second over to the man.

“These… these are my memories.” He watched the delicate, long, fingers reach out and grab the second vial. But otherwise he was met with magical silence.

“I will of course answer whatever questions you have. When you are ready. But these… these are for you to have after… when… just so that you have them.” He finished. Unable to explain that these were as personal as the ones the man had shared with him.

Memories that he’d felt the man was owed.

He caught the edge of the mans gaze and looked up, staring into the vast inky darkness that had one time terrified him and enraged him. Now… now he simply wanted more for the man who had done everything to make up for a crime he only barely committed when he was younger than Harry had been.

“I spoke with the nurse and the healer, they said that you are likely to be here for a while longer while your vocal cords and the vessels in your body heal. I brought you some things to help with what I can only guess would be insurmountable boredom.”

He pulled out a large chest, and placed it at the edge of the mans bed, just within reach of his left hand.

“There are a bunch of books that I was able to save from your rooms at Hogwarts, there was a lot of damage done, but I saved what I could. The ingredients that made it, are safe in the lab at Grimmauld until you are able to handle them safely. There were also a few magical tools and such, I was also able to place those safely in Grimmauld until you are ready to retrieve them.” He paused, and then looked at the chest before he remembered the rest.

“I also put in all of the potions monthly magizines that have come out since May of last year. Plus the four editions of the quarterly. I found some interesting books on magic and potions while I was in Diagon a few months back and added them as well. I also put in your Order of Merlin and some important documents that you need to look over. If… well if you have questions about those, I would suggest talking to Hermione. She understands it better than I do. But it comes with a whole lot of really important things like a trust, and grants.”

He paused and finally let out a small smile before continuing. “I also found this buried in the back of what I think might’ve been Regulus’ rooms, and thought you’d like it.” He pulled out two photos. One of Snape as a student with Regulus’s arms wrapped around the dour looking Slytherin. The second photo was of Snape and Lily, with Regulus’ hand clearly half in the frame.

“They made me smile, and I hope they do the same for you eventually.”

He stood up, “I can come back whenever you want. Though I imagine… you may not want that at all. But… I do hope that we can, maybe we… I am so sorry, and I imagine that I wont ever be sorry enough. But I am more thankful than you could rightly even understand. Those memories might help with that at some point. But, I swear to you, on my magic, sir. I am so grateful that you are alive. And I would be honored to see if I can find the man that my mum thought was so great under the man you ended up having to become.” He paused, and felt himself begin to cry from the sheer want, the sheer relief that the man was alive.

“Merry Yule, sir.” He said, and in a moment of pure unadulterated shock, he watched as Snape nodded ever so slightly at him, before he turned and left the man to his silence, his peace, and his healing.

~~**~~

Spring came with a rush of activity. Harry had finally accepted a role with the curse breakers at the Ministry, and was allowed to use some of the time at Hogwarts to be able to pass his internship.

He’d also finally closed on a home of his own, just outside of Hogsmeade, about two kilometers from the edge of the small township. When he stood on the stoop, he could see Hogwarts on the hill in the far distance over the town, and he could see the town square on a clear day.

The forest abutted the back of his property, and he was in love with the way that it was precisely the type of silent that he had always wanted.

It was warded more than the ministry, and unplottable, with a secret keeper.

There were enchantments written in that stopped all manner of nefarious activity either on or near the property, and he finally was able to breathe properly.

Hermione and Ron had also been able to finally close on a small home that was just east of his, no more than a twenty minute walk, just behind the Weasley’s storefront that had finally opened in the small town.

Life was starting to finally feel like he had some measure of control.

His stretched, and relished the pop that he felt in his lower spine, as he heard the kettle finally boil and the tea began to make itself. The sunrise was beautiful, and the air felt bright and crisp, and dewy from the evening before.

He opened his eyes, and squinted when he saw Malfoy walk up the hill to his home. While he’d not necessarily done anything to stop the man from knowing where he’d settled, nor had he done anything to stop the man from coming – he’d rather never anticipated that he’d do so.

Harry suddenly felt dramatically unprepared, his plaid sleep pants slung low on his waist, and his waffle Henley was mostly unbuttoned, but he didn’t have the time to get prepared to the rate that Malfoy would approve, and he was No, it was fine. Malfoy didn’t need to know how he took his tea. Just because he did, didn’t mean that others had to know. Ron probably didn’t know how he took his tea either. It was fine.

“How do you take it?” the manner asked, and his voice sounded so soft, so unsure that Harry found himself replying before he realized his mouth was moving.

“A bit of heavy cream, a dash of sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon in the winter.” He looked into his mug and wondered why it mattered so much to either of them.

“Okay.” Malfoy replied, and a not wholly comfortable silence descended around both of them. At one in the same time, Harry felt relieved that the conversation had stopped, and also acutely aware of the tingle of cooling magic that seemed to settle on his shoulders and caused him to relax without his meaning to.

“I am not dating Theo.” Came the next sentence, and Harry had to put his mug down for fear he’d choke on the contents if he tried to take another sip.

“A…alright?” he replied.

Not that it mattered. It didn’t. That night had been more than three months ago now. Just because the relationship had been short lived, didn’t mean that Harry needed to know one way or another.

It didn’t matter, truly.

“I’m sorry that it didn’t work out?” he tried to say, annoyed at the way that it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“What?” the blonde asked, and Harry thought he sounded a bit confused.

“Well, I think it’s appropriate to tell someone you are sorry for their relationship not working out.” He said, half thinking that perhaps purebloods didn’t say such things.

“No, we… we weren’t… we never. I never dated Theo.” Malfoy said, and the way he sounded so unsure made Harry’s skin tingle.

Malfoy was never unsure.

“Oh.” He said, hating how stupid he sounded. “I just assumed. The… the way you both were so comfortable with, ahhhh, public displays of affection.” He trailed off. He didn’t want Malfoy to know that he cared.

Because he most assuredly didn’t care.

Not at all.

“No, it… it wasn’t like that. Shite, Blaise was right.”

They both trailed off and the silence felt almost unbearable. Harry had wanted a lazy Sunday morning before he walked down to have dinner with the Weasley’s, and now he was sitting with Malfoy on his porch, trying not to think about the fact that clearly Nott and the man hadn’t been dating but clearly were effectively fucking.

No. It. Didn’t. Matter.

He adjusted in his chair, and wished that the man’s magic didn’t feel quite so intoxicating. Quite so comforting.

He wished he could simply forget the man, and the way that he made him feel.

Harry rather wished that his heart wouldn’t jolt and his stomach wouldn’t roll, and his body wouldn’t feel so comfortable with the man that clearly didn’t really give a damn about him.

Again, not that it mattered. It didn’t. At. All.

“I sometimes struggle to feel safe in public.” Malfoy said, and Harry had to strain to hear the man over the sound of the morning birds. As if the man was sharing a secret and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted Harry to hear him.

“Theo, and… Blaise, they help. They… ground me. They, sometimes they just touch me and remind me that I am not alone, that I am safe.”

Something nasty curled up Harrys throat. He hated the world that stole so much from them both. The world that had demanded too much from him, and given nothing but hate and disdain for a man that hadn’t even had a chance to be a boy before the worlds worst evil had taken residence in his bloody home.

He felt his magic crackle with such heat and intensity under his skin.

The world could bloody well sod the fuck off. Malfoy was under his protection.

Harry realized that suddenly the cooling magic of Malfoy was laying across his skin, as if a blanket weighted to take the pressure off the rising tide of his own. It felt at once like the best thing he’d ever felt and the most intoxicating thing he’d ever been given.

“If you ever feel unsafe, and I am there. I will protect you.” He said, and his voice was deep, husky, heavy. He didn’t know how to challenge the right that the other two men had to touching Malfoy, and he wasn’t sure he should, but he bloody well could offer to be just as much to the man.

“I, yeah… okay.” Malfoy said, and Harry felt himself nearly growl before he swallowed it back.

“You can call me Draco, if you are going to be my savior.” The man said, and Harry couldn’t help the smirk that rose unbidden but there all the same. Only this man could share something so profound from himself, and then jump immediately to snark while offering his name.

“Then, if I am going to commit to the lifelong oath of protecting you, I supposed you might as well call me Harry.” He replied, and when he said it, it felt the most right that he’d felt in ages.

As if he’d said the start of something that would eventually be completed.

“Ri… Right, yeah. Harry.”

He picked up his mug, and took a long sip, hoping that it hid the way he knew his cheeks reddened at the way his name sounded on the blonde’s lips.

Nothing had quite sounded so lovely in his life, he was sure of it.

~~**~~

The next month found him swamped under too much paperwork, and not enough energy to be able to maintain the load.

The board had reached out to McGonnagal and demanded a timeline for when the school could open.

The ministry had reached out and demanded of him when he was going to finish with the castle so that he could properly begin with the Curse Breakers Department.

Snape had been working with legal counsel to not only set up a business, but also sell what was left of his property in Cokeworth and settle in Hogsmeade. Harry had been working with the man, and it had been tentative, and often fraught, but worth every ounce of effort they appeared to both be making.

He’d finally been able to sell Grimmauld and further he was able to change the bond on Kreacher and move the house elf to Malfoy manor where he was not only more effective, but still surrounded by the Black family magic.

But all of it paled in comparison to the way that everything between Mal-Draco and him had subtly changed. He couldn’t entirely put a finger on it, but something was different when the man was around.

He stared at Harry like he wanted to really see him.

And Harry, tried as he might, was unable to stop staring back.

When they were working together on the enchantments that would be needed for the mass warding of Hogwarts, he was taken with how intelligent the man was.

When they were exhausted at the end of the week, and they all found themselves at the pub, or one of their homes, he found himself almost inevitably sitting closer and closer to the other man.

When lazy Sunday mornings began to turn into shared cups of tea, and scones, and light conversation, and he looked forward to seeing the man walking up the hill in the morning light.

He didn’t understand it, but nonetheless, he accepted that there was a shift.
So it took him completely off guard when they were in Diagon Alley looking for outfits for the Ministry Anniversary Gala that was coming, when a spell was aimed at the man.

Harry felt his magic lash out before he could mentally even react. His shield was up, and his rage was incandescent.

He’d saved Draco, grabbing him close, and holding him tightly, while he shot his wand out of his holster and the two wizards that had made the attempt on Draco’s life were at once stunned, and wrapped in both ropes and chains.

“What the bloody fuck is wrong with you!” he’d bellowed, and the majority of the street had stopped, the only thing that had held him back from losing everything on the two individuals, was the way in which Draco was shaking ever so slightly against him.

Like a leaf in the early morning breeze.

He swallowed back the fire that threatened to take him over, and he called for the aurors.

It had taken him nearly an hour to realize that he’d not let go of the man once, when they’d been made to give testimony, and witness statements, and even when they’d moved to take Draco to the healers cart, Harry had gone with him the entire time.

Not once was his hand not touching the other man.

In some capacity.

Either his hand, or his arm was draped around the man’s shoulders, or he was holding him close when they were standing, his arm holding the mans waist tightly.

When they’d finally been let go of from the aurors, Harry had apparated them directly to his home, where he finally, finally released the man, as he placed him on the soft couch.

“I will make tea.” He said, but his body felt an impossible urge to not leave the man.

“Th…Merlin, thank you Harry.” He heard Draco say, and before his very eyes, he watched as the man crumpled in on himself and began to sob.

It was impossible to stop himself from moving back to the couch, where he sat down and pulled the other man directly into his lap, and held him while he let the fear and grief flood through him.

Harry held him through the storm, and he realized at some point that he was placing his magic out there, letting it soothe the other man as he often felt the other man do for him.

“You are safe. You are here. I promised you, when you are with me, you will always be safe.” He cooed, gently rubbing circles on the Draco’s back, holding the platinum blonde head under his chin, as he held him close.

“You can’t be with me everywhere.” He heard, so quietly, as Draco’s sobs had finally began to quiet, and the room was filled with the gentle sounds of the wind blowing through the window, and Harry’s hand rubbing circles on the fabric of the suit that Draco still wore.

“Want to bet?” he said, foolishly. He couldn’t be with the man everywhere. But he’d be damn sure that the example was set.

No one. Simply no one, would ever feel so comfortable to make a move on Draco Malfoy again, once he was done with the two wizards that had attempted to today.

“Po…Harry, Merlin, Christ, thank you for today. I wasn’t paying attention. I had let my guard down. I was… rather distracted. You saved my life.”

Draco sounded so small, and every urge in Harry’s body yearned to care for the man, to protect him, to keep him safe.

“Well, I rather think that as I was the one distracting you. Then it was only my duty, and honor, to protect you.” He said.

They both lapsed into silence, and within moments, he realized that Draco had rather fallen asleep on him.

His heart lurched, and his stomach swooped, and he ever so carefully placed the man on the couch, covering him in his softest throw blanket, and at the last moment, unable to stop himself – he placed a gentle kiss on the feather soft hair that he’d just been combing his fingers through.

“I made an oath, and I intend to keep it.” He whispered.

He filed the memory way, and the way that for the first time the way his heart felt, the way his stomach felt – wasn’t uncomfortable.

As if… something had finally shifted, and he felt closer to right than he’d ever done.

~~**~~

The trial for the two wizards had been highly publicized because Harry had pulled a few strings to make sure that it was.

He’d also made sure to be the star witness, and that Robards and Kingsley had made public statements regarding vigilante justice.

When Kings had asked why this one mattered so much, he’d just shrugged and said, “It should matter to everyone that a man who was exonerated almost two years ago, still cannot walk around safely even in the presence of the Chosen One.”

When the two had been sentenced to five years in maximum prison, at Azkaban, Harry had a moment of frustration that Dementors had been banned, before he had realized that justice was served and he could relax.

“They are behind bars where they belong.” He said that night, when Draco had come over with wine, and Harry had spent the evening making a roasted duck, and garlic pasta.

“But there will be others. I can’t hope that I’ll ever be truly free from people that think the worst of me, and would rather I die.” Draco said, and it was with such conviction that Harry nearly threw the pan across the room, but held himself in check.

Barely.

“I will make sure that the world sees you for the man that you are. I swear it.” He said instead, staring a hole in the boiling water.

“And what man is that? The man that took the mark when he was 16? The one that hated the Golden Boy for years? The man that was so weak he couldn’t even fight on either side in the final battle?” Draco scoffed and Harry had decidedly had enough.

“No, the man who had the world stolen from him the moment a mad man had come back from the dead. The man whose father never gave him a chance to taste the light because he was raised in the darkest corners of the night. The man that didn’t fight for evil, but got the mark to save his mother. The man that, when the time came, didn’t risk his family’s life by fighting on the opposite side, but refused to take a life. The man that you are today, Draco.” He stopped, and gripped the counter tightly, refusing to reach out, because he wasn’t sure if he was going to strangle him or crush him closely.

“The man that has spent the last year and half rebuilding the castle that was his only chance at freedom, and still became a prison. The man that let all the vile shit I did to him, behind him, even though he had every right. The man who wears the scars of a curse that I threw at him in a fit of fucking pique. You are a worthy man. And I’ll be damned if you sit at my table, and disparage a man I consider…” he choked, almost saying too much, before he finished. “More valuable than words.”

The silence that settle was charged. Draco was staring at him with something that Harry couldn’t even begin to dissect, and he wasn’t sure what his face or his eyes were saying, but he was sure that he’d said too much.

He turned back to the stove, and thanked Merlin and God that the water was boiling so that he could work on the pasta.

“Thank you.” The man said softly, and it sounded a bit breathless.

“You are welcome.” He replied, and if his voice was just as breathless, then perhaps it had to do with the steam.

Nothing else at all.

~~**~~

The final pieces of Hogwarts were finally coming together. Much like all things in magic, it was a lesson followed with ease.

The stones that had been evasive and illusive for the previous nearly three years had finally been found, or rather, to Harry’s delight, they’d come in the fur of thestrals and unicorns that had strode up to this property one evening while he’d been lounging under the stars, and he’d readily taken them while brushing and stroking the beasts and cooing at them.

Seventy Seven stones. Precisely what they’d needed remaining.

He’d worked tirelessly with Draco, and Hermione to come up with the correct charm that would be woven into the obsidian discs, while Nott had finished the potion that they would sit in for a month under a full lunar and solar cycle, and Davies had finally found the correct incantation that they’d all say under the summer solar solstice.

Several hundred students had shown up, alumni, adults, and family the night of the solstice. The bonfire had been lit, and all manner of magical kind was in attendance, something magical was in the air, and they could all feel it.

It felt, rather, like something was finally clicking back in place that had for far too long been out of alignment.

“Hey,” he heard Draco say to him, as he sat down on the large picnic blanket next to Harry, handing him a crystal flute of lemonade.

“Did you bring your own champagne flutes to the bonfire?” he asked, properly amused at the man’s antics.

“You cannot imagine me drinking from a plastic cup, or Merlin forbid, a paper one.” The blonde replied, and Harry let out a laugh that started from his stomach and ended floating in the air around them.

“No, no, you are right. How dare I even question it.” He replied, a chuckle still rumbling through him, as he took a sip of the refined and perfectly sweet lemonade.

“I was wondering, if after we finish tonight with the ward, you might want to come to mine.” Harry asked, and for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why the words had come out of his mouth.

He’d long been thinking of asking, but he’d not entirely decided one way or the other if he ever was going to.

“I could be persuaded. A nightcap would be rather lovely way to end the summer, and finish the reconstruction of Hogwarts.” Draco said, as the man leaned back on one of his forearms, his legs effortlessly, and effortlessly artful out in front of them both.

Harry thought about all the things that he’d wanted, all the ways he’d wanted, all the feelings that had threatened in the last two years, and he looked over at the man that was staring out at the bonfire.

The golden glow, giving a preternatural fire to the grey eyes, lighting the pale skin like he was made of light from the inside out.

“You were made to be kissed by firelight,” Harry uttered, and before he could stop himself he reached out and dragged the pads of his fingers ever so gently down Draco’s cheek. Unable to hide his gentle smile, when the man startled and looked up at him.

“I wonder if you would glow like this if I kissed you?” he asked, almost to himself, but pleased when he saw the other man’s throat constrict and swallow. He watched as Draco’s tongue darted out and licked his bottom lip, as an invitation and an expectation.

“I never thought you’d ever ask.” Draco said, and his voice was filled with such awe. Such wonder, that Harry rather thought, he’d been a right fool to miss all the things that had led them right then, to that moment.

“My place, after the warding.” He whispered, and when the bell tolled for the participants to take their stone and find their place in the large circle around the castle, he dragged his thumb across the man’s lower lip, and with a soft lurch in his heart, he smiled as the other man swallowed air and they parted.

He rather thought that perhaps, maybe… the castle hadn’t been the only thing reconstructed.

The future seemed impossibly whole all of the sudden.

~~**~~

The Beginning