From the Printers of Melvin's Mauve Mansion of Manlove, Part 2
Back to Part 1
9.
(January)
Harry slowly stirred his tea and munched on a piece of toast, glancing at the man beside him. The man who seemed utterly absorbed in his morning paper.
The man who just may have been courting him since... when? December? November? The beginning of the school year? How long had Draco been oh-so-subtly wooing him? Had he decided he wanted to pick up where they'd left off a few weeks into the school year? Or right when the year started?
Or maybe even before the school year?
Just how had that incompetent Edgecombe witch managed to jinx the Head Auror? Had she had help?
And was Harry now getting inordinately paranoid about this? He didn't even really know there was anything going on, didn't really know if Draco had been courting him or not, and now he was wondering if he'd cursed Harry to get him to come to school and...
Although if he had... would that have been so bad?
Yes, of course, Draco cursing him would have been bad. Courting him? Maybe not.
Did he even want to think about it? Did Harry want it to be true?
No, of course not.
No, that wasn't true. He wanted; he just knew wanting was stupid, and he knew he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. He'd danced this dance before: falling into bed together, caught up in the hormones and novelty, caught up in a whirlwind of emotions, wanting it to last forever, reaching to make it permanent long before anything like permanence should have been considered... it had been glorious.
And the plummet down had been devastating, for all that they'd told each other that it was a good thing they'd got off the ride before anyone got hurt. For all that he'd told himself that it didn't matter, they hadn't really been married, they didn't have children or a home together, easy come, easy go.
"Professor Longbottom?" said a pair of tall girls covered in blue dust. "You asked us to come and get you if the Pixie Peonies exploded?"
Neville quickly got up and hurried off with them, presumably back to his greenhouses.
"You know, it's funny," said Draco. "I never quite get used to how good Longbottom is with the kids."
"D'you know he never yells at them?" said Harry. "And yet his classes have perfect discipline."
Draco chuckled. "No doubt."
"I would assume you'd disapprove. What with you maintaining the injury levels low through intimidation and all."
"I'm not aiming for intimidation; I'm aiming for abject fear," said Draco. "And Longbottom manages that quite well."
"What?"
"He never loses his temper with them; he just assigns detentions. Those two girls were neglecting their Mandrakes to the point where they've delayed their puberty; he told them he was disappointed in them and would have them make it up by having them watch the Pixie Peonies for a few days."
"What's so awful about that?"
"That if you're not paying strict attention, they explode all over you."
"So you get covered in sparkly blue dust."
"Sparkly blue dust that eventually makes you invisible for about a week. Which, amusing as it might seem, gets bloody annoying after even one day, let alone a week, of people sitting on you and not speaking to you and stepping on you because they can't see you. They won't make that mistake again, believe me."
Draco turned over a page in his paper and absently re-warmed his tea.
Harry smiled and turned back to his own marking. He squinted at the essay before him. God, no, Pogrebins could not be repelled by Muggle rubber ducks.
He looked up again. Draco was still reading his morning paper. There was no indication that he was any more interested in Harry's presence beside him than anybody else at the staff table.
Why? Why would he want to start anything?
"God, I could spend the rest of my life doing this," Draco had moaned the night Harry had first proposed, after their shudders had died down from a particularly spectacular shag.
"Mm, me too," Harry had said, his arms giving out and his body settling onto Draco's. "We'd have to go out sometimes, though. Meals. Work."
"Why?" Draco had asked. "We've both got money enough to live off if we don't have any other demands. We'd get the house-elves to feed us. Food, a bed, and shagging. I don't see where this is a bad plan."
Harry had laughed, pulling off to the side and letting his weight off Draco, pulling Draco with him so that they ended up face to face.
"Nobody can shag all the time," he'd said. "Besides, you don't work to pay bills any more than I do."
"All right, I'd keep working. On a greatly reduced schedule, though. Leave most of the day open for sex."
"You'd still spend hours obsessing over your hospital's tip-top condition."
"I'd train one of the school's house-elves to keep it to my standards."
Harry had chuckled. "Not a chance. You know the Granger Reforms: 'any institutional house-elf staff asked to perform extra duties for individual members of the institution must be hired as personal staff and given fair compensation'."
"Fine, I'd hire one, then," said Draco, yawning. "Wouldn't want you to arrest me for breaking Granger's laws."
"Now I know you're serious. You'd hire a personal house-elf, just to free up more time to shag me?"
"Absolutely. Every portrait in the Manor would vow to never speak to me again, but it'd be a small price to pay."
"All right, you've convinced me. Marry me."
"Done."
They laughed, and gone to sleep, but Harry hadn't dismissed what he'd said. Neither had Draco. They'd repeated it twice, joking both times but laughing less, and then...
"Seriously, though?"
"Yes?"
"Marry me."
Draco had smiled automatically, opening his mouth for the "Done" part of their banter, then hesitated. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
"You don't think it's a little soon?"
"We've known each other forever. Most of our lives."
"That hasn't been a good thing until fairly recently," Draco had pointed out, moving closer and nibbling on Harry's ear.
"I know. But... maybe it could be." Harry had tilted his head back, and Draco had moved his lips slowly down Harry's neck.
"Look, we're both recently divorced," he murmured. "Maybe we just both want to not be single any more."
"We?" Harry had moaned as Draco licked the hollow of his throat. "So I'm not the only one who's not entirely taking it as a joke?"
"...no."
They'd dropped it. And the next morning, Draco had asked Harry. And Harry had said yes.
"Professor Potter, here's that list you asked us to give you," said one of Harry's NEWT students, dropping a parchment beside him and startling him out of his reverie.
"Oh. Erm, thanks, Evans," said Harry, and opened up the parchment.
"What's that?" asked Draco.
"The NEWT students are scheduling some extra tutorials, but I need to know what everyone's extracurriculars are." He paused, scanning the list. "Damn."
"What is it?"
"The Quidditch players are all practising every day."
"What?"
"Seven of my NEWT students are on Quidditch teams, and in all four Houses, too. Damn."
"You'll probably need me on hand too, Potter," said Draco, annoyed. "Nice of you to think of that before you started scheduling."
Harry gave him a guilty glance. "Erm. Sorry."
No, Draco wasn't trying to get into his pants again. If he were, he'd be pleased at the chance to spend more time together. Right? "I --"
"Never mind," Draco sighed. "Here, let me take a look, see what slots I can be available." He pulled the parchment closer and started poring over the dates and times.
All right, maybe not so annoyed.
Suppose Draco was trying to court him, as per that ridiculous book. Apparently the first step in Wizard Courtship was an Encounter with "no lustful thoughts." Well, Harry was sure that had happened at least once or twice, though to be honest it had been weeks before he could concentrate on his meals with Draco right beside him every time. Divorced and uncomfortable he might be; blind and indifferent he was not.
The sports event... well, their impromptu broom race could definitely have counted, never mind that Harry had lost and pulled several muscles and then suffered in silence for a week, not going to Draco for pain relief out of injured pride.
"Friday's right out for me." Draco shook his head at the parchment and crossed out a few lines.
And they had danced together at the Yule Ball. So that was another step done.
But as for the 'decide who's the woman', they'd never...
Harry had a sudden image of the hideous lacy lilac Great-Aunt-Tessie-like thing he'd found on his body in the hospital wing a few months ago, courtesy of a very uncharacteristically clumsy spell fumble by Draco. And his own voice telling Draco it would go better with the colour of his eyes. And Draco's rather attractive blush as he nodded.
That hadn't struck Harry as a settlement of who was the female... but had it been?
He glanced at Draco, who was speaking to Professor Xanatos, the rather officious and pompous new Potions teacher. "Higgins and Chong? Yes, they should be back in class today. I don't think they understood just how potent Larkspur could be."
"I think they've been using those Weasley Skiving things," said Xanatos.
"They're not."
"How do you know?"
Draco's lips thinned in mild annoyance. "For one thing, Wheezes hasn't made Skiving Snackboxes for over a decade. For another, I'm friends with the man, and I asked him. And these symptoms don't go with anything he's got on the market. I agree, with Higgins and Chong some shenanigans are always a possibility, but they are genuinely ill right now. Maybe you can let me handle the health care and you handle Potions at this school."
Xanatos's eyebrows went up, and he huffed in annoyance but cleared out anyway. Draco rolled his eyes and Harry got the impression he was stifling the urge to stick out his tongue at the man's back.
If James was right, and all of those random events were true Wizard Courting steps, they were at the Fifth Encounter by now. The dinner date. He wondered how Draco was planning on pulling this one off without Harry noticing.
For that matter, if Draco was courting him... why was he doing it all without telling Harry?
Was he trying to get them back together? Or was he maybe trying to make them officially and unequivocally married, so that they could be officially and unequivocally divorced when they split up?
And which would Harry want it to be?
Harry stifled a groan and put his head in his hands. He couldn't make head nor tail of this. Astute as he was as an Auror, when it came to Draco... he had no clue.
"Harry," said Draco, startling Harry.
"Wha? Yeah! I'm here," he said, and Draco gave him a puzzled look. "Sorry. Yes?"
"I just said, here's my availabilities." He pushed the parchment back to Harry. "And while we're on the topic of extracurriculars, d'you want to get dinner together some night this week so we can discuss what you'll be covering at the tutorials?" All right, Draco was blushing ever so slightly, and tutorial discussions aside that definitely sounded like a date. "Maybe at the --"
"No," said Harry's mouth without input from his brain. He shook himself. "I mean, thanks. But no. I'm... going to be busy."
Wait. Why had he said that?
Draco frowned. "I haven't told you what day."
"I'll be busy all week. Erm. Tournament. Paperwork." He abruptly put his napkin down and stood up. "Maybe some other time." Right. God, that was adroit. No wonder he'd made it to the top of the Auror heap. Because he could think quickly on his feet and dissemble with the best of them. As long as 'them' were toddlers.
All right, he thought as he headed out the door and down the hallway. Why had he run away like a scared rabbit?
So Draco wanted to date him. Or court him, or whatever. And there was no way of telling whether Draco was doing this to be with him, or to finally break off with him. But he was courting him. And Harry knew that, and had bolted.
What the hell. Draco wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Whichever way he wanted this to go, he wasn't going to lie to Harry. And if he wanted them to be together again, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
And if he just wanted to finally be free... Harry owed him at least that much.
He turned on his heel and headed back to the Great Hall. "Actually," he said as he opened the door. "Draco, are you busy tonight? You're right, we really should discuss the tutorials."
Draco's pleased smile warmed Harry all the way back to his room.
10.
"Hang on, Harry, I've got a patient," said Draco when Harry showed up at the hospital before dinner that night. "Not one of yours, for once." He carefully finished painting Anti-Polly potion onto his patient's claws, then re-loaded the brush and brushed it over the bright fuchsia feathers on her head.
They were going to dinner, he thought as Harry sat on one of the beds and watched Draco. A dinner date. Here he was, about to go on a dinner date with his ex, and he wasn't sure what the hell he was doing.
Harry gave Draco's young patient an encouraging smile, prompting a shy one in return before she dropped her eyes, a little flustered at his attention.
Draco smiled inwardly. Even after months as their professor, some of his younger students were still a bit in awe of him. And with good reason: Harry was bright, and interesting, funny, and kind. He was a marvellous teacher, and very good with kids.
He was everything Draco wanted. And their time together had been difficult, yes, but also wonderful. He remembered feeling that despite knowing him since childhood he'd never met Harry before, never realised that he wasn't self-righteous at all -- that he had a wry sense of humour, fierce loyalty, a sincere devotion to his friends and family, and deep love for the wizarding world.
"Scorpius tells me you spent Christmas with the Weasleys?" Draco asked, more to settle his nerves than out of curiosity. He started wrapping bandages loosely around his patient's hands.
"Most of it, yeah."
"How does that work, with your ex?"
"It's fine. She's... she was always a better friend than partner. I mean, I don't think it'll ever be like it was at the beginning, but..."
"Yeah, it's not really possible, isn't it?" He wrapped a scarf around the student's head, tucking in her feathers. "Now, the potion will get your hands and hair back to normal tomorrow," he told her, "but you need to keep the cloths on so you won't leave a trail of feathers everywhere you go." The small girl nodded and he pushed the head scarf back a bit, making it less ridiculous-looking. "And you're not going to taste-test your classmates' potions again, right, are you?" he asked sternly.
"No sir," she said solemnly, looking much, much younger than her twelve years, and then hurried out of the hospital.
"I thought you said you tried to cultivate fear in your patients," said Harry.
"She's got a lisp. The other kids tease her. She doesn't need more abuse from me, even when she's here through her own fault."
Harry smiled at him, his expression open and unguarded and showing that soft, warm approval that had always melted Draco when they were together. Draco's heart gave a small thud. He turned away and reached for his cloak.
"D'you know something? I don't feel like waiting till after dinner," said Harry suddenly, and Draco turned to find him much farther into his personal space than he'd expected. He stepped back, unsure.
Harry took a deep breath, and tugged Draco gently towards him. Draco could feel a blush spreading over his cheeks and his heart speeding up and his stomach unsure whether to sink with dread or swoop with excitement.
Harry paused. "Draco," he said quietly, and dropped his gaze to Draco's lips. He slowly leaned forward and Draco mirrored his actions. They paused, mouths only a hair's breadth apart. "Can I..."
God, Merlin, yes. Yes, he wanted to say. But...
"Harry..." he whispered, closing his eyes. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I do know I don't want to go through what we went through last time. Let's... let's take it slowly, all right?"
Harry nodded slowly, and Draco sighed and leaned closer. He felt his heart start to beat again as their lips touched, and Harry's strong, capable hands came up to his face to draw him closer.
Somewhere in the castle, a mistletoe branch had probably just sprouted a flower.
Draco didn't care.
11.
(February)
"I'm sorry, I simply don't understand why the second Task was so bewildering," said Rolf Scamander.
"The challenge was in dealing with the unknown," said Harry patiently. "It was a creature none of them had ever encountered."
"Surely everyone's seen Cornish Pixies."
"Yes, but not cynogriffons. Most people don't believe they exist." He winced. "Draco, that hurt."
"Hold still for the next one and it won't," Draco shot back.
"But I've written about them before," said Rolf. "All the champions had to do was be kind to them. Cynogriffons are highly intelligent, and benign. I've written about them."
"Darling, most people who read your books think you're mad or lying," Luna told her husband.
"Your father always believed me," said Rolf, puzzled.
"Daddy believed a lot of things," said Luna with a small smile.
"In any case," said Harry, "the challenge was for them to figure out how to enlist the aid of the cynogriffons in finding their particular pixies. And only Dominique was able to do that. And keep her original gender."
"The boy -- the one who was a boy at the beginning -- was able to figure out that the cynogriffons were telepathic." Rolf brightened up. "Perhaps he read my book."
Luna gave him an affectionate kiss. "Harry, are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine," said Harry. "Nothing a few Episkeys can't fix."
"Bit more than a few," said Draco. "It's rather amusing; I'm kept on hand to help in case of accidental mauling of a champion, and end up healing the bones of the hapless Head Auror who's supposedly in charge of security."
"There was no security breach."
"You fell off the mountain." Draco waved his wand, healing up the last of Harry's bruising. "High amusement value in that. Not that we need it with the Tournament this time, what with actually being able to see what's going on." He started tying up a sling for Harry's left arm. "I mean, really, whose idea were the Tasks the first time? Seriously. The first was fairly exciting except for the part where your dragon flew away, but the second? Very exciting, watching the four of you dive into the water and then staring at it for an hour. And the third, disappearing into a bush. Thrilling."
"Well you got to see everything this time, didn't you?" asked Harry ruefully.
"Inglorious tumble and all. What do you want to bet that that's what leads in the papers tomorrow?"
"Can't you use your influence on Astoria to --"
"Wouldn't dream of it," said Draco.
"It'll lead at The Quibbler too, Harry," said Luna. "If only to reassure our readers that you're still alive."
"Oh, he's alive all right," Draco offered, "and out of my hospital in an hour or so. Would that all my patients were so simple to clear out."
Harry glanced over at the two other occupied beds, both with curtains drawn around them for privacy. "Busy lately? I haven't sent anybody to you recently, have I?"
"No, surprisingly enough. Other than your invent-a-curse victim."
"The zombie?"
"The what?" said Luna.
"Harry gave his NEWT students an assignment where half the class was supposed to invent bothersome curses and the other half were supposed to defend against them. One of them invented Mortis Shuffle; the victim can't walk without lurching, smells horrendous, and keeps reaching out to people's heads croaking out Braaaains."
"Sounds nasty."
"Well Harry had taught them all how to dodge and counteract. And none of the curses were life-threatening. I didn't bother to cure most of them; it's their own bloody fault if they weren't paying attention."
"So why are you curing this one?"
"The stench," said Draco. "It's not fair to the other students. They can't study properly. He's sleeping off the antidote right now. Should have the regular Eau de Teenage Boy aroma about him when he wakes up, though I doubt he'll be walking right for another week at least."
"Who's the other patient?" asked Harry.
"Our school vampire."
Luna's eyes widened. "A real vampire?"
"Oh yes. In fact, he's been a vampire for quite a while; I'm not entirely sure how old he is. One of the staff believes he's actually a hundred years old and at the school under false pretences, but who on earth would pretend to be an adolescent in school if they didn't have to?" He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which..."
He approached the curtained bed. "Mr. Stevens, it's time to go," said Draco, pulling open the curtains on a pale boy reading a Marvin the Muggle comic. "Sun's going down, you should be full of energy now."
"But I don't feel well. I think I need to stay a bit longer."
"Nonsense. Stop letting a minor case of vampirism get you down. Buck up and get back to your studies." He gave the boy a small smile. "We've talked about this before. Stick with your friends Davidson and Patel and don't let the others bother you. Now, get yourself back to your House."
"But I don't want... The other kids are scared of me," he said, his voice very small.
"And so they should be," said Draco. "You're a dangerous creature. You've got a registry number and file at the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and everything. The most fearsome thing they can be is dangerously stupid and bigoted."
And there it was, that snark that had been so cutting and malicious when they were children but that he now saw as merely Draco's way of dealing with the world. Yes, hurtful sometimes. Yes, sometimes tactless too. But also sometimes providing the exact bracing steadiness you most needed.
He watched Draco bustle the young vampire out of the hospital wing, passing him a blood lollipop and patting him on the back with encouragement before shooing him firmly off. He was so good with the kids. Brusque and unsympathetic as Pomfrey had ever been with the foolish ones, but comforting nonetheless. And the way he --
"How long have you two been back together?" asked Luna after the boy was gone.
Draco started. "What? Who?"
"Us?" blurted Harry. "Why would you think --"
"Luna, they're divorced," said Rolf. "It's not polite to talk about such things. Especially since it's not their fault. Relationships among Hogwarts professors never work, because there are Bolochimpies infesting the teachers' living areas."
"There's no such thing as Bolochimpies," Luna said serenely. "And I don't think it's possible for anyone to say with certainty what went wrong the first time."
Harry opened his mouth, for once unable to deflect.
Luna blinked, then turned to Rolf. "Come, dear. We need to get back to oversee tomorrow's edition."
"Erm," said Draco once she had left. "She's always been a bit too perceptive, that one. Bit creepy, to be honest."
Yes, it was, thought Harry as Draco busied himself writing up his notes. And it was really too bad that there was anything for her to be perceptive about. Skulking around and snogging in random isolated corners of the castle was rather hot in its own way, but he hated feeling vaguely ashamed of himself, and of Draco and him as a couple.
And... well, some days it made Harry almost doubt that they were a couple at all. Especially as they treated each other exactly the same as before, barring some rather heated kisses whenever they could manage. Kisses that left Harry hard and panting, but never progressed beyond groping down to their belts before they were abruptly stopped by Draco, his eyes dark with hunger, his voice steady with determination, and regret in every feature.
There'd been at least five times Harry could've sworn that they were going to end up in bed -- possibly because he kept track and repeated each incident over and over, and had only resisted the urge to make Pensieve memories out of each one through firm self-talk, using them as wanking fantasy material instead. Each time, they had stopped.
There was being mature and going slowly, and there was masochism. Which one was Draco going for?
12.
(March)
"Draco, can I ask you something?" Harry asked during a lull in their conversation several weeks later.
"Yes?"
Harry sat back and put down his fork. "What exactly are we doing here?"
Draco blinked. "Having dinner. That's generally what one does at the Three Broomsticks."
"I don't mean right now. I mean, in general, with... this." He motioned between them.
"Having a good time together." Draco paused. "Or are you not having a good time?"
"I am. You know I am. What I'm wondering, though, is what exactly is going on."
"What do you mean?"
"You said you wanted to take things slowly."
"Yes?"
Harry gazed at him patiently. "Is there anything you want to tell me about why it is that we're going this slowly? Because I have the feeling it's about more than just nerves about last time."
Draco mulled over his response. He could act bewildered and innocent: Harry wouldn't know what to say; Draco would make Harry feel like a bumbling fool and subtly threaten to stop what they were doing; Harry would feel like a bit of an idiot for being impatient; Draco might even be able to feign decent outraged innocence.
He could act like he'd only been waiting for Harry to express a desire to move faster: they could rent a room upstairs and fall into bed together, and somewhere in the school a mistletoe branch would bloom. And then they'd be married, and if it worked this time, brilliant, and if not, their parting would be definite. Not a bloody question mark.
... but Harry wasn't an innocent schoolboy any more. Nor was he a slightly confused recently-divorced man who'd finally accepted his own sexuality but was still hesitant about it. He wasn't infatuated with the newness of falling into bed with Draco any more.
And Draco was no longer the sneaky Slytherin he'd been. He owed Harry honesty, at least.
He put down his cutlery and reached for Harry's hand.
Harry blinked. "What is it? What are you doing?"
"You asked, didn't you?" he said wearily.
"... and you're just going to tell me?" said Harry slowly. "No playing around for hours, trying to figure out your motives?"
"No."
"All right, then," said Harry, taking both his hands.
"Wait -- why are you doing that?" asked Draco, and Harry blinked again.
"You're not comfortable holding hands?" he asked. "Sorry, I must've got my signals as crossed as they've ever been, because I could've sworn we --"
Now he was veering into adorable inarticulateness. "No, I am, it's all right," said Draco. "I'm." He cleared his throat. "I'm just a little leery about taking the final step in Wizard Courtship."
Silence.
"Wizard Courtship," Harry repeated.
Draco pressed his lips together. "It's from a supposedly old custom, an old spell. It's described in a book called Now That We Are Gaye."
Harry sniggered.
Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Harry?"
"Sorry, the name of the book always makes me laugh."
"What?!"
"The book. It's awful. Where did you find it?"
"You knew?!"
"Yes, actually."
"When -- why -- how did you..."
"James was the one who told me about it, around Christmas at The Burrow --"
"James?!" Draco covered his eyes. "Oh, Merlin, how did --"
"Relax," said Harry. "He was just thinking out loud because he saw the book on your desk. I ended up finding a copy and looking through it and I started to recognise some of the things that had happened since school had begun."
"Who else did James talk to?"
"Well, Al and George were there too... though something tells me they may have already known more about it than they were saying. Did they?"
"How should I know?"
"So they weren't involved?"
"No! It was Astoria who gave it to me, the whole idea was hers to begin with, I didn't want --"
"Your ex-wife?"
"And then your mother-in-law said it was a good idea. And your ex-wife too."
Harry started to laugh again.
"Bloody hell, Harry, I didn't expect you to be overjoyed but I also didn't expect you to laugh at --"
"No, it's -- only, you've been following the advice of Molly Weasley, and --"
"And Astoria! And Ginny!"
Harry couldn't stop laughing.
"Aren't you the least bit upset?"
"Oh, I might be, if I thought about it. But you didn't go through with it to the end." He paused, looked down at their clasped hands. "Why were you doing this without telling me?"
"I... I don't know, it all started because Astoria said that we were uncomfortable around each other because we didn't know if we were properly married in the first place, so we didn't know if we were properly divorced, and I thought... maybe if we were..." he trailed off, his cheeks burning.
Finally Harry spoke up again. "So did you want us to be a definite couple so that we could be definitely divorced?"
"It sounds stupid when you put it like that."
"Is there any way I could put it that wouldn't sound stupid?"
Draco couldn't meet Harry's eyes, despite the amused tone of his voice. "Why go along with it, then, if you suspected?" he asked.
"Because I owed you that much at least."
They lapsed into silence again.
"Maybe I just wanted us to be together again," said Draco.
"Maybe I did too."
"Even though we didn't work before."
"There's about a million opinions on why we didn't," said Harry quietly. "And not one of them is that we're incompatible."
"But... but your family..."
"Are behind us. They were behind us when we started dating the first time, even though it threw them at first. They'd be behind us now, if we tried again. And I'm not just talking about Molly and Ginny and possibly George and Albus."
"I thought they didn't like us getting married."
"They didn't like us getting married so quickly."
They stared at one another.
"So."
"So."
"Did you want to --"
"Yes," said Harry, far too quickly.
"What?"
"Erm, whatever you were going to say," said Harry, and Draco smirked. Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever you were going to say. Honestly."
"What d'you mean?"
"I... honestly, it's up to you. I wouldn't mind continuing this dating thing. I won't mind... well, ending up in a bed upstairs. I don't want to actually be married so that we can be properly divorced -- I'm not sure we should be married at all." He took a deep breath. "But if you do... then I can do that too."
"If I decide we're through, you're all right with that; if I decide we're properly married, you're all right with that too?" Draco's voice rose in slight disbelief.
Harry sighed. "I wouldn't be all right with it. I definitely wouldn't be if you really wanted to walk away from this. But you've got every right to. And somehow I'll manage to survive." He pressed his lips together. "And so will you. We've done it once already."
13.
(May)
"You should know better than this," Draco scolded Scorpius as he removed fluffy stuffing from his son's hair with his wand. "Human-to-furniture transfiguration is tricky enough in the classroom; doing it alone late at night was foolish in the extreme."
"I wanted to see if I could blend into the common room well enough to fool the others," Scorpius mumbled, his mouth still small and shaped like a button.
"Didn't think it through far enough to wonder how you were going to deal with success, did you? You knew you hadn't quite mastered turning back. You're lucky your fellow Gryffindors noticed your slippers -- a common mistake, by the way -- because if you'd remained that way for much longer, you might have been stuck with red-and-gold plaid skin for months." He checked his son's hands, now poking out of the armrests and definitely looking near-human. The eyes were definitely more almond- than button-shaped, too.
Normally it was a wonderful thing, being Hogwarts Mediwizard. He got to see his son every day, unlike most wizard parents. Days like today weren't so wonderful. "I don't understand why you're taking NEWT Transfiguration anyway."
"Auror, Dad."
Draco sighed again. "I keep hoping you'll outgrow that."
"Not likely," his son grinned at him. "I'm going to scandalise every last Malfoy ancestor back to the root of the tree."
"Please. As if any of them can be scandalised any more, seeing me become school mediwizard and you get Sorted into Gryffindor."
"Point."
"Draco?" Harry stepped into the hospital, stopping abruptly at the sight of Scorpius.
"Yes?"
"Oh. Sorry, didn't realise you had company."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Not company; patient. Patient who should know better. Did you come to get that potion for your class?"
"Yes. Yes, I did."
"It's on that table," Draco nodded, and Harry hurried over, took it, and left. Draco turned back to Scorpius and started to flick his wand in a criss-cross pattern, steadily turning his son's plaid skin back to its natural paleness.
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yes?"
"Are you sleeping with Harry?"
Draco nearly dropped his wand. "What?!"
"No?"
"No! Of course not! Why would you think that?"
"Well you know everyone in the school's been thinking you are, and there's a rumour that you're not allowed to actually have sex on the grounds because of what happened last time --" and Draco could feel his entire body flushing scarlet -- "But everyone's noticed Professor Potter's here a lot more often looking for potions for his classes, even when nobody's doing anything that requires potions --"
"Well he often has to have them on hand in case anything goes wrong. And sometimes he prepares them weeks in advance," Draco said, the words he and Harry had prepared in case of interrogation tripping off his tongue in a rush.
"Only, James said he thinks you two are doing this weird thing from a book and --"
Draco groaned and covered his eyes.
"So, are you? Together with Harry again?"
"Oh Merlin, Scorpius, I don't know."
"How can you not know?"
Draco shook his head. "It's... it's complicated. It..."
It had gone from idle acting out of a silly spell in a silly book to playing with fire again, only they'd both been burned last time, and weren't exactly eager to get burned again and singe everyone around them as well. But since Draco'd gone and buggered everything up because of that stupid, stupid book, now they were both afraid to take their relationship any further, which was probably wise in some ways but so incredibly frustrating sometimes...
Not that he could share any of that with his son. Draco sighed and picked up his wand again, and started turning Scorpius's tassels into nails.
"It's complicated, Scorpius."
14.
(June)
"You haven't packed much," said Draco, pushing Harry back on the couch.
"I've been a little busy," said Harry, wincing slightly. It was a vast understatement. Between dealing with end-of-year marking and NEWTs, supervising the last Task of the Triwizard Cup, and getting hit with a Reducto, he hadn't even made a stab at putting his things away.
Not that general busyness was the only reason.
"I still have no idea how you survived that last blast. And didn't you say something about the Tournament not being dangerous this year?"
"It wasn't."
"Then explain to me how it landed the Head Auror in my hospital wing for five hours."
"Carelessness? Besides, I'm not Head Auror. Ron's that."
"For now. Your jinx is wearing off; people in their twenties can hear you now. You should be back at work in no time."
"Ron's been doing a brilliant job with it. He's good at it."
"Well, you're good at your job too."
"Teaching and running a contest." Harry smiled. "Without anybody but me being in any mortal danger."
"Don't put down your work at the Tournament. It went well. It was everything the Triwizard Cup was supposed to be. It brought people together."
"It brought a lot of people together," said Harry.
"Harry." Draco put his wand down and regarded Harry seriously. "Why am I here?"
"To check up on my health?"
"I could do that at the hospital wing, if I needed to. Which I don't. You're perfectly healthy."
"I didn't know that. I'm not a mediwizard."
"Rubbish. You're an Auror. You know."
Harry took a deep breath and sat up. "All right. I wanted us here. I wanted some privacy, to do this." He leaned closer to Draco and kissed him. "Or... more."
"Should I take a guess at what 'more' means?" Draco cupped Harry's cheek. "You know, don't you, that if we sleep together, we're married again," he said evenly. "No ifs, ands, or buts this time. Wizard's Marriage is archaic, but still legal."
"I know that."
"And you still want to?"
"If you do."
"We tried before."
"We didn't try hard enough." He took Draco's hands in his. "I want you. I've had several months of not sleeping with you to really get to know that. I want you. I can figure out how to deal with your friends, with your work, with a lot of things." Harry paused. "I... I can even step down as Head Auror. I've been thinking about it for years. Ron can do as good as a job as I ever did; maybe even better."
Draco sighed.
"It's like I said before," said Harry. "Of all the things people said about why we didn't work out, nobody who knew us said that we were incompatible."
Draco nodded. "Yes, I know. You're being very logical."
"Am I?" Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm trying to be Slytherin here, and appeal to your sense of practicality."
"My Inner Slytherin always buggers off on me when it comes to you, you know that," said Draco ruefully. "It's rather disgraceful, really."
Harry's mouth quirked. "Maybe I should be appealing to your sentimentality. Your hidden Hufflepuff side."
"Not if you want to actually sleep with me."
"Or maybe your sense of romance. After all, you're the woman here," Harry smirked.
"That doesn't help your case either," said Draco, laughing.
"What do you say?"
Draco thought for a moment. "I say... I say maybe we move to the bedroom."
They stood up, and Harry took Draco's lips in a long, gentle kiss. He pulled back and slowly drew him to his bedroom, trading kisses on the way, moaning as Draco lay back on the bed and drew Harry down with him so that he ended up on hands and knees over Draco. He bent down to bring their lips together again.
"This doesn't have to be an actual wedding, you know," whispered Draco between kisses. "Nobody but us needs to know that --"
"I know." Harry caressed the back of Draco's neck, pulling him close for another kiss, and brought his fingers down to the neck of Draco's robe. He slowly unbuttoned, pulling it open. "We'll know, though."
Draco's lips found his again, and he ran his fingers down the front of Harry's shirt and unbuttoned it, pulling Harry closer, the rough material of his robes scratching Harry's chest as they kissed.
He'd wanted Draco so much, these last months. Wondered if, when they got here, they'd pull each other close and start ripping each other's clothes off, the way they had the first time. He'd wanted to take things further so much, dreamed about it so much -- but not as often as he would've thought. He'd learned that he could live with nothing but the snogging they'd had these last few months, as if they were teenagers --
No, not as if they were teenagers. He distinctly remembered feeling like snogging Ginny was brilliant and all, but he desperately wanted to get into her knickers and would've done so if he hadn't been in mortal fear of Ron. And Mrs. Weasley. Or the twins.
There hadn't been any spectre of disapproving relatives these last few months with Draco. Just the spectre of having tried, and failed, and not wanting to try and fail again.
Maybe it was time to banish that spectre. They weren't the same people they had been the first time around; maybe 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again' had some merit after all.
He kissed the side of Draco's neck, smiling as Draco shakily drew in his breath and he remembered how that was a turn-on for him. He unbuttoned Draco's shirt, pulling them together, skin to skin now, their shirts hanging off their arms as they moved together, and the heat between them grew, slowly and so incredibly natural...
It really didn't matter if the bloody mistletoe sprouted a dozen flowers. What mattered was that they were together again. He lay down on Draco, pressing them together and thrusting once against him, then pushed up onto his elbows again, not breaking their kiss.
"Oh!" Draco gasped as Harry ran a hand down his stomach and to his trousers, unbuttoning them and slipping a hand inside. "Well yes -- Merlin I'd forgotten just how good that felt."
"I'm insulted," said Harry. "I think. Oh. Not so insulted any more," he gasped, as Draco pulled his own belt free and started to push his trousers down. "Here, hang on." He sat up long enough to divest them both of their trousers -- and then they were pressed together, and though his pulse had quickened, they were still going steadily, hands re-learning each other's bodies, lips exploring, everything so familiar and yet somehow new. Harry whispered a lubrication spell and slowly prepared Draco, spurred on by the moans falling from his lips, then eased himself in with a groan and it was just as perfect as he remembered, and so much more...
They were still together for a long, breathless moment, and Harry had to close his eyes at the naked vulnerability in Draco's eyes, the tremors racing through them both, and he kissed Draco deeply. Draco melted into his kiss, gasping as they started to move together again.
"God, Harry, fuck, oh fuck --"
Harry sped up, losing the rhythm as heat built up between them. Draco's moans trailed into breathless gasps and suddenly he clenched around Harry and cried out, warmth and wetness pooling between them. Harry held himself steady as Draco shuddered, and almost sobbed in relief when his climax swept over him, drowning him in pleasure and warmth and love and Draco.
Epilogue
"And so a Weasley won the Cup after all," said Astoria, finishing off her gelato. "As did Beauxbatons. Vive la France. Were the final moments as exciting as my staff tells me?"
"Very much so," said Draco. "Particularly the part where Zhivkov managed to make the Sphinx who'd eaten him regurgitate him."
"Didn't Harry say they'd agreed to not make the Tasks life-endangering?"
"It wouldn't have digested him."
"It was all very well done. It's all the papers can talk about."
Draco toyed with his goblet. "Not all, though."
Astoria smiled. "Oh yes, there's a lot about you and Harry lately, isn't there?"
"Yes, there is."
"My favourite one was 'Professors Proposing Again?' Although 'Hijinks At Hogwarts' was fairly clever as well."
"I thought you'd like that one."
"You're not angry at me for allowing them to print, are you? After all I could hardly sit on the news once The Quibbler broke it. Although I must say 'Potter-Malfoy Lovechild Expected' was a difficult act to top."
"No, I knew you couldn't sit on the story forever."
Astoria met his gaze squarely. "Then why do I sense disapproval in your tone, darling?"
"There was something else in The Quibbler. Something about a Miss Edgecombe going to Paris."
"Who?"
"Olivia Edgecombe. The petty criminal who jinxed Harry. Somehow she found the money to pay her fine, and is now in Paris. Living quite well, as a matter of fact."
"Really?"
"She even has a fairly nice house -- owned by a cousin of yours, I believe -- and a job at a shop owned by a business associate of George Weasley."
"Does she?"
"I asked Weasley -- Ron, that is -- to do a bit of discreet digging, and it turns out there's no indication the woman had ever met any of the Weasleys before. But she did work in one of your cousin's shops as an assistant for a few months, shortly before her last arrest."
"That's fascinating."
"Astoria."
Astoria fiddled with her napkin for a moment before speaking. "Darling, I hear you and Harry are doing well."
Draco regarded her seriously.
"I've heard he's doing a press conference at the Ministry to announce he's finally going to hand over Head Aurorship to Weasley, and stay on at Hogwarts. Is that true?"
Draco nodded.
"Then what does it matter how Livvy Edgecombe got the money to go to Paris? Or whose house she lives in, or who employs her? Or who knew her when?"
"Livvy?"
"Olivia."
"Astoria."
"Finish your treacle tart, dear. I'm sure Harry will be coming back for you as soon as he's done with the press."
Draco watched her pick up her goblet, her manner completely relaxed, and wondered what he should be feeling. Manipulated, definitely. Outraged? Maybe. Resentful?
He put his napkin down and stood up, noting Astoria's swiftly covered expression of dismay. He headed for the door and opened it -- and then stopped.
Who was he trying to fool here?
He went back to Astoria, bent down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Astoria's eyes widened. "Good heavens, what was that for?"
Draco smiled at her. "Thanks."
Then he left the restaurant and headed towards the Ministry, and Harry.
ooo000ooo
Author's Notes:
9.
(January)
Harry slowly stirred his tea and munched on a piece of toast, glancing at the man beside him. The man who seemed utterly absorbed in his morning paper.
The man who just may have been courting him since... when? December? November? The beginning of the school year? How long had Draco been oh-so-subtly wooing him? Had he decided he wanted to pick up where they'd left off a few weeks into the school year? Or right when the year started?
Or maybe even before the school year?
Just how had that incompetent Edgecombe witch managed to jinx the Head Auror? Had she had help?
And was Harry now getting inordinately paranoid about this? He didn't even really know there was anything going on, didn't really know if Draco had been courting him or not, and now he was wondering if he'd cursed Harry to get him to come to school and...
Although if he had... would that have been so bad?
Yes, of course, Draco cursing him would have been bad. Courting him? Maybe not.
Did he even want to think about it? Did Harry want it to be true?
No, of course not.
No, that wasn't true. He wanted; he just knew wanting was stupid, and he knew he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. He'd danced this dance before: falling into bed together, caught up in the hormones and novelty, caught up in a whirlwind of emotions, wanting it to last forever, reaching to make it permanent long before anything like permanence should have been considered... it had been glorious.
And the plummet down had been devastating, for all that they'd told each other that it was a good thing they'd got off the ride before anyone got hurt. For all that he'd told himself that it didn't matter, they hadn't really been married, they didn't have children or a home together, easy come, easy go.
"Professor Longbottom?" said a pair of tall girls covered in blue dust. "You asked us to come and get you if the Pixie Peonies exploded?"
Neville quickly got up and hurried off with them, presumably back to his greenhouses.
"You know, it's funny," said Draco. "I never quite get used to how good Longbottom is with the kids."
"D'you know he never yells at them?" said Harry. "And yet his classes have perfect discipline."
Draco chuckled. "No doubt."
"I would assume you'd disapprove. What with you maintaining the injury levels low through intimidation and all."
"I'm not aiming for intimidation; I'm aiming for abject fear," said Draco. "And Longbottom manages that quite well."
"What?"
"He never loses his temper with them; he just assigns detentions. Those two girls were neglecting their Mandrakes to the point where they've delayed their puberty; he told them he was disappointed in them and would have them make it up by having them watch the Pixie Peonies for a few days."
"What's so awful about that?"
"That if you're not paying strict attention, they explode all over you."
"So you get covered in sparkly blue dust."
"Sparkly blue dust that eventually makes you invisible for about a week. Which, amusing as it might seem, gets bloody annoying after even one day, let alone a week, of people sitting on you and not speaking to you and stepping on you because they can't see you. They won't make that mistake again, believe me."
Draco turned over a page in his paper and absently re-warmed his tea.
Harry smiled and turned back to his own marking. He squinted at the essay before him. God, no, Pogrebins could not be repelled by Muggle rubber ducks.
He looked up again. Draco was still reading his morning paper. There was no indication that he was any more interested in Harry's presence beside him than anybody else at the staff table.
Why? Why would he want to start anything?
"God, I could spend the rest of my life doing this," Draco had moaned the night Harry had first proposed, after their shudders had died down from a particularly spectacular shag.
"Mm, me too," Harry had said, his arms giving out and his body settling onto Draco's. "We'd have to go out sometimes, though. Meals. Work."
"Why?" Draco had asked. "We've both got money enough to live off if we don't have any other demands. We'd get the house-elves to feed us. Food, a bed, and shagging. I don't see where this is a bad plan."
Harry had laughed, pulling off to the side and letting his weight off Draco, pulling Draco with him so that they ended up face to face.
"Nobody can shag all the time," he'd said. "Besides, you don't work to pay bills any more than I do."
"All right, I'd keep working. On a greatly reduced schedule, though. Leave most of the day open for sex."
"You'd still spend hours obsessing over your hospital's tip-top condition."
"I'd train one of the school's house-elves to keep it to my standards."
Harry had chuckled. "Not a chance. You know the Granger Reforms: 'any institutional house-elf staff asked to perform extra duties for individual members of the institution must be hired as personal staff and given fair compensation'."
"Fine, I'd hire one, then," said Draco, yawning. "Wouldn't want you to arrest me for breaking Granger's laws."
"Now I know you're serious. You'd hire a personal house-elf, just to free up more time to shag me?"
"Absolutely. Every portrait in the Manor would vow to never speak to me again, but it'd be a small price to pay."
"All right, you've convinced me. Marry me."
"Done."
They laughed, and gone to sleep, but Harry hadn't dismissed what he'd said. Neither had Draco. They'd repeated it twice, joking both times but laughing less, and then...
"Seriously, though?"
"Yes?"
"Marry me."
Draco had smiled automatically, opening his mouth for the "Done" part of their banter, then hesitated. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
"You don't think it's a little soon?"
"We've known each other forever. Most of our lives."
"That hasn't been a good thing until fairly recently," Draco had pointed out, moving closer and nibbling on Harry's ear.
"I know. But... maybe it could be." Harry had tilted his head back, and Draco had moved his lips slowly down Harry's neck.
"Look, we're both recently divorced," he murmured. "Maybe we just both want to not be single any more."
"We?" Harry had moaned as Draco licked the hollow of his throat. "So I'm not the only one who's not entirely taking it as a joke?"
"...no."
They'd dropped it. And the next morning, Draco had asked Harry. And Harry had said yes.
"Professor Potter, here's that list you asked us to give you," said one of Harry's NEWT students, dropping a parchment beside him and startling him out of his reverie.
"Oh. Erm, thanks, Evans," said Harry, and opened up the parchment.
"What's that?" asked Draco.
"The NEWT students are scheduling some extra tutorials, but I need to know what everyone's extracurriculars are." He paused, scanning the list. "Damn."
"What is it?"
"The Quidditch players are all practising every day."
"What?"
"Seven of my NEWT students are on Quidditch teams, and in all four Houses, too. Damn."
"You'll probably need me on hand too, Potter," said Draco, annoyed. "Nice of you to think of that before you started scheduling."
Harry gave him a guilty glance. "Erm. Sorry."
No, Draco wasn't trying to get into his pants again. If he were, he'd be pleased at the chance to spend more time together. Right? "I --"
"Never mind," Draco sighed. "Here, let me take a look, see what slots I can be available." He pulled the parchment closer and started poring over the dates and times.
All right, maybe not so annoyed.
Suppose Draco was trying to court him, as per that ridiculous book. Apparently the first step in Wizard Courtship was an Encounter with "no lustful thoughts." Well, Harry was sure that had happened at least once or twice, though to be honest it had been weeks before he could concentrate on his meals with Draco right beside him every time. Divorced and uncomfortable he might be; blind and indifferent he was not.
The sports event... well, their impromptu broom race could definitely have counted, never mind that Harry had lost and pulled several muscles and then suffered in silence for a week, not going to Draco for pain relief out of injured pride.
"Friday's right out for me." Draco shook his head at the parchment and crossed out a few lines.
And they had danced together at the Yule Ball. So that was another step done.
But as for the 'decide who's the woman', they'd never...
Harry had a sudden image of the hideous lacy lilac Great-Aunt-Tessie-like thing he'd found on his body in the hospital wing a few months ago, courtesy of a very uncharacteristically clumsy spell fumble by Draco. And his own voice telling Draco it would go better with the colour of his eyes. And Draco's rather attractive blush as he nodded.
That hadn't struck Harry as a settlement of who was the female... but had it been?
He glanced at Draco, who was speaking to Professor Xanatos, the rather officious and pompous new Potions teacher. "Higgins and Chong? Yes, they should be back in class today. I don't think they understood just how potent Larkspur could be."
"I think they've been using those Weasley Skiving things," said Xanatos.
"They're not."
"How do you know?"
Draco's lips thinned in mild annoyance. "For one thing, Wheezes hasn't made Skiving Snackboxes for over a decade. For another, I'm friends with the man, and I asked him. And these symptoms don't go with anything he's got on the market. I agree, with Higgins and Chong some shenanigans are always a possibility, but they are genuinely ill right now. Maybe you can let me handle the health care and you handle Potions at this school."
Xanatos's eyebrows went up, and he huffed in annoyance but cleared out anyway. Draco rolled his eyes and Harry got the impression he was stifling the urge to stick out his tongue at the man's back.
If James was right, and all of those random events were true Wizard Courting steps, they were at the Fifth Encounter by now. The dinner date. He wondered how Draco was planning on pulling this one off without Harry noticing.
For that matter, if Draco was courting him... why was he doing it all without telling Harry?
Was he trying to get them back together? Or was he maybe trying to make them officially and unequivocally married, so that they could be officially and unequivocally divorced when they split up?
And which would Harry want it to be?
Harry stifled a groan and put his head in his hands. He couldn't make head nor tail of this. Astute as he was as an Auror, when it came to Draco... he had no clue.
"Harry," said Draco, startling Harry.
"Wha? Yeah! I'm here," he said, and Draco gave him a puzzled look. "Sorry. Yes?"
"I just said, here's my availabilities." He pushed the parchment back to Harry. "And while we're on the topic of extracurriculars, d'you want to get dinner together some night this week so we can discuss what you'll be covering at the tutorials?" All right, Draco was blushing ever so slightly, and tutorial discussions aside that definitely sounded like a date. "Maybe at the --"
"No," said Harry's mouth without input from his brain. He shook himself. "I mean, thanks. But no. I'm... going to be busy."
Wait. Why had he said that?
Draco frowned. "I haven't told you what day."
"I'll be busy all week. Erm. Tournament. Paperwork." He abruptly put his napkin down and stood up. "Maybe some other time." Right. God, that was adroit. No wonder he'd made it to the top of the Auror heap. Because he could think quickly on his feet and dissemble with the best of them. As long as 'them' were toddlers.
All right, he thought as he headed out the door and down the hallway. Why had he run away like a scared rabbit?
So Draco wanted to date him. Or court him, or whatever. And there was no way of telling whether Draco was doing this to be with him, or to finally break off with him. But he was courting him. And Harry knew that, and had bolted.
What the hell. Draco wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Whichever way he wanted this to go, he wasn't going to lie to Harry. And if he wanted them to be together again, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
And if he just wanted to finally be free... Harry owed him at least that much.
He turned on his heel and headed back to the Great Hall. "Actually," he said as he opened the door. "Draco, are you busy tonight? You're right, we really should discuss the tutorials."
Draco's pleased smile warmed Harry all the way back to his room.
10.
"Hang on, Harry, I've got a patient," said Draco when Harry showed up at the hospital before dinner that night. "Not one of yours, for once." He carefully finished painting Anti-Polly potion onto his patient's claws, then re-loaded the brush and brushed it over the bright fuchsia feathers on her head.
They were going to dinner, he thought as Harry sat on one of the beds and watched Draco. A dinner date. Here he was, about to go on a dinner date with his ex, and he wasn't sure what the hell he was doing.
Harry gave Draco's young patient an encouraging smile, prompting a shy one in return before she dropped her eyes, a little flustered at his attention.
Draco smiled inwardly. Even after months as their professor, some of his younger students were still a bit in awe of him. And with good reason: Harry was bright, and interesting, funny, and kind. He was a marvellous teacher, and very good with kids.
He was everything Draco wanted. And their time together had been difficult, yes, but also wonderful. He remembered feeling that despite knowing him since childhood he'd never met Harry before, never realised that he wasn't self-righteous at all -- that he had a wry sense of humour, fierce loyalty, a sincere devotion to his friends and family, and deep love for the wizarding world.
"Scorpius tells me you spent Christmas with the Weasleys?" Draco asked, more to settle his nerves than out of curiosity. He started wrapping bandages loosely around his patient's hands.
"Most of it, yeah."
"How does that work, with your ex?"
"It's fine. She's... she was always a better friend than partner. I mean, I don't think it'll ever be like it was at the beginning, but..."
"Yeah, it's not really possible, isn't it?" He wrapped a scarf around the student's head, tucking in her feathers. "Now, the potion will get your hands and hair back to normal tomorrow," he told her, "but you need to keep the cloths on so you won't leave a trail of feathers everywhere you go." The small girl nodded and he pushed the head scarf back a bit, making it less ridiculous-looking. "And you're not going to taste-test your classmates' potions again, right, are you?" he asked sternly.
"No sir," she said solemnly, looking much, much younger than her twelve years, and then hurried out of the hospital.
"I thought you said you tried to cultivate fear in your patients," said Harry.
"She's got a lisp. The other kids tease her. She doesn't need more abuse from me, even when she's here through her own fault."
Harry smiled at him, his expression open and unguarded and showing that soft, warm approval that had always melted Draco when they were together. Draco's heart gave a small thud. He turned away and reached for his cloak.
"D'you know something? I don't feel like waiting till after dinner," said Harry suddenly, and Draco turned to find him much farther into his personal space than he'd expected. He stepped back, unsure.
Harry took a deep breath, and tugged Draco gently towards him. Draco could feel a blush spreading over his cheeks and his heart speeding up and his stomach unsure whether to sink with dread or swoop with excitement.
Harry paused. "Draco," he said quietly, and dropped his gaze to Draco's lips. He slowly leaned forward and Draco mirrored his actions. They paused, mouths only a hair's breadth apart. "Can I..."
God, Merlin, yes. Yes, he wanted to say. But...
"Harry..." he whispered, closing his eyes. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I do know I don't want to go through what we went through last time. Let's... let's take it slowly, all right?"
Harry nodded slowly, and Draco sighed and leaned closer. He felt his heart start to beat again as their lips touched, and Harry's strong, capable hands came up to his face to draw him closer.
Somewhere in the castle, a mistletoe branch had probably just sprouted a flower.
Draco didn't care.
11.
(February)
"I'm sorry, I simply don't understand why the second Task was so bewildering," said Rolf Scamander.
"The challenge was in dealing with the unknown," said Harry patiently. "It was a creature none of them had ever encountered."
"Surely everyone's seen Cornish Pixies."
"Yes, but not cynogriffons. Most people don't believe they exist." He winced. "Draco, that hurt."
"Hold still for the next one and it won't," Draco shot back.
"But I've written about them before," said Rolf. "All the champions had to do was be kind to them. Cynogriffons are highly intelligent, and benign. I've written about them."
"Darling, most people who read your books think you're mad or lying," Luna told her husband.
"Your father always believed me," said Rolf, puzzled.
"Daddy believed a lot of things," said Luna with a small smile.
"In any case," said Harry, "the challenge was for them to figure out how to enlist the aid of the cynogriffons in finding their particular pixies. And only Dominique was able to do that. And keep her original gender."
"The boy -- the one who was a boy at the beginning -- was able to figure out that the cynogriffons were telepathic." Rolf brightened up. "Perhaps he read my book."
Luna gave him an affectionate kiss. "Harry, are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine," said Harry. "Nothing a few Episkeys can't fix."
"Bit more than a few," said Draco. "It's rather amusing; I'm kept on hand to help in case of accidental mauling of a champion, and end up healing the bones of the hapless Head Auror who's supposedly in charge of security."
"There was no security breach."
"You fell off the mountain." Draco waved his wand, healing up the last of Harry's bruising. "High amusement value in that. Not that we need it with the Tournament this time, what with actually being able to see what's going on." He started tying up a sling for Harry's left arm. "I mean, really, whose idea were the Tasks the first time? Seriously. The first was fairly exciting except for the part where your dragon flew away, but the second? Very exciting, watching the four of you dive into the water and then staring at it for an hour. And the third, disappearing into a bush. Thrilling."
"Well you got to see everything this time, didn't you?" asked Harry ruefully.
"Inglorious tumble and all. What do you want to bet that that's what leads in the papers tomorrow?"
"Can't you use your influence on Astoria to --"
"Wouldn't dream of it," said Draco.
"It'll lead at The Quibbler too, Harry," said Luna. "If only to reassure our readers that you're still alive."
"Oh, he's alive all right," Draco offered, "and out of my hospital in an hour or so. Would that all my patients were so simple to clear out."
Harry glanced over at the two other occupied beds, both with curtains drawn around them for privacy. "Busy lately? I haven't sent anybody to you recently, have I?"
"No, surprisingly enough. Other than your invent-a-curse victim."
"The zombie?"
"The what?" said Luna.
"Harry gave his NEWT students an assignment where half the class was supposed to invent bothersome curses and the other half were supposed to defend against them. One of them invented Mortis Shuffle; the victim can't walk without lurching, smells horrendous, and keeps reaching out to people's heads croaking out Braaaains."
"Sounds nasty."
"Well Harry had taught them all how to dodge and counteract. And none of the curses were life-threatening. I didn't bother to cure most of them; it's their own bloody fault if they weren't paying attention."
"So why are you curing this one?"
"The stench," said Draco. "It's not fair to the other students. They can't study properly. He's sleeping off the antidote right now. Should have the regular Eau de Teenage Boy aroma about him when he wakes up, though I doubt he'll be walking right for another week at least."
"Who's the other patient?" asked Harry.
"Our school vampire."
Luna's eyes widened. "A real vampire?"
"Oh yes. In fact, he's been a vampire for quite a while; I'm not entirely sure how old he is. One of the staff believes he's actually a hundred years old and at the school under false pretences, but who on earth would pretend to be an adolescent in school if they didn't have to?" He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which..."
He approached the curtained bed. "Mr. Stevens, it's time to go," said Draco, pulling open the curtains on a pale boy reading a Marvin the Muggle comic. "Sun's going down, you should be full of energy now."
"But I don't feel well. I think I need to stay a bit longer."
"Nonsense. Stop letting a minor case of vampirism get you down. Buck up and get back to your studies." He gave the boy a small smile. "We've talked about this before. Stick with your friends Davidson and Patel and don't let the others bother you. Now, get yourself back to your House."
"But I don't want... The other kids are scared of me," he said, his voice very small.
"And so they should be," said Draco. "You're a dangerous creature. You've got a registry number and file at the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and everything. The most fearsome thing they can be is dangerously stupid and bigoted."
And there it was, that snark that had been so cutting and malicious when they were children but that he now saw as merely Draco's way of dealing with the world. Yes, hurtful sometimes. Yes, sometimes tactless too. But also sometimes providing the exact bracing steadiness you most needed.
He watched Draco bustle the young vampire out of the hospital wing, passing him a blood lollipop and patting him on the back with encouragement before shooing him firmly off. He was so good with the kids. Brusque and unsympathetic as Pomfrey had ever been with the foolish ones, but comforting nonetheless. And the way he --
"How long have you two been back together?" asked Luna after the boy was gone.
Draco started. "What? Who?"
"Us?" blurted Harry. "Why would you think --"
"Luna, they're divorced," said Rolf. "It's not polite to talk about such things. Especially since it's not their fault. Relationships among Hogwarts professors never work, because there are Bolochimpies infesting the teachers' living areas."
"There's no such thing as Bolochimpies," Luna said serenely. "And I don't think it's possible for anyone to say with certainty what went wrong the first time."
Harry opened his mouth, for once unable to deflect.
Luna blinked, then turned to Rolf. "Come, dear. We need to get back to oversee tomorrow's edition."
"Erm," said Draco once she had left. "She's always been a bit too perceptive, that one. Bit creepy, to be honest."
Yes, it was, thought Harry as Draco busied himself writing up his notes. And it was really too bad that there was anything for her to be perceptive about. Skulking around and snogging in random isolated corners of the castle was rather hot in its own way, but he hated feeling vaguely ashamed of himself, and of Draco and him as a couple.
And... well, some days it made Harry almost doubt that they were a couple at all. Especially as they treated each other exactly the same as before, barring some rather heated kisses whenever they could manage. Kisses that left Harry hard and panting, but never progressed beyond groping down to their belts before they were abruptly stopped by Draco, his eyes dark with hunger, his voice steady with determination, and regret in every feature.
There'd been at least five times Harry could've sworn that they were going to end up in bed -- possibly because he kept track and repeated each incident over and over, and had only resisted the urge to make Pensieve memories out of each one through firm self-talk, using them as wanking fantasy material instead. Each time, they had stopped.
There was being mature and going slowly, and there was masochism. Which one was Draco going for?
12.
(March)
"Draco, can I ask you something?" Harry asked during a lull in their conversation several weeks later.
"Yes?"
Harry sat back and put down his fork. "What exactly are we doing here?"
Draco blinked. "Having dinner. That's generally what one does at the Three Broomsticks."
"I don't mean right now. I mean, in general, with... this." He motioned between them.
"Having a good time together." Draco paused. "Or are you not having a good time?"
"I am. You know I am. What I'm wondering, though, is what exactly is going on."
"What do you mean?"
"You said you wanted to take things slowly."
"Yes?"
Harry gazed at him patiently. "Is there anything you want to tell me about why it is that we're going this slowly? Because I have the feeling it's about more than just nerves about last time."
Draco mulled over his response. He could act bewildered and innocent: Harry wouldn't know what to say; Draco would make Harry feel like a bumbling fool and subtly threaten to stop what they were doing; Harry would feel like a bit of an idiot for being impatient; Draco might even be able to feign decent outraged innocence.
He could act like he'd only been waiting for Harry to express a desire to move faster: they could rent a room upstairs and fall into bed together, and somewhere in the school a mistletoe branch would bloom. And then they'd be married, and if it worked this time, brilliant, and if not, their parting would be definite. Not a bloody question mark.
... but Harry wasn't an innocent schoolboy any more. Nor was he a slightly confused recently-divorced man who'd finally accepted his own sexuality but was still hesitant about it. He wasn't infatuated with the newness of falling into bed with Draco any more.
And Draco was no longer the sneaky Slytherin he'd been. He owed Harry honesty, at least.
He put down his cutlery and reached for Harry's hand.
Harry blinked. "What is it? What are you doing?"
"You asked, didn't you?" he said wearily.
"... and you're just going to tell me?" said Harry slowly. "No playing around for hours, trying to figure out your motives?"
"No."
"All right, then," said Harry, taking both his hands.
"Wait -- why are you doing that?" asked Draco, and Harry blinked again.
"You're not comfortable holding hands?" he asked. "Sorry, I must've got my signals as crossed as they've ever been, because I could've sworn we --"
Now he was veering into adorable inarticulateness. "No, I am, it's all right," said Draco. "I'm." He cleared his throat. "I'm just a little leery about taking the final step in Wizard Courtship."
Silence.
"Wizard Courtship," Harry repeated.
Draco pressed his lips together. "It's from a supposedly old custom, an old spell. It's described in a book called Now That We Are Gaye."
Harry sniggered.
Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Harry?"
"Sorry, the name of the book always makes me laugh."
"What?!"
"The book. It's awful. Where did you find it?"
"You knew?!"
"Yes, actually."
"When -- why -- how did you..."
"James was the one who told me about it, around Christmas at The Burrow --"
"James?!" Draco covered his eyes. "Oh, Merlin, how did --"
"Relax," said Harry. "He was just thinking out loud because he saw the book on your desk. I ended up finding a copy and looking through it and I started to recognise some of the things that had happened since school had begun."
"Who else did James talk to?"
"Well, Al and George were there too... though something tells me they may have already known more about it than they were saying. Did they?"
"How should I know?"
"So they weren't involved?"
"No! It was Astoria who gave it to me, the whole idea was hers to begin with, I didn't want --"
"Your ex-wife?"
"And then your mother-in-law said it was a good idea. And your ex-wife too."
Harry started to laugh again.
"Bloody hell, Harry, I didn't expect you to be overjoyed but I also didn't expect you to laugh at --"
"No, it's -- only, you've been following the advice of Molly Weasley, and --"
"And Astoria! And Ginny!"
Harry couldn't stop laughing.
"Aren't you the least bit upset?"
"Oh, I might be, if I thought about it. But you didn't go through with it to the end." He paused, looked down at their clasped hands. "Why were you doing this without telling me?"
"I... I don't know, it all started because Astoria said that we were uncomfortable around each other because we didn't know if we were properly married in the first place, so we didn't know if we were properly divorced, and I thought... maybe if we were..." he trailed off, his cheeks burning.
Finally Harry spoke up again. "So did you want us to be a definite couple so that we could be definitely divorced?"
"It sounds stupid when you put it like that."
"Is there any way I could put it that wouldn't sound stupid?"
Draco couldn't meet Harry's eyes, despite the amused tone of his voice. "Why go along with it, then, if you suspected?" he asked.
"Because I owed you that much at least."
They lapsed into silence again.
"Maybe I just wanted us to be together again," said Draco.
"Maybe I did too."
"Even though we didn't work before."
"There's about a million opinions on why we didn't," said Harry quietly. "And not one of them is that we're incompatible."
"But... but your family..."
"Are behind us. They were behind us when we started dating the first time, even though it threw them at first. They'd be behind us now, if we tried again. And I'm not just talking about Molly and Ginny and possibly George and Albus."
"I thought they didn't like us getting married."
"They didn't like us getting married so quickly."
They stared at one another.
"So."
"So."
"Did you want to --"
"Yes," said Harry, far too quickly.
"What?"
"Erm, whatever you were going to say," said Harry, and Draco smirked. Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever you were going to say. Honestly."
"What d'you mean?"
"I... honestly, it's up to you. I wouldn't mind continuing this dating thing. I won't mind... well, ending up in a bed upstairs. I don't want to actually be married so that we can be properly divorced -- I'm not sure we should be married at all." He took a deep breath. "But if you do... then I can do that too."
"If I decide we're through, you're all right with that; if I decide we're properly married, you're all right with that too?" Draco's voice rose in slight disbelief.
Harry sighed. "I wouldn't be all right with it. I definitely wouldn't be if you really wanted to walk away from this. But you've got every right to. And somehow I'll manage to survive." He pressed his lips together. "And so will you. We've done it once already."
13.
(May)
"You should know better than this," Draco scolded Scorpius as he removed fluffy stuffing from his son's hair with his wand. "Human-to-furniture transfiguration is tricky enough in the classroom; doing it alone late at night was foolish in the extreme."
"I wanted to see if I could blend into the common room well enough to fool the others," Scorpius mumbled, his mouth still small and shaped like a button.
"Didn't think it through far enough to wonder how you were going to deal with success, did you? You knew you hadn't quite mastered turning back. You're lucky your fellow Gryffindors noticed your slippers -- a common mistake, by the way -- because if you'd remained that way for much longer, you might have been stuck with red-and-gold plaid skin for months." He checked his son's hands, now poking out of the armrests and definitely looking near-human. The eyes were definitely more almond- than button-shaped, too.
Normally it was a wonderful thing, being Hogwarts Mediwizard. He got to see his son every day, unlike most wizard parents. Days like today weren't so wonderful. "I don't understand why you're taking NEWT Transfiguration anyway."
"Auror, Dad."
Draco sighed again. "I keep hoping you'll outgrow that."
"Not likely," his son grinned at him. "I'm going to scandalise every last Malfoy ancestor back to the root of the tree."
"Please. As if any of them can be scandalised any more, seeing me become school mediwizard and you get Sorted into Gryffindor."
"Point."
"Draco?" Harry stepped into the hospital, stopping abruptly at the sight of Scorpius.
"Yes?"
"Oh. Sorry, didn't realise you had company."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Not company; patient. Patient who should know better. Did you come to get that potion for your class?"
"Yes. Yes, I did."
"It's on that table," Draco nodded, and Harry hurried over, took it, and left. Draco turned back to Scorpius and started to flick his wand in a criss-cross pattern, steadily turning his son's plaid skin back to its natural paleness.
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yes?"
"Are you sleeping with Harry?"
Draco nearly dropped his wand. "What?!"
"No?"
"No! Of course not! Why would you think that?"
"Well you know everyone in the school's been thinking you are, and there's a rumour that you're not allowed to actually have sex on the grounds because of what happened last time --" and Draco could feel his entire body flushing scarlet -- "But everyone's noticed Professor Potter's here a lot more often looking for potions for his classes, even when nobody's doing anything that requires potions --"
"Well he often has to have them on hand in case anything goes wrong. And sometimes he prepares them weeks in advance," Draco said, the words he and Harry had prepared in case of interrogation tripping off his tongue in a rush.
"Only, James said he thinks you two are doing this weird thing from a book and --"
Draco groaned and covered his eyes.
"So, are you? Together with Harry again?"
"Oh Merlin, Scorpius, I don't know."
"How can you not know?"
Draco shook his head. "It's... it's complicated. It..."
It had gone from idle acting out of a silly spell in a silly book to playing with fire again, only they'd both been burned last time, and weren't exactly eager to get burned again and singe everyone around them as well. But since Draco'd gone and buggered everything up because of that stupid, stupid book, now they were both afraid to take their relationship any further, which was probably wise in some ways but so incredibly frustrating sometimes...
Not that he could share any of that with his son. Draco sighed and picked up his wand again, and started turning Scorpius's tassels into nails.
"It's complicated, Scorpius."
14.
(June)
"You haven't packed much," said Draco, pushing Harry back on the couch.
"I've been a little busy," said Harry, wincing slightly. It was a vast understatement. Between dealing with end-of-year marking and NEWTs, supervising the last Task of the Triwizard Cup, and getting hit with a Reducto, he hadn't even made a stab at putting his things away.
Not that general busyness was the only reason.
"I still have no idea how you survived that last blast. And didn't you say something about the Tournament not being dangerous this year?"
"It wasn't."
"Then explain to me how it landed the Head Auror in my hospital wing for five hours."
"Carelessness? Besides, I'm not Head Auror. Ron's that."
"For now. Your jinx is wearing off; people in their twenties can hear you now. You should be back at work in no time."
"Ron's been doing a brilliant job with it. He's good at it."
"Well, you're good at your job too."
"Teaching and running a contest." Harry smiled. "Without anybody but me being in any mortal danger."
"Don't put down your work at the Tournament. It went well. It was everything the Triwizard Cup was supposed to be. It brought people together."
"It brought a lot of people together," said Harry.
"Harry." Draco put his wand down and regarded Harry seriously. "Why am I here?"
"To check up on my health?"
"I could do that at the hospital wing, if I needed to. Which I don't. You're perfectly healthy."
"I didn't know that. I'm not a mediwizard."
"Rubbish. You're an Auror. You know."
Harry took a deep breath and sat up. "All right. I wanted us here. I wanted some privacy, to do this." He leaned closer to Draco and kissed him. "Or... more."
"Should I take a guess at what 'more' means?" Draco cupped Harry's cheek. "You know, don't you, that if we sleep together, we're married again," he said evenly. "No ifs, ands, or buts this time. Wizard's Marriage is archaic, but still legal."
"I know that."
"And you still want to?"
"If you do."
"We tried before."
"We didn't try hard enough." He took Draco's hands in his. "I want you. I've had several months of not sleeping with you to really get to know that. I want you. I can figure out how to deal with your friends, with your work, with a lot of things." Harry paused. "I... I can even step down as Head Auror. I've been thinking about it for years. Ron can do as good as a job as I ever did; maybe even better."
Draco sighed.
"It's like I said before," said Harry. "Of all the things people said about why we didn't work out, nobody who knew us said that we were incompatible."
Draco nodded. "Yes, I know. You're being very logical."
"Am I?" Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm trying to be Slytherin here, and appeal to your sense of practicality."
"My Inner Slytherin always buggers off on me when it comes to you, you know that," said Draco ruefully. "It's rather disgraceful, really."
Harry's mouth quirked. "Maybe I should be appealing to your sentimentality. Your hidden Hufflepuff side."
"Not if you want to actually sleep with me."
"Or maybe your sense of romance. After all, you're the woman here," Harry smirked.
"That doesn't help your case either," said Draco, laughing.
"What do you say?"
Draco thought for a moment. "I say... I say maybe we move to the bedroom."
They stood up, and Harry took Draco's lips in a long, gentle kiss. He pulled back and slowly drew him to his bedroom, trading kisses on the way, moaning as Draco lay back on the bed and drew Harry down with him so that he ended up on hands and knees over Draco. He bent down to bring their lips together again.
"This doesn't have to be an actual wedding, you know," whispered Draco between kisses. "Nobody but us needs to know that --"
"I know." Harry caressed the back of Draco's neck, pulling him close for another kiss, and brought his fingers down to the neck of Draco's robe. He slowly unbuttoned, pulling it open. "We'll know, though."
Draco's lips found his again, and he ran his fingers down the front of Harry's shirt and unbuttoned it, pulling Harry closer, the rough material of his robes scratching Harry's chest as they kissed.
He'd wanted Draco so much, these last months. Wondered if, when they got here, they'd pull each other close and start ripping each other's clothes off, the way they had the first time. He'd wanted to take things further so much, dreamed about it so much -- but not as often as he would've thought. He'd learned that he could live with nothing but the snogging they'd had these last few months, as if they were teenagers --
No, not as if they were teenagers. He distinctly remembered feeling like snogging Ginny was brilliant and all, but he desperately wanted to get into her knickers and would've done so if he hadn't been in mortal fear of Ron. And Mrs. Weasley. Or the twins.
There hadn't been any spectre of disapproving relatives these last few months with Draco. Just the spectre of having tried, and failed, and not wanting to try and fail again.
Maybe it was time to banish that spectre. They weren't the same people they had been the first time around; maybe 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again' had some merit after all.
He kissed the side of Draco's neck, smiling as Draco shakily drew in his breath and he remembered how that was a turn-on for him. He unbuttoned Draco's shirt, pulling them together, skin to skin now, their shirts hanging off their arms as they moved together, and the heat between them grew, slowly and so incredibly natural...
It really didn't matter if the bloody mistletoe sprouted a dozen flowers. What mattered was that they were together again. He lay down on Draco, pressing them together and thrusting once against him, then pushed up onto his elbows again, not breaking their kiss.
"Oh!" Draco gasped as Harry ran a hand down his stomach and to his trousers, unbuttoning them and slipping a hand inside. "Well yes -- Merlin I'd forgotten just how good that felt."
"I'm insulted," said Harry. "I think. Oh. Not so insulted any more," he gasped, as Draco pulled his own belt free and started to push his trousers down. "Here, hang on." He sat up long enough to divest them both of their trousers -- and then they were pressed together, and though his pulse had quickened, they were still going steadily, hands re-learning each other's bodies, lips exploring, everything so familiar and yet somehow new. Harry whispered a lubrication spell and slowly prepared Draco, spurred on by the moans falling from his lips, then eased himself in with a groan and it was just as perfect as he remembered, and so much more...
They were still together for a long, breathless moment, and Harry had to close his eyes at the naked vulnerability in Draco's eyes, the tremors racing through them both, and he kissed Draco deeply. Draco melted into his kiss, gasping as they started to move together again.
"God, Harry, fuck, oh fuck --"
Harry sped up, losing the rhythm as heat built up between them. Draco's moans trailed into breathless gasps and suddenly he clenched around Harry and cried out, warmth and wetness pooling between them. Harry held himself steady as Draco shuddered, and almost sobbed in relief when his climax swept over him, drowning him in pleasure and warmth and love and Draco.
Epilogue
"And so a Weasley won the Cup after all," said Astoria, finishing off her gelato. "As did Beauxbatons. Vive la France. Were the final moments as exciting as my staff tells me?"
"Very much so," said Draco. "Particularly the part where Zhivkov managed to make the Sphinx who'd eaten him regurgitate him."
"Didn't Harry say they'd agreed to not make the Tasks life-endangering?"
"It wouldn't have digested him."
"It was all very well done. It's all the papers can talk about."
Draco toyed with his goblet. "Not all, though."
Astoria smiled. "Oh yes, there's a lot about you and Harry lately, isn't there?"
"Yes, there is."
"My favourite one was 'Professors Proposing Again?' Although 'Hijinks At Hogwarts' was fairly clever as well."
"I thought you'd like that one."
"You're not angry at me for allowing them to print, are you? After all I could hardly sit on the news once The Quibbler broke it. Although I must say 'Potter-Malfoy Lovechild Expected' was a difficult act to top."
"No, I knew you couldn't sit on the story forever."
Astoria met his gaze squarely. "Then why do I sense disapproval in your tone, darling?"
"There was something else in The Quibbler. Something about a Miss Edgecombe going to Paris."
"Who?"
"Olivia Edgecombe. The petty criminal who jinxed Harry. Somehow she found the money to pay her fine, and is now in Paris. Living quite well, as a matter of fact."
"Really?"
"She even has a fairly nice house -- owned by a cousin of yours, I believe -- and a job at a shop owned by a business associate of George Weasley."
"Does she?"
"I asked Weasley -- Ron, that is -- to do a bit of discreet digging, and it turns out there's no indication the woman had ever met any of the Weasleys before. But she did work in one of your cousin's shops as an assistant for a few months, shortly before her last arrest."
"That's fascinating."
"Astoria."
Astoria fiddled with her napkin for a moment before speaking. "Darling, I hear you and Harry are doing well."
Draco regarded her seriously.
"I've heard he's doing a press conference at the Ministry to announce he's finally going to hand over Head Aurorship to Weasley, and stay on at Hogwarts. Is that true?"
Draco nodded.
"Then what does it matter how Livvy Edgecombe got the money to go to Paris? Or whose house she lives in, or who employs her? Or who knew her when?"
"Livvy?"
"Olivia."
"Astoria."
"Finish your treacle tart, dear. I'm sure Harry will be coming back for you as soon as he's done with the press."
Draco watched her pick up her goblet, her manner completely relaxed, and wondered what he should be feeling. Manipulated, definitely. Outraged? Maybe. Resentful?
He put his napkin down and stood up, noting Astoria's swiftly covered expression of dismay. He headed for the door and opened it -- and then stopped.
Who was he trying to fool here?
He went back to Astoria, bent down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Astoria's eyes widened. "Good heavens, what was that for?"
Draco smiled at her. "Thanks."
Then he left the restaurant and headed towards the Ministry, and Harry.
ooo000ooo
Author's Notes:
- Hope you liked it, roma_fics :)
Roma asked for "happy or at least resolved ending, MAGIC, mystery, romance, auror!fic, intelligent opportunistic!Draco, Healer!fic, Professor!fic, wizarding traditions, non-Hogwarts-era," and asked her gifter to stay away from clubs. Not a problem, that last one :D
And her plot-prompt was "Harry and Draco are already divorced. Auror!Harry is injured and Mediwizard!Draco is the one who finds him and saves him. (note: I see mediwizards like paramedics and healers like doctors.)"
- In the book, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were both coed. In the movie, they were boys-only and girls-only respectively. I can't be the only person who wondered about that.
- Melvin's Mauve Mansion of Manlove was a site full of slash badfic, including Highlander, X-Files, and other stuff. It's gone now, but not forgotten. At least not by me. The name was kind of memorable.