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Draco breathed deeply from his crouched position in the derelict property, he’d been hiding behind a wall for the last thirty minutes. He was sweaty and his Auror robes were doing all they could to relieve how hot it was in this godforsaken shithole, but the cooling charms woven in the uniform really needed strengthening. He just hadn’t had the time recently.

His team had been chasing these dark wizards for weeks. Missing them by moments. So close they’d heard the pops of their apparitions as they disappeared to a location unknown.

His team were good though. He was in charge of twelve of the very best Aurors the Ministry had ever seen. Today he had his crack team with him. The elite crew.

Making Senior Auror at thirty-one had made Draco smugly happy.

His crowning achievement, of course, was his five year old son, Scorpius, but his professional endorsement from the Ministry was a close second. He’d worked so hard to get to these heady heights. Robards had grudgingly started to respect him - somewhere in his fifth year as an Auror, realising that Draco would keep bouncing back, no matter what the old fucker threw at him. Plus, he was good at this. His gift for strategy and effortless magic made him the perfect Auror.

Auror Johnson glanced over from her hiding place. Using a selection of hand signals he told her his plan. The former Gryffindor chaser widened her eyes. He nodded, confirming it. She took a deep breath and signalled her affirmation. She then relayed the message to Roberts and Khan.

Draco had already cast an anti-apparation ward over the building - these perps were going nowhere. Not this time.

He gave the ‘get ready’ signal and counted down from three.

The ‘battle’, if you could call it that, was over in a matter of seconds. The team were coordinated, effective and wicked smart. Roberts and Khan took flank and Draco and Johnson backed them up.

A selection of particularly nasty hexes were thrown into the mix from the two dark wizards. But Draco had come up with a tried and tested way to ensure success.

Fight like a muggle.

His team didn’t always rely on spells to bring in perps. They each carried a DMLE sanctioned pouch of potions and gadgets - most of which Draco had invented or, at the very least, assimilated into the wixen world.

Angelina threw a small puck across the floor, it skidded to the feet of one of the wizards who was merrily throwing out curses at his two other lieutenants. The puck opened and chains wound around the perp's feet, throwing him off course and onto his back where Khan took that opportunity to lay a heavy Petrificus Totalus that hit the guy square in the chest.

Draco lobbed an Imobulus bomb over perp number two and Robert's variation of Incarcerous was as nasty as usual. Pinning the guy to a wall, his wand hitting the deck.

“Nice work, team - let’s load them up and head out,” Draco said, taking the anti-apparation ward down.

He let his team prep the perps for the portkey back to the DMLE. The first round at the pub would be on him.

Working with this squad always paid off.

~

Draco woke up to the faint thudding of tiny footsteps getting closer. His bedroom door banged against the wall as it was thrown open by a smallish gremlin which was now running flat out to his bed. The blonde-haired gremlin squealed as it flew onto Draco’s stomach causing the breath to leave his body.

His five year-old son cried, “Daddy! Good morning!”

Draco’s wand took that moment to vibrate off the bedside table, announcing his alarm. It was six in the morning.

“I’ll get it, Dad!” Scorpius crowed, diving off the bed and nearly hitting Draco in the gonads. Draco reached for his son’s foot in his Harry Potter themed pyjamas and dragged him back up onto the bed, sans wand.

“Scorpius, what did Daddy say about touching someone else’s wand?”

“I was only trying to help!” grumped Scorpius, his little face scrunching up.

Abruptly, as a ticking clock moved on, his face changed into a happier expression. “Shall we ‘work out’ before breakfast? I want to be as fit as you, Dad!”

Draco smiled affectionately at the little boy. “I think you’ll be even stronger, son. And much better looking, too.”

“Granny says I already am,” Scorpius affirmed righteously and bounced off the bed.

Draco snorted and sat up, heaving his tired sore body out of bed. He immediately fell on the floor and began to stretch. After an assortment of pushups, sit ups and squats. He threw in some yoga poses that Angelina had shown him.

These days, those stretches were very important. For reasons he didn’t like to think about too closely.

Scorpius, who had gotten bored halfway through, started an impromptu fashion show, where he’d walk out of Draco’s wardrobe in an assortment of odd clothing.

“What do you think of this?” he asked, wearing a pair of loose cycling shorts and a dogtooth blazer.

“Fantastic,” Draco replied, looking up from his downward dog.

Scorpius scrunched up his nose whilst he looked in the mirror. “I’m not sure - it needs something …”

“A hat, maybe? Scarf?” Draco suggested, one leg high in the air.

Scorpius shook his head and wandered back into the walk-in wardrobe. “Oh, yes, that’s much better.”

Draco snorted and fell in a heap as Scorpius walked back into the room in a pair of cowboy boots Pansy had made him buy last spring. He’d never worn them.

Scorpius grinned and began dancing around the room, wiggling his little bottom, making Draco laugh until his stomach hurt.

~

It didn’t happen often, but sometimes Draco would be called into work on his day off.

Astoria was extremely accommodating with his work schedule. She didn’t work, or do much at all, so it wasn’t exactly a hardship - but since the divorce he was grateful that she had agreed to the terms of his working arrangement.

Draco currently had three days off, and as luck had it, it was the school holidays. Even better, his mother was on holiday in Barbados.

Draco floo-called the hotel his mother was staying at asking her to get in touch at her earliest convenience. The last thing he would be doing was to ask Astoria to have Scorpius. The arrangement was one thing, but he never, ever pushed for fear she would push back - harder. And he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his father.

He left a message at Pansy’s office but she was busier than he was, usually.

He sighed warily, he’d have to bring him into the office for the time being, and hope it wasn’t something too dangerous.

Scorpius was thrilled with the situation and bounced on the bed whilst Draco hastily threw on his uniform. Robards would just have to bloody lump it.

They floo’d straight to the Ministry, Scorpius’ little hand in his much larger one. Scorpius was wearing his very most favourite Harry Potter t-shirt (an animated version of the Potter Draco had gone to school with, flying around on a broom) and a pair of fake round glasses.

The fact that his son was a die-hard Potter fan amused Draco’s friends endlessly. His father encouraged it, his mother simply adored it, and his ex-wife found it cruelly satisfying. Draco endured it because he loved his son and he barely saw Potter, so what did it matter?

Harry Potter had become a recluse. He did mysterious work for the Ministry that only people, much higher up in the system, knew about, and refused to dance to anyone’s tune. Especially the media.

Most believed he moved about the world wearing his infamous cloak.

Draco had a tentative professional relationship with Granger, who never spoke about Potter. And, Weasley, who he often saw at the shop, as it was one of Scorpius’ favourite places in the world, had a ‘don’t ask me about Harry Potter’ policy. If people did, they were promptly thrown out the shop on their arses.

He’d seen it happen.

“Now, remember what I said, Scorpius,” Draco spoke quietly as they arrived in the DMLE offices. “You have your books, crayons and action figures. There’s a drink in your bag. Daddy will cast a silencing charm which will mean you can’t hear me and my work friends talking. But, I’m here if you need me. Just tug on my arm and wait for a few minutes until I can finish my conversation.”

“Okay, Dad!” Scorpius nodded excitedly. “Do you think Harry will be here?”

Draco shook his head. “No, son. I don’t work with him, remember?”

“Oh …” Scorpius looked completely miffed and Draco couldn’t help smiling.

“Hello, Auror Malfoy,” waved a junior analyst from the research team. Draco nodded at the analyst and her team who were all staring with similar expressions. Mainly like they wanted to devour him.

His looks had helped exponentially in some ways. It seemed as long as you were attractive you could get away with signing up to become a Death Eater. Draco wasn’t stupid, he knew that both men and women alike were attracted to him. Just as they had been to his father and his mother.

He had grown into his looks since school. He’d filled out, too. Ten years as an Auror, training everyday, meant that his tall stature had grown muscular. He was six feet two, and built. Aesthetically, he knew he was very pleasing to look at.

It was a hardship, only he could bear.

Similarly, Scorpius was incredibly beautiful. People were consistently telling him how gorgeous his son was. But, his whole family was incredibly attractive, they had been for generations. Astoria looked like a goddess. None of it was news to him.

In the end, after their disastrous fuck up in the war, Lucius had served only two years in Azkaban, out of ten. His mother had a six month house arrest. Draco had been completely let off, it was how he had been able to join the Aurors. If he’d been sentenced, he’d never have stood a chance.

The Malfoy name was completely restored, it was as if it had never happened at all.

As he passed his desk in the main open-plan office, Deputy Head Auror Chang popped her head out of a meeting room. She beckoned him quickly, frowning at Scorpius.

No childcare. Draco mouthed at her.

Cho came out of the room completely and closed the door behind her.

“Hi Scorpius,” she smiled at his son.

“Hello!”

“Draco, this is top, top secret. I’m afraid Scorpius will have to wait out here. I can ask –”

Draco shook his head firmly. “No, Cho. I’m not trying to be difficult. He’s five. He’s not leaving my sight. I’ll put him in a silencing bubble. He’s got some things to do, he won't be any trouble.”

Cho closed her eyes in defeat. That was one of the things you learned quickly as an Auror. When to admit defeat and roll with it. She nodded.

“Right, well - it’s a weird one anyway. They’re waiting on you, so we'll just head on in. You’ll need to pop Scorpius in the bubble straight away. As I said, the whole thing is super sensitive.”

Draco nodded and crouched down to his son. “Okay, I’m going to cast the charm we talked about. It will mean, you can only see me. You won’t be able to hear me, but you can touch my arm and I’ll respond. Keep playing with your toys, and I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Scorpius smiled, happy to be included and excited to be at his Dad’s office. “Yes, Dad.”

Draco cast the charm and waited. Cho tested it by waving at Scorpius but he stared straight through her. Satisfied they all walked into the room and shut the door behind them.

Shit.

There, sitting by Granger, with Robards and Shacklebolt on the other side of the table was Harry Potter. They were in mid conversation. Potter looked frustrated.

The spell failed and Scorpius screeched with joy.

“Oh my gosh! Dad! It’s Harry Potter! Dad! Look!”

Draco closed his eyes and grabbed his son’s hand. He cleared his throat, opened his eyes and shushed Scorpius. “My apologies, my silencing bubble charm has just failed, if you would give me a moment …”

“It didn’t fail, it was me. I nullified all the magic in here,” Potter said calmly and then added, “hello, I’m Harry, I like your glasses,” to Scorpius.

Scorpius waved and grinned. “Hello! They’re just like yours! I’m your number one fan, aren’t I, Dad?”

Draco sighed and smiled tightly. “Yes.”

It was excruciating. Draco swallowed and glanced at Potter’s delighted face.

Robards was looking as if he wanted to kill Draco. “Malfoy, why is your son here?”

Scorpius immediately hid behind Draco’s leg. “My apologies, Sir. It’s my day off and it’s the school holidays.”

“Even so, Malfoy –”

“How old are you?” asked Potter, totally ignoring Robards.

Draco watched as his son peeked around his leg. He held up his hand, indicating with five digits.

“You’re five, wow!”

Draco was grateful, but was conscious he would be getting it in the neck no matter what Potter did to make his son feel at ease. “I’ll try the spell again if you could take down your magic, Potter.”

Potter looked up, and their eyes connected for the first time since he’d walked in. Draco tried not to let the old feelings he had harboured overwhelm him, but it was impossible.

This was Potter. His childhood nemesis, the boy who had saved his life. Been a prisoner in his home. Someone he had argued and fought with during the most turbulent time of his life. And, it didn’t matter that he looked like an art student (the man was nearly thirty-two and he was dressed in baggy jeans, a raggedy muggle band t-shirt, converse trainers and a cardigan.) It didn’t even matter that he was still skinny, wore the same glasses and looked like he played the guitar.

He was Potter; the green-eyed maniac. The antithesis of everything Draco was.

“No problem,” Potter replied. His features, pleasant but his eyes intense. His hair was longer, it was tied up in a bun at the top of his head, curls had popped free. He had a rough, short beard. He’d probably grown it in a day. Draco couldn’t grow a beard. He had to use potions and it was too close to cheating, so he didn’t.

Draco felt the spell dissolve - it was an intricate piece of magic. Potter was holding no wand. Bastard.

Draco crouched to his son, turning his back on the group. “Okay, I’m going to do it again, you ready?”

“I can’t believe he’s here, Dad!” Scorpius said excitedly, pointing to the figure on his t-shirt. Draco heard a snort behind him.

“I know, it’s very exciting. I’m sorry, though, I need to work. I’ll be as quick as I can,” Draco ran a hand through his son’s hair. “Please be good. You can sit at the table okay?”

“Can I talk to him after?” Scorpius had crazy-eyes and was bouncing on his toes. Draco put a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Probably not, let’s see, okay?”

Scorpius nodded with disappointment and took a deep breath.

Draco cast the spell and led his son to the table, sitting neatly by Chang. He said a quick hello to everyone. “Apologies again for bringing my son, it couldn’t be helped.”

“Perfectly okay, Draco,” Granger said pleasantly. “It's lovely to see him.”

He nodded his thanks and ignored Robards who was rolling his eyes.

Potter was watching Scorpius silently playing with a Harry Potter action figure, an amused look on his face. He nudged Granger and said, “Jesus, I need to work on my guns.”

Malfoy snorted. The toy makers had made the figure look more like Viktor Krum with circular glasses.

“There’ll be disappointed kids everywhere if they actually met me,” Potter stated, with a laugh.

That’s where Draco disagreed. Even though he looked like he was just about to head to a pottery class, The Saviour still had ‘a presence’. Lack of muscular integrity or not.

Shacklebolt cleared his throat and the group looked toward him. “Senior Auror Malfoy, are you and your family still located at Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire?”

Weird question to start.

“Yes sir,” Draco replied.

“Are your ancestral wards still as strong as they once were?” Hermione enquired.

When the Ministry arrested Lucius, they had to physically take him to the Manor to allow access to the property Voldemort had resided in. It was the only way they could gain entry.

“Yes,” he smiled tightly.

Granger passed him a briefing file. It was incredibly small and most of it had been redacted. “We are in need of a safe house,” she began, “Harry has been working on something which has gained some attention from some incredibly dangerous beings recently. He’ll need twenty-four hour protection and a home to lay low in whilst we plan our next move.”

Potter leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“We are aware your family currently reside in the Manor, but with you acting as protection for Harry, we have a built in security system. We are looking at seven days at the very most. This will allow us some breathing space to plan accordingly.”

Draco looked at the file with a solitary page of information in.

He looked up at the faces. “You can’t be serious. You want me to act as his bodyguard, and you’re giving me one page of heavily redacted information. Not to mention bringing him home where my family lives?”

“Auror Malfoy, this is ‘need to know’ information. And, you simply do not need to know …” Shacklebolt said neatly. As if Draco was trying to gain Potter’s fucking autograph.

“With all due respect, Minister Shacklebolt, I'm not after his phone number. As a protector and bodyguard, I was trained to gather all information that was possibly available for the ‘body’ we were protecting. If I am to do my job correctly, I need Potter’s file. I need to be briefed on his habits, likes, dislikes, day to day schedule, his sleeping pattern, sexual partners, when he last took a dump …”

Potter laughed.

Draco realised that he had perhaps gone a little far.

“He’s right, Kingsley. As much as I hate saying those words about a Malfoy,” Head Auror Robards drawled. Draco rolled his eyes. “We can’t protect him if we don’t have all the relevant information.”

“That is all the relevant information. No one gets to see Potter’s assignments, that’s the deal. Your job is to keep him safe, not get updates on his bowel schedule,” Shacklebolt replied in his deep voice.

“Just like to point out that I successfully crapped this morning,” Harry said nonchalantly as he spun a coin on the table.

Draco felt his mouth twitch.

Granger huffed. “I think we’re getting a bit off topic, gentlemen. With Harry’s agreement we can compromise. I think it’s in our best interests to allow Auror Malfoy to do his job properly. What I would advise is we perhaps coordinate appropriately, maybe adjust Harry’s inner circle. An unbreakable vow would work well, and then we won’t risk any blunder-y obliviation. Does this work?”

Chang kicked Draco under the table, nodding her head succinctly.

“Yes, thank you. As long as I get details on pertinent information I’m happy to accept those terms.” Draco inclined his head.

Granger looked at Potter who raised his eyebrows. He regally (and sarcastically) rolled his hand in a ‘carry on’ motion.

“Great, a few moments, please.” Granger began accio’ing parchment and writing notes, she also copied documents from a file that appeared in her hands.

Whilst she worked Robards excused himself and joined Cho, Draco and Scorpius on their side of the table. He parked his arse on the table and cast a silencing charm.

“Well handled,” he began begrudgingly. Handing out praise wasn’t exactly Robards strong suit but he’d attended the same Positive Language seminar as everyone else. “This hasn’t happened often but when they assign us Potter we have to do a good job. This will be short and sweet, Malfoy. Keep him safe, keep him within the wards and keep him occupied. Agree a daily debriefing time between yourselves and update me with the progress Chang.”

“Yes sir,” they intoned.

Draco took that moment to check on Scorpius who was making Action Potter breakdance on the table. A continuous set of chatter and possibly singing or alarm noises was accompanying the toy on his bouncing journey across the polished wood. Draco looked up and saw Potter's amused face.

~

Granger handed over the new briefing file and Draco scanned it, trying not to show huge amounts of emotion. Potter’s assignments were downright frightening. If this was right, he’d been into other dimensions, travelled through time, battled vampires and more recently, demons.

He was the Ministry's secret weapon and he was barely five foot seven and looked like a strong wind would knock him over.

The most thrilling thing to find out in this oh-so-secret document was the power of Potter’s magic. The wixen community could become a little obsessed with power levels. It was a way of assigning someone’s magical core with a score. The score was based on several different tests. In fact, the scoring would change throughout a wixen’s lifetime. Scorpius’ current score was 1.7 - an average score of magic for his age-range. Draco’s own score was 1.5, when he had been assessed at the same age. Later in life, if you displayed magical talent you were scored and assessed continuously. Tom Riddle’s final score had been 8.6. Grindelwald's had been 8.7. Dumbledore’s was 8.9.

Draco’s last score had been a respectable 6.9. Pansy had rolled her eyes at this information. “Even your magical core is filthy,” she had drawled.

Albus Dumbledore, the crafty old twat, had McGonagall test Potter when he was five years old. They’d obliviated him afterwards. His score had been 3.2.

His most recent test had shown a ball-tingly score of 9.3. Fucking hell.

Potter was the most powerful wizard in history.

The sleeve of his cardigan had a hole in it, Potter had put his thumb through it.

Reeling from that information and the fact Granger had let him have it, Draco looked up and watched as Potter’s eyes drifted around the room for the hundredth time. He was looking up at the ceiling, the coin twisting in the air in front of him. It spun vertically and then changed course - the goblin face changing to its side to spin horizontally.

On closer inspection Potter looked knackered and in need of a decent meal. Draco suddenly wanted to get him home. Which was a strange feeling for such an incredibly powerful wizard.

He closed the file and looked at Granger. “Thank you - massively helpful.”

She smiled. “No problem, get him to eat some vegetables and you’ll make it up to me.”

Potter grunted and the coin dropped into his palm.

They performed the vow quickly and quietly. Potter had expressed that he would like to be the one to do it and Granger looked at him weirdly. Draco held Potter's forearm. Incredibly aware that Potter was touching Draco’s faded dark mark. The vow was run of the mill, carefully worded and didn’t leave Draco a lot of wiggle room.

Potter looking directly into his eyes from such a close stance was weird. Looking down at him was fairly normal. Draco was taller than most people. Potter had gold flecks in those moss green eyes of his. They were strangely hypnotic. He was gorgeous really. He looked more Persian these days. It was hell having the ability to look so closely at his features. Frustrating after all these years to still find him so appealing.

Draco intoned his part of the vow and they released their arms.

He asked for a quick moment to take Scorpius out of the bubble and then they’d head back to Malfoy Manor via the meeting room floo.

Scorpius was beyond thrilled about what was happening and couldn’t contain the hops of excitement as he held his dad’s hand. Potter smiled down at him as he hefted a rucksack over his shoulder.

They said their goodbyes. Granger nodding at Harry as they walked towards the floo. Draco spoke the coordinates and they strolled through as a little team.

They arrived in the hallway of Draco's home.

Potter frowned. “This isn’t the Manor … is it?”

“I’m afraid I’ve downgraded. Astoria got the Manor in the divorce. I’m in the Coach House. Mum lives with me. It’s still a five bedroom property, and your room has an en-suite. The wards cover all the land associated with the Manor, so we’re perfectly safe.”

Potter nodded with understanding.

“C’mon I‘ll show you my room!” Scorpius said tugging on Potter’s hand. Potter looked surprised momentarily, he was staring at Scorpius’ hand in his. His face had gone pale.

Draco thought back to the carefully written notes Hermione had provided.

Harry doesn’t like to be touched. He doesn’t shake hands and reacts poorly to physical intimacy. Ensure people don’t get close to him.

Draco was just about to intervene when Potter suddenly came-to. “Sounds great, let’s go.” Scorpius gave a little squeak of delight before yanking his hero up the stairs. Potter turned back to flash Draco a grin, as he trotted along obediently behind the gremlin.

There was a fleeting moment when Draco remembered just how much Harry Potter memorabilia Scorpius had in his bedroom, but then he thought fuck it. What could he possibly do but live through this? Most children loved Potter. It was fairly normal for all children to have Potter lunch boxes, school bags and posters. He was the chosen wixen hero. George Weasley had profited the most out of anyone, and as far as he remembered, Potter treated George as a family member, so he couldn’t be that bothered.

Draco followed them up the stairs and hovered in the bedroom doorway as Scorpius ran around showing Potter stuff in his room. The tiny working quidditch pitch where the Harpies, (Scorpius’ favourite team) played against the Wimbourne Wasps. Ginevra Weasley's character flew past Draco’s ear and back into the pitch, cackling with glee.

A huge Potter poster stood above Scorpius bed, Potter doing a ridiculous complicated spell with a wand. Neon pink magic flew out of the wand. Potter looked far more suave than Draco had ever seen him. No one seemed to remember that Potter looked like he’d just got out of bed most days, and the man was as clumsy as fuck, unless he was on a broom.

Well, he had been at school anyway.

“Ah, Scorpius is your name,” Potter suddenly said, turning over the Harry Potter broom case he had been handed with Scorpius' name in gold writing on the top.

“Yes, did Daddy not tell you?”

“He did, but I forgot,” Potter lied neatly. “But now, I’ll never forget because I’ve seen it written down.”

Scorpius nodded solemnly.

Draco took that moment to cast a tidy up spell, putting away some clean washing that he’d left on Scorpius bed. It folded itself into the chest of drawers.

“Guess what!” His son suddenly said.

“Tell me!” Potter demanded with a mock serious face.

“Daddy has a walk-in wardrobe with the best dressing up clothes ever. We can play if you like?”

Draco felt the horror as the words sunk in.

Potter looked at Draco with glee. “Does he? Fantastic!”

Draco cleared his throat. “Darling, we should probably get some dinner and maybe play a little later. Remember Mr Potter is here for Daddy’s work. He probably has loads to do, so let’s be polite.”

Scorpius' little face fell and Draco felt dreadful. “Let me show Mr Potter to his room and then we’ll have some tea. You play for a bit, okay? I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Okay,” Scorpius began to set up his quidditch players and the two men walked out of the room.

“So does he get his fascination with me from you then?” Potter asked with a mischievous grin.

“Yes. You should see my room,” Draco said with a smile.

Potter laughed.

~

Draco made pasta for tea. They ate it in the kitchen at the smaller dining table. Potter kept pushing the bits of broccoli to the side of his plate until Sorpius mentioned it. He began vanishing them after that.

Draco rolled his eyes.

Scorpius kept up a line of chatter all the way through dinner. Peppering all of his soliloquy with questions to Potter and childish bragging about how great his dad is. He also had decided to call Potter by his given name. Shudder.

“And then we go swimming in the lake in the summer. And in the winter, Grandma gets it turned into a skating rink and Daddy is the best skater. He can do circles and spinning. We hold hands when I go on, but Daddy doesn't need to hold anyone's hand. Can you skate, Harry?”

Potter shook his head, taking a bite out of some garlic bread. “No, I've never tried.”

“Merlin's beard! You've never been? We can show you, can't we, Dad?”

“I would love to show you how to ice skate,” Draco smiled with all of his teeth.

Potter rolled his eyes. “I'd love to learn.”

Scorpius continued. “And, I go to school, and we drive in the car, don't we, Dad? And my teacher is called Mr Turbot, like a fish. Can you drive, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. “You can drive?” he asked Draco.

“All Aurors have to learn to drive, it's so we can assimilate into the muggle world,” Draco popped a forkful of pasta in his mouth.

Harry looked impressed.

Draco’s floo chimed, indicating an incoming floo call.

Harry looked at Draco.

“They'll leave a message.” Draco wiped his mouth with a napkin.

The floo chimed again. And again.

Draco frowned at it.

A hedgehog patronus waddled into view, hovering over the salad. Draco, answer the fucking floo. Mum’s going nuts at me. It'll be a two minute call!

Harry snorted out a laugh. “Is that Blaize Zabini’s patronus?”

Everyone knew what Blaise sounded like. He was like Shacklebolt, but sexier.

Annoyed that Blaise had sworn in front of Scorpius, Draco got up from the table in a bit of a strop. “Excuse me,” he said calmly.

He answered the floo on the next chime.

“What?” he answered tersely as Blaise’s face came through.

“What's up with you? I know you're not doing anything, you've got Scorp.” Blaise smiled through the flames. “Hey Scorp, and, err, Harry Potter.”

They both waved back.

“Why is Harry Potter in your kitchen?” whispered Blaise.

“None of your business, what do you want?” asked Draco, trying to rein in his temper.

“Oh, Mum wants you to portkey her silver sandals. They are off to a fancy dinner tonight and she needs them. They're in your mum’s room, in the wardrobe,” Blaise said.

“For crying out loud. What?!”

“Man, I don't know, okay. I just know she's been on at me for the last forty minutes. And now, I'm on to you.”

Draco took a moment, perusing the ceiling for a sign of how to deal with his stupid family. He blew out a breath. “I'll find the sandals, and you do the portkey,” he said to Blaise.

“Can you make the portkey? I always get a bollocking from my boss,” Blaise whined.

Draco, who was already running up the stairs, shouted “No!”

He marched into his mother's room, inhaling the usual wonderful smell associated with her. Opened her wardrobe doors and accio’d Celeste Zabini's silver sandals.

As he got back down the stairs there was an empty bottle of washing up liquid on the side.

“Harry made a portkey!” Scorpius squealed with stars in his eyes.

Potter shrugged.

Draco's eyes snapped to Blaise who raised his hands in defence. “He offered! I’m a Healer, Draco - I’m not supposed to make portkeys.”

Blaise ducked as Draco threw the sandals through the floo. “Merlin, Draco! Alright!”

He handed Blaise the washing-up bottle.

“Five minutes, just lay the sandals on it,” Harry murmured from the table.

“Ta very much, babe.” Blaise waved and ended the call.

“When do Granny and Nanny Celeste come home, Daddy?” asked Scorpius, finishing off his meal.

“At the weekend, darling.”

“That’s nice that they go on their holidays together,” Harry said, taking a sip of his water.

“They do lots of things together - Nanny Celeste is Granny’s girlfriend,” Scorpius replied.

Draco sighed. “Scorpius, remember when Granny asked you to keep that a secret?”

Scorpius looked astounded, like this was the most ridiculous thing Draco had ever said to him. “It’s Harry, Daddy!”

Harry snorted. “I’m a wonderful secret keeper, as it happens.”

Scorpius gestured to Harry as if to say ‘see’ with a weary shake of his head.

~

Draco managed to get Scorpius into bed in record time considering his hero was in the kitchen. It appeared that being with said hero made you very tired. Draco trotted down the stairs fully prepared to cast several cleaning spells and was a little surprised to view a clean kitchen. It was spotless, as if he’d never prepared dinner.

Draco glanced in the fridge, finding the leftovers covered in clingfilm.

He searched the downstairs of the house, checking to see if Potter was in the living room. After popping his head in several different rooms he cast a homenum revelio. Potter was outside, lounging on his garden furniture.

Draco opened the french windows and immediately inhaled the sweet, musty smell of cannabis. Potter was slumped in one of his garden chairs smoking a joint.

“Do you mind?” Potter asked.

“Do you care?” Draco countered.

Potter half-smiled and shook his head. “Don’t want to be a twat, but thought it best to at least come outside.”

“Please don’t smoke it around, Scorpius,” Draco requested.

Potter gave him a look.

“Thank you for cleaning up after dinner,” Draco said instead, parking himself in an empty chair.

Potter offered him the joint and Draco declined with a shake of his head.

“So, your mum and Zabini’s mum, huh? How long has that been going on?” Potter asked quietly.

“Since I was about twelve …” Draco looked up at the stars, automatically spying several constellations.

“No shit!” Potter blew out some smoke.

“Blaise and I had no idea at the time, but it was about then that it began. They met at a Hogwarts function, funnily enough.”

“Oh, I thought you guys all knew each other beforehand …” Potter murmured.

“No, I knew Greg, Theo and Vince, but Millicent, Blaise, Pansy and Tracy were all new to me. Of course Blaise wanted nothing to do with me for the first five years, he only started liking me in sixth year. He said he was drawn to my emo phase.”

Potter laughed. “You sound like brothers these days.”

Draco smiled at Potter. “We are to a degree. Our mums have been in love for over half our lives. They don’t live together - they both need their space, but they see each other most of the week.”

“Is Lucius still …”

“Lucius lives in the Manor with Astoria, they have separate wings. My mother and father have had an arrangement since they married.”

“Oh, umm … are they still married?” asked Potter, a concerned frown on his face.

“They can never divorce,” Draco said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone. It didn’t matter. He knew his mother had come to terms with it. But, Draco hated it for her. “They got married in a certain way which can never be dissolved. They are stuck together.”

“But live apart?”

Draco nodded.

“That’s … frustrating,” Potter blew out some more smoke and then vanished the nub-end.

Draco stared at The Saviour. The few people who did know about his mother, thought it was weird, or sad for her. But frustrating was exactly right.

“Can you tell me a little about your last assignment? It would help to know what we are up against,” Draco asked.

Potter rubbed his face.

“What do you know about Fomori?” he asked.

Draco took a deep breath and blinked, he tried to remember his magical folklore. “Umm, Irish demons? Live in the sea, usually way deep in the depths - had a king they’d follow …”

“Balor. Demon God of Death. Not bad, Malfoy, you’ve been keeping up with your History of Magic,” Potter teased.

Draco snorted. “Hardly keeping up. I just actually listened in school …”

Potter lobbed him the V’s. “Only nerds listened in school.”

They smiled at each other.

“So, Fomori?” Draco nudged.

“Right. Well, as the story goes, Lugh, Balor’s son, killed his father with a slingshot. Without Balor, the Fomori were left to their own devices. They occasionally come sniffing up to the surface, especially if they receive an offering.”

“No,” Draco shook his head. “There is no-one stupid enough to …”

Potter nodded slowly.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Draco rubbed his face with his hands.

“A muggle woman, with the slightest hint of old magic. Probably a squib way back in her gene pool. Anyway, she slit her beloved's throat in an offering, just off the coast of Cork. Place was swarming with Fomori within twenty-four hours.”

“You managed to keep it contained?” Draco asked in shock.

“Hermione contained it publicly, she put a heavy Repello Muggletum so that muggles wouldn’t get close and they have the woman in custody. I just came in to ensure the beasties backed off,” Potter leaned back, his head tilted towards the sky. “I was able to put up enough of a protection field that they fled back to the ocean. Problem is that the temptation is there. Hermione is working towards a solution but they need me contained behind a heavy ward. They think if the Fomori think I’ve vanished, they won’t come looking.”

“So are they reacting to your magic? That’s why you’re here, behind the ward?”

“Yeah, we think so,” Potter said, nodding.

“But what about Granger, her magic was there too.”

“The theory is, they see me as the threat. When we initially fought they had no interest in Granger. It was about me. With me off the playing field, they get free rein in the human world.”

“Predator brain,” Draco murmured.

Potter hummed in agreement.

“But they still have to ensure they stay in the water, right?”

Potter nodded and sat back up. “She’s never not solved a problem.”

Draco looked at Potter's resigned face. “Thanks for telling me.”

Potter glanced at him and nodded.

~

Draco had a fairly easy day, overall. The biggest problem with body-guarding was that the ‘body’ was usually on the move. The point of this assignment was that Potter was to stay behind the wards, which made Draco’s life considerably easier. Especially as he had to look after his son as well.

Potter's schedule had been incredibly lax, with a morning spent doing some paperwork - stealing Draco’s office for the peace and quiet (and, let’s face it, the lack of one small blonde gremlin), he then had a meeting with Granger via floocall for about an hour, and one after with Shacklebolt that lasted forty minutes.

The super-wizard finally meandered into the kitchen at lunch time, scarfed a ham sandwich and was more than happy with Scorpius’ invite to play the ‘floor is lava’ (which he cheated at by levitating over the carpet), Sticky Chicken - which involved flinging sticky, small rubber chickens on to high ceilings, Playdoh cafe (his cakes were dreadful but his donuts were incredibly well crafted), and finally, Exploding Snap (winner stays on).

Draco was fairly sure Potter was cheating vivaciously throughout the whole day. Little shit, but especially at Snap, because he didn’t lose once.

Scorpius had one moment where he did accidental magic and got upset, with wailing tears of humiliation. In his excitement of making his ‘Sticky Chicken’ stick to the landing-ceiling (highest ceiling in the house) he accidently made all the kitchen cupboards fly open and bang shut exuberantly.

Embarrassed beyond belief, the little boy scurried to his bedroom in floods of tears.

Draco had smiled awkwardly at Potter and jogged up the stairs to cuddle his son and dry his tears. Promising him that it happened to everyone. When Scorpius was calm, Potter knocked on the door and peeked around it. He told Scorpius a story about accidentally locking his cousin in a snake enclosure at the zoo one time.

His son laughed so hard a little fart popped out - which everyone dutifully ignored.

Potter had been surprised that Draco had an actual TV and a DVD collection. Scorpius had happily shown Goldenboy all of Draco’s favourite films. Waving copies of Teenwolf and Back to the Future in Potter’s face.

“Got a thing for Michael J Fox, Malfoy?” The Chosen Nobhead asked with a grin.

Draco had secretly thrown the idiot the V’s whilst Scorpius was busy trying to find Disney’s ‘Atlantis’ in the cupboard.

Before dinner, Draco had briefed Cho in a ten minute floocall, assuring her that nothing had come within a mile of his wards and that all was going well.

After they’d eaten, and Scorpius had a bath, Draco found himself on his son’s bed with Harry sodding Potter reclining in a giant Pygmy Puff bean-bag in the middle of Scorpius' bedroom floor, reading, ‘When the Queen Came to Tea’.

Scorpius had reminded his father, no less than five times, to do all the voices, and Potter, the prick, was smiling at him in anticipation.

Draco ignored Potter and concentrated on his son. “I can’t sit on this chair!” said Draco, in a high queen-like voice. “I need a thrrrone!”

Scorpius giggled and held his fluffy Hedwig tighter.

“I’m sorry, yer Mah-jest-tea. We don ‘ave a throne. We’ve gorra nice deckchair, if tha’ ‘ull do?” Draco said, in his best take on Hagrid.

Scorpius snorted and looked at a grinning Harry, as if to say, what is he like?

“Good heavens! What on Earth is a decked chair?” said the Draco-Queen.

Scorpius grinned and sighed. “A decked chair! What a silly queen!”

Later, whilst Potter was enjoying his smoke on the patio, he said, “I do enjoy your sun loungers!” in a perfect imitation of Draco’s Queen voice.

“Shut it, Potter,” Draco replied but felt a warmth fall over him.

~

Scorpius was due at his mother’s in the morning, Potter fancied a walk, so he came along as they trudged up to the big house. Harry whistled as they got closer.

“Forgot how big it was,” he admitted, staring at the mansion and sculpted gardens.

“Mummy and Grandpa are kissing friends,” Scorpius told Potter genially.

Draco felt sick for a brief moment and calmed his racing heart. “What do you mean, love?”

“Well, they like to snuggle in bed. Like Nanny and Grandma,” Scorpius continued with a smile. He kicked a pebble as he held his dad’s hand. “I came into Mummy’s room and Grandpa was giving her a cuddle to keep her warm.”

Potter was doing his best to appear invisible and Draco was silently cursing his stupid father and crappy ex-wife.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what was happening between them, but he had thought they’d have a bit of sense to keep it on the fucking down-low.

“Yes, Mummy does get cold in the morning,” Draco said calmly.

Scorpius changed the subject and chatted to Potter about some of the magical plants in the gardens as they walked up to the house. One of the house-elves clocked their arrival and opened the patio doors. Scorpius ran into the house calling happily for his mum.

Draco and Potter walked into the orangery, and hung back. Potter cleared this throat and Draco hoped with everything in his heart that Potter wasn’t going to mention what he’d just heard.

Lucius appeared from stage left in some grey tailored trousers and a burnt orange cashmere jumper. His long hair held neatly in a velvet bow at the nape of his neck. He looked no older than forty-five.

“Good morning, Son. And, Mr Potter! Well, it has been a long time! Welcome to my home,” he said with a shitty smile.

“Lucius, wonderful to see you. How have you been since prison?” Potter asked, fiddling with a seventeenth century tea service.

Momentarily knocked off course, his father blinked. Draco could have kissed Potter in that moment, he always forgot how easy it was for Potter to irritate his dad.

“I’m well, thank you. How are you both getting on? Finally compadres? Have we well and truly buried the hatchet, lads?” Lucius asked, getting back into his stride.

“Well enough, Father. Considering we are no longer children in the middle of a war we each wanted nothing to do with,” Draco replied neatly.

“We are actually working on an assignment together, Lucius. Perhaps you’ve heard of the notion. We each get a salary and have to live in the real world,” Potter muttered, analysing a teaspoon for a few seconds before placing it back on the tray.

“Sounds tiresome,” Lucius returned, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s more honourable than fucking your son’s ex-wife,” Draco stated, crossing his arms. Well, there went his pride.

Lucius had the grace to look down at his shoes before replying. “Ah, Scorpius informed you of our small tryst the other morning.”

“No, Father, I’ve known since the beginning. I’m just a little put-out that my son now knows as well,” Draco replied, trying and failing to contain his anger.

“Perhaps we might discuss this more discreetly, I do not want you upsetting Astoria …” Lucius intoned, chin raised.

Draco was about to reply when his son came crashing back into the room, a smiling Astoria being dragged behind him. She was in a smooth summer dress, which revealed her trim figure. Her hair was in a high pony-tail, her lips a rosy-red.

“Goodness! It’s true then! Hello, Harry. My son is extremely excited to have you in his home,” Astoria grinned, truly ecstatic for her son’s happiness. She crossed the room, perhaps to shake the super-wizard’s hand.

Potter averted this by bending down and whispering something in Scorpius’ ear. It gave Astoria a moment to pause by Lucius and Harry stood up with a smile. “Pleasure, Astoria. Your son is my very best friend, as of Tuesday.”

Scorpius squeaked with excitement. “See Mummy! I told you!”

Draco smiled and rolled his eyes. Stupid Potter.

“Darling, how exciting to have your hero in the house!” Lucius grinned. Scorpius ran into his arms.

“I know, Grandpa! He’s sooooo coooool!” Scorpius gave Harry the tiniest thumbs up.

“Isn’t he just,” Lucius replied with that shitty smile.

The wizards finally extracted themselves from the Manor, and headed back down to the Coach House. Potter promised Scorpius he’d come and see him before he left, because as Scorpius had said ‘best friends always say goodbye’.

~

Draco was folding clean washing with his wand when Potter skidded into the utility room. Draco had a stain on his t-shirt and was about to change it for another, but was currently only wearing his old pair of 501s, with bare feet.

Potter’s mouth was open and he blinked, shoving a hand in his unruly mop of hair. “Err …”

“Everything alright?” Draco asked, eyebrows raised.

“Umm, yes … I mean, no. They’re forming again on the coastline. The Fomori …” Potter’s eyes drifted to Draco’s torso again but he snapped them back up to Draco’s face. “I mean, the Fomori are forming. I mean, they’re appearing. In Ireland. Hermione sent a patronus.”

“Right, we have to go?”

Potter nodded. “Yes.”

“Give me one minute.” Draco apparated to his room and hastily put on his uniform, he grabbed his toolkit and apparated to the front door.

Potter was standing in grey jeans, his converse and a brown corduroy jacket. He looked like he was just about to headline Glastonbury.

Draco licked his bottom lip as Potter shoved his hair into an elastic band he’d had around his wrist. His jacket was tugged up to reveal a strip of toned brown abdomen, a swathe of dark hair and the line of a ratty grey t-shirt.

He could almost hear Pansy’s voice, back at school. Her nose wrinkled as Potter walked by with his friends, an easy grin and in the middle of playful banter. His tie undone, the same with his shoelaces, ink on his hands, hair a disaster. “He looks dirty, like he needs a good wash.”

Draco sighed inwardly. Yes, he looked filthy and Draco wanted to roll in it.

The problem was that Potter was entirely too enticing. He was a short king, with long eyelashes and the most adorable five o’clock shadow. Fuck, Draco was better than this. He hardly fancied anyone anymore.

“We’ll need to get out of the wards to get to the Ministry. I’m assuming we need to get a portkey?” Draco asked, heading towards the front door.

Potter grabbed his arm, pulling him back with surprising strength. “No need, I can get us out of the wards and straight to Ireland. Hold on.”

“What?”

But they were already in the spin of apparition.

It was dusk and the pair landed on a cliff in rainy Ireland. The light was grey and the wind was whipping Draco’s robes around. He looked at Potter in shock as the Saviour walked towards the cliff’s edge. As he strode along, a long midnight cloak made of stardust and unearthly fabric unravelled from fuck-know’s-where and covered Potter from head to foot.

It was the most devastatingly beautiful magic Draco had ever seen.

“Are you? Did you …?” Draco closed his mouth and trotted after Potter. “Did you just break my ancestral wards and apparate across an ocean?”

Potter was crouching down at the edge of the cliff. He pulled Draco down and covered him with one of the best disillusion charms Draco had come into contact with.

“No,” Potter said, staring at the break of waves on the rocks far below. “The wards are fine, I side stepped them. But, yes, I did apparate to Ireland.”

Draco was struggling to comprehend. No one could do this kind of magic.

Draco couldn’t help it, he reached out and fingered the cloak. It was soft but heavy at the same time. Like whispers of smoke and warm velvet.

“There,” pointed Potter.

Draco let go of the cloak, following the line of Potter's finger and squinted. A few figures were emerging from the ocean, climbing onto the rocks. Human-like in shape. Ghostly pallor, white hair, sharp claws, wide jaws. “They look a little like Inferi,” Draco mused.

Potter glanced at Draco.

Draco turned to face him. “We had to deal with some chaos in Norfolk a few years back, all contained easily enough, but it was tough going for a while.”

Potter nodded and looked back to the ocean. “There’s some similarities between the two. The name Fomori comes from - Fo, which is Old Irish meaning, under, beneath, or nether. Mori, is a little unclear and has several connotations to The Morrigan and ‘nightmares’ etc … but the whole translation is likely to have meant ‘underwater demons or phantoms’. Which follows with Inferi being zombie-like or the undead.”

Draco was busy watching Potter Adam's apple as he spoke, but him having easy knowledge about ancient magical beings just added to the attraction.

Fucking Potter. He didn’t need to be clever too. Bastard.

Draco’s mind threw up the little information he had about The Morrigan, they were a deity queen, supposedly, but gender was inconsequential (and insignificant) when you were a god. The Morrigan was associated with war and fate, and crows, funnily enough. The ‘nightmare’ connection, if he recalled correctly, was that the god was a trickster, the promised ‘victory’ was associated with monstrous deeds - things a warrior could never recover from.

“When’s the rest of your team arriving?” Draco asked as they watched some more of the Fomori emerging from the depths.

Potter shook his head confirming Draco’s hunch. “No team.”

“Just you and a bunch of terrifying ancient magical beings? Sounds like a nice Thursday.”

Potter gave Draco a wry look. “Scared?”

Draco smiled showing all of his teeth. “With big bad Potter around? Not in the least.”

Potter shook his head. “Wrong line, you’re supposed to say. ‘You wish’.”

Draco snorted. “I’m thirty two, Potter. Not thirteen.”

Potter muttered something that sounded very much like ‘you act like it’, but Draco couldn’t be sure because another figure appeared in the gloomy weather. A very nude looking human woman climbed up onto the rocks, just a short distance to where the Fomori were gathering.

“Ah, how completely coincidental.” Potter said with a smile. “There’s a beautiful naked woman on the rocks down there, do you think she needs saving?”

Draco squinted and wrinkled his nose. “Beautiful? She’s a six at best. Great tits though.”

Potter laughed.

“Well, we can’t let her knockers go to waste. Probably best to go and ensure she’s okay, even though the Fomori don’t seem the slightest bit interested in ravaging her soul.”

“What are we thinking?” Draco asked, feeling unsure. Gods and demons were a little outside of his wheelhouse. “Is it Balor, back from the dead? The Morrigan, I mean, either are horrifying in their own right.”

Potter bit his lip and sighed. “My guess? It’s Lugh. It’s either option one; he wants us to cause some chaos or option two; he wants help to end it. I hear he wasn’t the brightest light bulb in the pack.”

Looking at Draco, Potter twisted his lips and made a face. “Would you be interested in staying up here for the duration of whatever ‘this’ is?”

Draco huffed out a laugh. “Not a chance, Potter.”

Harry sighed. “How are you with demi-gods dressed in women’s skin?”

“Fabulous, everybody wants me.” Draco gave him a charming grin.

Harry laughed as they stood up. Offering his arm, Potter said, “Let’s ‘ave it, Malfoy.”

~

Potter apparated the pair to some rocks nearest to the naked woman. She was now sitting down, leaning back, chest in the air. Draco could appreciate a pair of tits just as much as the next gay man … but, as before, this was a little outside his wheelhouse.

The waves were bashing against the rocky precipice. Draco slipped for a moment and then wedged his foot in a crack. The spray was fucking freezing.

It was Potter who spoke first. “Hey sweetheart, need a lift?”

The woman flicked her long-brown wet hair over her shoulder. “Greetings Mage,” she said with a smile, she jerked her head in the direction of the Fomori. “Seems the old gods want a reckoning.”

Definitely a demi-god. They were fluent in nothing but bullshit and were only interested in themselves.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing on a rock like this?” Draco asked, the Fomori had turned around and were no longer trying to climb the cliff, they’d zeroed in on himself and Potter and were moving at pace.

“I’m no girl, Sorcerer. I’m of the People - a selkie.” She raised her chin, a flash of defiance.

“Oh! I want to be called Sorcerer - Mage is lame,” muttered Potter with a pout.

Draco tried not to laugh. “My apologies, how wonderful to meet you. May we assist you?”

“Why yes, I require your aid. These beings attack my pod. They feed off my sisters and brothers. We must work quickly. Come follow me, to the depths. It’s a simple case of closing their casket. Before their master returns!” The woman beckoned, standing up and walking backwards.

“Well, I’m totally invested in this completely truthful tale. Fancy a dip?” Potter asked.

“We’ll pass out before we get there!” Draco griped. He knew about underwater pressure, not much, but enough to know that no human could survive the depths to where this casket would be.

“A little faith, Malfoy.” Potter waved his hand and a hard shelled transparent bubble formed around himself and Draco. “Lead on,” Potter urged the ‘selkie’.

The woman dived into the cold sea and Draco steadied himself on the bubble. Legs apart, bracing his hands on the side. Potter leaned casually with his arms crossed.

The bubble pushed into the water and Draco felt a slight moment of panic as they lurched into the depths. The woman had transformed into a large seal and moved with urgency and purpose. Potter had tagged her with some kind of flashing neon blue light. They’d have lost her without it - it was murky and dark. Shapes drifted by but Draco had no idea what he was looking at.

Behind them the Fomori followed. They too were alight with some divine affliction. It was that ghostly translucence that created it. They weren’t as fast as Potter and his bubble but they weren’t too far behind.

Before long they came to the ocean floor and the selkie gestured to a large glowing trunk. It was open and spilling out more Fomori.

Potter stepped out of the bubble.

“Fuck no!” Draco shouted watching as the bubble reformed without even letting in a drop of water. Draco was unsure what was happening but the selkie transformed into a giant of a man with freakishly long arms, they almost dragged on the ground.

Called it. Potter said in Draco’s head, his hair swirling around him in the depth of the ocean. Definitely Lugh.

Draco, shocked beyond belief, rubbed his face. “Are you just casually talking in my head? Is this legilimency?”

I can’t hear you, moron. Potter pointed comically to his head. You need to speak inside your mind.

Draco huffed out a disbelieving laugh. Are you kidding me?

Hey! There you are. This guy’s massive. Feel like one of Scorp’s quidditch players.

Potter looked ridiculously small and vulnerable as he stood in front of the large and powerful Lugh. The midnight cloak swirled around Potter and even though he was tiny in comparison, Draco could feel the power he wielded.

The pair were both gesturing to the large casket.

The Fomorions stood watching them. Some approached the bubble but Potter waved a hand, even though his back was turned, and they backed off.

Okay, Potter said. It’s option two.

Ah, he wants you to clean up his mess?

Yeah, the bellend can’t shut the trunk. Any ideas?

Some, can we leave and come back? Draco asked. I think we might need to hit up an unspeakable.

‘Kay, hold up.

Potter started to talk to Lugh but the demi-god looked unhappy. He gestured back to the trunk, shaking his head.

Potter stepped forward, talking with his hands with some urgency. The demi-god roared and reached out with those ridiculous arms and batted the bubble. Draco fell to the floor of the sphere, as he was pushed through the ocean.

The bubble was soon pulled back with some force and Draco felt Harry’s magic encapsulate it, disillusioning it from view.

Draco looked up to see Lugh standing in front of Potter, the cloak had gone and Potter’s jacket and t-shirt too. He was naked from the waist up and chained to the floor. Standing and arguing with Lugh. Shaking his head and straining against the metal cuffs.

What can I do? Draco said, fear lacing his voice.

Come up with a way to close the trunk. Where we don’t have to leave.

Hold tight.

Will do! Draco could hear the idiot’s sarcasm flowing through their link.

Draco was panicking but he shook his head and concentrated. Think!

Lugh was mentioned as a demi-god who invented ball games, he liked racing and gambling. The guy was supposed to carry a fiery spear, although Draco couldn’t see it. Lugh was a total sports wanker - Harry was right. He didn’t have intelligence. He had strength and might. What he wanted was irrelevant, what he needed was a different matter.

Hey Malfoy? Think quicker!

Draco’s mind was racing. The Fomori needed to be contained. Containment. Not locked up. It was different.

Have you ever heard of Brunhilde? Draco asked, watching as Harry batted Lugh’s punches away with shields of magic. Valkyrie - not the fat lady people pictured. Odin punished her for radical thinking.

Get to the fucking point!

Right, sorry! Odin imprisoned her in a ring of fire. A wall of flame. No one could get through apart from her incestuous nephew or something. Anyway! The important part is, we don’t need to lock the trunk, we need to contain them.

With a ring of fire?

Yesssss! Just get Lugh the brainbox to lead the Fomori back in. I know the spell for fiendfyre. Do you think you can spell it into an ouroboros?

Yep. Tell me the spell.

Draco did and he watched as Lugh stopped fighting and stood still. The giant demi-god raised his hands to his mouth and called. The Fomori walked swiftly to the trunk, each following the other to get in and fall to the depths of the nether.

As soon as the stragglers had drifted into the opening, Potter broke the chains that had held him, he then walked forward and pointed his hand at the trunk. The blast of fiendfyre was sharp and bright against the gloom of the sea floor.

The circle of flame scorched the depths and held in place. A few inquisitive Fomori popped up to see the light but shielded their vacant eyes and shrunk away. They were frightened and understood their fate.

Potter nodded at Lugh and the giant returned it in affirmation. He crossed his arms and jerked his chin to where he thought he had left the bubble, but Potter just walked towards Draco, pushed his way into the bubble and leaned into his body. Draco held him tightly.

“Fucked mate,” Potter drawled as he grasped Draco’s waist He twisted purposefully but with less grace, and Draco felt as the apparition took hold. They were dropped just outside the wards of the Manor’s grounds. Potter obviously didn’t have enough juice to ‘side step’ this time.

Draco looked at Potter who was out cold, he picked him up. Holding his wet body tenderly he apparated to the Coach House. Once inside Draco used several warming charms, undoing Potter’s trainers and settling him in front of a fire. Acknowledging the magic withdrawal, Draco pulled Potter’s body onto his lap, he accio’d a pepper-up potion and lifted Potter’s jaw to gently dribble it in.

Potter swallowed and his eyes opened. He blinked and lifted his hand up to the back of Draco’s head. He pulled Draco down closer, “thank you,” he whispered.

Draco's eyes searched Potter’s beautiful face, frustration and fear warring with the man’s undeniable allure. He knew what Potter had been about to do. He knew that if he hadn't come up with a way to stop it, Potter would have given himself to Lugh. “You’re mad, Potter. You were going to sacrif –”

Potter pulled him down and their lips met. A touch at first. Lips on lips. Plump and courteous. Then Potter twisted his body, somehow straddling Draco, his hands in Draco’s hair, scrunching and pulling.

Draco’s own hands smoothed up Potter’s bare back. Feeling the lithe warm muscle.

Lust, vibrant and intoxicating, won.

Draco pulled Potter closer, the angle changed and Draco’s tongue worked into Potter’s hot mouth. Draco moaned as his hand grasped Potter's curls, feeling the wire of Potter's glasses digging into his face. He pulled them off and threw them heavens-knew where.

Draco pushed Potter backwards, crawling over the top of him, enclosing his larger body over the top.

“Harry,” he whispered against the maniac's throat. He sucked a tender spot. Making Potter arch and grasp him tighter.

The Saviour was busy with his hands on Draco’s arse. Pushing him against his own crotch and writhing in pleasure beneath Draco.

“Fuck, you’re so infuriatingly gorgeous. I can’t believe you just called me Harry!”

“You make me crazy. I want you so fucking much …” Draco sucked on Harry’s jawline. Licking up to his ear. Potter tasted salty and his hair was still a little wet.

These thoughts jolted Draco into awareness. “Wait,” he breathed heavily, leaning above Harry on his straightened arms.. “Are you okay? You were unconscious a minute ago.”

“I’m fine. Hard to kill, remember. Was just taking a short break,” Harry said, his eyes, dark pools of desire. “Anyone likely to come into the lounge?”

Draco shook his head.

“Good,” Harry smiled at Draco and vanished their clothes. Potter licked his bottom lip as he glanced in between them. Draco’s hard cock almost touching Harry’s.

“Potter, I can’t! It’s unprofessional …”

Harry pulled Draco to him, opening his legs and then wrapping them around Draco’s waist. It was too much, warm skin on warm skin. Potter's gorgeous body beneath him. The fire lit up Harry’s perfect brown skin, dancing in his green eyes.

“Fuck me, Draco,” he whispered in Draco’s ear.

Oh gods, no one could resist.

Draco crawled backwards, dropping kisses on Harry’s chest. Biting gently on a nipple as he travelled down. Harry’s hands were in Draco’s hair, caressing and smoothing it from his face.

He looked up to see a cheeky smirk on the Saviour’s gorgeous face. Little shit.

Draco continued in his trajectory, with licks and kisses until he had swallowed Harry’s cock whole.

“Fucking hell!” Potter groused, his eyes closed.

Draco sucked and licked, sloppily. Getting Potter nice and wet. He lifted Potter's leg over his shoulder and continued down to his arsehole. Licking and sucking in the same way.

Harry thrusting and moaning like he couldn’t help himself.

But, that’s how Draco wanted him. Half crazed, completely out of it. Knowing he was in good hands. Trusting Draco.

After casting a wandless cleansing charm, (one of the two wandless spells that he knew). He brushed the flat of his tongue over Harry’s pretty hole, tasting the muskiness and nuzzling him gently because he couldn't help it. He spent time there, just because he wanted to. Poking his tongue inside, with Potter speaking nonsense. The noises were pretty good though. The groans and gasps.

He finally used his other wandless spell to lube his fingers, pressing one gently inside. Potter groaned and fucked himself on Draco’s fingers.

Gods he was so responsive.

After loosening him up, and probing his prostate a fair few times, liking the look of Potter unravelling, with gritted teeth, begging Draco, he finally rolled over and placed Potter on top of him. Straddling him.

“Stop flinging me around,” Harry grumbled. His hands on Draco’s throat.

“You love it,” Draco smirked.

Potter smiled and leaned forward to kiss Draco. Whilst they snogged, Harry positioned himself, and finally sat back, slipping down Draco’s cock.

“Merlin! FUCK!” Draco groaned, his head hitting the carpeted floor.

“Jesus! F-f-fuck, meeeee,” Harry whined as he lowered himself.

Draco swallowed when Harry was at the hilt. He breathed in and out, desperately trying not to move.

“Tight,” he managed. Coherent speech was simply out of the question.

Harry’s head was back, his gorgeous throat on display. Draco’s hands drifted up Harry's body caressing his chest.

Harry looked down and smiled. “Okay,” he said and began moving over Draco. Grinding his hips.

Oh gods, no. Draco should have controlled it. He was going to come so easily.

“You sexy fucker,” Draco said, his hands reaching up for Harry’s jaw. Harry opened his mouth and Draco’s thumb slid in. Harry sucked it enthusiastically.

Finally releasing him, Harry leant forward and Draco thrust in earnest. They kissed, Draco curling into a crunch to make it work.

“Me?” Harry breathed, pulling away from the hot kiss. “You look fuckable all the time. Nearly jumped you a million times. Bit inappropriate … in front of your boss or ex-wife.”

Draco couldn’t take it, he rolled them over. Fucking Harry into the carpet. Kissing him relentlessly. “Have you any idea …?”

“Could you not tell …?”

“For so long …!”

“Gods, nothing could feel like this …”

“No one else has ever …”

“It’s been a while … Oh, just like that!”

“Could come just looking at you …”

“It’s always been …”

“Wanted you … fuck, that’s good.”

“Yeah? Craved you!”

“How long?”

“Since day one …”

“Hated you but wanted you …”

“Same. Fuck, please!”

“I’m here, I have you!”

“Merlin!” Harry gasped, coming over Draco’s stomach.

“Fuck, Harry!” Draco came, holding Harry tightly. Squeezing him as he gently kept thrusting. Harry kissed his head and hair, cleaning them up with a wave of his hand.

They didn’t let go. They couldn’t. Draco finally pulled out and picked Harry up and moved them to the sofa. Bodies entwined, Draco covered them with a blanket from the back of the couch.

Draco woke up for the briefest moment to see a small otter patronus hovering by the makeshift bed. Harry flicked out his own patronus with the barest twist of his hand. Snuggling back into Draco, he brushed his lips against Draco’s neck and they fell back to sleep.

~

“Well, I’ll admit, I hadn’t seen it coming,” said a familiar voice.

“Cissa! You can’t mean that, not with the way he used to speak about him.”

“He hasn’t mentioned him in years, Lest! It was a boyhood crush, you got over whathisname from Beaubaxtons!”

“Yes, because I am a lesbian, Cissa, not because he stopped being attractive.”

“I just think it’s a strange thing to say, darling. Sounds like you might still like him …”

“Oh sweetheart, you can’t possibly be jealous! I was sixteen!”

Draco opened an eye and was startled to see his mother and her girlfriend sitting on the opposite couch drinking tea.

He lifted his head off the very warm pillow of Harry’s hairy chest and looked at the women with blinking eyes. Hoping with all his heart, that he was dreaming.

“Hello, love. We’re back, early!” Grinned his mother.

Fuck.

He looked up at Harry who was awake also. He was squinting at the ladies, and Draco realised he didn’t have his glasses.

Harry looked down at Draco and his lips twitched, Draco couldn’t stop a bubble of laughter as it escaped his mouth. He covered his face as he began to laugh in earnest. He could hear Harry laughing above him. Their bodies jerking as they giggled like children.

“We’ll make you both a cup of tea whilst you get it out of your system,” said Celeste, dragging his mother out of the door. “You wait till I tell Blaise, he’ll be thrilled for Draco! Imagine, shagging the Saviour of the wizarding world”

“Lower your voice! Goodness, Celeste, you’ve got a mouth like a BlastEnded Skrewt.”

Harry let his head fall back and howled as Draco snorted into Harry’s chest.

“Oh, gods! Your mother!” Harry cried, wiping his eyes.

“Could only happen to me, I swear to Merlin!” Draco smiled up at Harry.

Everything slowed down. Harry bit his lip. Draco felt a shivery warmth descend over his body. Arousal took hold.

“Need to get it out of our systems,” Harry repeated softly, apropos of nothing.

“Yes,” Draco whispered and stood up, he pulled Harry to him and they dissapparated to his bedroom.

“Cast a silencing charm,” Draco demanded, throwing Harry on the bed. Potter did, locking the door for good measure.

Draco fell on him, kissing him gently. Harry groaned and grasped Draco tighter. Harry whispered about how much he wanted him. How sexy he was. How he had yearned for him. So, Draco fucked Harry again.

And again.

They took a giggly shower, put some clothes on (accio-ing Harry’s glasses from god knows where) and finally trotted down the stairs, Harry messing with Draco’s hair and Draco, pulling him into a hug. Arms wrapped around each other they walked into the kitchen to find Celeste cooking breakfast.

“Gentlemen! Can I interest you in an omelette?” she grinned.

Draco let go of Harry to greet the older woman, he kissed her on both cheeks and introduced the messy guy who was now sitting at his breakfast bar, his cardigan covering his hands.

“Celeste, please meet Harry, an old friend,” Draco began, Harry snorted.

“Enchanted, darling,” she said, offering him a hand which he shook with a smile.

“Nice to meet you, I’ve heard lovely things,” Harry replied.

“So have I, it’s you, I believe I have to thank for the swift arrival of my sandals,” Celeste plated up an omelette and wafted the plate over to Harry with her wand. Draco handed him a coffee and a knife and fork to complement it.

“Thank you, and no problem,” the saviour said, already digging in. “This is delicious.”

Celeste beamed.

“Darling!” Draco’s mother entered the room, bypassing her son and heading for Harry. “It’s been too long!”

Narcissa seized Potter and kissed him on both cheeks. Harry grinned when he was able to untangle himself. “Hello, Mrs Malfoy. It’s been a long time.”

“Too long, darling. You look tired, is Draco bothering you again? You know he struggles to let you go. Have you seen his son’s room? The apple doesn't fall far …” Narcissa perched by him and received a coffee from said obsessed son.

Draco closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

“No, he’s been a wonderful host,” Harry replied with a deeply amused voice. “I assure you Narcissa, I’m just as bad about him.”

“Well, as long as it’s mutual, darling.” Narcissa smiled.

“Hello, Mum. How lovely to have you home,” Draco said with gritted teeth.

“Oh stop, you brute, every woman of a certain age feels like this about Harry. We all bloody mother him. Now, say hello properly,” Narcissa offered Draco her cheek which he dutifully kissed, but then he poked her side making her squeak.

“Prat.” She smiled affectionately.

When Draco had been given his omelette, he told his mother and Celeste what Scorpius had mentioned yesterday morning. Harry looked up with surprise, probably wondering if he should leave the room. Draco pressed his thigh into Harry’s, and felt Potter’s hand creep under the table to lay on the top of his leg.

Celeste sighed and shook her head. “Well, it was bound to bloody happen. Are they serious?”

“Lucius is a greedy little boy. He probably wore her down, poor thing,” Narcissa muttered, her delicate hands wrapped around her cup.

“I’m not sure, Mum. It’s very reciprocal. Even in the beginning she was really taken with him,” Narcissa looked up sharply, concern on her face, and Draco wished he hadn’t such emotion in his voice. He wasn’t upset or jealous, he was just annoyed about Scorpius finding out. “But, I believe they’ve been an item for over six months.”

Celeste whistled. “Wow, that’s got to be a record.”

Draco’s mother rolled her eyes. “He had me for seven years before he accidentally penetrated Portia Parkinson's rectum.”

Harry laughed and put a hand over his mouth, muffling apologies.

“Lucius believed bum sex wasn’t actually cheating,” Draco explained with a smile.

Harry frowned. “I once thought that man was quite clever.”

“Didn’t we all,” Celeste murmured, clearing the plates.

“Is Scorpius alright?” asked Narcissa.

“Yes, I think so. He caught them cuddling and Astoria fed him some tosh about her being cold and Grandpa helping.”

Naricssa nodded. “Leave it to me, darling. I will intervene.”

“Thanks Mum,” Draco said with a genuine smile.

~

The meeting room in the bowels of the Ministry was quiet as Potter described the events that had transpired the night before. Hermione nodded along, writing notes with her quill. Shacklebolt sat forward, a frown on his older face. The man was still such a force to be reckoned with. He was calculating, methodical and notoriously cut off.

The Deputy Minister, Helen Goodwill, did most of the public appearances these days, she was a tall attractive Pureblood who had married a muggleborn. Shacklebolt was always in meetings or in his office. Not approachable in the slightest.

Robards was listening too, a bit more relaxed than the Minister for Magic. Sleeves rolled back. Scratching his beard.

Cho was sitting next to Draco, casting extremely concerned looks in both his and Harry's direction.

“And, so Draco came up with the containment ‘ring of fire’. Lugh was happy with it. Called it an Eternal Flame - a real callback for 80’s girl bands.”

Cho, Draco and Hermione laughed.

Shacklebolt ignored the levity. “Will it hold?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. I suspect we should look in on it every six months or so. I disillusioned it, so I’ll have to give you the exact coordinates.”

Robards cleared his throat. “Great work, team.”

Draco looked surprised and nodded. Potter said nothing.

“Hermione, anything to add?” Shacklebolt glanced her way, whilst packing up his file.

She smiled generously. “No, just echoing Robards thoughts, it really was gr –”

“That’ll be all.” Shacklebolt stood up. “Potter, we have another assignment for you in Berlin. I’ll need you ready to go within the hour, so re-pack and grab some food at Hermione's so she can brief you. Robards, we’ll be in touch. Good evening everyone.” He left the room in a swirl of robes.

Draco’s heart started hammering. That was it? Merlin, he wasn’t just going to –

Granger and Potter stood.

“Thanks team, we really do appreciate it. Draco you were perfect, a real asset. Ron said to come into the shop when you’re next in town, he has some treats for Scorpius,” exclaimed Hermione, looking tired.

“Yes, thank you. We will.” Draco’s reply was automatic. He felt sick.

Harry turned and shook Draco’s hand. “Thanks partner,” he said with a mischievous smile.

Draco nodded and struggled to let go. He eventually did it, heart in his throat. But Harry had seen the emotion and raised his eyebrows softly.

As the pair were leaving and Cho had begun talking to Draco, a voice drifted into Draco’s head.

Leave the wards open, please.

~

Blaise ran into the bar, apologising and shoving his brown leather satchel on the adjacent stool. He wore dark jeans and a maroon blazer over a black t-shirt.

The place Blaise had suggested was muggle bar, close to the Ivy in Covent Garden. Very up-market. Full of young professionals and not really to Draco’s taste. But then, he rarely went out.

“I know, I know, I’m the worst. You should cast me out. I’m a terrible brother with a small penis and no dress sense,” Blaise said, whilst waggling Draco’s beer bottle to the barman with two fingers held up.

Draco grabbed his beer off the idiot. “It’s no fun when you insult yourself.”

Blaise cast a long look at him. Draco stared back, trying to deceive the other man. It never worked, for someone who pretended to be vapid and nonchalant, Blaise was incredibly intuitive.

“How bad is it?” he asked, thanking the barman who had delivered two fresh beers.

Draco sighed. “It’s not too bad, I’m fine.”

Blaise took a swig and huffed out a laugh. “Merlin, it’s really bad. Isn’t it?”

Draco rubbed his face. “I’d rather not have known, you know? I’d rather not have experienced it. He’s too …”

“Anaemic,” Blaise responded.

“What?” Draco put his bottle down.

“He looks anaemic, lacking in iron. It’s often a symptom of being overworked, stressed. More popular with women.”

“You diagnosed that from a floo call?”

Blaise smiled slowly. “You’d be surprised what I can do over a floo call.”

“Ew, you’re disgusting,” Draco sneered at his pseudo brother. “Anyway, I just wish it hadn’t happened.”

“Really? It was that good?” Blaise raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up, some of us like to actually make a connection when we fuck someone,” Draco replied.

Blaise held onto his heart. “Oh, to be morally superior and overwhelmingly twattish.”

Despite his mood, Draco laughed.

Blaise always made him feel better. He was just continually in a good mood. Rarely sullen. It was hard to not be affected by his lighter spirits.

“When was the last time you had an emotional attachment?” Draco relaxed into his stool with a smile.

“Luna Lovegood, 2003,” Blaise said firmly with a smile. “The things that witch can do, she's incredibly flexible.”

“And married now,” Draco reflected.

Blaise pulled a face. “Don't remind me.”

They both took a swig of their beer.

“Go on then, tell me about Perfect Potter and his life changing penis.”

Draco rubbed his chest. “I just didn't see it coming, Blaise. I had no idea that he was even gay. It was work - we were on a case. He fights marshmallows, forgodsake!”

“He fights what-now?” Blaise raised his eyebrows.

“Marshma– oh fuck, it’s the vow. I can’t tell you. But believe me, he fights incredibly scary beings. They’ve got him working on stuff that … well, I’d be terrified the whole time.”

Draco rubbed his face and leant his elbows on the bar. Glancing ruefully at Blaise, he continued.“The rumours were true, all of it. He’s the most Jam Tart wizard that’s ever lived … Oh, bollocks. He’s pretty special, basically. More so than we could ever imagine. And, he’s clever too. And funny. And beautiful, in like, a myriad of ways.”

Blaise stayed quiet.

“He’s kind to my son. He plays with him,” Draco said softly.

“Oh dear,” Blaise responded, putting a hand on Draco’s shoulder. He squeezed it. “That sounds … hard.”

Draco appreciated it. He patted Blaise and they both took a swig of beer.

Draco sighed heavily, feeling full of emotion. “You know how I feel about him, I’ve always been pretty ridiculous about him. But, I thought it wouldn’t happen ... I thought it couldn’t happen - last I heard, he was a straight man who had transcended us mere mortals. He was gone. In the wind. And, then they present him to me, on a bloody platter. Here, have complete access to your obsession, he’s even better than you thought him to be. Now he’s gay and a wonderful person - you’ll fall more in love with him by the minute.”

“He must have some faults, c’mon Draco. You hate everyone.”

Draco snorted and scrabbled for something. “He dresses like a student and gets high.”

“Around Scorpius?”

“No! When he was asleep. Out on my patio, lying on the garden furniture, just a small joint, late at night.”

“Stress reliever, then. Like a glass of wine,” Blaise replied.

“Yes, exactly. I wonder if it helps him sleep?”

“Did he still smoke after you guys fucked?”

Draco frowned and shook his head. “No, but he was exhausted anyway. If I was a better person, which I’m not, I would have refused. He’d nearly passed out from using too much Pussy-cat. I mean - oh fuck! He was drained … of pussy cat. FUCK. Why can’t I say pussy-cat? That’s stupid. Stupid vow.”

“Strangely, I think I might have figured it out,” Blaise replied, rolling his eyes. “Who did this vow with you? It’s a very strange one.”

“Potter did. And do you know what’s really weird? He doesn’t like pigeons!”

“Well, I’m not a massive fan of them,” Blaise said wryly.

“No, not … he doesn’t like the feel … of pigeons. Not fucking pigeons! Oh, for fucks sake.”

Blaise was killing himself laughing. “Oh gods, this is great!”

“Blaise! Be serious! Potter doesn't like this …” Draco grabbed Blaise’s arm.

“I don’t either, you grabby thing.”

“Blaise!”

“Sorry. He doesn’t like to be squeezed? He doesn’t like vows? Oh, he doesn’t like to be touched!”

“Pigeons!” Draco said nodding wildly

Blaise cackled. “Oh, this is lovely. We should do this more often.”

Draco put his head in his hands. “I hate you.”

“So, if he doesn’t like to be touched, how did you two do filthy things to each other?” Blaise asked.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Draco began, raising his head. “He was simply fine with me … He had no problem with it. He wanted to do the vow, and as you know that involves …”

“Pigeons,” Blaise grinned.

“Fuck off,” Draco growled.

“Sorry. I’ll stop. I promise.” Blaise got the bartender's attention and ordered another drink.

“Believe me, you wouldn’t know that he didn’t like it. The sex was …” Draco rubbed his mouth and closed his eyes. “It was incredible.”

“Merlin.”

“Quite, we said things to each other. Admitted feelings. He maintained that he … felt similarly.” Draco looked over at Blaise, feeling very vulnerable.

“Holy shit!”

Draco nodded his thanks to the bartender and finished the last of his old beer.

“When will you see him again?” Blaise asked.

He took a sharp breath. “I don’t know.”

~

Draco rubbed his face and left the interrogation room. Elspeth Coombes was an interesting witch. She’d been glamouring herself as a blonde, slim eighteen year old and had been out clubbing in Birmingham town centre every Thursday night for the past five years (for the ‘buy two drinks get three free’ student nights). The real Elspeth was just north of seventy-five. The woman loved sex, especially with young men. Draco had been in her memories, she did yoga three times a week and was as flexible as an elastic band.

There was part of the whole arrest that he found quite amusing. But, the muggle men he had helped obliviate were a little traumatised to find a granny in their bed in the morning.

The Wizengamot appointed Solicitor, Tracey Davis, Draco’s old school mate, was fairly decent. There were people out there doing much worse. It was wrong, he knew it was, but there was just something about Elspeth. Her varicose veins looked dreadful in the hotpants she was wearing, but in the mens’ memories she looked like something that would be going into the Big Brother house.

Meh, he couldn’t go around feeling sorry for little old ladies who wanted to get their kicks. Pretending to be someone else was pretty wrong. It was late, he needed his bed. He filed his report and signed himself out.

It had been a week since he’d seen Potter. The initial shock had gone and Draco was frustrated with himself for so blatantly showing his cards. Harry owed him nothing. It had been one night, nothing had been set in stone. Harry was a free agent.

He determinedly put his heartache to one side.

The one thing that was upsetting him was how Harry had been treated by Shacklebolt. Both he and Hermione had jumped when Shacklebolt had barked that order. Robards could continuously be a dick but he wasn’t cold. He ensured they got their downtime. He came down hard on everyone if they didn’t take holidays. It was clocked immediately if you had done too much overtime.

Harry had gone from almost sacrificing himself too, ‘you have an hour until the next assignment.’

But, he supposed, Shacklebolt hadn’t heard how close Harry had come to handing himself over to Lugh. Spilling his blood would have been enough to close the casket. A sacrifice always did it.

Cho and he had gone through the whole assignment again and again. She wanted every detail and was concerned with Draco’s overall report.

“Do you think Harry's okay?” she had asked.

Draco shrugged. “No idea, I thought with Granger there, there might be some semblance of balance, but she seemed as unperturbed as he was.”

“I’ll keep it in the report but it’ll probably be redacted. I’m speaking to Robards nonetheless.” Cho had nodded firmly.

Apparating to the front door of the Coachhouse, Draco let himself in with a wave of his wand. Moving silently through the big house, he toed off his boots and wafted his satchel over to the coat hook. His mother was staying the night at Celeste’s, and Scorpius was with Astoria. He was next due to spend time with his son at the weekend.

Draco was downing a glass of water when Potter appeared in the kitchen. He hadn’t bothered putting the lights on, and Harry looked tired even in the dim moonlight.

“Working late?” Harry asked casually.

Draco put the glass down on the counter. His heart was currently trying to escape from his chest. He was breathing heavily.

Merlin, he was alive. Draco hadn’t realised how worried he had been. Now he knew what Potter did; he had been so scared.

Potter approached cautiously, and Draco dragged him closer.

“You little bastard, where the fuck have –”

Harry kissed Draco, pulling him down to meet his lips. It was frantic and desperate and so unbelievably hot. Draco lifted Harry onto the counter top and Harry’s hands were busy undressing Draco.

Draco helped him undo the fussy Auror robes. They were dragged off his shoulders and dropped onto the floor. Next went Harry’s jumper and t-shirt. Then Draco’s undershirt, and Harry’s glasses were once again pitched somewhere.

Harry was busy sucking on Draco’s neck as Draco held on, smoothing his hands down Harry's back, dragging him closer to the edge of the counter. Aligning their bodies.

“I missed you,” Harry said as he directed Draco’s mouth back to his own. They kissed, Harry sucking on Draco’s bottom lip. As soon as he let go, Draco controlled the kiss, making it filthy. Shoving his tongue into Potter’s glorious mouth. Gods, he was heavenly.

Draco pulled back to look at him. “Merlin, Harry. I’m so glad …”

Harry brushed Draco’s hair away from his face. “So fucking gorgeous, gods …”

Draco put his forehead to Harry’s. “Bed, I’m too old for kitchen sex.”

Harry laughed and apparated them to Draco’s room.

~

It wouldn’t have been unlike Draco to make-believe that the last time they’d had sex, it had been a little better than it actually was.

He had a fabulous imagination. And, had day-dreamed about having sex with Potter many, many times.

Harry was tired, again, but it didn’t stop him from pushing Draco back onto the bed. He toed off his trainers, undid his belt and let his jeans drop to the floor, kicking them off - all whilst maintaining eye contact. A small smile on his face.

Draco found Harry beautiful. The scars on his brown body only highlighted the aesthetic. He was slim, but muscular. He had a silver chain around his neck. His long hair in haphazard curls around his face, resting on his shoulders. His toned stomach held a path of hair that led to what could only be described as a satisfactorily large cock. Draco was a little jealous.

Harry idly stroked it as Draco lay back on his elbows. The bastard was smirking as Draco watched him. He knew he was big.

It made Draco laugh, and Harry grinned and crawled onto the bed, up and over Draco’s body. Draco lay back as Harry positioned himself over. Straddling Draco’s thighs.

Draco’s hand reached up and he softly stroked his fingertips over Harry’s mouth, tracing his lips. As his hand continued to smoothe to his cheek and into those curls, Harry closed his eyes and leant into the touch.

“You're beautiful,” Draco murmured.

Those green eyes opened. “Says you,” Harry replied.

Draco pulled Harry down towards him. Their kisses were those of lovers gone by. Practised, meticulous and soul-wrenchingly perfect. Draco poured love into every one. It leaked out of him in waves of affection as he rolled Harry over.

“It’s never been this way …” he whispered, brushing kisses on Harry’s jaw.

“I didn't think it could be this way …” Harry replied, wrapping his legs around Draco’s waist and arching into him. Draco held him close. Feeling the connection, wanting to keep hold of him.

“I thought you were –”

“Straight? Nope …” Harry was gently thrusting against Draco, in a rhythm that Draco was fairly sure was going to drive him insane.

“Are you … oh, gods, are you out?” Draco asked, pulling Harry’s right leg a little higher and going back in for another kiss.

“Mmm, hmm,” came Potter’s, muffled response. He broke the kiss to reply. “With friends … oh man, you’re sexy, and … err, family.”

“S’good. Just wanted to make sure. Merlin. Want you. Can I …?” asked Draco, his hand smoothing over Harry's delectable arse.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed out, his face pressed in Draco’s neck. “Gods, please, Draco …”

They kissed whilst Draco put his long fingers to use. Potter was just as responsive as he remembered. Moaning and unravelling in the best way.

Utterly incoherent when Draco moved him onto all fours.

Draco smoothed his hands down Harry’s back, following the trajectory with soft kisses down Harry’s spine, as he leaned over him. He positioned himself and took Harry’s hips. His thumbs brushing over the back of his hips.

Pushing inside was overwhelming. His own groan matched Harry’s. Draco watched as Harry’s face turned toward the ceiling. Almost begging for Draco to kiss his cheek.

The fact he got to do this … it was too much.

“Harry, fuck. I’m …”

“I know,” Harry reached back, his arm up over his head. They both kneeled upright. Draco with an arm over Harry’s shoulder. Holding him up against his own chest. And Harry holding the back of Draco’s neck. It was slow. Blissful. Harry’s hand in Draco’s hair.

Draco whispered into Harry’s ear. “So utterly gorgeous, I could do this forever. I want you so much.”

It got too much and Harry leaned forward, his hands out-stretched, catching his frame.

“Harder,” he urged. “Faster, fuck me. Please!”

“Always,” Draco replied hoarsley, grabbing his hips as ruthlessly as he could.

“Oh gods!” Harry moaned.

~

They lay in a tangle. Bedsheets rucked around them. Sweaty and breathless. Harry lay on Draco's chest.

He brushed kisses on Harry’s curls.

“Scorpius is cross with you,” Draco whispered.

Harry looked up and winced. “Crap, I didn’t say goodbye.”

Draco nodded with a half-smile. “We went to Ron’s shop and he gave him a replica of Gringotts with a mini you flying on a dragon. It roars and everything.”

Harry grinned. “Hermione and Ron were with me. Fascinates me that Ron never adds himself to these toys, especially considering his massive strop about the Tri-wizard Tournament.”

Draco didn’t know too much about that so he ruffled Harry’s hair and shrugged. “It was enough to appease Scorpius anyway.”

“Ron always has my back,” Harry smiled, snuggling into Draco.

“Does he know much about what you do?” Draco asked as innocently as he could.

Harry shook his head. “Nah, it’s all kept confidential. Ron wanted out after Auror training, didn’t suit him.”

Alarm bells were going off in Draco’s head. He knew enough about the trio to recognise that it was Ron that had the saner head. Both Hermione and Harry were a little unethical.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asked.

Draco pulled Harry up until he was positioned over his body. “How fucking cute you are,” he replied kissing his nose.

Harry rolled his eyes but grinned. “You know, I look nothing like Michael J Fox.”

Draco lightly smacked Harry’s arse. “He pales in comparison to the original short King.”

Harry shook his head with an amused smile.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and rolled himself on top, caging the Saviour in his arms. He smiled down at him. “Everybody does,” Draco said softly.

Harry licked his bottom lip, staring up at Draco with those emerald eyes. “I wish …” he began and then he shook his head. “Bloody charmer.”

He hooked his arms around Draco’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

The kisses were sweet, brushes of lips and collected mementos. Harry held Draco’s face in his hands. Their eyes connected in the dim lighting. Draco kept his weight on his elbows.

In the morning, it hurt that Draco woke up alone. He brushed the side of the bed Harry had slept on. The Boy Who Lived had disappeared, as if he’d not been there at all.

Draco wasn’t ashamed that he cried in the shower that morning. Frustration always made him tearful.

But Harry came back every few nights. Always late, always the same, they fucked and held tightly to each other. Neither spoke of the future or the past. It was like having day-dreams. Draco was addicted to it.

But it was breaking him. He knew it and so did his mother.

Occasionally, Harry would tell him about the assignments. Berlin had been a raging dragon. Harry had subdued it with a strong tranquilliser, thus explaining all the the dark bruising he had across his ribs where he got too close. Cypress had been a dangerous dark wizard. He’d been cursed during that raid and was limping when he’d arrived. Draco had wanted to take him to St Mungo’s but Harry promised he’d ‘shake it off’.

He then went to New York for a week on the hunt for a pack of werewolves. The pack was too large, over forty roaming the state. He’d fought their Alpha, Hermione had updated their terms for relocation. Harry had come home to Draco, pale, his body magically depleted once more.

Draco threw some potions down his neck and tried to drag him off to bed to sleep.

“No, can we go for a drive? In your car?” Harry asked, eyes wide and earnest.

“It’s midnight!” Draco had frowned in confusion.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, laying his head on Draco’s chest. “Please. I want to see you drive a car.”

As if he could refuse him anything.

The wiltshire countryside and gentler weather they were having allowed for a starry night. Draco drove the Range Rover down the small lanes carefully, as he always did. Harry’s hand was on his thigh. A smile on his face as he watched Draco.

“Do the gear change again,” Harry urged with a grin.

“I don’t need to change it at the moment …” Draco glanced at him. The tiny internal electrics of the car lighting up Harry's handsome, tired face.

“When?”

Draco changed gear anyway, taking it from four to five and then back again. “Like that?”

“Mmm, yeah, I like your thigh muscles.”

Draco laughed. “Perverted wretch.”

Harry smirked, raising an eyebrow. Draco couldn’t help but stroke his fingers down Harry’s face.

The Chosen One looked out the front windshield and sighed deeply. “I like this, it makes me happy.”

Draco didn’t know if he meant driving or … something else.

When they got home, they drifted up to the bedroom and Draco made his first mistake.

They were talking about Harry’s latest assignment and Draco murmured that Shacklebolt was pimping Harry out, that it was political. A way to broker deals with other countries. Harry nodded noncommittally and kissed him. Inciting something in Draco that was always so close to the surface. Would he ever get enough? Of kissing and fucking Harry? Touching his body. Squeezing him. Marking him.

Harry drifted off to sleep not long after, resting on Draco’s chest, holding him tightly.

Potter didn’t return for two weeks after that conversation.

“You can’t push him,” his mother had advised. “He’s too strong. It needs to be subtle. Gentle. Darling, you’re like a minotaur in an apothecary.”

Draco rolled his eyes. It had been a simple statement. An opinion. It wasn’t like Harry had marched off in a strop as soon as Draco had said it. He’d just not returned after. He’d been thoughtful, subdued. Yes, but still loving. Still into Draco. Like he couldn’t get enough of him.

~

“I can't remember,” Scorpius whined as Draco opened the front door with a wave of his wand.

“You can't remember the whole day? Did you do some spelling, perhaps, or adding numbers?”

Scorpius threw his bag on the bench by the cloak stand. “No, daddy.”

“Did you play any games?” asked Draco, picking the bag up and retrieving Scorpius lunch box, his reading book and hung it on the hook.

“Can I have a snack?” Scorpius asked, ignoring Draco and hopping his way towards the kitchen.

Draco gave up, it would seem school would forever remain a mystery.

“Yes darling, let's have something healthy.”

Scorpius had already gone out of sight but he still heard the gasp and shriek of delight.

“Harry!”

Harry?

Draco jogged into the kitchen still holding the lunchbox and book. Harry was at the breakfast bar having a cuppa with his mother.

Draco watched as Scorpius all but climbed on Harry's knee, full of chatter and excitement. Little fingers touching Harry's hair, his glasses, the lapels of his denim shirt.

“I've been at school! We did painting and I painted you and me in my room …”

Potter grinned at Scorpius, listening intently as the little boy played with the buttons. He looked good. He'd shaved and had made an effort in the way only Harry could. Clean clothes. Washed hair, tied in a bun. Newer trainers.

“Hi,” the Chosen Idiot said, looking over at Draco. His eyes earnest and full of questions. Is it okay? Can I stay? Are you cross?

Draco smiled. “Hi,” he replied. It's fine, yes, stay forever, always but not with you.

Narcissa made dinner whilst the boys played in the garden. Scorpius' favourite current game was ‘challenges’. So Draco and Harry made a mini assault course where Scorpius would have to jump over empty plant pots and crawl under makeshift limbo posts.

Then Harry and Draco would have to do it too. With Scorpius as the official timer.

“Five, seven, eight, nine, twelve, six, seven, eight.”

Narcissa finally called them in for tea just as they were in the middle of playing superheroes. Draco was Batman, Harry was Superman, and Scorpius was The Flash.

Harry was levitating a foot in the air whilst Scorpius ran around him, as fast as he could. Draco was conjuring smoke to walk through when Narcissa opened the back door.

“Apologies for the interruption, but dinner is served gentlemen,” she smiled indulgently.

“Dinner!” Scorpius crowed, running towards his grandma.

Draco shoved Harry as they ambled toward the door. “That was entirely your fault. You got carried away.”

“Oh, I got carried away? I wasn't the one speaking in a deep voice and transfiguring stones into bat-a-rangs.”

Draco grinned. “It's important to get into character.”

Harry grabbed Draco by scruff of his shirt and pulled him quickly in for a brief kiss. He drew back a fraction, looking earnest.

“Can I stay for a bit? I have some downtime.”

“Yes, of course,” Draco replied, his chest expanding. Anything. Everything.

After a general consensus of being grown up adult-men, they decided they should definitely sleep apart, and so, Harry slept in the guest room. This was after the many, many snogs they continued to partake in, outside said guest room. Draco knew that Scorpius would be up early and incredibly confused if Harry was in his bed.

So they said too many good nights. Softly holding each other and smiling into the other’s sparkly eyes.

Draco had lain in bed, his hand placed on his chest considering stealing into Harry's room but in the end stayed where he was. Hating it but loving the fact Harry was in his home.

He woke up to giggles and shrieks coming from downstairs. His mother was smiling at him from the kitchen. Pretty in her white dressing gown. Making coffee.

“They're in the living room,” she said with a grin.

Draco discovered most of his sheets and bedding were draped around the room like circus tents.

“Invaders!” Scorpius shrieked, hiding with an excited giggle.

Narcissa had joined Draco at the door stretching up to put her chin on his shoulder. He looked down at her and smiled.

“Quick!” urged Harry. “Don't let them in!”

Hedwig was chucked over a John Lewis duvet cover. Bonking Draco on the head.

Narcissa ducked as a Teletubbie whizzed past her.

“Steady on!” Draco admonished.

“Sorry, Granny!”

He looked at his mother. “I need coffee before I even begin to ask questions.”

She snorted. “They've been at it for a few hours already.” Narcissa tugged at Draco’s arm, urging him to the kitchen.

“Hours!” It was only eight in the morning.

“Yes, I caught them sneaking down here at six.”

Draco took a seat at the breakfast bar, hoping his mother took pity on him. “I suppose it was you who gave them the bed sheets?”

Narcissa whirled around with a mug in her hand. “Do you want a coffee or not?”

~

After breakfast and the big clean up of the living room, everyone got showered and dressed.

They went out for a fly around the grounds, enjoying the milder weather. After lunch they popped into Trowbridge as Scorpius was attending a birthday party the next weekend and required a present for his friend, Bridget.

“It needs to be red and fast,” Scorpius stated solemnly.

“Any particular reason why it needs to be red and fast?” Harry enquired as they all wandered into Argos.

Scorpius looked up at Harry. “Those are her two favourite things.”

Harry smiled at Draco before ruffling Scorpius’ head. “Of course. Sorry, what a stupid question.”

“Mr Turbot says there are no stupid questions,” Scorpius replied conversationally.

“He sounds very clever.” Harry was rifling through the Argos magazine and got excited. “Look Scorpius!”

Draco smiled as Scorpius shrieked. “Can we get it, Dad? For Bridget? She'll love it ever so much!”

They left the shop with a very excitable five year old holding a Lego box with a picture of a double decker London bus on it.

~

Blaise invited Draco and Harry out for dinner with his new girlfriend in the evening. Narcissa and Celeste agreed to babysit a grumpy, feeling left out, Scorpius. The little boy was promptly drawn from his unhappiness with a bowl of popcorn and the new Disney film.

Draco’s least favourite Zabini was currently seeing Kenza, the most stunning dental nurse Draco had ever seen in his life. She had gorgeous locs that were tied up intricately. She was also not a witch, so the three wizards went into muggle-mode.

Blaise, who was out to impress, was taking Kenza to Midsummer House, a Michelin star restaurant in Cambridge, where she lived.

Harry was wearing a shirt and tie and was almost as grumpy as Scorpius. “I’m just saying that shoes like these, ruin people’s feet. It’s actually been proven that we shouldn’t wear shoes at all. Trainers are slightly better but shoes are the devil's work, mark my words,” he grumbled as they walked up to the door of the establishment.

“Merlin! Shut the fuck up, it’s one evening, Harry! You look gorgeous,” Draco murmured as they approached the maître d'. “Good evening, we are with the Zabini party,” he intoned cordially.

They were shown to their table and they greeted Kenza enthusiastically. Harry also instantly took a liking to Blaise which annoyed Draco.

During the main course, Kenza was grilling Draco and Harry about their relationship. “So you’ve been together since school?”

Blaise choked on his wine.

“No,” Harry said, giving her a wry smile and shaking his head. “We didn’t get on at school. At all.”

“There was a lot of UST, believe me,” Blaise responded, smiling at Kenza.

Draco kicked Blaise under the table.

Harry laughed. “No there wasn’t, Draco hated me at school. He thought I was arrogant and a loser.”

Kenza laughed too. “Did you?” she asked Draco.

Draco dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “I could never lie to a lady,” he replied. “Yes, I did.”

Harry made a ‘see’ gesture.

“Let’s just be clear though, he may have thought this, but he still had a HUGE crush on you,” Blaise clarified to Harry.

Draco blinked and gave Blaise the look.

“What?” Harry huffed out a bewildered laugh.

Blaise ignored the look and continued. “Oh my goodness, yes. He was absolutely gone. You should have heard him in fourth year, at the tournament …”

Draco, who knew what was coming, put his foot on Blaise’s and pushed down. Blaise just moved his foot.

“Oh, Harry, watch out! Be careful! Are people seeing this? He’s going to DIE! They shouldn’t allow children to do this! How will he survive?”

“Blimey, what kind of tournament was it?” asked Kenza, eating some of her dover sole.

“Jousting,” said Draco.

“Fencing,” said Blaise

“Tennis,” said Harry.

“What?” Kenza asked with a laugh.

Blaise flapped his hand. “It was a tri-tournament - he had to do loads.”

“Well, I mean, I thought he was an idiot back then, as well,” Harry replied, looking up at Draco shyly. “Still thought he was the fittest bloke in school.”

Draco felt his heart squeeze. An electric shiver ran over his skin. He leaned over and brushed the softest kiss on Harry's lips.

“The very same school that Blaise attended. Unlucky, dipshit,” Draco crowed, pointing his fork at Blaise.

~

Sunday was spent lazing around and playing silly games. Scorpius read his little reading book to them both and they watched a film after going for a long walk in nearby woods.

Just as they were about to put the little boy to bed, Harry got a patronus asking him to come to the Ministry immediately.

Draco caught Harry’s exhausted sigh. The Saviour smiled quickly at Scorpius, hugging him goodbye.

I’m sorry, I wish I could stay. Potter had whispered in Draco’s head.

Draco had watched him go but couldn’t reply.

If he did, he would scream.

~

One night, Harry fell through the wards and he was badly hurt. Draco's resolve to stay ‘quiet and accepting’ was smashed to smithereens.

“Draco, are you here? Fuck … I’m –” He dropped onto the bed, one arm out to support himself, the other, holding his body.

“Merlin, Harry!”

Blaise, a healer of ten years or more, arrived quickly. Draco had been terrified that his pseudo-brother was already on duty, but fortunately his shift had ended hours before.

Potter had passed out since he flung himself onto Draco's bed. Blaise was methodically checking the marks over Harry’s body. Draco had ensured Potter still had his boxers on because Celeste and his mother had woken up with the ruckus, and were now in his bedroom hovering as Blaise worked.

“The black lines are a curse of some sort, but there is spell damage here too. That’s definitely a Bombarda and I believe that’s the start of Cruciatus,” Blaise said as his fingers traced the marks.

“Impossible, Blaise, his shields are too good.” Draco shook his head firmly.

“Doesn’t matter how good he is, there’s always a stronger witch,” Celeste said as she handed Narcissa a cup of tea.

“I’m telling you, there is no one stronger!” Draco argued, feeling frantic.

Narcissa placed a hand on her son’s arm. “Why would he come here? And not St. Mungo’s?”

Blaise shook his head waving his wand above Potter, rings of sparkly magic floated up. “He never comes to us. I heard he has Melvin Briggs as a personal Healer.”

“Salazar, that old codger?” Celeste wrinkled her nose.

“Ah, yes. Fulguri curse. It’s rather fitting, what with the old scar.” Blaise, calm as a cucumber, accio’d a vial or two from his bag. He began doing some intense magic, as he rubbed the potions on Potter’s body. He chanted as he worked. His mother joined in without hesitation, her wand raised, her voice strong. She had trained in the healing arts but had been retired for ten years.

“I think the lightning might have stopped his heart for a moment or too,” Blaise murmured conversationally. Draco, who had caught the latin, began panicking.

“He died? Again! Fucking hell! This is just the absolute biggest load of fucking bollocks.”

“Calm down!” Blaise admonished. “Stop being such a wuss. He’s fine. He just needs to sleep it off.”

“I will not calm down, Blaise! I will not!” Draco threw a mug out the open window. Celeste raised her eyebrows at Narcissa.

“Now, darling …” began his mother.

“Do not let him die!” Draco pointed at Blaise.

He then promptly apparated to Granger and Ron’s cottage and banged heavily on the wards. After a moment Ron opened his bedroom window.

“Is that you, Malfoy?” he shouted. “What’s my very favourite name for you?”

Draco gave him the finger and said, “Ferret.”

Ron grinned and took the ward down. Draco stomped towards the back door.

~

It was Ron that Draco had interacted with most since the war. He’d had moments with Granger - a letter exchange back and forth in the early days, where he had apologised and donated sums to the charities she championed.

He’d seen Potter in the pub a few times - one drunken night had seen them partaking in a cartwheeling competition down Diagon Alley at three in the morning - which Draco had won (one handed), he might add.

But, Ron was the constant. The most willing to head back into society, he ignored the praise and stood tall. His children followed him to work in the summer holidays and they always had a smile for Draco. Ron came up with ways to ignore the status and the war, and just be a normal wizard. He had let Draco off fairly easily. Not bothered about him coming into the shop, occasionally defending him - especially after he found out about the apology letters to his wife.

But the best reason they got on so well was because Ron loved Scorpius. And, Scorpius loved Wheezes and of course, the fact he got special treatment in the shop. Ron would often hail the Malfoys’ arrival by stopping any proceedings, stating that his ‘best customer’ had arrived and personally showing Scorpius any new merchandise.

Scorpius would immediately take Ron’s hand and follow him wherever he went. Often leaving Draco to the mercy of George Weasley, who would happily remind him that he had once beaten the shit out of him.

It was quite tempting to ask George if he fancied his chances these days. But, he still saw the grief in Ron’s older brother's eyes, so he took his due and instead chatted Quidditch or gossipped as he waited. George loved to gossip and tell Draco who he was currently trying to chat up, (everyone).

Ron finally opened his front door, dragging a t-shirt over his broad frame. “Any particular reason you’re waking us up at midnight?”

“Potter’s hurt - where’s Granger?” Draco asked, passing him and walking into the hall.

“Hurt? She’s coming, just using the loo. How hurt?” Ron asked, shutting the door and gesturing that they keep the noise down and head into the kitchen.

Draco took a deep breath and headed into the room, leaning against a counter. “He’s always fucking hurt, Ron. Everytime I see him, he’s done something incredibly dangerous and he has hours to recover and then he’s off again,” Draco said, rubbing his face.

“What? No he doesn’t! He has sporadic assignments. That was the deal. He does a big job and has three months off.” Ron was frowning.

“Ha! That’s not … that’s not what’s happening. For the last eight weeks he’s done one or two a week, all in different countries. He’s away for two to three nights - he comes back exhausted and beaten down.”

“That’s mad - no, he’s just been busy with the house he’s doing up …” Ron was still frowning, looking at Draco like he was nuts.

“What house?”

“His house! He bought it, he’s fixing it up. For the last - I dunno, ages.”

“Ron, what house? If he’s not at mine, I think he comes to yours … or he’s at a hotel. When would he have the time to fix a house? I’m telling you, he’s on jobs all the time. Fucking scary awful ones, and he works alone.”

“At yours? No, no - you’ve got it all wrong. He has this house …”

“Where is it?” Draco asked.

“Err … it’s –” Ron looked up at Draco, blinking in confusion.

“Have you seen it?” There were red flags all over the place with this conversation. Draco could immediately see the effects of a holey-obliviation. As if someone had been carefully eroding some of Ron’s memory.

“No, he said … he wanted to do it himself.” Ron looked cautious, like he had worked something out.

“There is no house, Ron,” Draco said firmly.

“Harry has a house,” Hermione exclaimed in a low voice as she walked into the room. She was wearing pyjamas and a dressing gown. “He works a normal amount. He has downtime.”

Ron frowned at his wife.

“Hermione, you know he doesn’t. You were there. He went straight back out on the assignment –”

Hermione stared at Draco emotionless as she interrupted. “They are sporadic. Every three months.”

Draco laughed and shook his head. “Shit, I can’t fucking believe this … Okay, we are going to have to sort this out –”

In a moment that would forever haunt Draco, he saw Hermione raise her wand, ready to cast at him, however, it was a good thing her husband was faster.

The stupefy hit Granger gently. She went down and Ron was there to catch her. He held her in his arms and looked at Draco.

“Some fucker has been messing with my memories, and my wife …”

“Fucking hell, Weasley! You believe me?” Draco was astounded.

“You’re the only person making sense around here. That was creepy,” he nodded at his wife. “We need a Legillimens, right? We also need to sort Harry out.”

“Yes, can you get someone to watch your kids?” Draco asked as Ron held Hermione closer to his chest.

Ron passed Hermione to Draco, dropping his most precious love into Draco’s arms casually. He then cast a patronus which he sent to George.

“You know a Legillimens?” he asked as he ran upstairs to get changed.

Draco was still holding Granger, he looked down at the curly haired menace and sighed. “Yes, but you’re not going to like it.”

~

Hermione was bound to a chair in Draco’s kitchen and was freaking out. “Ronald Weasley! I swear to fucking god, if you let that man anywhere near me with a wand I will personally rip you to shreds!”

Lucius looked at Ron with a wary expression. His wand was up and he was waiting for more instructions. Hermione Granger was still a force to be reckoned with, obliviated or not.

“Love, you saw him do it to me. You know it makes no sense. We’ve been manipulated. He had to remove the spell. He’s the only Legillimens that isn’t on the Ministry payroll.”

Lucius had found the hex in Ron’s brain. Someone had left it close to Ron’s frontal lobe. Anytime Harry was mentioned it reminded him that Harry was busy fixing up a house, worked one job for Kinglsey and had three months off. Ron had sweated through the whole procedure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! This is my job! You’re are going to trust this fucking poncy Death Eater, rather than your own wife!”

“Poncy!” Lucius looked outraged.

“Shut up, Lucius,” Narcissa rolled her eyes and concentrated on Ron and gentled her tone. “Mr Weasley, it’s time.”

Ron took a deep breath. “Just do it, but I swear to Merlin, Malfoy …”

“Ron, no!” Hermione shrieked, looking bereft.

Draco put a calming hand on Ron’s shoulder.

Draco’s father cast the spell and got to work. Despite his inadequacies as a father, husband and just generally as a human being, Lucius' spell work had always been of the highest calibre.

Although Harry had assumed he didn’t. Lucius did work. It wasn’t very often, but he did a few jobs here and there. He consulted, these days, for big wizarding firms. Checking colleagues' arithmancy and charmwork. He got paid thousands of galleons for an hour of work.

Twenty stressful minutes later, Lucius drifted out of Hermione’s mind. “Got it,” he grunted, pulling out a red nasty hex. Celeste blasted it with a Healer’s spell and the pair nodded cordially at each other.

Hermione burst into tears and Draco released the Incarcerous. “Oh gods, what have we done?” she murmured as Ron held her in his arms.

~

Lucius had already retrieved the hex from Harry's mind, so when he woke up it had gone. Draco was sitting in a chair in the room when he opened his eyes. Harry huffed out a half laugh, half sigh. He tried to sit up but it looked awkward.

Draco rushed over to help him.

“I can’t keep away from you,” Harry said, his fingers running over Draco’s jaw. “I don’t think I was supposed to keep coming here, but I came anyway.”

Draco took Harry’s fingers and kissed them. “Kingsley has been manipulating you, Granger and Ron too.”

Harry nodded. “Yep, sounds about right. I’m sorry you had to sort it all out …”

Draco put his head on Harry's shoulder. “Please, don’t apologise about being manipulated by another fucking person,” he said looking up into Harry’s gorgeous face.

Draco launched into a further explanation of what had been happening, filling Harry in on who was downstairs and what they knew so far.

“Hermione reckons it’s been about three years,” Draco concluded, reaching for Harry’s fingers.

Harry closed his eyes momentarily, he looked exhausted and utterly bereft. He squeezed Draco’s hand.

“Three years,” he repeated softly.

“I’m sorry.” Draco’s heart was fairly sure his heart was breaking. He was fairly certain that if he saw Kinglsey Shacklebolt in this moment he would murder him.

“Don’t be.” Harry's eyes drifted to Draco’s. “It led me to you.”

Draco didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t expect anything from you. I just want to thank you for helping me. For helping us,” Harry said, brushing his fingers over Draco’s hair.

“It’s fairly hard to not help someone you care so deeply about,” Draco exclaimed, feeling emotional and like he wanted to tear down the establishment.

Harry smiled and leant forward. Kissing Draco gently. Teasing his lips.

“It’s fairly hard to keep away from someone you care so deeply about, even if you have a hex in your brain specifically telling you to,” Harry stated conversationally.

Draco swallowed. Well, fuck.

“Ah, Potter is awake,” exclaimed Robards, walking into the room. Cho was hovering behind mouthing ‘sorry’ at Draco. “Nice bedroom, Malfoy. Lovely Aesthetic.” he continued, looking around the room with an impressed smile.

“Hello Robards,” sighed Harry, dropping his hands from Draco’s hair.

“Right, you two. Shall we take down that arsehole, Shacklebolt? Granger has already worked up a suitable plan. Might be nice to get a spot of breakfast first, Malfoy, do you still employ any house elves? If not, get your scummy dad to sort it out.”

~

It had been hard. The corruption was deep and it was tricky to untangle themselves from it. Robards helped as much as he could, but arresting the Minister wasn’t particularly easy. Granger's plan was to use the media. She gave the story to a young reporter who was pushing boundaries, and was brave enough to break the story as it was.

Granger and Harry quit the Ministry and refused to go to work. The families holed up behind the Manor’s wards. Using it to protect themselves from Shacklebolt as he searched for his team.

Draco had been right. The Minister had been brokering deals for the UK by using Harry’s prowess. The promise that the wizarding saviour would come in and sort your problem for you.

Harry was so exhausted and depleted, Draco made him stay in bed for three days. He finally emerged to a full house of Weasleys.

Narcissa had decided to take another holiday with Celeste, funnily enough.

Blaise had been by sporadically. Checking on Harry, with Draco clucking around them both, telling Blaise to test everything twice and Harry to be quiet.

As soon as Shacklebolt had been taken into custody the Weasleys went home and the house went back to being blessedly quiet. After the briefest of discussions, Draco explained that Harry and himself were boyfriends and would sometimes be sleeping over. Scorpius took this news VERY well, instantly jumping over Harry and holding him tightly.

Draco’s heart nearly broke when he saw Harry’s eyes tightly closed as he held his son.

The next morning, Draco was working out in his bedroom.

“Okay Dad, are you ready?” asked Scorpius who was trying very hard not to giggle.

Draco looked at the closed doors of his walk-in wardrobe breathing out as he carried on with his sit ups. “Yes, I think so.”

Scorpius let out an excitable shriek as he and Harry opened the doors. Both were wearing their pants with beanie hats and woollen scarves. Harry was in Draco’s knee high dragonhide boots. He was sporting a deep red robe that Narcissa had got him one winter. Scorpius was wearing a sparkly vest top that came down to his knees and some flip-flops.

Both of them were grinning like idiots. Draco snorted and lay down.

“Good gods!” he said, closing his eyes and rubbing his face.

The pair were laughing and dancing around the room. Scorpius took a flying leap onto the bed and Harry wandered over levitating Scorpius with his outstretched hand, so the little boy flew around the room in his ‘sparkly-vest dress’.

“Do the Superman pose, Scorp!”

Giggling and screeching, Scorpius pushed his fist out and Harry flew him faster.

Draco stood up and moved behind Harry, wrapping a possessive arm around his chest. “Pair of maniacs,” he said fondly, brushing a kiss on Harry's head as Harry leaned into his chest.

Scorpius left at the weekend to spend time with his mother and Draco had another reason to keep Harry in his bed.

“Shit, sorry!” Harry murmured as he accidently floated them off the duvet.

Draco looked down at the mattress, the pair were in mid air, naked and gently turning in a loop. “Well, this is interesting,” he said, blinking and trying not to get dizzy.

“Damn it, hang on,” Harry said, holding onto Draco and closing his eyes, concentrating.

It had happened a few times since Harry had the hex released. His magic was going a bit quirky, whilst his magical core realigned. Blaise said it was perfectly normal, but Harry got embarrassed.

They landed back on the bed with a bump. Harry almost kneeing Draco in the gonads.

“Sorry! Shit, sorry. Did I catch you?” Harry tried to get off Draco, worrying and looking so earnest it made Draco want to die.

“It’s fine, you prat. Come back here so I can eat you alive.” Draco dragged Harry back over the top of him and nibbled his earlobe as Harry huffed out a laugh.

“Should I be worried? You always bite me,” Harry asked, smiling and brushing kisses on Draco’s jaw.

“Yes, you should be worried. You’re so fucking delicious.” Draco sucked on Harry’s neck, leaving a big love bite that he was particularly proud of.

Harry grinned and murmured, “vampire.”

Draco tried to do the other side but Harry had started to speak again. “You know, I had to deal with a whole host of vampires in Russia last year. That was an interesting couple of days …”

Draco immediately stopped what he was doing. It was fairly clear that Harry was somewhat traumatised by what Kingsley had been up to.

“What were they doing?” He always made sure he tried to get Harry to talk more about it. Reminding him it was important to get it out.

“Pretty dreadful stuff, they’d been feeding on a town for like ten or so years. They’d got … this leader … and I battled her. I got the others to disband, but anyone who stuck around I … killed. It was either me or them.”

Draco nodded and stroked his hand down Harry’s back. “Yes, of course.”

Harry sighed and lay on Draco’s chest. “I’m sorry. I ruined the mood.”

Draco poked him and Harry jerked. “Oi!”

“You didn’t kill the mood. The mood is always there. Nothing will keep me from objectifying your gorgeous body. But, we need to discuss this. I want you to get it all out.”

“I know! I am. Sorry …”

“Harry, it sounds like - even though Kinglsey was completely controlling you and working you to the bone - the assignments were things you would have taken anyway. Which, I hasten to add, you do not have to take again, and, aren’t your problem! But, morally - you weren’t doing dreadful things.”

Harry nodded and then looked up at Draco.

“I know I have a lot of stuff to work out but, I think we should work on … your stuff too …” Harry said, that earnest face back in place.

“My stuff?”

Harry gave him a look. “Draco, your ex wife lives in ‘the big house’ with your father, who she is fucking. You live with your mum …”

“It’s for Scorpius! It’s so he has us both close …”

“You’re a wizard who has a floo-network at his disposal.”

Draco opened his mouth and closed it. Gods, Harry was right. When you put it like that he had no need to live on the grounds.

When Scorpius was a baby, it had made sense, but these days, they both had full wardrobes for him, toys, books etc. Plus, it wasn’t ideal that he didn’t have any space from his parents. From Astoria.

Waking up with his mother looking at his bare arse that first morning wasn’t a great memory.

He took a deep breath. “You may have a point.”

Harry shrugged. “Didn’t want to be a dick, but …”

Draco's eyes wandered over Harry, thinking about how much he wanted him. How he wanted them to be a family. How no one would ever compare to him. How it had always been him.

“Fancy getting a new place, Potter?” Draco asked, biting his lip.

Harry smiled. “Together?”

Draco nodded, feeling his heart speed up.

“By the sea?”

“Anywhere you want.” Draco ran his hands down Harry's back, fondling his delectable arse.

“Wow, so amenable in your old age, Malfoy.” Harry grinned, brushing kisses on Draco’s chest.

“I mean, you’re worth it, quite frankly,” Draco said, leaning down for a kiss.

“Yes, I’d love it,” Harry replied, breaking the kiss and staring into Draco’s eyes. “I’m planning on being a lady of leisure though, so I’ll pick Scorp up from school and then fart about all day.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Lazy little shit.”

“I may … cook the odd dinner.”

“Steady on!” Draco laughed.

Harry grinned and kissed Draco again.

Feeling utterly in love and like he could climb a mountain, Draco rolled Harry over and caged him with his body.

“I finally rescued you,” Draco whispered.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, holding Draco close. He rolled his eyes in mock affront. “Took you long enough.”