1

Harry met the new and improved Draco Malfoy on a Tuesday afternoon. He had just managed to cajole Teddy into sitting down for tea when a loud pounding sounded at the door. Harry ignored it until Teddy asked, "Are you going to get that, Uncle Harry or do you want me to?"

Harry suppressed a sigh. At two in the afternoon, it could only be solicitors or reporters, neither of which he was in the mood to deal with, but he had been trying to impress upon Teddy the concept of being polite, which included answering the door and sending unwanted guests on their way. Politely.

"Stay here and finish your juice," he said and went to the door, wand in hand, just in case. He never expected to see Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy standing on his doorstep.

"Don't just stand there gaping, Potter, invite us in," Parkinson demanded.

Harry thought he would prefer to have a pair of deranged lions roaming his house, but he stepped aside and allowed them in. Malfoy gave him a wan smile, causing Harry to blink at him in surprise, wondering at the lack of animosity.

"Sit down, Draco," Pansy ordered when Harry shut the door and followed them into the living room. Malfoy sat obediently on Harry's sofa and then looked expectantly at him. Parkinson paced near the fireplace. "All right, Potter, since no one else gives a damn, I brought him to you." She pointed a sharp-looking nail at Malfoy. "Fix him."

Harry's brow crinkled and he shook his head. "I'm… not sure what you mean."

Parkinson rolled her eyes. "Have you been living under a rock? Surely you know what's happened?"

Harry looked at Malfoy and frowned. He knew some of it, of course. Everyone knew. Rogue Death Eaters had invaded Malfoy Manor, killed Lucius and Narcissa, and set the place afire. House-elves had managed to put out the blaze before too much damage had been done. Draco had not been home at the time. "I know about the attack, yes," Harry admitted, throwing Malfoy a look that bordered on sympathy, but Malfoy's face was curiously blank, watching Harry with an enigmatic expression.

"Did you also know that Draco has been in St Mungo's for nearly a month?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "I've been on leave," he said. He had taken the summer off to take care of Teddy, and also to re-evaluate his life and decide whether or not he wanted to continue in the Auror program. What he had once been so certain about now seemed rife with politics, paperwork, and an utter lack of excitement.

"So they told me. You must have missed the bit where someone returned to the Manor to finish the job. Draco was attacked and Obliviated. He remembers next to nothing." Her voice rang with bitterness when she added, "He barely remembers me!"

Malfoy frowned at her and then reached into his robes to pull out a small pad of paper and a self-inking quill. He scribbled on it for a moment and held it out for her. She closed her eyes as though fighting a comment, and then strode forward to peer at it. Harry watched the exchange, puzzled. Parkinson straightened and gave Malfoy a fond smile.

"I know you remember me from the Yule Ball, Draco. But that was eight years ago." She sighed and glared at Harry. "No one at the Ministry gives a fuck. They can't even find those responsible for the murder of his parents and they certainly don't care that he's become… this."

Malfoy's expression became more familiar, twisting into a haughty glare. He scrawled on the paper once more.

"Why—?" Harry began.

"He can't speak, Potter! Isn't it obvious? Half his bloody memory is gone; he can't speak and he's lost his wand… Fuck, he's practically a Squib now! Even with a wand, he can't cast any spells. I want you to fix him!"

Harry gaped at her. Draco Malfoy? Mute? Unable to snarl insults or make superior-sounding observations, or spew words of hatred and malice? It seemed like a gift! Like poetic justice. "But, if St Mungo's couldn't help him, what do you expect me—?"

"I don't care, Potter. Utilize your annoying brainy friend and the rest of the Gryffindorks and figure it out! The way I see it, you owe him."

Malfoy had stopped writing with a glare, apparently deciding that Parkinson had no intention of reading the words. He crumpled the page and then glanced around, possibly trying to decide what to do with it.

"How do I owe him?" Harry asked.

"You owed his mother a life-debt. Now that she's gone, the debt should transfer to Draco."

Harry rolled his eyes. "He owes me a life-debt. They should cancel one another out."

"Uncle Harry? I finished my juice."

Harry looked down to find Teddy lurking nearby. He dropped his hand to Teddy's hair, which was currently brown. He had been taught to school his hair and features into nondescript "normalcy" when meeting new people. Before Harry could urge him to return to the kitchen, Parkinson strode forward and crouched down to Teddy's level.

"Why, hello there," she said in a cheerful tone. "What a handsome young man you are. My name is Pansy."

Teddy beamed at her. "I'm Teddy Lupin!" he announced. "This is my Uncle Harry."

"I know. We are very old friends. And this is Draco Malfoy. He would say hello, but he can't speak."

Teddy's eyes went wide and he stared at Malfoy. "You can't?"

Malfoy shook his head solemnly.

"Then how do you ask for biscuits?"

Malfoy's lips curved into an amused smile and Harry stared at him. He had never seen Malfoy with such an expression—amusement, yes, but never untainted by malevolence. He looked very open and friendly as he bent his head and wrote on his pad. Teddy hurried over to look at it.

"Oh, you write notes! I can read!" Teddy announced loudly. He turned to look at Harry proudly. "I can read his notes!"

Harry smiled tolerantly and wondered how he was going to pry Teddy away from Malfoy and get the former Slytherins out of his house.

"I know, Teddy, you read very well for your age. Do you mind going—?"

Parkinson cut him off. "Actually, I need to go, Potter. I'll just leave Draco here with you and check back in on Saturday." Her tone was matter-of-fact as she slipped past him to head toward the front door.

"What?" Harry asked, spinning around to stare at her. "You can't do that!"

"Well, he can't come with me, Potter. I'm off to Switzerland with Mummy for the rest of the week. I'm sure you'll be able to help him." She raised her voice. "Bye, Draco! I'll be back soon to make sure Potter isn't mistreating you!"

"Mistreating? Wait! He can't stay here!"

Parkinson opened the door. "Of course he can. You have loads of space and he's no bother at all. You'll see. Ta until Saturday, Potter." With that, she traipsed down the front steps, waved almost coquettishly, and Disapparated. Harry glared at the spot where she had disappeared and peered up and down the street, searching for Muggle observers. There seemed to be none, thankfully.

"Damn her," Harry muttered and shut the door. He returned to the living room only to stop short in the doorway. Malfoy was sprawled on the floor next to Teddy. For a horrifying instant, Harry thought there had been an accident, but then he noticed that they each had a couple of Teddy's toy dragons in hand.

"…and this one is a nice dragon," Teddy was saying. "He comes in and stomps on the bad dragons that eat people. Like this!" Teddy slammed his dragon down atop several of the others with a loud roaring sound. His hair was bright blue. Harry sighed, rubbing his fingers into a headache that suddenly had his temples throbbing.

"Teddy, what have I told you about breaking your toys?" he asked.

"But you always fix them for me, Uncle Harry."

"I know, but I'm getting tired of doing it. You should try to keep them intact for a while, okay?"

"All right," Teddy said in a forlorn tone. "Draco, don't smash the dragons. Harry says to play nicely."

Malfoy nodded and met Harry's eyes with a grin. Harry did not return the expression.

"Teddy, will you take your toys upstairs and put them away? I need to talk to Malfoy for a minute."

"I thought his name was Draco."

"Yes, fine. I need to talk to Draco. Privately."

Teddy heaved a put-upon sigh, but gathered up his dragons and carried them out. "Bye, Draco, thanks for playing with me."

Malfoy smiled and waved as he got to his feet. Teddy thumped down the hall and up the stairs, bouncing like a kangaroo or a rabbit. Harry shook his head and admitted, "He's a handful. I have him for the summer, since Andromeda went to Italy for a much needed vacation."

Malfoy nodded politely and Harry realized he really had lost his memory. There was not a glimmer of recognition in his eyes at the mention of his Aunt Andromeda. "Do you remember me?" Harry asked softly.

Malfoy nodded in a somewhat eager fashion. He pulled out his notepad and scribbled for a moment before tearing off the sheet and handing it to Harry.

I saw you in a robe shop when we were boys and I remember that I wanted to be your friend.

Harry inhaled in surprise and felt a curious sensation of guilt. He had rejected Malfoy's friendship when they were children. Surely he remembered that, as well? He looked up and started to speak, but Malfoy had been writing again and tore off another piece.

And you saved me from a fire.

Harry stared at him, only to find wide, guileless eyes staring back at him with something that looked puzzlingly like… admiration. It was almost disturbing, especially when Harry absently noted that without his familiar petulant, angry expression, Malfoy was actually rather handsome.

"Do you remember why?" Harry asked.

Malfoy shook his head and frowned. If his behaviour was faked, he was doing a damn fine job of it. Despite his annoyance, Harry was curious. He could think of no logical reason for Malfoy to pretend to be mute, and it was true that Malfoy's parents had been murdered. Harry gestured to the sofa and waited until Malfoy sat down before seating himself in a chair across from the blond.

"Do you remember anything about how you… lost your memory? Were you attacked?"

Malfoy smiled wryly, put a hand into his robe again and pulled out a folded parchment. He scrawled on the top of it with his quill for a moment and then leaned forward to hand it over.

Pansy told me you would ask, he had written.

The page exhibited a loopy handwriting that was far from Malfoy's elegant lines. It contained a sketchy account of Pansy Parkinson's observations and assumptions. She had found him lying on the floor in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor sometime after Malfoy had missed a scheduled luncheon date. The Malfoy house-elves were apparently useless, refusing to speak to Parkinson except to demand that she "fix Master Draco". Malfoy remembered nothing at all immediately prior to the incident. She had noted: Draco recalls almost nothing of his adulthood. He has only random memories that he cannot connect, although he seems to remember most of his childhood. The Healers say they have no idea if his condition is permanent, although I think they are merely being evasive rather than telling us the truth. I want my old Draco back. She had underlined the last sentence twice.

Harry looked up when Malfoy waved another page at him. He took it and read, Have I changed so much? Harry grinned wryly. The mere fact that Draco Malfoy was in his house and they were not shouting or exchanging hexes and blows answered that question.

"That remains to be seen, I suppose. Come on, if you are to be staying here, I guess we should find you a room." Harry got to his feet, but Malfoy remained seated, writing. He tore off the sheet and handed it to Harry.

I don't want to be a bother. I can go home, or back to the hospital.

Harry shook his head. The Malfoy mansion had been set afire. Harry had read the report and knew it was extensively damaged. And St Mungo's… Well, he hated to have anyone spend time there. Harry had been there enough to want to avoid it forever. And the truth was that Harry was curious. It wouldn't hurt to put Malfoy up for a few days and try to discover what memories were missing. Hermione would likely be intrigued.

"It's no bother. Parkinson—Pansy was right. I have plenty of room. In fact, you can have your choice of bedrooms. There are many."

He led Malfoy upstairs where they were quickly joined by Teddy, who bounced happily at the news that Malfoy would be staying. Teddy immediately gave him a tour of the house while describing the features of each room.

"And this one is the best!" Teddy announced as he flung open the final door. "It's right next to mine and across the hall from Harry's, so you will be close by if you have a nightmare and need to get into Harry's bed and snuggle. He knows lots of ways to scare off monsters."

Harry choked and covered it with a cough as he looked up to see Malfoy's grey eyes glinting with amusement. The air suddenly seemed thicker and Harry felt strangely warm as he realized the idea of Malfoy climbing into his bed was far less amusing than it should have been.

Malfoy handed Teddy a note and the boy read it aloud, struggling only slightly with the words. "'Well, I shall have to take this room, then.' Uncle Harry! Draco wants this room!" Teddy danced in place and Malfoy laughed aloud. A smile tugged at the corner of Harry's lips.

"Very well. I will have Kreacher prepare the room. He can… um… borrow some of my pyjamas for tonight." Harry flushed at the idea of Malfoy wearing his pyjamas and then mentally swore at himself. What was wrong with him?

Malfoy wrote another note. I will send to St Mungo's for my clothing. Many of my things are still at the Manor, but I cannot travel on my own. Malfoy grimaced when he handed the note to Harry, who realized being mute was a terrible handicap in the wizarding world. Malfoy would be unable to cast spells or even travel by Floo. He could probably Apparate, but not without a wand.

"Can you still fly? By broom, I mean," Harry asked.

Malfoy nodded and his eyes seemed to light up. Harry felt something akin to relief and realized he had been feeling sorry for him, which was alleviated slightly with the knowledge that Malfoy could still fly.

"Park! Park! Park!" Teddy yelled suddenly, taking Harry's hand and wrenching at it. For a small child, the boy was a brute.

"Teddy, I won't be able to use my arm if you pull it out of the socket," Harry said.

"What's a socket?"

Harry threw a pained look at Malfoy. "I usually take Teddy to the park in the afternoon. Would you like to join us?" It was more than a polite request—Harry didn't trust leaving the Slytherin alone in his house. Not that Harry had anything to hide, unless one counted the gay pornography hidden away in a locked chest inside Harry's wardrobe—and Harry most definitely counted that as something he preferred to keep hidden.

Teddy switched his attention, and his grip, to Malfoy's arm. "Come with us, Draco! Come with us! Come with us!" Teddy's hair turned from blue to bright pink. Harry had discerned no rhyme or reason to Teddy's hair colour changes—on rare occasions, his skin tone would shift, also.

Malfoy only smiled and nodded, seeming unperturbed by Teddy's roughhousing. Harry sent the boy to fetch a coat, even thought the day was warm. Teddy had a habit of getting wet. If the park contained water, Teddy would find it, generally by falling in.

How does his hair change colour? Malfoy wrote.

Harry spent the next few minutes explaining Teddy's Metamorphmagus abilities and how he had inherited them from his mother. Harry pushed away an onslaught of sadness at the memory of both Remus and Tonks and added, "His grandmother is your mother's sister. Teddy is your cousin."

Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise and when Teddy returned, the blond dropped to one knee and then swept the boy into a rough embrace.

"Hey! What did I do?" Teddy asked, but he giggled and squeezed Malfoy's neck with his small arms, taking care not to gouge him with the wooden unicorn he held.

When Malfoy rose, Harry was shocked to see brightness in his eyes that spoke of unshed tears. He caught his breath as Malfoy began to write. Harry was rapidly changing his opinion of the Slytherin and it was slightly alarming.

They say my parents were murdered, although I do not remember it. I feared I had no family left.

Harry felt a twinge of guilt and swallowed past a strange tightness in his throat. "Come on," he said and gathered Teddy nearer with a hand on his shoulder. "I'll Apparate all of us together. The park isn't far." He was not quite sure where to touch Malfoy and finally decided to pretend he was Ron by draping an arm around his shoulders. Malfoy stepped closer and Harry was assailed by the musky scent of Malfoy's cologne. Harry wondered if it contained a magical formula for attraction, because his senses suddenly felt tangled and he found it difficult to breathe. "Hang on," he said roughly and forced himself to concentrate on their destination, rather than the warmth of Malfoy's presence.

.

Hyde Park contained a hidden section known only to wizards, which was fortuitous for Harry. Teddy's lack of control over his abilities made mingling with Muggles a difficult endeavour. After a short walk, Teddy raced toward a flock of ducks, most of which took to the air, although a few of the more dense variety simply waddled quickly out of the boy's reach.

"It won't be long before he falls in the lake," Harry commented, watching as Teddy tenaciously hurried after a green-headed mallard, which took wing with a squawk when the boy leaped.

"I almost caught that one, Uncle Harry! Did you see?"

"I saw, Teddy," Harry called. He wasn't sure what Teddy planned to do with a duck if he ever caught one, but it did conjure images of the bird sitting in a cage in Teddy's room. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should get Teddy a pet; he just wasn't sure what sort of reception an animal would receive on Andromeda's return. He supposed he could keep it at Grimmauld place, as long as it was not a gigantic dog or something…

Harry's pondering was interrupted by a note Malfoy held out for him to read.

You don't seem to like me.

Harry glanced at Malfoy, tugged at his forelock nervously, and then shrugged. If Malfoy ever recovered his memory, he would recall it well enough on his own. "We have something of a history," Harry admitted.

Malfoy drew in a sharp breath and wrote, Were we lovers?

Harry's jaw sagged when he read the words and it took him several moments to process audible sounds. "No! Merlin, no!"

Malfoy frowned and scribbled. Harry watched Teddy chase another duck until Malfoy thrust a paper before him. He took it.

Are you homophobic? I did not mean to cause offense.

"No, of course I'm not homophobic," Harry snapped. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm—" He choked off the words, realizing he did not want to reveal his sexual identity to Draco Malfoy, of all people. "Never mind. What I mean is that you and I… well, we never got on. Not since we were children. You really remember nothing about Hogwarts?"

Malfoy shrugged and wrote. I have flashes, sometimes. I remember you playing Quidditch and I think we had Potions together. You were always glaring at me, now that I think about it. And I remember you had two friends that I envied.

That was another surprise. Malfoy envied Ron and Hermione? "Why?"

Malfoy shrugged and his white teeth worried his lower lip for a moment, drawing Harry's attention. Because they were with you.

Harry's breath caught and he stared at Malfoy, whose pale cheeks tinted with a faint blush that caught Harry off-guard. Merlin, he could not be having this conversation with Malfoy, whose horrid personality had always kept Harry from thinking of him as even remotely attractive. He wondered if Malfoy's memory loss had eradicated the nastiness, or if this Draco had been lurking beneath the other the whole time.

Thankfully, Teddy chose that moment to tumble into the lake with a yelp and a splash and Harry left off examining Malfoy's handsome features to hurry over and fish the boy out.

~~X~~

Harry knelt before the fireplace in the kitchen and put a Floo-call through to Luna, who worked at St Mungo's in the Spell Damage department. He was not quite ready to call Hermione and admit that Malfoy was living in his house, if only temporarily.

Luna did not seem surprised to hear from him, but then, she never seemed surprised about anything. Harry explained about Pansy tossing Malfoy on his doorstep.

"It's lucky Draco remembers anything at all, really," Luna said. "Remember Gilderoy Lockhart? He still has trouble recalling his own name. At least Draco retained most of his personality, as well as the inherent memory of who he is. It almost seems as though specific blocks of memory were destroyed, whereas poor Professor Lockhart has scattered widespread damage."

"You think Malfoy's attackers were trying to hide something specific?" Harry asked.

"It appears that way."

"And nothing can be done?"

"Memory is a delicate thing, Harry, and there are not many people willing to dedicate the time to work on it. We have other, more pressing, maladies at hand. There just aren't enough Healers."

Harry sighed and nodded. Mind Magic was a rare field and the specialists preferred to focus on mental aberrations such as psychosis, or the study of why certain wizards were Squibs. "And Malfoy's inability to speak?"

Luna smiled at that. "He is not unable, he has simply forgotten how. I am confident that he can relearn that particular skill, although it will require patience. He needs to be taught as you would teach a child, in order to create new neural connections."

Harry doubted he would be able to teach Malfoy to speak by Saturday when he had to return the blond to Parkinson's care, but at least it was promising news.

"Who is working on Malfoy's case?" he asked.

"At the Ministry? You would know better than I, Harry."

He shook his head. "I took a leave of absence in order to care for Teddy over the summer. I haven't been to the Ministry in a month." In truth, Harry was not completely sure he wanted to return at all. Auror Training was not what he had expected—it seemed like little more than a continuation of school, with classes in Applied Magical Theory and hours of mundane meetings and ludicrous levels of paperwork that included essays regurgitating everything they had learned. Very little of it appeared to have practical use.

Harry could have contacted Kingsley Shacklebolt, but he was not eager to listen to pointed questions regarding when he planned to return, plus it was doubtful that Kingsley would divulge information about an existing case.

Which left Ron and Hermione. Ron was still in Auror Training and he would be more than willing to dig up anything Harry needed, but Ron was less than subtle and any mention of the name Malfoy might cause him to balk. Hermione was more reliable, but far less inclined to do anything she viewed as "breaking the rules", especially since she had started working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Harry thanked Luna and then went to the attic to send owls to Ron and Hermione. He had found it was usually better to deal with them both together. To his surprise, a third owl stood on a perch between his owl and Teddy's. Harry had finally broken down and acquired a replacement for Hedwig, although this one was a burly screech owl he had named Attila. Teddy also had an owl, a buff-coloured bit of fluff Teddy called Olaf.

Malfoy's eagle owl was immediately recognizable. It hooted in a forlorn fashion and Harry fed it an owl treat before attaching the notes to Attila and Olaf's legs and sending them off.

He nearly bumped into Malfoy on his way back down, arriving at the bedchambers just as Malfoy was exiting Teddy's room. Malfoy smiled at him and pantomimed sleeping. Harry peered into the room to see Teddy lying on his bed, sound asleep, covered with a light blanket. For a single, terrifying moment, Harry wondered if Malfoy had done something to the boy and that he was not sleeping at all, but then Teddy rolled over and drew one of his stuffed toys closer with a sigh. Harry's heart resumed beating and he felt a flare of guilt for allowing old habits to colour his view of Malfoy.

He turned to the blond, who had written another note and held it out expectantly.

He's delightful. Thank you for allowing me to spend time with him. I don't think I like children very much, but he could be the only family I have left.

Harry resisted the urge to crumple the note, his guilt having grown tenfold. "Well, there is also his grandmother, your Aunt Andromeda." At Malfoy's blank look, Harry added, "Your mother's sister."

I don't remember her.

Harry nodded, thinking how sad it must have been for Andromeda to have been denied a relationship with her own sister's child, merely because she had chosen to marry a Muggle. For a moment he felt a flash of anger at Lucius and Narcissa, immediately buried, because they had paid the ultimate price for the choices they had made.

"Your owl is in the attic, by the way."

Malfoy's eyes lit up, making him look simply breathtaking, and then he hurried for the stairs, leaving Harry to stare after him in bemusement. Damn it all, but he was actually starting to like this Malfoy.

Harry was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, when Malfoy returned. Harry turned to smile at him, but his expression faltered when he saw that Malfoy looked distressed.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Malfoy sat down at the table and took out his familiar quill and parchment. I remember the owl. Seeing him again made me think of other things, like my mother sending me sweets at school. Pansy told me that my mother was murdered. I wish she hadn't told me, because then I could pretend she was still alive.

"But… it's better to know the truth, no matter how harsh, don't you think?" Harry asked softly, sitting down across from him.

Malfoy smiled wanly. I've often found the truth to be more of a hindrance than an asset.

That made Harry smile. "Now, that sounds like the Draco Malfoy I know."

Malfoy looked serious as he wrote and pushed the note across the table. Why do you hate me?

The "do" disturbed Harry, even though it had only been a few hours since he had, indeed, hated Malfoy. "I don't. I mean, I suppose I did, but we were in school and we were both under a lot of pressure from… things. Circumstances. You know. Or you don't know, if you can't remember, but…" Harry realized he was babbling and probably not making a lick of sense.

Malfoy frowned and Harry tugged at the hair over his scar, wondering how he was supposed to "fix" Malfoy if he recalled next to nothing about the past decade of his life. He realized wryly that perhaps some things were better left forgotten—there were many, many things Harry would like to do without. He pushed the thought away in order to concentrate on Malfoy.

"Maybe if you write down a memory of Hogwarts, I can try to fill in the blanks? I might be able to get a Pensieve, also. Did they ever attempt that at St Mungo's?"

Malfoy shook his head. I don't think they cared enough.

Harry was about to protest. His experiences with the staff at the hospital had always been positive, but he closed his mouth abruptly, acknowledging that he had probably received preferential treatment that might not be extended to the son of known Death Eaters.

Do you really want to help me, or should I go?

Harry read the words and then looked into Malfoy's calm grey eyes. He knew he should ask him to leave. After all, Harry had Teddy to think about and Draco Malfoy had never brought him anything but trouble. Still, Harry owed Narcissa Malfoy a life-debt and now that she was gone, he would never be able to repay it. Harry knew without a doubt that her last wish would be that Harry help her son.

And Harry did not think anyone else would help Malfoy. Pansy had as much as confirmed it by bringing him here.

Shutters dropped over Malfoy's eyes and Harry realized he had waited too long to speak. He reached out a hand to snag the fabric of Malfoy's sleeve as the blond moved in a way that suggested he meant to shove his chair back and depart.

"No! I… I want to help," Harry said, not releasing Malfoy's sleeve. "Please, don't go."

The tugging pressure against his fingers increased for a moment and then relaxed. Malfoy studied him and then nodded. Harry felt relief that surprised him with its intensity and he found that he really did want to help Malfoy, although he realized wryly that Hermione would instantly attribute it to his "saving people thing".

"Thank you," Harry said. "Now, I need to make us some supper, so if you'll humour me by writing something down, I will reward you with my feeble attempt at cooking." Harry released Malfoy's sleeve and then impulsively put his hand on Malfoy's wrist and squeezed. For such an awkward gesture, it seemed somehow… right.

Malfoy looked at Harry's hand but did not pull away. At last, he nodded and shrugged and then Harry did let go, with a flash of something that was almost pride at the knowledge that he had touched Malfoy in a friendly fashion—and survived. Perhaps it was a new beginning.

Malfoy began to write and Harry returned to his cooking. Kreacher tried, but his skill in the kitchen was appalling, so Harry had largely taken over the chore of feeding them all. Thanks to his years of near-slavery at the Dursleys', Harry thought he was not a bad cook. Teddy, at least, never complained, except when Harry made him eat certain green vegetables, but he supposed that was to be expected.

Harry had planned to make a simple pasta dish, but with Malfoy for company, he decided to attempt pan-fried ribeye steaks and boiled potatoes. The sound of Malfoy's scratching pen was largely drowned by the sound of frying meat, so Harry made sure to glance over every so often to make sure Malfoy was still working. The blond head bent over the parchment and he wrote diligently, filling a page easily. Occasionally, Malfoy's mouth would open and his white teeth would worry at his lower lip.

The smell of food must have awakened Teddy from his nap, because he appeared in the doorway, yawning, and then made his way to the table where he crawled into Malfoy's lap. Malfoy shoved his parchment and quill away without a moment's pause, which impressed Harry, even though it was already obvious that Malfoy was taken with the boy.

Teddy's head rested on Malfoy's shoulder and he blinked sleepily, cradling his favourite sleep time toy—a plush wolf. "Wha's for supper, Uncle Harry?"

"Steak," Harry replied and stabbed a piece of the meat with a fork before depositing it onto a plate. The other two quickly followed.

"Really? Not noodles?"

"Really. Not noodles," Harry repeated with a smile. He drained the potato pot with a spell and then slid the hot tubers into a bowl before Levitating it to the table. A salad he had made earlier still sat in the crisper, so he fetched that along with a loaf of crusty bread and some butter.

"You must be special," he heard Teddy whisper loudly to Malfoy.

Dinner was a relatively quiet affair, mainly due to the fact that Malfoy could not speak and Harry was reticent to discuss anything of import in front of Teddy.

Teddy, of course, babbled almost continuously, explaining to Malfoy the intricacies of how his toys interacted with one another. He assumed the serious mien of a Hogwart's professor, only once going off on a tangent to warn Malfoy about the terrible flavour of Brussell's sprouts and how they were not meant for human consumption. He suggested that Harry ought never to make them again, even if Malfoy should happen to like them. Malfoy smiled, nodded, and appeared interested through all of it.

Harry had to smile; he had only made sprouts for Teddy on one occasion before quickly adding the items to the list of foods the boy would not touch.

After dinner and a light dessert of pear tart and custard—purchased, since Harry's cooking skill did not extend to afters—Teddy persuaded Malfoy to accompany him to his room for a game of Exploding Snap. Harry helped Kreacher clean up after the meal and then caught up on his correspondence, thinking it was rather nice to have another adult in the house to assist with childcare.

Finally, after several games, a story from Harry, and two trips down the stairs for water, Teddy went to sleep, leaving Harry to peruse the notes Malfoy had written.

I remember dressing up as a Dementor to frighten you, but I don't know why.

Harry remembered. "You were being a prat," Harry said. "I don't think you were really trying to kill me, although it might have been the end of me if Dumbledore hadn't been there. Of course, that was because real Dementors showed up." Harry explained briefly about the politics surrounding the occasion, as well as Umbridge's involvement.

Malfoy smiled. I remember Umbridge.

Harry scowled, recalling Malfoy and his minions on Umbridge's Inquisitorial Staff. "You were a bit power-mad at the time."

Malfoy snorted a laugh. His eyes gleamed with a silvery light as they bored into Harry's from across the tea table. I know Umbridge was horrible, but it was far better to be on her good side. That much I remember.

Harry instinctively rubbed his hand. The words were largely invisible now, tiny faded lines visible only in certain light, but the memory would never weaken. "You have a point there," he muttered.

Tell me about the war.

Harry drew in a short breath when he read the words. He hated to talk about the war, especially since it often resulted in nightmares brought on by his less-than pleasant memories. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to discuss Malfoy's participation in the war, in a general fashion.

"Do you remember Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

Malfoy nodded and wrote, Only vaguely. He was like Father Christmas and always seemed too bloody cheerful. I think you were his favourite. Pansy told me he was dead. Did it happen during the war?

Harry nodded, suddenly unwilling to expose Malfoy's part in that particular event. He remembered how shaken Malfoy had been as a boy, torn between duty and what he knew to be right. Harry could see it more clearly now; then he had simply hated Malfoy. Now, sitting across from him and looking into eyes that seemed nothing more than curious, Harry felt the last dregs of his anger from that event leaking away. Dumbledore had known what he was doing.

"Do you really want to know about the war?" Harry asked.

Malfoy shook his head. Are there any pleasant memories of us?

Harry laughed at the question, amazed. "Us? As in you and me?" Malfoy nodded and Harry shook his head. "There was no us. We were never friends."

Malfoy's open expression seemed to close in upon itself, making Harry regret his words. He sought for something to say while Malfoy wrote, but the blond got to his feet and handed Harry the page. I'm very tired. Thank you for allowing me to stay. I'll try to find another place tomorrow.

Harry stood and put out a placating hand. "No. Wait, that's not what I meant. I mean, we weren't friends then, and it's not like we are now, but I said I would help you and I was serious. I am serious. I want—I would like it if you stayed."

Harry tugged a hand through his hair, hardly believing he was practically begging Draco Malfoy to stay. Malfoy grimaced, but wrote nothing, giving Harry no hint as to his thoughts. Finally, Malfoy sighed and nodded before turning and making his way to the doorway and up the stairs. Harry heard the bedroom door shut and sat back down with a sigh, wondering what he had gotten himself into and why it seemed so important to stick with it.

2

Teddy was an early riser and he enjoyed his breakfast, so Harry was in the habit of waking early and preparing Teddy's meal.

"When will Draco get up?" Teddy asked, banging his heels repeatedly into the chair legs with muffled thumps. Harry had largely given up asking him to stop, except on days when he already had a headache.

"I'm sure I don't know, Teddy."

Harry added sugar to his tea and took a sip. He had already eaten with Teddy, but had set aside a plate for Malfoy, even though he didn't expect the blond to rise for several hours. He seemed the sort to languish in bed until early afternoon.

"Draco!" Teddy yelled suddenly and leaped off his chair to bolt for the doorway. He flung himself at Malfoy and held on tightly.

Harry stared at the Slytherin in mild surprise, thinking it extraordinarily unfair that anyone could look quite so good first thing in the morning, thoroughly rumpled from sleep. Merlin, it didn't help that he was wearing Harry's pyjamas. And his feet were bare.

Malfoy ran one hand through his blond locks and shot Harry a half-grin. His other hand patted Teddy on the shoulder. Harry realized his white sleeveless vest had never looked so good; it hugged Malfoy's torso, revealing bumps in all the right places. Harry had purposefully given Malfoy the most ludicrous pyjama bottoms he owned—bright red with glittery golden Snitches. Malfoy had rolled his eyes and made mortified gestures the previous evening, but Harry had only laughed and told him they were temporary.

Now, however, Harry wished he had chosen something more sedate. The brilliance of the trousers drew his eye and seemed to dry up every bit of saliva in his mouth as his eyes took in the exquisite length of Malfoy's legs. He dreaded what would happen should the blond turn around and give Harry a view of his arse encased in the thin material. Harry was already dangerously close to embarrassing himself. He gulped his tea.

"Uncle Harry made you some breakfast and is keeping it warm for you," Teddy said and took Malfoy's hand. Teddy led him to the table and Harry quickly busied himself preparing another cup of tea.

Teddy fetched Malfoy's plate and set it before him, chattering happily about one of his dreams. Teddy's hair was sunny yellow with a hint of green. He dragged a chair close to Malfoy and sat down to watch him eat. Harry placed the teacup before Malfoy and absently added a splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar. Malfoy looked at him with an almost gobsmacked expression and Harry realized he had disclosed a hint of his school-aged obsession with the blond—he still remembered how Malfoy took his tea from watching him at Hogwarts.

He covered his embarrassment by asking, "Is the food all right? Need anything else?"

Malfoy shook his head and began to eat, still watching Harry closely. Harry backtracked across the kitchen quickly, more than willing to put space between himself and the disturbingly attractive blond. He wanted to smooth Malfoy's mussed hair, something he could not remember wanting to do with anyone before, ever.

"I'm taking Teddy to Hermione's today to um… talk to her. You are welcome to stay here and do… um, whatever. Read, snoop through my files, dress up in my clothes…" Harry trailed off, feeling a blush warm his cheeks. He thought about slamming his head into the cupboard door for a moment.

"Teddy, go and fetch your knapsack. And don't stuff any more toys in there. You know Auntie Hermione will send you home with treats, so leave some room."

"Can't Draco come?"

"Not this time," Harry replied, keeping his face turned away from Malfoy as he grimaced, imagining how well that would go over, showing up at Hermione's with Malfoy in tow.

Teddy protested, but Harry sent him upstairs without argument. Malfoy ate in silence while Harry finished cleaning up.

"You'll be all right here?" Harry asked.

Malfoy nodded and winked at him. He looked around for a moment and a frown curved his lips—Harry realized he was searching for his notepad, which he must have left upstairs. Malfoy sighed and then waved languidly at Harry, as though shooing him from the room.

Harry smiled. "All right. Just send an owl if you need anything. We won't be long. A couple of hours, probably."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and yawned. Harry nearly laughed aloud; he looked so much like his old self for a moment, assuming a bored air while listening to Goyle or Crabbe yammering at him. Harry sobered when he realized Malfoy probably did not even remember what happened to his minions.

"We'll be back soon," he promised.

.

"It's a trick!" Ron insisted.

Harry had explained the situation to his best friends while Teddy played with an intricate wooden puzzle Hermione had given him. Teddy's hair had gone entirely brown as he worked, a testament to the intensity of his concentration.

Hermione smiled. "I'll bet he'll be sorted into Ravenclaw," she said fondly.

"Hermione!" Ron said loudly. "Focus on the problem!"

"Oh, Ronald, haven't you been listening? It's not a trick. Malfoy really did lose most of his memory. If you paid any attention at all you would already know that. I heard about it from Neville, who saw him at St Mungo's two weeks ago."

Ron glared at her. "Slytherins never spent weeks setting up a scenario?" he asked sarcastically. "I don't trust him."

"I do," Harry said quietly and shrugged at Ron's incredulous look. "You would have to see him. He's different. Not so… angry." He didn't add that Malfoy was actually rather pleasant to be around.

"Well, we've all changed since the war," Hermione pointed out and then sighed. She took a biscuit from Ron's hand and set it back on the plate with a pointed look. "Or some of us have. Those are for Teddy."

Teddy's head rose at his name and he gave Hermione a quick smile before returning his attention to the twisted wood in his hand. Harry was amazed at the boy's tenacity—he would not have had the patience for such puzzles as a boy. Or even now, for that matter.

Harry ploughed on. "Anyway, I promised I would try to help. Ron, do you know who is working on Malfoy's case at the Ministry?"

Ron shrugged and snatched up the biscuit before leaning away from Hermione's grasping hand and stuffing the sweet into his mouth. Chocolate bits dotted his teeth when he grinned and mumbled through the crumbs, "Mowone."

"What?" Harry asked, hoping he had misheard.

Ron chewed and swallowed. "No one."

Harry scowled. "Are you telling me that no one is trying to find Malfoy's attacker? What about his parents' murderers?"

Ron shrugged. "There wasn't enough evidence that Malfoy was attacked at all. The report was sent to Cold Cases. His parents…" Ron poked a finger into his mouth to dislodge a bit of biscuit. Hermione pursed her lips and Ron stuck out his tongue at her. "His parents' case was assigned to Innsberg."

"Innsberg?" Harry burst out. He was mortified, and annoyed with himself for not having known that. Innsberg was a complete fuck-up. He was typically given only cases no one cared about, such as missing chickens or escaped Hinkypunks. To assign him a murder case was madness.

Ron nodded. "Everyone figures it was former Death Eaters, retaliating, mate."

"That makes it all right?" Harry demanded. He glanced at Teddy, who was staring at him in surprise, likely shocked by his outburst. Harry lowered his voice and glared at Ron. "That makes it all right?"

"Of course not. I didn't assign the case! I'm still just a trainee, Harry, like you, if you'd get off your arse and get back to it."

Harry was silent. His feeling of ineffectiveness was part of the reason he considered dropping out completely. Even if he made full Auror, he doubted it would make a lick of difference against the wheels of bureaucracy.

"What's wrong with Innsberg?" Hermione asked into the quiet.

Harry rolled his eyes. "He might as well have a label on his head that says 'Zero Solve Rate' or something."

Ron sniggered. "Four percent."

"Close enough to zero," Harry muttered.

"Auntie Hermione, I'm thirsty!" Teddy said, still tinkering with his puzzle.

"All right. I'll get you a glass of juice. Come into the kitchen."

"Can I bring this?"

"Of course."

Teddy skipped along in Hermione's wake. When she and the boy were out of sight, Harry leaned forward. "Ron, do you think you can get me Malfoy's files?"

Ron's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by files?"

"Malfoy's and his parents'. I just want to take a look at them. Copies would be fine."

"That's illegal, mate."

Harry cocked his head with an and? expression. Ron sighed. "Well, Malfoy's will be easy, since it's basically in the dead file. But the one for Narcissa and Lucius… I'll have to come up with an excuse to hang round Innsberg's desk."

"Maybe you can take him to lunch?" Harry suggested.

Ron stared at him, clearly horrified. "Harry! He can spend an hour talking about his toenails. His bloody toenails! The man is as boring as a sack of oats!"

"I'll score you tickets to the Quidditch World Cup," Harry offered.

"Done!"

Harry suppressed a smirk of triumph just as Hermione returned. He turned to her, instead. "Hermione, do you think you can help with Malfoy's memory? Find anything that might at least help him remember how to speak?"

"He can't speak?" Ron asked, perking up.

"Honestly, Ronald, do you ever listen to a word anyone says?" Hermione demanded. The question set off an immediate argument and Harry leaned forward to snag one of the biscuits from the dwindling plateful before he settled himself into the sofa cushions once more. It was good to know that some things never changed.

Part Three

Harry returned to Grimmauld Place alone, Teddy having worked on Hermione until she'd agreed to take him to Fortescue's for ice cream. Sometimes Harry marvelled at Teddy's sweet nature, considering how incredibly spoiled he was by all of his "aunts and uncles".

"Malfoy?" Harry called experimentally and was rewarded by the sound of a door slamming upstairs. He shucked his light jacket and turned just as Malfoy stalked down the stairs, looking furious. "Malfoy?"

The blond thrust a parchment at Harry, who took it, thinking it did not resemble Malfoy's usual writing paraphernalia. It wasn't. The logo of St Mungo's heralded the top of the page. Malfoy glared as Harry read the neat script.

Dear Mr Malfoy,

We received your request to have your belongings forwarded to your new residense, however, they seem to have been misplaced upon your departure. We are diligently searching for them and will send them on to you as soon as they are located. Our sincerest apologies.

The St Mungo's Staff

Malfoy spun on a heel and stalked into the kitchen where he marched toward the cupboard where the glasses were kept. His lips moved the entire time and Harry assumed he was silently ranting. Harry stood in the doorway, watching, and thought he could make out a few words, such as misplaced and apologies, delivered on a sneer.

"You can borrow some of my clothes," Harry said.

Malfoy shot him a pained look that Harry had little trouble interpreting. He assumed Malfoy would rather be boiled in oil than wear Harry's substandard clothing one moment longer. Malfoy was once again dressed in the same clothing he had worn yesterday and Harry assumed Kreacher had cleaned and pressed the items for him.

Harry rather missed the Snitch-adorned pyjamas, but he shoved the thought away.

"All right, I can take you to the Manor," Harry said.

Malfoy's head snapped up and he stared at Harry incredulously.

"I mean, to pick up some of your things. So you don't have to wear my clothes." Harry added lamely, trying hard not to think about Malfoy wearing more of his clothing.

Malfoy nodded. He suddenly seemed very animated and Harry forced back a smile. Merlin, it shouldn't be such a pleasant shock to see Malfoy happy, and it definitely should not be something he wanted to see over and over.

Harry poked his head into the Floo to let Hermione know where they were off to; luckily, she hadn't left yet.

"Be careful!" she warned before he broke the connection.

Wiltshire wasn't terribly far from London, but Side-along would take extra effort, so Harry planned to do it in three easy jumps. Malfoy stood awkwardly nearby and Harry smiled gamely as he stepped closer and held out his arm, as if escorting Malfoy to a ball.

Malfoy threw him a sardonic glance at the gesture, but he looped his hand through the crook of Harry's elbow and rested it on his forearm. Malfoy smelled of Harry's bath soap. He concentrated on their first destination, refusing to allow the image of Malfoy in the bath to break his focus, even though it took an extra moment or two.

Their first jump was to an abandoned farmhouse that was commonly used as an Apparition hub due to its location. Harry had twice before encountered wizards there, but this time it was empty. He paused for only a moment to check that Malfoy was in one piece before Disapparating again.

This time they appeared in a large, bricked-in room that was part of a wizarding pub. A grizzled wizard wearing crumpled robes leaned against the wall and blinked at them. Harry stared at him for a moment, wondering if the old fellow had Splinched himself, but the wizard waved at him absently.

"Go on wi' ye. I'll na Apparate till 'm sober… er," he said in a slurred brogue.

Harry grinned, nodded, and took them to the gates of Malfoy Manor.

Malfoy let go, paused for a moment, and then marched resolutely toward the gates. To Harry's relief, they opened immediately, obviously sensing the presence of the Lord of the Manor, and Harry trailed behind, hoping they wouldn't shut on him.

The drive seemed much shorter than it had the last time Harry had traversed it, although he tried not to think about that. Instead, he admired the curve of Malfoy's waist as he travelled in his wake, finally giving in to the idea that Malfoy was fine to look at.

The front doors opened as well, and the moment Malfoy set foot through the portal, he was surrounded by house-elves.

"Master Draco is home!" The words were repeated over and over with excitement.

Draco looked at them helplessly, apparently realizing he was unable to command them. Harry cleared his throat.

"Um… hello," Harry said. "We're here to um… fetch Master Draco some clothing, since he will be staying with me until he um… recovers his voice."

Several pairs of eyes swivelled to him in surprise, including Malfoy's. Harry flushed when he realized what he had said—recovering Malfoy's ability to speak might take months.

The elves said nothing and Malfoy waved them aside imperiously before crossing the hall and heading for the stairs. Harry hurried after him. After another flight of stairs and two long hallways, Malfoy stopped before an ornate portal, glanced at Harry, and pushed it open.

Harry had not been surprised by the opulence of the house. As expected, it contained rich carpeting, luxurious furnishings, and artworks that probably cost more than Harry would ever make. He had not had time to appreciate the elegance of the mansion during his first visit, being fearful for his life and all, but now he mentally compared it to Grimmauld Place and wrinkled his nose, seeing it through Malfoy's eyes. Compared to this, Harry's house was a hovel.

Malfoy's bedchamber was more juvenile than Harry had expected, plastered with Quidditch posters and lined with shelves containing Quidditch figurines—the tiny people cheered and waved when Malfoy entered the room. A violin rested in a glass case near one corner of the room. Harry stared at it with a jolt, wondering if Malfoy played. He realized there were many things he didn't know about the man. A collection of stones in various sizes and shapes sat on a tabletop, obviously collected by a boy who held such things precious.

Harry felt a moment of nostalgia, wondering if his mother would have maintained a room for him, filled with childhood mementos, should she have lived. Probably, he decided. Harry frowned, realizing that Malfoy was entitled to the master bedchamber now that his parents were gone. He glanced at the blond, but Malfoy was at the wardrobe, pulling out items and tossing them haphazardly at the bed.

Harry thought he might as well be useful, so he began folding each item neatly and then shrinking it, making a small pile on the bed. Malfoy added a pair of black leather shoes, but clutched at Harry's wrist when he reached for them. Malfoy shook his head, pointing at the shoes and then at the pile of miniature clothing. Harry nodded.

"Don't shrink the shoes. Got it." Clothing was fairly easy to adjust when returning them to full size, but shoes seemed never to fit quite right.

Malfoy added a pair of brown boots and a couple of cloaks to the bed before giving Harry an enigmatic look and striding to a chest of drawers. He scooped out the contents of one drawer and deposited them on the bed before picking up a single item and handing it to Harry with a smirk.

Harry snatched the silk boxers, trying not to blush. "Pants. Lovely." He shrank each of Malfoy's undergarments, trying vainly not to imagine the blond striding around the room wearing only the item in question as he did so. He could feel his cheeks flaming and had never been so glad of Malfoy's inability to speak. He could well enough imagine the biting commentary.

Satiny pyjamas followed—one pair in black and one green. They were a far cry from Harry's golden Snitch version. His fingers trailed over the fabric for a moment, enjoying the softness. He noticed Malfoy watching him with a glint of amusement in his grey eyes. Harry flushed and quickly shrank them before adding them to the stack. "Anything else?" he asked.

Malfoy shook his head and tossed a knapsack onto the bed. Harry carefully packed the shoes on the bottom and added the assorted clothing. He shouldered the bag and looked expectantly at Malfoy, who nodded and started out. Harry took one last look at Malfoy's bedchamber, knowing it was likely he would never see it again. He firmly decided he would not feature it in any of his fantasies, regardless of how comfortable the bed looked.

He followed Malfoy back downstairs and realized the blond was heading for the front door. "Wait, Malfoy!" he called.

Malfoy paused and Harry said, "I should… Well, do you mind if I look around? I don't know much about your parents' case and I would like to familiarize myself with… events."

A puzzled look crossed Malfoy's features and then he nodded. He pulled out his notepad and jotted a message. I haven't been back here since I was taken to St Mungo's and I don't remember anything about the attack on my parents.

Harry nodded. He wasn't sure what a search of the Manor would divulge, particularly since he hadn't seen the file and knew only Ministry hearsay about the events. Still, it might be his only chance to check out the damage, although from what he had seen so far, the mansion was still in good condition.

Harry was wrong in that assumption. Malfoy allowed him to take the lead, so Harry marched resolutely toward the room he remembered from his nightmares—the place where Hermione had been tortured until she divulged the false story of the sword, and where Harry had seized Malfoy's wand—without that pivotal event, Voldemort's defeat would have been impossible.

The damage was evident before they reached the chamber. The walls were blackened and bowed with heat damage. The door was gone. Harry stepped inside with trepidation, walking carefully on the charred remains of what had once been expensive wooden flooring. It only extended a few feet into the room before terminating in blackened stubs over a dark pit. The room was open to the elements—the roof was gone and the outer stone wall had fallen outward, obviously pushed when the upper story supports had burned away and sent the side of the manor collapsing. What remained of the upper level hung precariously over their heads, eaten away by fire.

Harry heard a curious sound and turned to see Malfoy still in the doorway, staring around with a stunned expression of horror. With a jolt, Harry realized Malfoy was essentially seeing the damage for the first time, trying to juxtapose his remaining childhood memories with the terrible sight before him.

"Malfoy!" he said sharply, striding back to him.

Malfoy's hands were clenched into fists. He did not respond to Harry's call. Harry stepped in front of him and gripped his shoulders. "Malfoy! Look at me!"

Malfoy's stricken eyes snapped to Harry's. Fuck. Harry softened his voice. "You shouldn't be here. I wasn't thinking…" He noticed a house-elf wringing his hands, standing in the corridor beyond Malfoy. "You! Elf, take Malf—Master Draco somewhere and get him a cup of tea. I'll find him when I've finished here."

The house-elf glared at Harry suspiciously, but Malfoy turned woodenly and the elf obediently wandered down the hallway. Malfoy followed. Harry watched until they turned a corner and then he turned back to the remains of the room, trying to discern what had happened. 

3

By the time Harry finished his tour, he felt wrung-out. Another house-elf had popped up to shadow Harry shortly after he had sent Malfoy away, likely to prevent him doing further harm to the Manor. It sickened him to know that Malfoy had lived in the house for some months after his parents' murder, living with the reminder of the violence that had turned his life upside down. Harry wondered for a moment why Malfoy hadn't hired someone to repair the mansion, until he realized it would be hard for him to find someone he could trust.

The house-elf led Harry to the kitchen, which was thankfully intact. Most of the damage seemed to have been confined to the east wing. Someone—the house-elves, probably—had managed to put out the fire before it destroyed the entire house. Harry knew now why Malfoy hadn't moved into the master bedchamber. It was gone.

Malfoy was seated at the rectangular kitchen table, looking composed. His hands were wrapped around a white mug, although he didn't seem to be drinking from it. Harry felt chagrined as he held out a beckoning hand. "Ready to go?" he asked quietly.

Malfoy set the mug down and got to his feet, looking as fragile as he had the day of Voldemort's defeat, huddled in Hogwarts' Great Hall with his family. Harry hadn't felt much pity that day, but he certainly did now.

They left the house and traversed the drive in silence, walking near enough that their elbows brushed now and again. Harry could think of nothing to say. The house-elf, once he had determined that Harry was trying to help, had regaled him with the tale of the attack. According to the house-elf, a group of former Death Eaters, led by Travers, had come to "visit" Lucius. They had been amicable enough, to start, until an argument had developed. According the elf, Travers had demanded that Lucius finance some endeavour or another, which Draco's father had refused.

At that point, the argument had turned into a battle with hexes flying, ending with two of the Death Eaters badly wounded, Lucius and Narcissa dead, and the Manor in flames. The Death Eaters had fled.

Harry planned to owl Ron as soon as he returned home. He needed to see that file. The Ministry should have some sort of leads by now, especially since the Malfoy house-elves had identified the culprits. As far as Harry knew, no one had even been brought in for questioning. For certain, Travers had not been found.

The gates opened when Malfoy approached and they stepped out onto the gravelled lane. Harry reached out and took Malfoy's arm and then stepped closer to lean against him slightly. He wanted to offer some sort of comfort, but he had no idea how. Malfoy did not pull away and Harry took them back to Grimmauld Place.

Back in Harry's living room, Malfoy stepped away and then held out his hand expectantly. Harry gave him the knapsack and watched wordlessly as Malfoy headed for the stairs and disappeared. Harry sighed and turned to the fireplace to let Hermione know it was okay to bring Teddy home.

Harry went up to the attic and Accioed several copies of the Daily Prophet from the untidy stacks in which they sat. He wasn't sure why he never threw them out—probably nothing more than the memory of the way Hermione always seemed to need the printed word for research, and the vague assumption that they would be necessary one day. It seemed he had been right.

He took several downstairs, glad that she had taught him the spell that made pertinent issues glow when keywords were requested. Not many of them mentioned the word "Malfoy". He took the papers into his room and spread them out on his large desk. Before Teddy's arrival, Harry had primarily used the desk in the study, but Teddy seemed to prefer that one, so it was now covered with an assortment of drawing paper, colours, fingerpaints, and bright stickers. Harry had relocated his personal files to his room.

The newspaper accounts of the attack on the Malfoys were sketchy, at best. Most of the articles mentioned the murders almost in passing, only to focus on the lurid past and speculative Death Eater activity of Malfoy's parents. It was repulsive, and reminded Harry of why he seldom read the paper. Their reporting methods had not changed much from the time of Rita Skeeter's slurs against him. He could only hope the Ministry files were less biased and filled with more fact than sensationalism.

He heard Teddy arrive home when the boy's shout rang though the house. Harry smiled and set the papers aside before heading downstairs, noting in passing that the door to Malfoy's room was still shut.

Hermione stayed for a cup of tea and suffered through Teddy's retelling of their afternoon adventures, which mainly consisted of having ice cream and then spending several hours at the bookstore. Teddy adored books, which was something he had more in common with Hermione than Harry.

"You had a brilliant day, then," Harry said with a laugh.

Teddy nodded. "Where is Draco? I brought him a present!" He snatched up a brown paper parcel from the table and waved it for Harry to see.

Harry looked at Hermione in surprise. She gave him a pained smile. "It's only a trifle. Teddy was very insistent."

"It's a journal," Teddy said in a stage whisper. "So he can write in it."

"I think Draco is resting right now. You can give it to him when he comes down for dinner, yeah? Speaking of dinner, I had best get that started before you fall asleep at the table, since you missed having a nap today, young man."

"I don't need a nap," Teddy replied in a scoffing tone.

Hermione nodded. "He was yawning at the bookstore, which is why I brought him home. Thank you for a lovely time, Teddy. I will see you later."

Teddy launched himself at her for a final hug and a noisy kiss before she departed. Harry thanked her, ignored her pointed look that clearly asked for more information regarding Malfoy, and waved as she Apparated away.

Teddy chattered about the books he had seen while Harry prepared a quick meal of spaghetti noodles with bacon and pine nuts, one of Teddy's favourites that Harry thought Malfoy might also like.

He filled a plate for Teddy and then walked upstairs to knock on Malfoy's door. "Mal—Draco? Dinner is ready." Harry wasn't sure if Malfoy was sleeping or not, but after a moment he heard a rustle of sound. He debated leaving, but then a noise at his feet drew his attention. He saw a scrap of paper beneath the door and stooped to pick it up.

I am not hungry.

Harry smiled at the implied haughty tone. "All right, then. I'll keep it warm for you, in case you change your mind."

Teddy was not as understanding. "Is Draco mad at me?" he asked in a worried tone. His eyes were serious beneath dark purple hair.

"No, of course not. We went to visit his house today and it made him sad."

"Why?"

Harry balked at replying, but he hated to be less than honest with Teddy, no matter the circumstances. "Because his parents are dead."

Teddy's eyes went wide and then he nodded solemnly. "My parents are dead, too. Sometimes it makes me sad."

Harry smiled at the boy. At times he wondered how his heart could contain such love without breaking, but it was a good pain. "Me, too, Teddy. Me, too."

When they finished eating, Harry picked up the boy and carried him upstairs. Teddy's small head nestled against his shoulder and his grip on Harry's arms was weak. He thought it likely the boy would fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

As soon as they neared Teddy's room, Malfoy's door opened and he stepped into the hallway. His eyes met Harry's for a long moment and then Malfoy's gaze went to Teddy and softened measurably.

"Draco!" Teddy said sleepily, turning his head and holding out one small hand.

Malfoy took a step forward and then paused. He held up a scrap of cloth and it took Harry a moment to recognize it as one of Malfoy's shrunken shirts. Harry felt a pang of guilt when he remembered that Malfoy could not resize them.

"If you put Teddy to bed, I can fix those for you," Harry offered.

Malfoy looked grateful for only a moment before he nodded and reached out his arms to take Teddy, who practically threw himself at the blond. Harry felt a stab of jealousy when he saw them together, but the soft look in Malfoy's eyes quelled it. Harry went into Malfoy's room and set about restoring his clothing, trying not to think about how each item would look on the man.

He was only partly successful in that.

Harry should have been tired, but the thoughts mulling through his head would not allow him to sleep. At times, he wished he enjoyed reading, but the act always reminded him of enforced studying at Hogwarts. In lieu of other pastimes, he had acquired a Muggle handheld gaming device that miraculously worked just fine, despite the disruptive qualities of magic.

Hermione said it was because the electrical power needed to run the device was minute, even though the charge never seemed to last long. Harry would use it until the battery ran out, and then send it with Hermione to recharge at her parents' house.

His current obsession was a game that involved leading a pack of hapless digital creatures to safety though paths of fire, smashers, or death-inducing cliffs. He felt rather remorseful whenever he had to sacrifice one in the name of saving the others, but the game was still bloody addictive.

While he was puzzling out a way to build a staircase over a flaming bed of lava with a stupidly small number of building blocks, he saw movement outside his bedroom door. Malfoy stood in the corridor, obviously on his way downstairs, staring into Harry's bedroom as though shocked to see him awake. Harry blinked at him, suddenly suspecting the hour was much later than he had thought.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, setting the game console on the bedside table and sitting up. He could barely see in the dim light from the device—the rest of his room was dark.

Malfoy nodded curtly and Harry sensed more than saw his agitation.

"Bad dream?" he asked quietly, guessing.

Malfoy took a step, as though he meant to bolt, but he paused for a long moment and then nodded again.

Harry smiled and held out his hands to waggle them at Malfoy in a beckoning motion. "Come here, then. I've had loads of experience with nightmares." Malfoy didn't move and Harry felt suddenly foolish with his offer, but his stubbornness seemed much more tenacious at two o'clock in the morning. "Don't be scared," he goaded.

Malfoy gave him a half-hearted sneer and then took a couple of steps into the room before walking at a more normal pace to Harry's bed. Harry kept his arms upraised and Malfoy stared down at him for agonizing moments before finally climbing onto the bed and sliding into Harry's embrace. He looped one arm stiffly over Harry's abdomen and rested his head on Harry's shoulder, feeling less relaxed than a piece of timber.

Harry's right arm cradled Malfoy's shoulders and he placed the other gently on his ribcage in a platonic hug. Only their torsos were touching; Malfoy's legs were inches from Harry's, as though he wanted to keep his feet near the edge of the bed for a quick escape.

"There, now," Harry said soothingly. "I usually ask Teddy to tell me about his nightmares, but since you can't, I will share one of mine, instead. And this one will probably be new to you, since I don't think I've ever told anyone the entire story."

With that, Harry launched into the tale of how he and Dumbledore had located the fake locket that Regulus Black had left in the cave of the Inferi. Harry tried to maintain a clinical tone of voice as he spoke, pretending it was only a story, instead of a trial that had ended in Dumbledore's death and became a crucial turning point in all of their lives.

Malfoy's arms tightened as Harry spoke, and when the story ended, Harry was surprised to find his chin resting on Malfoy's head.

"That was the night Dumbledore died," Harry finished, making no mention at all of Malfoy's part in the drama. "He was already dying, you see, although I didn't know it at the time. It's strange to look back and see the parts we all had to play. Sometimes I wonder how things would have turned out if he hadn't died. I wonder if I would have found the strength to do what I needed to do, or if I would have continued to rely on him to make everything right." Harry sighed. "It's a burden to know that so many people have high expectations of you. Yeah, I might be talking about myself, now. I know you would scoff at me if you could, but it's true. You know, I find myself not missing your biting sarcasm so much."

Harry chuckled, but there was no response. Harry wondered if Malfoy was asleep or merely faking. A huge yawn made his jaw pop and he reached over to flip the switch on the game console to the off position. As the faint light died, Harry pressed an absent kiss into Malfoy's soft hair. "Goodnight," he whispered.

Settling more comfortably into the pillows, Harry drifted off to sleep, still holding Draco Malfoy close.

.

Harry woke slowly, gradually noticing that one of his feet felt cold. The rest of him, however, seemed very warm and comfortable. After a moment of disoriented wakefulness in which his brain tried to convince him that he was late and needed to get up and dress in order to get to the Ministry, he thankfully recalled that he no longer had a routine schedule and that as long as Teddy was not up, he could sleep as long as he liked.

That thought was scattered when someone moved against him, snuggling against his side and shifting in a way that sent a tickle of soft hair brushing against his jaw—someone that was definitely not Teddy.

His memory returned with a jolt and he realized that, improbable as it was, Draco Malfoy was still in his bed. In fact, they were literally cuddling. Malfoy was wrapped around Harry, pressed up tightly against his side as though seeking warmth, which was possible, since Harry vaguely recalled dragging the coverlet awkwardly over them sometime during the night. Since one of Harry's feet was uncovered, it was likely that even more of Malfoy was exposed to the air.

Harry lifted his head, half-debating fixing the problem and curling closer around Malfoy, which was a completely insane notion. Instead, he tried to ease away from the man, moving slowly and carefully in order not to awaken him.

It earned him a petulant noise and a tightening of Malfoy's arm, holding him in place. Harry froze. After a moment, he noticed Malfoy's breathing had changed and then the pale head rose and Malfoy's grey eyes blinked at him. Harry fairly gaped at him, because he was bloody adorable with his hair completely mussed, his eyes slightly unfocussed, and his lips parted. The urge to kiss him was almost overwhelming.

To his amazement, Malfoy did not launch himself out of bed with a gasp of dismay. Instead, his eyelids fluttered partially closed and he began to lean forward, cocking his head slightly.

Merlin, Harry thought stupidly, he means to kiss me!

Malfoy's intent—whatever it was—changed when a loud thumping sounded from the doorway. Teddy called, "Uncle Harry! I'm hungry!"

Malfoy's eyes widened and his head swivelled around. Harry looked to see Teddy bouncing in the doorway.

"Draco! Did you have a nightmare or are you just having cuddles? Harry gives good cuddles, doesn't he?" As he chattered, Teddy hopped forward and then bounded onto the bed in order to crawl over the top of them both, sprawling partly on Draco and partly on Harry. "I want cuddles, too!" His small arms gripped them tightly and Harry felt Malfoy's chuckle against his chest. They remained locked in the pose for long, comfortable moments, and Harry felt something shift, as though sliding into place where it belonged. He realized he wanted this, or at least something very similar to this—a warm body to wake up to next to every morning, with affection and, should he dare ask for it, possibly even love? This, he thought, must be what it's like to have a real family.

The idea was slightly alarming when seen in context with Malfoy as the one snuggled next to him, but it wasn't nearly as disturbing as it should have been. Perhaps it was only Harry's "saving people thing" kicking in again, but Malfoy needed him and did not seem to mind Harry's company any longer, especially if the fact of his present nearness was anything to go by. 

4

Harry took something of a leap of faith that afternoon. He left Teddy with Malfoy while he met with Ron.

When he suggested it, Malfoy's eyes measured him for long moments, but the hand that hovered over the page of his new journal was still. The silence stretched between them until Harry began to chatter in order to fill it.

"I mean, only if you want to. Teddy adores you and while I don't mind taking him with me, it will be quicker if I can meet with Ron and come right back. Teddy will be bored witless, since I'm meeting him… well, at a place not very kid-friendly. He tends to get into trouble when he's bored."

Thankfully, Malfoy finally began to write, and handed over the journal for Harry to read. He seemed reluctant to tear pages from the book Teddy had given him.

Of course I will mind him while you're gone. Thank you for asking. His eyes met Harry's again and the thank you for trusting me was implied. At least, Harry hoped it was.

Harry nearly sagged with relief. The place Ron had chosen to meet was not only the opposite of child-friendly, but was also possibly dangerous. If not for Malfoy, Harry would have taken Teddy elsewhere.

"Are you mad?" Ron hissed.

Harry shook his head. "Teddy will be fine. Draco—Malfoy is depending on me to find his attacker, and possibly his parents' murderers. He won't harm Teddy." Despite a tiny niggling doubt, he believed his own words.

"Well, let's get this done with so you can get back and rescue the boy," Ron said darkly. He looked around the abandoned warehouse nervously and then withdrew a packet from his robes. "I made copies of the files for you. It wasn't easy and not only will I be kicked out of the Auror program should anyone find out, but we could both be thrown into Azkaban."

Harry took it and immediately hid it away in a large pocket of his own robes. He grinned. "Thanks, Ron. You know I wouldn't ask for it—"

"If you didn't think it was important," Ron finished and sighed. "I know, mate. But, Malfoy? Really?"

Harry nodded and hoped he wasn't blushing. "He just… Well, he doesn't have anyone else."

Ron sighed again and muttered, "Maybe he would if he wasn't such a git." He held up a hand in order to keep Harry from replying. "Never mind. I hope you find something useful in there. Looked pretty routine to me."

"I probably won't be able to do much. I'm no Auror and I have a full-time job with Teddy."

Ron snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like you were a full-time Hogwarts' student and somehow still managed to defeat Voldemort."

They shared a grin and Harry lifted a hand. "I owe you one."

"I'll collect the next time Hermione cooks meat pies!" he heard Ron yell as he Disapparated. Despite himself, Harry shuddered. Hermione wasn't a bad cook, but her meat pies belonged to a special class of inedible.

Harry Apparated straight into his bedroom and locked the files in a drawer of his desk before he went looking for Malfoy and Teddy. He found them in Teddy's room, seated cross-legged on the floor. Teddy had a wand in his hand.

Harry froze in the doorway, shocked by the sight. Wasn't Teddy too young for a wand? He nearly spoke, but then Teddy clearly enunciated two words and flicked the wand with a swishing motion. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

To Harry's surprise, a paper crane on the floor lifted into the air, trembling as if the magic that held it was barely enough, but still, it rose for a moment, and then dropped to the floor when Teddy whooped.

"I did it!" he yelped, leaping to his feet and whirling around. He spotted Harry on his second spin. "Uncle Harry, did you see?"

"I did, indeed," Harry said and gave Malfoy a searching look. The blond had the grace to look away in a rather guilty fashion. "Where did you get the wand? And how did you learn that spell?"

Teddy bounced in place while Malfoy got to his feet. Teddy scooped up a sheet of paper and hurried over to show Harry. "Draco gave me the wand and then he wrote the spell and showed me how to move the wand! That was amazing! Can I do it again?"

About to recite the Statute for Underaged Magic, Harry suddenly felt like an old spoilsport. Of course Teddy was excited. Harry remembered how he had felt when he had cast his first spell. It was exhilarating. "Of course you can, Teddy. Can I see your wand for a moment, please?"

Teddy held up the wand and Harry recognized it with a jolt. It was Malfoy's old wand. The wand he had used at Hogwarts, the one Harry had taken from him at Malfoy Manor the night they had been captured by Death Eaters, the night Malfoy had denied being able to recognize him.

The last time Harry had seen the wand, it had been stuffed into an old wand case and shoved into the back of his wardrobe. Malfoy must have been doing some determined searching in order to find it. Harry looked at him pointedly.

Malfoy stared back, looking innocent as an angel. Harry's lips pursed and he knew he could not confront the prat in front of Teddy. He did, however, wonder what Malfoy had been looking for in the depths of his wardrobe.

Harry gave the wand back to Teddy. "Very nice, Teddy."

"He's going to teach me Lumos next!" Teddy said and then swivelled his head around to look at Malfoy, as though fearing he had changed his mind with Harry's discovery of the wand.

Malfoy nodded and Teddy let out an excited whoop. "Now?"

Malfoy glanced at Harry, who shrugged. He supposed there was no harm in allowing Malfoy to teach Teddy a few simple spells. And the exercise would keep them both busy while Harry read through the files Ron had so painstakingly provided.

"No dangerous or dark spells!" Harry warned.

Malfoy looked affronted, but Harry only smiled and nodded. He might be willing to trust the Slytherin, but he wasn't stupid. At least, he hoped he wasn't. Leaving them to their spellwork, Harry turned and made his way back to his room.

.

Malfoy cooked dinner that night, much to Harry's surprise. Apparently, he had help from Kreacher, who seemed to understand his wordless gestures and had a tendency to keep up an endless stream of chatter, possibly to make up for Malfoy's lack of dialog.

Malfoy's note in the journal he handed to Harry simply read, I want to contribute somehow.

The baked sole was quite good, if somewhat dry, and the green salad was crisp. Harry paid scant attention as he ate, mulling over the contents of the files he had been perusing. There had been several leads in the case regarding Malfoy's parents, including the names of several former Death Eaters.

None of the leads had panned out. The suspects had gone into hiding; relatives had no idea where they could be found; friends handed out false leads… It was all routine Auror work, but instead of digging deeper, it seemed to Harry that the Ministry had just let the case fall to the wayside. Obvious follow-ups had been abandoned. It was frustrating to witness a miscarriage of justice, especially when Harry had already been having doubts about becoming an Auror.

What are you thinking about? The black ink on the white page seemed accusatory and Harry sat up guiltily. He had been ignoring Malfoy, largely because he was so quiet and easy to dismiss when Harry's thoughts were whirling. Teddy had bolted his food and then run off to his room to play with the puzzle Hermione had sent home with him.

"Your parents," Harry admitted. "The Ministry should have found something by now. It's maddening."

Malfoy huffed a breath and scrawled on a page. Are you surprised? According to popular opinion, they were Death Eaters and got what they deserved.

"I am surprised, actually. Justice is for everyone, not merely a few that the Ministry feels to be worthy of it." Harry's voice was adamant.

Malfoy looked at him, lips curved, but not in a sneer. To Harry's surprise, Malfoy's expression seemed almost… fond.

Are you always such a dreamer? he wrote. Harry rolled his eyes, but then Malfoy added, Don't ever change.

With that, Malfoy got to his feet, gave Harry a somewhat ironic salute, and went out, leaving Harry to stare after him in bemusement.

.

Harry left Teddy with Malfoy the next day, which did not seem to bother either of them. Malfoy's old wand had become Teddy's prized possession and he was busy casting dozens of Charms Malfoy had taught him, everything from one that folded his clothing to one that sent colourful bubbles shooting from the end of his wand. Teddy had picked up the spells with a speed that made Harry believe he would definitely Sort into Ravenclaw one day.

Malfoy seemed calmer, as if teaching Teddy had given him something to think about other than what he had lost. His grey eyes followed Harry whenever he was in the room, bringing a blush to Harry's cheeks and sending his thoughts racing in directions they had no business going.

Harry returned to Malfoy Manor and used the Ministry-tuned ward access that he had located in the files Ron had copied. He felt guilty doing so, since he hadn't mentioned it to Malfoy, but he wanted to talk to the house-elves. He thought they might have knowledge the Aurors had not bothered to extract; often wizards overlooked house-elves as inconsequential, even Aurors who, in Harry's opinion, should know better.

Harry Apparated home to find the kitchen empty but for a rather large mess on the counter. He smiled; apparently Malfoy and Teddy had been baking. When it came to cleaning, Kreacher's abilities were sporadic, at best. Harry decided he would deal with the mess later. The living room was empty, so Harry went upstairs.

Teddy's door was ajar and Harry was reaching for the handle when the bathroom door at the end of the hall opened to disclose Malfoy. Harry froze with his hand partway to the door and stared, utterly transfixed.

Malfoy had obviously just stepped out of the bath. His hair was wet, darkened to near-gold and plastered to his head except for a few tendrils around his ears that were beginning to dry and curl at the ends.

Water dotted his torso. As Harry watched, one of the droplets shook free and dribbled in a slow trail down over Malfoy's breastbone, gaining speed as it neared his navel before disappearing into the fleece that clung—barely—to Malfoy's slender hips.

Harry dragged his gaze upward to meet Malfoy's wide eyes. He tried to speak, but knew whatever exited his mouth would be incoherent gibberish. Merlin, he wanted nothing more than to walk forward and lick every single droplet from Malfoy's skin.

Malfoy took a step forward and the movement startled Harry and broke the odd stasis between them.

"Teddy?" Harry choked out.

Malfoy frowned and then gestured toward the closed door. He mouthed Sleeping.

Harry nodded, but pushed the door open and stumbled into Teddy's room, needing to calm his pounding heart and gather his thoughts. Fuck, he couldn't want Malfoy, of all people, especially when he was here for Harry's help. Parkinson would have his balls if she even suspected Harry's thoughts. And she was due to return tomorrow.

Teddy was sleeping peacefully and Harry smoothed back a lock of his hair before tucking a light blanket around him. When he left the room, Malfoy was gone, locked away in his room once again. Harry sighed and went to tidy the kitchen, glad for a task that would keep his mind and hands occupied, at least for a time.

.

Harry was too frazzled to cook that evening, so he Apparated to Diagon Alley and picked up some assorted dishes at the new takeaway curry place that had opened up next to Fortescue's.

Malfoy seemed more subdued than usual, pushing his food around on his plate rather than eating it. Harry questioned whether or not he liked curry, but Malfoy only nodded curtly and ate several bites.

"I like it!" Teddy exclaimed, earning a fleeting smile from Malfoy. The boy had been even more bubbly than usual after his nap, possibly subconsciously trying to make up for his cousin's sombre mood. "What is this yellow stuff, Uncle Harry?"

"Mango."

"Mango! I like mango! Do you like mango, Draco?"

Malfoy nodded and gave Teddy a fond look.

"Have a bite!" Teddy climbed onto his chair and leaned across the table after spearing a chunk of mango with his fork. For a moment, Harry had a terrible vision of Teddy slipping and jabbing Malfoy in the eye, but the blond reached up and took Teddy's wrist to steady him before opening his mouth and accepting the offering.

Harry watched Malfoy's lips close around the tines and imagined the spicy-sweet flavour of the lightly curried mango bursting over Malfoy's tongue. He wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would he taste only the fruit, or would it pall in comparison to the flavour of Malfoy? Harry realized it had been so long since he's kissed anyone that he could barely remember what it was like at all. Perhaps that was why he was suddenly so fascinated with his houseguest.

Malfoy's tongue flicked out and swiped at a smear of sauce on his upper lip, sending Harry's thoughts racing once more. No, it wasn't just the fact that it had been a long time. Harry flushed when he realized Malfoy was watching him. He looked away and fixed his attention on his vindaloo.

Malfoy helped him clean up while Teddy remained at the table, immersed in a book. Harry Scourgified the dishes and Malfoy put them away manually, stacking them neatly in their places. He was already well familiar with Harry's kitchen, it seemed.

They were nearly finished when Malfoy handed him a folded note. Harry took it and blanched when he read the words. Why do you keep watching me?

Harry folded and unfolded the note nervously, discarding several replies, such as, I want to know how you taste or I think you're fascinating or Your mouth was made for… He finally settled on a lame, "I want to make sure you're okay."

Malfoy's gorgeous lips drew down and he scribbled again before tearing out the page and handing it over. Teddy glanced up for a moment and then returned his attention to his book. Harry read the note. I may not remember everything, but I know how it feels to be looked at the way you've been looking at me.

Harry swallowed and creased the note several times before turning it over in his fingers. When he finally worked up the nerve to look at Malfoy, he saw something flicker in the depths of his grey eyes, something that made his heart skip a beat. "And how… how does it feel?" Harry whispered, quietly enough that Teddy wouldn't hear.

Malfoy took several slow steps forward, until he was close enough that the loose fabric of their shirts brushed together. Harry's eyes went wide, fixed on Malfoy's until the intensity became too much to take, and then his gaze dropped to Malfoy's lips. He closed his eyes when they drew near enough to blur. Malfoy's breath ghosted over his face and mingled with Harry's suddenly erratic respiration; it smelled of mango sweetness, curry, and red wine, heady and exotic. Harry waited, palms sweating and heart pounding, thinking Malfoy meant to kiss him.

After long moments, he felt Malfoy draw back. Harry's eyes flew open in confusion. What the hell—? His disappointment was almost crushing. Was Malfoy back to his old ways, intent on making a fool out of him?

As if Harry's annoyance had been a signal, Malfoy took another step closer, instead of away. His pelvis pushed against Harry's, edging him back against the hard wood of the countertop. In the same movement, Malfoy's fingers wrapped around one of Harry's wrists as if to prevent him fleeing, or striking out. Harry wondered which, but the question dissipated when Malfoy's warm breath returned, and this time his lips followed, pressing against Harry's feather-lightly.

Oh Godric, finally, Harry thought with a near-fainting sense of relief. His free hand reached up and curled in the material of Malfoy's shirt, clenching until his knuckles ached, determined not to let go until he had fully explored this new development. Malfoy seemed not to mind. He demonstrated his approval by increasing the pressure of his lips, and then nudging Harry's open with his tongue. Harry opened wide and let him in.

Several minutes later, despite the knowledge that kissing Malfoy in the kitchen in full view of Teddy was not, perhaps, the wisest thing he had ever done, and yet finding himself unable to stop, Harry barely suppressed a laugh when Teddy's voice cut through the fog that had overtaken his brain.

"Are you two kissing?"

Harry wrenched his mouth away from Malfoy with effort, although he did not release his hold on Malfoy's shirt. For his part, Malfoy's fingers were still holding Harry's wrist, tightly enough to leave bruises.

Harry cleared his throat. "Um… yes, I believe we are, Teddy."

"Gross! You're not gonna do that all the time like Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron, are you?" Teddy sounded revolted, but Harry was glad to note it seemed to be because of the kissing itself, rather than any perceived oddity about the fact that it was him and Malfoy doing the kissing.

"Um… maybe?" Harry replied.

Teddy heaved a put-upon sigh. "Well, I'm going to my room. I'll come out when the mushy stuff is over. Grownups are so weird." With that, Teddy pushed himself off the chair, gave them a final roll of his eyes, and left.

"Where were we?" Harry asked throatily.

To his delight, Malfoy showed him.

.

They kissed until Harry began to fear losing control. His hands were clenched in the fabric of Malfoy's shirt and their breath came in erratic pants. He was hard with need, but did not dare take that single step forward that would have made Malfoy aware of it, also. He wanted—but Teddy took precedence, and there were too many things unsaid between them; too many things Malfoy didn't know, and didn't remember.

Harry pushed him away reluctantly, but firmly. He cupped Malfoy's cheek with one hand and smiled. His other hand was still held by Malfoy's fingers on his wrist. Harry leaned forward and kissed him once more, lightly, so he wouldn't be swept away by mindless pleasure.

"Slowly," Harry murmured. "There is… well, Teddy."

Malfoy's brow wrinkled and Harry smiled.

"I mean right now. He's probably upstairs right now Charming his toys with the new spells you've taught him." Harry kept his tone light, unwilling to spoil the moment, and even more unwilling to destroy the precarious new thing that seemed to be building between them. "Can we continue this later?"

Malfoy nodded and released his wrist. He stepped back and made a jerking motion with his head that Harry interpreted to mean he meant to go check on Teddy. Harry nodded and watched as Malfoy turned and left the kitchen. When he was gone, Harry slumped back against the counter, allowing his conflicting emotions to crash in upon him. On one hand, Merlin, kissing Malfoy—no, Draco—had been amazing.

And on the other… Fuck. Harry busied himself putting away the last of the dishes while turning over the information he had learned at Malfoy Manor. There would be no easy way to break the news to Draco, especially now.

Harry dragged a hand through his hair and wondered why his life was always so complicated.

.

Harry read to Teddy while Draco lay across the end of the bed, looking gorgeous and relaxed in black silk pyjamas and bare feet. His arms were crossed beneath his blond head and he stared at the ceiling while listening to Harry read the adventures of Puss n' Boots. Teddy adored Muggle fairy tales, and Hermione had given him several volumes.

Harry's gaze frequently strayed to the patch of pale skin revealed between Draco's pyjama shirt and bottoms. He was glad to have the fairy tales almost memorized; as he spoke the words aloud, he allowed half his mind to fantasize about how Draco's abdomen would taste…

Teddy allowed them both to tuck his blankets around him and kiss him on the forehead.

"Night, Uncle Harry. Night, Cousin Draco."

"Goodnight Teddy," Harry said as Draco ruffled the boy's hair. They walked to the door and Harry pulled it partially shut and then turned to find his arms full of Draco. Their lips met again and Draco backed him against the wall, kissing him hungrily. A hard thigh found its way between Harry's legs and he moaned into Draco's mouth and wrapped his arms around his waist to pull him even closer.

After long moments, Harry felt his control slipping away. He broke the kiss and raised both hands to cup Draco's jaw and look him in the eye.

"Merlin," he said breathlessly. "We can't— There is something I need to tell you. I can't take advantage of you like this."

Draco mouthed something like my choice and canted his hips in a rotating motion. Harry had been straddling his leg and now he felt Draco's erection, hot and heavy, against his. He moaned at the staggering sense of desire that made it suddenly hard to catch a breath. Draco kissed him and the need for oxygen seemed far less important.

Draco pulled away suddenly, but looped one hand over Harry's and tugged him across the hall. Harry staggered after him, off-balance and unsteady. They entered Draco's room and walked straight to the bed, where Draco sprawled and pulled Harry atop him.

The short reprieve had allowed Harry to catch his breath and also regain a modicum of sanity. "Draco, I have to—"

Draco was apparently not interested in anything that Harry "had to" unless it involved more kissing. And possibly touching, because he rolled atop Harry and kept kissing him, just before shoving a hand up Harry's shirt.

At the feel of Draco's hot hand on his skin, Harry's ability to speak degenerated into wordless huffs and whispered snatches of Draco's name, cut off by kisses each time he tried. Draco's fingers teased Harry's nipples into stiff peaks. Harry was so hard and needy he was afraid he might come without Draco ever touching his cock.

Thankfully, Draco began to work his way in that direction. Harry trembled with anticipation—and then the door pushed open.

"Cousin Draco, Uncle Harry is not in his room," Teddy said.

Harry fought to speak through his arid throat. "I'm right here, Teddy," he said and sat up, feeling nearly physical pain when Draco's hand fell away.

"Oh. My wand fell on the floor and I can't find it 'cause I think it rolled under the bed and you know what hides under the bed," Teddy said in a hushed tone.

Draco moved aside and Harry got to his feet unsteadily. He asked, "What were you doing with your wand when you were supposed to be sleeping?"

"I wanted to put it under my pillow like Draco did when he was little," Teddy said.

Harry glanced at Draco, who was barely visible except for his pale hair shining in the dark. "He told you that?" Harry asked quietly as he took Teddy's hand and led him back into the boy's room.

"Yeah, and I want to be just like him. What were you doing on Draco's bed?"

"Never mind," Harry said firmly. "Now, back into your bed." Harry pulled out his wand and Summoned Draco's old wand from beneath the bed before handing it to Teddy. "There. Now put it beneath your pillow and go to sleep. No spell-casting in the dark. I'm going to check your wand in the morning to make sure you didn't, so you might as well just go to sleep."

"All right." Teddy's sounded defeated, but he yawned as he shoved the wand beneath his pillow. "G'night, Harry."

"Goodnight, Teddy. Again." He ruffled the boy's hair, kissed him on the cheek, and went back to Draco's room.

Harry used his wand to light the bedside lamp and paused for a moment to admire Draco, who was sprawled on the bed looking both relaxed and incredibly seductive. He smiled when he saw Harry and beckoned with a pale hand.

Harry walked forward as though mesmerized. It was hard to believe that only a few days ago he was protesting Draco's presence in his house, and now he didn't want to think of him leaving. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, facing him, and lifted Draco's hand to press a kiss into the palm. Draco smirked and Harry imagined a half-dozen witty rejoinders. He felt a pang and realized he wished Draco could speak again, if only to hear words other than the insults he remembered from childhood.

Draco tried to pull him down, but Harry resisted, placing his other hand on Draco's flat abdomen. "I went to Malfoy Manor today," he said bluntly. Draco stilled and then sat up, apparently sensing that Harry was not going to tell him anything he wanted to hear. His abs flexed beneath Harry's hand, until Draco pushed himself back against the pillows and watched him warily. Harry's hand slipped down and rested on Draco's thigh. He squeezed in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

Harry cleared his throat and then plunged onward. "I spoke to some of your house-elves. I was hoping to get more information about the time when you lost your memories." Harry held Draco's hand more tightly. "Draco, you were never attacked. You Obliviated yourself."

The Malfoy mask was already firmly in place, so there was little change in Draco's expression. He looked more like the old Malfoy than he had since his arrival and Harry realized he desperately wanted the new Draco back. Even so, he deserved to know the truth.

"They said you had been depressed. You weren't eating and spent most of your time locked in your room." Harry felt a shard of pity mixed with guilt. Draco had lost both of his parents in a horrific fashion, and then he had been left alone to live in the scene of the crime, with no one to bear him up during his grief, and no hope of justice for those responsible. The house-elves said he had been out of his mind, half the time raging and throwing tantrums, the rest of the time sitting in a somnolent state, staring at the walls or lying on his bed idly tapping his wand into his palm for hours on end.

It was no bloody wonder he had tried to erase his memories. It had worked only too well.

"The house-elves finally wrestled your wand away from you, even knowing it would probably earn them terrible punishment. They took it away and hid it, willing to risk dire consequences in order to stop you hurting yourself more than you already had." Merely telling Harry the tale had caused the elf to practically maim himself bashing his head into a stone wall, despite Harry forbidding him to inflict self-harm. His word carried little weight with the Malfoy house-elves and it was only Harry's insistence that Draco would not want to come home to a houseful of useless, injured elves that had stopped them all from punishing themselves bloody.

They had even given him Draco's wand, a long shaft of unfamiliar wood that Draco must have acquired sometime after the war.

Draco's head fell back against the headboard and he shut his eyes. After a moment, he tugged his hand away from Harry's and pulled up his legs until he could wrap his arms around them in a huddle, closing Harry off.

"Draco—"

Grey eyes opened and blazed at Harry, filled with fire and something Harry couldn't name. Draco lifted a hand and pointed at the door, tilting his chin obstinately.

Feeling helpless, Harry got to his feet. He walked slowly to the door, wishing there was something he could say. He turned back with his hand on the doorframe. "Look, it's probably not much consolation, but I don't blame you for doing it. After the war, I thought about Obliviating myself a few times. And for what it's worth, I know I wasn't there for you before, and I'm sorry for that, but I'm here now. I'm here for you now, Draco."

There was no movement or sound from the blond, so Harry tugged a hand through his hair, murmured a goodnight, and went to his own room where he threw himself on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Well handled, Harry," he muttered. "Really well handled." 

5

Harry had just kicked off his jeans and tugged on his green pyjama shirt when he heard his door creak. He was surprised to see Draco in the doorway, holding his journal and a quill.

"Hi," Harry said quietly. "Come on in."

Draco walked inside and crawled onto Harry's bed to sit cross-legged on the foot, much as he had on Teddy's bed during story time. He began to write, so Harry finished dressing, stepping into his pyjama pants and pulling them up. He felt a flush of pleasure when Draco stopped writing for a moment as his eyes drifted to Harry to watch the process. As soon as Harry moved to climb into the bed, his quill resumed scratching.

Harry sat down, careful not to jar the bed and mar Draco's writing. He arranged the pillows behind his back, unsure what Draco wanted.

Draco handed the book over. Why would I Obliviate myself? What was so terrible that I would rather live like this than remember? Harry glanced up to see Draco make a sharp gesture toward his throat, eyes blazing.

"Too many things, I'm afraid," Harry answered truthfully. "Do you remember anything about the war?"

He gave the journal back. Draco wrote, Sometimes I think I do, but they are just images. Very little of it makes sense. I remember people wearing masks. And a horrible wizard with a maimed face. A huge snake in my house. And screaming. I remember a lot of screaming.

Harry swallowed when he read the words. He remembered a lot of screaming, too. Someone was always screaming.

Tell me, Draco wrote.

Harry shook his head. "No. You're better off not remembering. I don't want to remember. The things we did—the things you were forced to do… No one should have to go through that, Draco, especially not children. We were only children." Saying the words aloud, Harry knew he had never fully appreciated that Voldemort had lived in Draco's house. In his house. The horror had to have been indescribable.

Draco reached angrily for the book, but Harry held it out of reach for a moment. "No, hear me out. You don't need to know. If you're curious, we'll get you a book. There were dozens written after the war. If you still want to remember after that, then I will tell you what I can."

He let Draco take the journal. I was on the wrong side, wasn't I? Did I fight against you? What sort of atrocities did I commit?

Emotion played across Draco's fine features and Harry wished he could tear up the book, take away his quill and keep him silent. Keep him here. But that would be purely selfish. "Yeah. You were on the wrong side. But your heart wasn't in it."

Draco stared at a blank page for a long time before writing. How can you be sure?

Harry scooted closer, until he could reach out and lift Draco's chin and force their eyes to meet. "I'm sure. You were ordered to kill… someone. You were ordered to and you couldn't do it. I know, because I was there. You did some stupid things, but atrocities? Not that I'm aware of. You're not evil, Draco. Even when I thought you were a right git I knew that to be true."

A ghost of a smile touched Draco's lips and was gone. He closed his eyes and leaned into Harry's touch for a moment. Before Harry could react, he pulled away and began to write again.

Was I always horrible? Do you have any good memories of me? I remember someone named Blaise, but I don't recall much other than him sitting on the bed next to mine.

Draco's frustration was tangible and Harry sensed that much of it stemmed from anger at himself for taking away the good with the bad.

"Come here," Harry said and moved back to lean against the pillows. He curled his fingers in a coaxing motion. "I'll tell you what I remember."

Draco set aside the book and crawled forward until he nestled against Harry's side and rested his head on Harry's chest.

Harry wrapped an arm around him and started to talk, pulling up memories of Draco as a child, striding the halls of Hogwarts with his two hulking followers, leaning on Pansy and Blaise, and generally being a giant arse. Putting a positive spin on his recollections was easier than expected and if he made up a few things here and there, well, he could blame it on his own imperfect memory.

.

Harry woke up with a face full of blond hair and his arms filled with a warm, hard body. After a moment of surprise, he decided he could get used to such a thing very quickly. Draco's hair was soft, even the bits that tickled his lips, and it smelled wonderful.

Harry was spooned around him and Draco's amazing arse fit perfectly in the cradle of Harry's hips, a thought he dared not follow any farther in his current position. He lifted his head to judge the time. From the light peeping through the curtains, he assumed Teddy would be up soon and seeking breakfast.

Harry disentangled himself from Draco, who stirred only slightly before snuggling back into the pillows with a sigh. Harry tucked the blankets around him—he remembered Summoning them sometime after Draco had fallen asleep in his arms—and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before heading downstairs.

He had nearly finished cooking a rasher of bacon when a knock sounded on the door. He waited for a moment to see if his unpredictable house-elf would answer it, but after the knock came a second time, he moved the pan away from the flame and went to open the door.

The sight of Pansy Parkinson made something lurch in the pit of his stomach.

"Potter," she said once her eyes had raked his frame, taking in his attire and his dishevelled appearance. "And here I took you for an early riser."

"Only when necessary," he said and reluctantly stepped aside in mute invitation.

She entered and shucked the voluminous hooded cloak that dripped from the misty rain filling the air outside. Harry shut the door and made a mental note not to let Teddy play in the garden later without a jacket.

"Is Draco still here, or did you send him off somewhere?"

"He's here," Harry replied.

"Good. I know he's most likely not awake at this hour, but I have things to do this afternoon and prefer to fetch him sooner than later. I know you are probably eager to have him away from here."

"Would you like some tea?" Harry asked to postpone the inevitable.

She frowned at him, but nodded and dropped her cloak onto the coat rack before following him to the kitchen.

"There's bacon. I can make eggs, if you'd like."

"You're very domestic, Potter." Parkinson sounded amused, but not malicious, thankfully. Still, it was impossible not to be annoyed at her mere presence.

He bit his tongue and shrugged before pouring water from the steaming kettle into one of his uglier mugs.

"Bacon and toast would be nice," she relented.

Harry Levitated the plate of bacon to the table along with her cup of tea and then cast a controlled Incendio on two pieces of bread to toast them. He admired the golden colour as he placed them on another plate and took them to her. It had taken ages of practice to perfect his toast-making technique. Parkinson acknowledged it with nothing more than a raised brow.

"I think I'll go get dressed," Harry said after making sure the butter and assorted jams were accessible.

He turned to make his way out—and nearly ran into Draco, who steadied him with a grip on his shoulders. "Draco," Harry said a bit breathlessly. "Hi."

To his surprise, Draco wrapped him in a warm embrace and kissed the side of his neck. Harry felt a blush overtake him, starting from somewhere near his toes. Nevertheless, he squeezed Draco back.

"Um… Pansy is here," Harry murmured and released Draco to turn and see her staring at them with jaw agape. Toast dangled from her fingers, dripping raspberry jam onto the plate.

Draco lifted a hand in her direction with the other still touching Harry's shoulder.

"Potter, you had better have a fucking good explanation for this," she said with a voice like iron.

Seeming oblivious to the tension, Draco squeezed his shoulder. He left Harry and walked to the counter to make himself a cup of tea.

"I'd like it if Draco stayed," Harry blurted, eyes on the blond, who turned and gave him a surprised look that turned into a heart-melting smile. Merlin, I am utterly fucked, Harry thought. Parkinson confirmed his words.

"I'll bet you would," she snapped. "I can't believe you, of all people, Potter, would take advantage of him like this!"

Harry gasped. "I didn't!"

Pansy was on her feet, wand out. "I thought you would be mature enough to put our school days behind us! Is this some twisted form of revenge?"

"Of course not!" Harry retorted, shooting a worried glance to Draco, who was staring at them with an empty mug in his hand. "I really like him!"

"You like him?" Parkinson's voice dripped with scorn.

"You said it yourself. He's different now. And I already told you I want him to stay."

Draco slammed the mug down on the counter and crossed his arms, glaring at them both. Harry realized they had been talking about him as if he wasn't in the room. Harry gave him an apologetic glance.

"What do you want to do, Draco?" Parkinson asked. "Do you want to come with me or stay here with Potter?"

Harry found he was holding his breath, waiting for Draco's answer. Draco's scowl turned into a frown and he looked at Harry expectantly. Harry realized Draco's journal was probably still upstairs on Harry's bed.

"Accio Draco's journal and quill!" he yelled after tugging out his wand and gesturing toward the door with it. A moment later, it flew into Harry's hand.

"Draco's book almost hit my head, Uncle Harry," Teddy complained, standing in the doorway in his green pyjamas. Harry frowned at the garments—he could have sworn they were blue.

"I'm sorry, Teddy, I didn't think you would be awake."

"Bacon smell woke me up. And then yellin'."

"We were not yelling, Teddy. Do you remember Ms Parkinson? Please sit down and I'll get you some breakfast."

Teddy clung to Harry's legs for a moment, shot a distrustful look at Parkinson, and then ran to throw himself on Draco. "Is she here to take you away? Don't leave!" he cried. Draco patted his dark green hair and knelt down to give him a hug.

Harry walked quickly to Draco and handed him the journal, hoping to convince him to stay by the look in his eyes, but Draco kept his eyes fixed on the book as he took it from Harry's hand.

Defeated, Harry made more toast. Draco urged Teddy into a seat with a gentle push and then wrote in his journal. He handed it to Parkinson, who made a derisive snort. The sound made Harry turn and look at her.

"He wants to stay," she said and got to her feet. Teddy cheered and Harry smiled, even though Draco still refused to meet his eyes. Even if Draco was only staying because of Teddy, the fact remained that he wasn't leaving. Parkinson marched over and leaned close to Harry, pitching her words for his ears only. "If you hurt him in any way, I will eviscerate you. Do you understand?"

Harry swallowed and nodded. Merlin, but Slytherins could be scary when they chose. Especially female Slytherins.

She stepped away and walked to Draco, who had taken a chair next to Teddy. Parkinson placed a kiss on Draco's cheek. "If you need anything, Draco, you have my address. I will await your owl." She threw Harry a pointed stare.

Harry glared at her and didn't bother to see her out.

Part Seven

What did she mean by putting our school days behind us? Revenge for what?

Harry stared at the words on the white page and considered crumpling it in his fist. Damn Pansy Parkinson. He would have told Draco everything, eventually.

Before or after you fucked him? Harry's subconscious asked with Parkinson's snide voice.

"You know we didn't get along in school," Harry said, cringing inwardly.

Draco nodded curtly.

"Well… we may have tried to kill each other a time or two," Harry offered.

Draco's eyes narrowed and he scribbled furiously. That is a rather large leap from 'not getting along'.

Harry's fingers twitched with the need to yank at his hair in frustration. He glanced at Teddy, who was on the floor nearby building a house from Exploding Snap cards. Sometimes he could build one to four levels before it blew up. He was effectively ignoring the one-sided argument.

"It wasn't exactly premeditated! We were just reacting to circumstances beyond our control. Both of us were prone to react before thinking things through. We are more alike than I would have admitted then. I suppose I had to grow up to see it… to see you."

Draco's quill hovered, but did not touch paper. He seemed to be waiting. Harry kept talking, half-fearing he sounded like an idiot, but determined to make Draco understand.

"Look, despite what Parkinson thinks, I'm not pretending to like you out of some twisted need for revenge. You can leave any time you choose. I already told you I don't want you to go, so believe what you will. I am going to track down your parents' killers whether you are here or not. And not to further some clever plot to make you feel indebted to me, but because it's the right thing to do!"

Teddy looked over when Harry's voice rose, but his card house chose that moment to explode, sending cards flying. Teddy shrieked with pleasure and clapped his hands before gathering them into a pile and starting again.

Draco bent back over the journal again and Harry waited with trepidation until Draco handed it over.

All right. You are pretty cute when you get worked up.

Harry's relief was almost tangible. To his mortification, he felt tears prick his eyelids at the comment and he blinked several times to clear them before he trusted himself to meet Draco's eyes. He saw something resembling affection in their grey depths and didn't bother to stop himself from rushing into Draco's arms.

"Please don't leave," Harry murmured. "I don't know what this is between us, but I'm not ready to let it go without finding out."

Draco's arms tightened and his lips nuzzled against Harry's neck.

"Yay! No more fightin'!" Teddy said loudly. "Can we go flying now?"

Harry chuckled and buried one of his hands in Draco's soft hair. "Teddy, it's raining."

Teddy pouted. "Probably not at Gram's house."

"Merlin," Harry muttered. "If he's not sorted into Ravenclaw I'll be shocked."

Draco pulled away, took a step back, and wrote quickly. It's probably not raining in Wiltshire, either. I remember where we kept the brooms, and we won't need to worry about Muggles.

Harry frowned, not keen on returning to the Manor so soon after yesterday's visit, but if they stayed outside… In the end, the lure of being in the air was too much to resist.

"All right," Harry said, relenting to Teddy's puppy dog look and emo-black hair. "Go get some proper clothing, including a hooded cape, in case it is raining."

Teddy bounded up the stairs, whooping happily.

Harry smiled at Draco and said, "I'll be right back. I might need a jacket, too." Harry went to his room, shrugged on a Gryffindor red jacket, and retrieved the wand Draco's house-elves had given him. He returned to the living room and handed it to Draco.

"You might need this to Apparate," Harry said. Thankfully, there were some areas of magic that did not require a voice.

Draco took it and caressed it with his fingers before mouthing, Thank you.

Harry nodded and was nearly knocked down when Teddy returned and launched himself at them. "I'm ready! Ready Teddy, that's me! Ready, ready, ready!"

Harry laughed. "All right, Teddy. Draco, you go first and I'll follow with Teddy. I'll meet you near the front steps of the Manor?" Only the house was warded, Harry knew. The grounds were accessible to anyone. The house would probably have been left open if not for the fact that it was a crime scene.

Draco inclined his head, lifted his wand, and Disapparated. Harry pulled Teddy close and followed.

.

They appeared on the front walk before the entrance to the mansion and Harry's eyes raked over Draco, making sure nothing was out of place. Draco raised a brow at him and gave him a sardonic salute. He beckoned and led the way around the side of the house.

The sky was overcast, but it wasn't raining, much to Teddy's delight. Draco led them through a meticulous garden, obviously maintained by the house-elves, which Harry thought was interesting. He had always assumed house-elves confined their responsibilities to houses and not the grounds. He supposed they took care of the landscaping at Hogwarts, also.

Roses were everywhere and their fragrance filled the air with perfume. And bees. Teddy trailed behind, casting Stunners on the hapless insects.

"Remind me to thank you for teaching him that," Harry said dryly.

Draco only smiled.

The Malfoy "broom shed" was more like a separate house. The white marble edifice sat at the edge of the garden and was larger than the Dursley's entire downstairs. Draco waved his wand with a look of concentration. Harry didn't miss the relief on his face when the door opened, obviously obedient to his wordless spell.

Draco beckoned them inside. Several brooms hung on the walls, resting on golden brackets inside shallow alcoves. Draco walked to the first one and touched a hand to the wood for a moment before bowing his head. He did the same to the second one and Harry realized they must have belonged to Lucius and Narcissa. He swallowed and held Teddy's hand to keep him from running headlong into the room. Draco deserved a moment—he hadn't eradicated all his memories of his parents.

Seeming to gather his composure, Draco let go of the second broom with a final lingering touch and marched resolutely to the third one. He lifted it down and tossed it to Harry with a smirk.

Harry caught it and admired the smooth, dark wood for a moment. It was a Nebula III, which had been spanking new only a couple of years ago. Harry owned a Nebula I, which seemed almost clunky compared to the beauty in his hands.

Draco knelt down to Teddy's level to hand him a smaller, lighter broom. It was child-sized and Harry realized with a jolt that it must have been Draco's first broom. Teddy clutched it to his chest, eyes wide as he stared at Draco, who tapped his fingers against his own chest, then Teddy's, and then touched the broom.

"Are you giving me this?" Teddy asked in a loud whisper.

Draco nodded and smiled brightly. He glanced at Harry, who found it difficult to breathe for a moment. Draco only shrugged and got to his feet. He jotted a quick note and handed it to Harry as he walked past, heading for Lucius' broom.

I'm never going to need it.

Harry crumpled the paper, disturbed by the finality, and the implication.

Teddy ran to Draco and threw his arms around him in an exuberant hug, causing Draco to wince when the handle of broom Teddy still held gouged into his side. "Thank you, Cousin Draco!"

Draco ruffled his hair and Teddy raced outside.

"Don't you ride that broom yet, young man!" Harry called threateningly. He walked to Draco, curled a hand around his neck, and pulled him into a bruising kiss. "Thank you," Harry said when he pulled away, hoping Draco understood.

A sweet blush tinted Draco's cheeks, but he only nodded and planted a quick peck on Harry's lips before glancing at the door.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know. He's probably already in the air."

With that, he hefted the Nebula and walked outside—and straight into a nightmare.

Teddy struggled in the grasp of a tall, thin man whose wand was held steadily at Teddy's throat. Teddy's hair had gone deepest black and his new broom lay in the gravel at his feet. Harry felt an ice-cold hand of fear grip his heart.

"Well, well, if it in't Harry Potter," the man drawled.

Harry's eyes left Teddy only long enough to flick around the clearing and judge his odds. "Travers," Harry said, not recognizing the other three men. He thought about shouting a warning to Draco, but it was too late. Footsteps sounded behind him and then a soft inhalation told him that Draco had exited the broom shed.

"And Draco Malfoy," Travers said. "Jus' who we come to visit."

Harry took an unconscious step sideways, shielding Draco from his parents' killers. Travers' wand dug sharply into Teddy's neck and the boy winced.

"Now, now, Potter. No sudden moves. We wouldn't want the boy 'ere to get 'urt, now would we?" Travers' bushy grey hair shifted as he tossed his head. "Or dead. Now, fish your wand out nice 'n' slow and toss it 'ere."

Harry murmured the spell that released his wand from the forearm holster he wore. It was standard-issue for Aurors and Auror-trainees. He hesitated for a moment with it in his hand, knowing he could possibly stop three of them… but four?

Teddy cried out as Travers' hand twisted in his hair. "Drop it, Potter!"

Harry tossed the wand, which landed halfway between him and Travers.

"You, too, Malfoy," Travers snapped.

"He doesn't have one," Harry growled. "He can't speak."

"Whaddya mean 'e can't speak?"

"That's true, Lionel," one of the other men said. "I read it in the Prophet."

"Did you?" Travers replied. "Well, that's right int'restin', innit?"

"Let the boy go," Harry said. "He has nothing to do with this."

"Au contraire, Potter. He's my insurance for your good behaviour. Now step aside. We have some unfinished business dealin's with Malfoy."

Harry's hand tightened around the handle of his broom and he took a step sideways, hoping Draco would forgive him. In the same movement, he angled the broom downward, straddled it, and launched it toward Travers.

Gripping tightly with his thighs, Harry braced himself as the tip of the broom cracked into Travers' breastbone, halting his frantic shriek mid-word. Harry's left hand scooped up Teddy and he held the boy tightly as he sent the broom upward in a zig-zag path, dodging the spells sent at him more by instinct than planning.

Something hit Harry's left calf and sent the broom into a spin. Harry's grip on Teddy loosened and Teddy screamed only once before his little hands clung more tightly to Harry's waist. Harry ignored the pain in his leg, righted the broom, and shifted Teddy into a seated position in front of him. By then, they were over the trees and out of range of the spell-casters. Harry flew low over Malfoy's manicured garden and then dropped the broom down in the centre of a group of fruit trees edged in boxwood.

He stood Teddy on his feet and gripped his shoulder. "Find a place to hide, Teddy, and don't come out until I call for you. I have to go back and help Draco. Don't go into the house—I don't know if there are more of them. Find a thick patch of greenery and hide, okay?"

Teddy looked frightened, but he only nodded gamely. Harry gave him a hard hug, mounted the broom, and headed back toward Draco.

Harry flew back as fast as the broom could move, hoping he wouldn't return to find a deserted clearing with Draco's crumpled body lying on the ground. Already he was assailed by guilt for leaving him, even though he knew taking Teddy to safety was more important, and that Draco would agree with him.

Harry was indescribably relieved when he spotted all four men clustered in front of the broom shed. Draco must have bolted back inside when Harry had provided a distraction. Two of them were blasting hexes at the door, which shivered from the impact. Soon it would fail and the men would lurch inside, where Draco would be helpless against them.

Harry scanned the ground, but Travers or one of the others must have taken his wand. He would have to acquire another. He hunched low on the broom and pushed it forward. Travers and a bearded man stood behind the men hexing the door—the bearded man turned and saw Harry approaching. He cried out and lifted his wand—just as Harry's fist snapped out and caught him in the jaw, powered by the force of his hurtling broom. Harry saw the man spin and fall as he banked sharply, hoping to send the broom into Travers, but the Death Eater leaped back. Harry's shoulder only grazed him as he passed.

Shouts followed him as he pulled the broom into a twisting climb, spinning the broom to avoid a burst of spells sent after him. They were obviously unused to aiming at a moving target—all of them fell short and Harry sent the broom over the top of the marble-walled shed.

He dropped down on the other side, rounded the corner of the building, and headed back toward the men so low to the ground that his knees nearly brushed the gravel. The one he had hit was down, but the other three wildly scanned the sky, searching for him. The pair in front of the door were closest, so Harry raced straight at them. The one nearest him was half-turned away and did not even seem to notice Harry's approach until the tip of the broom caught him in the ribcage and flung him straight into his partner-in-crime. They both went down.

Unfortunately, the impact tore the broom from Harry's hands and sent him sailing through the air to land in a rolling spin on the gravel, knocking the wind out of his lungs and sending a burst of pain through his shoulder. He scrambled to his feet, gasping for breath and watchful for danger.

He flung himself aside just as Travers levelled a spell at him. Gravel spewed from the ground at his feet. Harry caught sight of a wand—dropped by one of the fallen men. One seemed out cold, but the other was on his knees, attempting to get to his feet. The wand was closer to him than Harry.

"Damn you, Potter! Give it up! It's Malfoy we want!" Travers yelled. Another burst of light shot from his wand and Harry dodged it, although it singed his hair as it passed over his head.

Harry was about to bolt for the fallen wand when a voice yelled, "Ha-Ray!" Expecting another threat, Harry gaped when he saw Draco hugging the side of the broom mausoleum. Harry ducked and rolled to avoid another spell, but Draco seemed satisfied to have his attention. He threw something that spun quickly in Harry's direction and Harry snatched it out of the air—Draco's wand!

With a flare of pride and a vengeful snarl, Harry turned and sent a rapid succession of spells hurling toward the two men still standing. The Incarcerous hit the man who had groggily climbed to his feet and Expelliarmus sent Travers' wand winging into a bush. He tried to bolt, but a Stunner sent him sprawling in the gravel.

Harry straightened, wincing at the pain in his calf—it felt like something was severed and he was afraid to look at it. Instead he turned and smiled at Draco, who walked out of the shade of the building. He glanced around and then raised his hands to slap them together in languid applause.

Harry laughed, more with relief than amusement. He limped forward and wrapped Draco in a hard embrace, holding him for a long moment before pulling back to look at him. "You called me."

Draco nodded and swallowed. "Ha…ray," he said, voice rough and quiet, but audible. He sighed and tried again. "Harry." It sounded like a breath and might have been the loveliest sound Harry had ever heard. He smiled and let his forehead rest on Draco's as he curled his hand around the back of his neck.

Harry was just angling his head for a kiss when a shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!" tore his gaze across the clearing just as a reddish bolt of energy sizzled over their heads. The wizard who had cast it hovered just off the ground, arms pin-wheeling for balance. Beyond him, Teddy Lupin stood on the path, Draco's old wand held steadily in his tiny fist.

Harry made short work of binding the man—the one he had punched and assumed to be out cold—while Draco ran to scoop Teddy into a hug. Harry took no chances this time, biding them all with magical ropes and then sending a Patronus to Kingsley. Only then did he hurry over and embrace Teddy and Draco together.

"Teddy! You were brilliant!"

"I did good? I tried to stop the bad man and I remembered what Draco showed me."

"You most definitely stopped the bad man from hurting us. You were amazing, Teddy." Harry planted a firm kiss on the boy's forehead and then leaned in and planted an only-slightly-more-gentle kiss on Draco's lips. "And so was Draco."

Harry stepped back and Draco set Teddy on the ground. Harry returned Draco's wand. He had placed his own back in his wrist sheath and collected those from the fallen men. Harry had a dozen questions for Draco, but they would have to wait. "The Aurors will be here soon. Draco, can you take Teddy back home? I'll be there as soon as I can."

Draco frowned and looked at their attackers. One was groaning and another was muttering and shifting in his bonds, but none of them would escape. Finally, Draco nodded.

Draco lifted his wand, held Teddy's hand tightly, and Disapparated. 

6

Harry was late arriving home. There had been questions and paperwork and Veritaserum—not for Harry, but for Travers and his gang—followed by even more questions. Harry had to explain why he had been at the Manor, why he was with Draco Malfoy, and then go over the attack several times in order to appease Kingsley.

Thankfully, however, Travers had admitted to murdering Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, as well as his plotting to kill Draco once he had achieved what he sought. The house was dark, so Harry left his bedroom and crossed the hall to Teddy's room. The boy was sleeping peacefully with Draco's old wand clutched limply in his hand.

Harry removed the wand and slipped it beneath Teddy's pillow before tugging the blankets up over his shoulder and kissing his baby-fine cheek. He left the room and was just closing the door when Draco's opened.

They stared at each other for a moment and then walked into each other's arms in a simultaneous movement. Harry held him tightly and breathed in the scent of his hair before pressing a soft kiss into his neck. "Draco," he said.

Draco's arms tightened.

"Come on," Harry said. "I need to talk to you."

Draco pulled away and looked at him suspiciously, but Harry grinned and added, "This won't be like the last talk, I promise." He looped a hand around Draco's and led him back to his own room. Harry let go in order to unbutton his robes—he had borrowed a set of Auror Trainee robes at the Ministry in order to look more official. Draco crawled onto the bed and sat cross-legged to watch him.

Harry spoke as he undressed. "Travers and the others admitted to killing your parents," he said bluntly. "They will be spending some time in Azkaban until their trials and probably quite a lot more time there after that." Draco's hands clenched, but he gave no other sign that the news affected him. "Do you know what they were after, coming back to the Manor?"

Draco shook his head and Harry nodded as he shrugged out of the robes and tossed them toward his desk chair. They missed by a short margin and landed on the floor in a heap. Draco rolled his eyes sardonically and Harry grinned before he sobered.

"Apparently, Travers was hoping to become the next Dark Lord, with your father's assistance. Or with the assistance of the Malfoy fortune, at any rate. Your father refused, they fought, and your parents ended up dead as Travers and the others fled."

Harry closed his eyes, unwilling to disclose more information, such as the fact that Travers had planned his return with the intention to use more forceful tactics on Draco. Timing alone had saved him. Travers had been on the run after killing Draco's parents, knowing the Ministry sought him for questioning. He could not have known that Draco would be alone in the house for weeks with only house-elves, and an occasional visit from Parkinson or Zabini—for protection. Harry swallowed hard as he thought about what would have happened to Draco if Travers had returned to the Manor prior to Draco Obliviating himself. He would likely have been tortured and possibly killed. And Harry would hardly have cared at all.

Looking unwaveringly at Draco, Harry hoped an apology showed in his gaze, because the thought of anything happening to him now… His fingers shook as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Draco frowned and slipped off the bed. He walked forward and brushed Harry's hands aside before working the buttons through the tiny holes. Harry drank in his proximity and reached out to rest his hands on Draco's hips, slender and firm beneath the black silk of his pyjamas.

"Merlin," Harry whispered. "If Travers had gone back sooner, when you were there alone…" He pulled Draco closer and tipped his head to kiss him hungrily before adding," I might have lost you before I ever found you."

Draco's hands finished the last of the buttons and then Harry felt them touch his bare skin. His fingers trailed lightly over his waist and then looped around to slide up Harry's back—it felt lovely. Their lips met again, more exploratory than before, and Harry found it hard to breathe even with panting gasps—his lungs felt constricted.

He drew back to gaze into Draco's eyes. "I don't want you to think this is some casual thing. I don't… I don't really do casual, so if it's that way for you…"

A sardonic grin curved Draco's lips. He lifted one hand and tapped Harry's chest with an index finger and then opened and closed his hand quickly like a duck's bill quacking before raising two fingers in a V-shape. He concluded with a rasped, "…much."

The gesture was clear: You talk too much. Harry snorted.

"I'm not sure if I'm happy or sad about the return of your voice. I sense the return of the snark—it might not be a good thing."

Draco made a growling noise and latched onto Harry's lower lip with his teeth. He pulled and Harry laughed at the twinge of pain and dragged Draco even closer, pushing his hardness against Draco's erection. Draco gasped and released Harry's lip, playfulness dissipating as his hands returned to Harry, this time curling into the waistband of Harry's jeans and working them open.

Harry nearly held his breath, trembling with anticipation. Not to be undone alone, he clutched at the silk of Draco's pyjama bottoms and tugged them down. A couple of quick jerks and they slid to the floor along with Harry's jeans. Harry didn't bother to step out of them, he only cupped Draco's arse with both hands and squeezed. "Fuck, I've wanted to do that."

Draco's breath huffed against his face in a laugh and he reciprocated, gripping Harry's arse and grinding their erections together. The sensation was so much better without the barrier of heavy fabric, but they still had pants to contend with. He eased his fingers beneath the fabric of Draco's pants, intending to remove them, but he paused.

"Teddy," he said.

Draco froze and his hands tightened on Harry's arse, but Harry only kissed him again. "Hang on; I just need to lock the door. I definitely don't want to be interrupted." Harry let go with his right hand, flipped his wand from his wrist sheath with a twitch, and cast a Locking Charm at the door, along with a Proximity Ward that would alert him if Teddy approached the door. Please no nightmares tonight, he prayed.

While Harry was distracted with ascertaining their privacy, Draco had been busy divesting Harry of his pants. When Draco's hand wrapped around Harry's cock, he had to fight hard not to come. Draco couldn't speak, much—although his ability was gradually returning, thankfully—but he could certainly smirk. And Harry would rather not come until they were at least prone.

To distract himself from the glorious feel of the hand on his cock, Harry pulled the waistband of Draco's pants carefully over his erection and let them fall. He looked down, wanting to see the prize revealed, but Draco's black pyjama shirt hid it from view. Rather than bother with the buttons, Harry bunched the hem in both hands and pulled it up and over Draco's head.

The movement meant the loss of Draco's hand on his cock, but seeing Draco fully unclothed was worth it. Harry had fantasized about his lean body ever since seeing him clad in only a towel, but now, with his erection waiting eagerly for Harry's touch…

Harry touched.

Draco's head fell back, tempting Harry to place a kiss in the hollow of his throat. Draco's hands lightly brushed Harry's arms, as if uncertain where to touch next, but sliding downward. Harry groaned.

"Bed," he whispered.

Draco's hands tightened briefly and then he moved away like a pale shadow. Harry paused to kick off his shoes and disentangle himself from his jeans. By the time he turned around, Draco was reclining on the bed, watching him with a lazy smile. His hands rested at either side of his head, palms up, the very picture of casual relaxation. If he was nervous, it certainly didn't show. Harry drank in the sight and let his approval show in his expression as he moved forward and climbed between Draco's legs.

He pressed a kiss to the inward curve of Draco's pelvis, intending to kiss a path up Draco's abdomen, but Draco's cock nudged against his face and Harry rubbed his cheek over it for a moment before turning his head and placing a reverent kiss there. Draco's groaning sigh was barely audible.

Harry smiled wickedly and flicked teasing licks along the hard length, until Draco was writhing and both were hands clenched in Harry's hair, neither pulling nor guiding, just holding on as though to a lifeline. It was unbelievably erotic and Harry was suddenly glad for its messy thickness.

Draco made an unintelligible sound when Harry finally slid his lips around Draco's cock and took it completely in, tonguing the underside until the tip nudged against the back of his throat. Draco quivered and Harry felt a surge of satisfaction, knowing how close Draco was to orgasm. It was a bit of a surprise to find that he was actually eager to feel Draco coming down his throat, except that it warred with his need to prolong the exquisite torment.

He sucked his way back up Draco's hardness and then released it with a smug purr and a growled, "Fuck, you're gorgeous." He returned to his original purpose of kissing his way up Draco's torso until he could capture his lips. His fingers teased gentle circles around Draco's entrance. Ragged gasps hummed into Harry's mouth.

Harry forced himself to concentrate on logistics for a moment—he seemed to have dropped his wand somewhere between the floor and the bed. He stopped lapping at Draco's mouth long enough to raise his head and look for it. Draco seemed to read his mind and let go of Harry's hair to reach beneath his pillow for his cedar wand.

Harry laughed and took it, giving a moment of thanks that his magic seemed perfectly compatible with Draco's, since the wand worked just as well for him as Draco's original, taken from him so long ago and now Teddy's prized possession.

Harry cast several spells that he had used only on himself in the past, sprawled out on this same bed with a magazine open before him. He had only ever imagined it before, and none of it could prepare him for the reality of Draco spread out beneath him, panting, hands touching him—one still in his hair and one roaming now, ghosting over Harry's face, neck and shoulders, as if uncertain where to light—his skin glistening with sweat and his lips wet from Harry's kisses. He wanted to remember every moment. Even more, he wanted to repeat it many times in the future.

Now was not the time, of course, not when his fingers were sliding into Draco's tight heat. He probed gently, ensuring he was open and ready enough. Draco arched and said, "Please." Harry couldn't wait any longer. He pulled his fingers out and gripped his cock in order to guide it. Watching Draco's face intently, Harry pushed inside.

Emotion played across Draco's face and his teeth worried his lower lip for a moment. Harry paused to give them both time to adjust. It was incredible on his part—his cock was wrapped in warmth so tightly that each slight movement seemed to evoke new sensations.

"Draco," he breathed, unable to express anything else coherently.

Draco pulled him into a bruising kiss, which was only distracting for a moment, because the pressure on his cock demanded attention. Draco seemed to be in agreement, shifting his hips and causing Harry to slide in deeper. Harry broke the kiss and positioned himself for better leverage, tucking his thighs beneath Draco's and gripping his hips as he began to move.

It was beyond Harry's expectations. Wanking and fantasizing, and even his limited experience with girls, was no comparison to this. And part of it, he knew, was simply because it was Draco, his amazing former enemy who had become so much more. Draco moved beneath him, holding Harry's wrists at first, and then shifting them to the headboard in order to provide more leverage as their movements became more frenzied.

Harry couldn't hold out. The time seemed ridiculously short, but it was simply too much. He moved his hand to Draco's cock and was relieved when it immediately twitched and pulsed in his hand. At the same time, the tightness around his cock increased even more—which he hadn't thought possible—triggering his own rushing orgasm. He tried to keep his eyes open, wanting to watch Draco come, but it was too much; the intensity was near-blinding. Tingling warmth suffused him completely as he kept thrusting, pushing into Draco and riding the wave of pleasure before falling over him in a limp heap.

The sound of their breathing was loud in the quiet room. Draco's hands ended up on Harry's arse, caressing gently from the curve of his spine down to his thighs and back again. Harry's were tangled in Draco's soft hair, probably fouling it with the remains of Draco's release, but that would only give Harry an excuse to wash it out later. The thought of soaping Draco's hair was nearly as tantalising as the thought of making love to him again.

"Am I crushing you?" Harry asked, still not quite willing to move.

"No," Draco replied.

Harry gave a contented sigh and drifted off to sleep, still sheathed in Draco's warmth.

.

It was still dark when Harry awakened, feeling stiff, partially chilled, and covered in sticky grime, but still feeling better than he had in what seemed like years, because his arms were wrapped Draco, whose chest rose and fell with each breath. Harry's arms tightened and he pressed a kiss into the back of Draco's neck, since he was spooned around him with his right arm trapped beneath Draco's head. It was also completely asleep, as evidenced by the sharp spear of pain and the immediate prickling feeling of thorns stabbing his cold fingers.

He eased his arm out and moved away from Draco, who only shifted and sighed a bit at Harry's departure. Harry tucked the blankets around him after leaving the bed. He stepped into his discarded pants and went to the bathroom to clean himself up, preferring a shower to quicker, but less-effective, spells.

Once showered, he checked in on both Draco and Teddy—still sleeping—before going downstairs to make tea. Dawn was breaking and it looked to be a beautiful day, in more ways than one.

Harry took his tea into the living room and sat staring into the flames for a long time, contemplating his future. His decision not to rejoin the Auror Department had taken a turn after the events surrounding Draco. The Ministry needed to make some changes and Harry would never be in a position to make those changes if he abandoned an Auror career because he was bored. He needed to stop whinging and start getting serious.

With that, he drafted a letter to Kingsley, which took quite some time due to scratching out misspellings and trying to make it sound decent.

A sound drew his attention and he looked up to see Draco standing in the doorway, fully dressed except for shoes and socks. His hair was damp and he looked uncertain. Harry shoved his papers aside and opened his arms with a welcoming smile. The uncertainly fled, replaced with something that looked like relief, and then Draco walked forward and sat on the couch next to Harry. He snuggled in closer, beneath Harry's arm, and nuzzled into Harry's neck.

"Good morning," Harry said in as seductive a tone as he could manage. He kissed the top of Draco's head and arched his back so that Draco could snake an arm around behind him. It must not have sounded as stupid as Harry thought, because Draco raised his face to meet Harry's kiss.

Harry planned to ask if he wanted tea, or breakfast, or any number of mundane things, but instead they just kept snogging. Time passed—it could have been days, for all Harry knew, until Draco was straddling his lap and Harry's hands were beneath Draco's unbuttoned shirt, and then—

The fireplace flared and Harry looked up dazedly to meet Ron's shocked expression.

"Harry?"

"Um… Ron," Harry replied.

"Malfoy?" Ron asked. His voice resembled a sick croak.

Harry's hands tightened when Draco started to move away. Better to have Draco in his lap where their physical conditions were not visible. Draco relaxed against him and settled on patting down Harry's hair, probably thinking it was the safest place to put his hands once he removed them from Harry's crotch.

The flames rose again and disgorged Hermione. "Ron, you could have waited," she said. "I told you we—" Her words cut off with a squeaking noise.

Ron's bewildered gaze turned to her almost accusingly and she stared back with an amazed expression. Her obvious surprise seemed to reassure him that she was not in on some conspiracy, so he turned back to Harry. His face was red, but he managed to compose himself.

"So. Harry. I wanted to… um. I wanted to make sure you were okay after yesterday's attack. It was all over the Ministry this morning."

Hermione recovered faster. "Yes; and why didn't you tell us about it, Harry?" He wasn't sure whether or not she referred to the battle with Travers or his immediate companion. Probably both.

Harry finally decided his erection had subsided enough that he wouldn't embarrass himself, so he moved Draco before his hair became something unrecognizable. He kept a firm grip on the blond, however, slinging an arm over his shoulders so there would be no doubt that he fully intended Draco to remain there.

Before he could say anything, he heard Teddy yelling, "Draco! Harry, where are you?" The last word dragged out in a long howl and Harry grinned.

"Down here, Teddy!" he called.

Teddy bounced down the stairs like he usually did. Thump thump thump, and then he came racing around the corner, only to let out a happy shriek and launch himself at Hermione as if he hadn't seen her in a month.

"Auntie 'Mione and Uncle Ron!" he yelled happily.

Hermione giggled as she knelt down to return his hug. Teddy's hair went orange, as it usually did whenever he spotted one of the Weasleys. He hugged Ron next and then hurried over to climb into Draco's lap after giving Harry a loud, smacking kiss.

"Harry and Cousin Draco were smooching like you and Uncle Ron," Teddy explained to Hermione in a serious tone.

Ron made another choking sound, but Hermione only said solemnly, "We know."

"I'm not going to do any gross kissing stuff when I get big." He linked his fingers through Draco's and rested his head on Draco's shoulder. "But Uncle Harry and Cousin Draco should get married because then I can live here sometimes and we'll be like a real family."

Harry reached out and squeezed Teddy's knee, feeling his chest constrict. "You think Draco should stay here, then?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yeah," Teddy said decisively.

Harry met Draco's soft grey eyes. "So do I," he said.

Draco smiled brilliantly and Ron coughed. Harry vaguely noted Hermione giving him an elbow to the ribs, but the fact that Ron was maintaining his silence convinced Harry that his friend would come around.

"So, Draco. Will you stay?" Harry asked.

Draco's glance shifted to Ron and Harry wondered what memories flitted through the Slytherin's mind, because his smirk resembled the one he had worn when Ron's spell had backfired and caused him to burp up slugs.

"Yes," Draco said with only a hint of difficulty. "Yes, I will."

Teddy whooped and fell off the couch.