Fic: On Golden Broomsticks
I have been an incredibly lucky girl this week. It was my 50th birthday and I had a community made for me called finewinecheese. There were loads of good things on it and under the first cut is a list of the stories and pictures from it. Please check them out if you haven't already.
lovely_slyth's story Disclosure
sun_chan's beautiful Harry and Draco artwork.
pingviini's story Killing the Sacred Serpent (part one)
naadi's beautiful artwork with Harry and Draco sitting in a garden. She created this as the background for my birthday community finewinecheese and the link here shows it as a lovely birthday card. Please do go look at it on the community though because it is really beautiful and you will believe Harry and Draco are sitting there on that bench *grins*.
snottygrrl's beautiful ficlet Seahorses do it.
aome's wonderful AU HBP story Duel. JKR, please take note.
phenix_tears's lovely little H/D drabble
dihall's first ever posted drabble. This is the sweetest thing I've ever read and I know that Di is going to wow us all with her writing.
amariel's lovely Harry and Draco cherub birthday card. Just so sweet.
dragonz_ahoy's lovely cartoon story The Play. *grins* This needs to be turned into a full-blown story. She also drew me my own very special, limited edition Harry Potter *grins some more*
The following story is my thank you to everyone for their lovely thoughts and kind birthday comments. I hope you enjoy this Res Futurefic. I know I still owe some people comments. I promise I will get round to it. And there will be another World Cup thing ... I just haven't written it yet/
In the meantime, let the fic commence. Fluff warning This is incredibly fluffy and sweet. You have been warned.
On Golden Broomsticks
5th July ... somewhen in the future
Fifty years.
He’d been married to Harry Potter for fifty years.
Draco Malfoy stood at the edge of the rose garden at Hogwarts and watched his husband laugh at a comment one of their guests had made. As if aware of the scrutiny, Harry glanced up and smiled at him. Even over the distance between them, the smile had the guaranteed effect and Draco felt his stomach flip just a little. He smiled back, awed as always that even after all this time he could still feel like this for his lover.
His lover. He still thought of Harry as his lover. There was something decidedly erotic about calling Harry that. It made him feel like they were still having secret assignations even after all these years -- hiding in broom cupboards and under the Quidditch stands.
His lover. His beloved.
His Harry.
They shared another smile before Harry returned to his conversation but Draco continued his scrutiny. It had been a long day and Harry looked tired. Others would probably not notice but Draco could feel the fatigue seeping between them. After all, he was Harry’s Protector and the link that had been formed by Harry’s Earth Magic was always there in the background like a quiet breath, warm against his skin. It was his husband’s physical state Draco often picked up on these days; Harry’s life work had been to banish the Darkness with which Voldemort had scarred the earth and the years had taken their toll.
He considered whether it might be prudent to rescue Harry, but his lover was clearly enjoying himself. Everyone was staying at Hogwarts overnight so they would be able to sleep late tomorrow. Instead he turned and strolled back into the castle itself where more guests were enjoying a late supper in the Great Hall.
It had been his daughter’s idea to have a party for his and Harry’s golden wedding anniversary. Freya had suggested ... Draco paused and smiled ... no, Freya never suggested anything. She knew exactly what she wanted and was as adept at getting her own way as both her father and mother, Rauni, were. Freya demanded that Harry and Draco celebrate their anniversary. It was, she insisted, a milestone that shouldn’t be ignored. She’d then managed to get the rest of the family on her side and it had been her brother Nicolas who’d suggest it might be nice if wedding vows were renewed. Then, while he and Harry had still been reeling from the suggestion, Draco’s godson Georgie had ventured that Hogwarts would be the perfect place.
And so the Gathering had been born. He and Harry had both been asked to invite fifty people each and those one hundred had invited one more person each. But Draco was sure the total had been higher because those invited had brought their own partners and children.
Out there, in the rose garden, he and Harry had exchanged the same vows they had made fifty years ago before a much smaller group of friends and family. Back then same-sex unions had no legal standing in the Wizarding community, but over the years that had changed and finally the Parliament of 2026 had passed the Wizarding Union Legislation.
The rings they had exchanged at that small ceremony had been simple twists of white and yellow gold. The bands they exchanged today were much more ornate -- Claddagh rings once again made of white and yellow gold. Legend had it that they had to be given to a person rather than brought and each had purchased one for each other. Draco smiled as he recalled the little speech Seamus had given in his sing-song Irish lilt, explaining the symbolism and history of the Irish love tokens -- how the hands stood for friendship, the crown for loyalty, the heart for love, which when combined would lead to a good marriage. And, he pointed out, if people looked closely they would see Harry and Draco were wearing the rings on their left ring fingers with the heart pointing towards their hands. This, Seamus explained, showed the two were married.
Engrossed in his thoughts, Draco was surprised to find himself at the top of the stairs leading down to the dungeons. He looked down into the shadows and considered whether he might be missed if he went down there. But it was as if his feet had a life of their own and he stepped down into the familiarity of the castle underbelly. Even after all that had happened and all the years that has passed, the corridors still felt the same. He could almost taste the pleasant cool darkness with the familiar hint of Slytherin magic that had soaked into the very fabric of the stone over the millennia since the castle had first been created.
Did the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Towers feel like this? What about the Hufflepuff rooms? No, he decided as he rested his left hand on the wall. This was something intrinsically Slytherin. No doubt others would feel some connection, but not like this.
He brushed his fingertips over the stone and wondered if the entrance to the Slytherin common room was still here. Hogwarts had been left physically and emotionally a shell by Voldemort. The Dark Lord had sucked the stones of their magic like a cancer eating away at flesh and after the war some had thought the castle should be torn down and rebuilt from scratch.
But Harry had found a little spark of life still clinging to the castle and he’d poured Earth Magic into the stone until that spark became an ember and the ember a flame. Then, while the Ministry debated Hogwarts’ demolition, Harry had strode into the Debating Chamber and demanded his reward for vanquishing the Dark Lord.
Hogwarts had been left in peace to heal. It had taken fifty years, but at last here she was, whole again and ready for the Wizarding community’s children to return from what had always been a temporary home since the war -- Malfoy Manor.
Draco pressed his hand flat onto the stone and asked the castle to let him in.
For a moment nothing happened, then without a sound a stone door concealed in the wall slid open and for the first time in fifty-eight years a Slytherin gazed into the common room.
There was no furniture in the huge low underground room, but the rough stone walls and ceiling glinted in the light from round, greenish lamps which hung on gleaming chains and, as he walked in, a fire in the elaborately carved fireplace crackled into life. In a couple of months time the room would once again buzz with the sound of voices, but for the moment Draco let the silence soak in ... silence that echoed with the voices of ghosts from his childhood.
He walked deeper into Slytherin, his meandering footsteps taking him to familiar places. The castle had regenerated into something that was exactly as it had been when first created, yet there was something ... different. Here, in the alcove he’d once kissed Harry during one of their nightly assignations, there he’d tripped and shattered a bottle of ink on the floor. The ink mark had been lost but the emotion still lingered in the alcove.
Turning a corner he paused and for a moment he thought he’d lost his way, but memories flooded back as he recognised a doorway.
His room.
He pushed lightly on the wooden door and it opened with a puff of dust, which hung briefly in the torchlight. As if the castle knew he was there candles sprang into life, casting their soft glow over the familiar space.
He stepped in.
And felt like he’d stepped back those fifty-eight years. He was once again seventeen and in his final year at Hogwarts. He whole life was stretched out before him and here was where it would all morph into the future he’d lived through.
The room was bare, but he could remember it all. The little window high in the wall where the moonlight would spill in. The narrow four-poster bed with its green curtains. The desk where he’d worked so diligently on his studies. The fireplace where, in his day, there had been a comfortable armchair where he’d while away many hours deep in thought.
Almost instinctively he reached for his wand and caressed the smooth holly length thoughtfully. It had been Harry’s wand all those years ago, but Harry had gifted it to him and Draco had found the wand fitted his own magic like a glove. It could have been made for him. Of course he didn’t need it now, not since he’d learned to share Harry’s Earth Magic, but sometimes casting a spell with a wand was fun. And sometimes he would pretend to cast with a wand because there were wizards and witches scared of magic without wands.
He closed his eyes and reached for the spark of Earth Magic burning deep inside him. Using it to connect with the castle, he asked for the room to be recreated as he remembered it. The wand in his hand vibrated a little and he thought he could hear the song of the phoenix that had provided the core.
As the song faded, Draco opened his eyes to find the room recreated as if he’d just returned from lessons. Even one of his book bags had been tossed on the chair by the desk. A smile slowly grew on his face as he walked around trailing fingers over the surfaces. It wouldn’t do to look too closely though, because he knew this was just an image -- a snapshot of a memory -- and if he looked too closely he’d see the edges of the painting fade into nothingness. But for the moment he was there, back in his childhood before the fighting and death and destruction.
His life hadn’t been just that though, had it? The wondrous things far outweighed the terrible.
There were his two children, Freya and Anthony and their children ... his four grandchildren. And Harry’s child Nicolas, who had just become the father of twins. They all thought of themselves as one family even though his children had one mother and Harry’s another. Draco was as proud of Nicolas as he was of his own two children and was delighted that the man had inherited his mother’s skill for potions.
Pansy would be proud of him.
But above all else there was the person Draco thought of as he own soul. His lion.
His Harry.
Of course there’d been up and downs over the years, but they had made it a rule after one almost disastrous row that they would never go to sleep on an argument. That rule had led to some sleepless nights, but they’d always won through and survived.
He paused and touched his fingers to the calendar and to the date that had yet to be crossed off. The memory was from Friday 6th March 1998. The day Harry had come to his room for the first time and to an image engrained on his memory as if he’d carved it there.
Of Harry without his glasses. Naked eyes, bare emotions. Pupils large black pits dragging him in. Dark hair spilling like night, accentuating the sharp, flushed lines of his cheekbones. Mouth red, slightly open, lips wet from his tongue, which flicked subconsciously over them. The small framed body, adult yet still childlike. Shirttails dragged out on one side, still tucked neatly into his waistband on the other. Trousers just begging to be peeled away from the bulge that pressed into the material.
“Malfoy.”
Draco turned towards the door at the sound of the voice and felt his heart do a little flip as he realised his husband had followed him down into Slytherin. He stared, comparing the memory to the real thing.
Despite Harry’s salt and pepper hair and the way age had softened the once taut frame, Draco still saw the boy he’d spent seven years with at Hogwarts. Harry wore glasses again, the magic Draco had used to correct his lover’s eyesight had finally dissipated a dozen or so years ago. He’d offered to do the magic again, but Harry had refused -- there was no way he would let Draco perform Dark Magic again.
Standing there in the open door Harry had crossed his arms and raised his chin in that holier-than-thou self-righteous Gryffindor way he always used as a child. Draco’s lip quirked slightly and he couldn’t help himself. With a flick of his wand Harry’s dress robes shimmered and in their place were the all-to-familiar school robes of childhood.
He smirked, first at Harry’s momentary look of shock and confusion and then at the way his husband feel back into character. His smirk grew as he felt a ripple of magic flow over him and he knew Harry had done the same to him. He was once again dressed in Slytherin green and silver.
“Potter.”
“I might have know I’d find you down here ... lurking and plotting.” Harry stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Out wandering the corridors at night. You’re lucky you don’t get a detention.”
Draco gave a snort. “Who’s going to give me one? You?”
“I might.”
He gave a single hard laugh. “Ha! And, of course it doesn’t matter if the Great Harry Potter is out.” He strode across the room and stopped toe-to-toe with his lover. “But then you didn’t think rules apply to you. Saint Potter.”
“Someone’s got to keep an eye on you.” Harry reached up and grabbed at the green and silver tied, using it to pull Draco a little closer.
“And you think that’s you, Potter?” Draco gave a scowl. He was close enough now to feel Harry’s breath on his face and his own fingers grabbed for Harry’s glasses, pulling them from his face.
“Of course it’s me.” Harry twisted the tie around his hand and flicked the tip of his tongue over the corner of Draco’s mouth. “Who else, Malfoy?”
“Want to try playing with the big boys, Potter?” Draco slithered his hand down to the front of Harry’s trousers and cupped him. “You’re the one who’s just walked into the snake pit. All alone.”
Harry opened his mouth to reply and instead burst into laughter as he pulled Draco into a hug. “I’m sorry ... I just can’t get all wound up and angry with you anymore.” He pushed his fingers into Draco’s hair. “When I got here and saw you standing there, in your old room it was like I was back there again ... here with you that first night.”
Draco let his head drop back as Harry nuzzled into his neck. He gave a moan as the little kisses nipped their way to the hollow at the base of his throat and he felt the hot wetness as Harry flicked the pulse point with his tongue.
“And I’d forgotten just how sexy you looked in uniform.” Harry tugged gently at the tie. “I plan to carry this on at home when I will have my wicked way with you.”
Draco started to answer but was prevented by the sweet pressure of Harry’s mouth against his. Pushing his hands into Harry’s robes, he wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist and pulled him closer. Chest pressed against chest, he dissolved into the kiss, enjoying the way Harry’s tongue teased against his and the way Harry’s bottom lip tasted as he caught it between his own.
The kiss was languid and sensual, interspersed by the occasional word and mumbled endearment. Harry’s back rested against the wall and he took the weight of Draco against him as hands pushed into clothes, fingers teasing at buttons to slowly expose skin to the touch.
Finally, with a sigh, Draco pushed his hand into Harry hair and pulled back a little so he could see his beloved face. Harry’s eyes were bright with emotion, the deep emerald green of his pupils gem-like in the candle glow. “Did you ever think all those years ago when you came to this room that we’d still be together.”
Harry shook his head imperceptibly. “No, I thought I’d lose you to Voldemort.”
Draco raised a questioning eyebrow. “You thought I’d go to him?”
This time the shake of head was more obvious. “God! No! I thought he would take you from me. I thought when you went home for your birthday and that you’d never be able to come back to me.” Arms tightened around Draco and he felt Harry bury his head in the crook of his neck.
“You should have know he’d never keep me from you.” Fingers ran little circles over Harry’s shoulders as he nuzzled into the once black hair. “Do you remember what we did that night?”
“Oh yes.” Harry looked up and tugged gently on Draco’s earlobe with his teeth before chuckling. “I let you shag me for the first time. Good it was good ... quick, but so good.”
Echoing the chuckle, Draco pulled Harry in the direction of the bed. “Are people going to come looking for us?”
“No. I told Freya we just needed a bit of space. It’s been a long day.”
“Yes, it has.” Briefly Draco considered just magicking their clothes away, but instead he delighted in slowly stripping Harry, exposing the familiar skin, which he knew every inch of. His fingers and lips traced over scars and in his mind he could remember how each had been earned. Then stripping himself he gestured to the bed. “Lie down on your front.”
“Okay.” Harry pulled back the green bedspread and sprawled on the cool cotton sheet.
Draco watched appreciatively as Harry made himself comfortable. Then he pulled open the bedside table drawer. He didn’t know why he expected to find what was inside, but somehow he could sense the castle’s magic as if it was fulfilling his wishes. Inside was a small bottle of oil and when he opened it the smell of sandalwood pervaded the room.
“Mmmm. I remember that. That smell seemed to linger for days.”
With a chuckle Draco poured some of the oil onto his hands and began rubbing them together, warming it. Then with practiced fingers he began to slowly massage Harry’s back. This had been part of their lovemaking all their lives and Draco enjoyed the way he would feel the cares and worries leave Harry as the tension left his muscles.
Sometimes he worried about getting old. They were both wizards so should live longer than Muggles, but he’d watched as Harry aged a little quicker than he did and wondered if it was because Harry was a half-blood. Or maybe it was to do with all the magical energy Harry used as an Earth Mage. Maybe that leeched the life magic from Harry and just in case that were the reason Draco tried to stop him going on too many healing journeys.
But Harry was Harry and would do what he thought he had to. So Draco spent his time looking for potions and things that would strengthen his husband and keep them together for as long as possible.
“I’d like to go flying later.” Harry gave a little sigh. “Try out the new Quidditch pitch and maybe chase a Snitch with you.”
Draco laughed. “I’d beat you.”
“Well, that’s because I’m old now. You’ve had to wait until I’m really old to beat me, Malfoy.”
“Flying would be good, Harry. Tomorrow morning when everyone else is still asleep.”
“Okay, love.”
He pushed his fingers into Harry’s hair, delighting in the feel as the oil coated the strands before laying down beside his lover and taking him into his arms. “I love you, Harry.”
“And I love you.” Harry snuggled in closer, skin against skin. “There is something I want to ask you, Draco.”
“Okay.”
“If there were no barriers, what would you want?”
Draco let out a long, low moan as he felt Harry’s breath feather across his nipple. “I have everything and there are no barriers left, Leoninus.”
Harry clung closer. “Draconis ... my dragon.”
Around the two lovers the castle sighed and dimmed the candles.
---
The beautiful artwork that sun_chan created for my birthday was partly the inspiration for this story. Although Harry and Draco are much older in this story, the look they are giving each other says it all.
lovely_slyth's story Disclosure
sun_chan's beautiful Harry and Draco artwork.
pingviini's story Killing the Sacred Serpent (part one)
naadi's beautiful artwork with Harry and Draco sitting in a garden. She created this as the background for my birthday community finewinecheese and the link here shows it as a lovely birthday card. Please do go look at it on the community though because it is really beautiful and you will believe Harry and Draco are sitting there on that bench *grins*.
snottygrrl's beautiful ficlet Seahorses do it.
aome's wonderful AU HBP story Duel. JKR, please take note.
phenix_tears's lovely little H/D drabble
dihall's first ever posted drabble. This is the sweetest thing I've ever read and I know that Di is going to wow us all with her writing.
amariel's lovely Harry and Draco cherub birthday card. Just so sweet.
dragonz_ahoy's lovely cartoon story The Play. *grins* This needs to be turned into a full-blown story. She also drew me my own very special, limited edition Harry Potter *grins some more*
The following story is my thank you to everyone for their lovely thoughts and kind birthday comments. I hope you enjoy this Res Futurefic. I know I still owe some people comments. I promise I will get round to it. And there will be another World Cup thing ... I just haven't written it yet/
In the meantime, let the fic commence. Fluff warning This is incredibly fluffy and sweet. You have been warned.
On Golden Broomsticks
5th July ... somewhen in the future
Fifty years.
He’d been married to Harry Potter for fifty years.
Draco Malfoy stood at the edge of the rose garden at Hogwarts and watched his husband laugh at a comment one of their guests had made. As if aware of the scrutiny, Harry glanced up and smiled at him. Even over the distance between them, the smile had the guaranteed effect and Draco felt his stomach flip just a little. He smiled back, awed as always that even after all this time he could still feel like this for his lover.
His lover. He still thought of Harry as his lover. There was something decidedly erotic about calling Harry that. It made him feel like they were still having secret assignations even after all these years -- hiding in broom cupboards and under the Quidditch stands.
His lover. His beloved.
His Harry.
They shared another smile before Harry returned to his conversation but Draco continued his scrutiny. It had been a long day and Harry looked tired. Others would probably not notice but Draco could feel the fatigue seeping between them. After all, he was Harry’s Protector and the link that had been formed by Harry’s Earth Magic was always there in the background like a quiet breath, warm against his skin. It was his husband’s physical state Draco often picked up on these days; Harry’s life work had been to banish the Darkness with which Voldemort had scarred the earth and the years had taken their toll.
He considered whether it might be prudent to rescue Harry, but his lover was clearly enjoying himself. Everyone was staying at Hogwarts overnight so they would be able to sleep late tomorrow. Instead he turned and strolled back into the castle itself where more guests were enjoying a late supper in the Great Hall.
It had been his daughter’s idea to have a party for his and Harry’s golden wedding anniversary. Freya had suggested ... Draco paused and smiled ... no, Freya never suggested anything. She knew exactly what she wanted and was as adept at getting her own way as both her father and mother, Rauni, were. Freya demanded that Harry and Draco celebrate their anniversary. It was, she insisted, a milestone that shouldn’t be ignored. She’d then managed to get the rest of the family on her side and it had been her brother Nicolas who’d suggest it might be nice if wedding vows were renewed. Then, while he and Harry had still been reeling from the suggestion, Draco’s godson Georgie had ventured that Hogwarts would be the perfect place.
And so the Gathering had been born. He and Harry had both been asked to invite fifty people each and those one hundred had invited one more person each. But Draco was sure the total had been higher because those invited had brought their own partners and children.
Out there, in the rose garden, he and Harry had exchanged the same vows they had made fifty years ago before a much smaller group of friends and family. Back then same-sex unions had no legal standing in the Wizarding community, but over the years that had changed and finally the Parliament of 2026 had passed the Wizarding Union Legislation.
The rings they had exchanged at that small ceremony had been simple twists of white and yellow gold. The bands they exchanged today were much more ornate -- Claddagh rings once again made of white and yellow gold. Legend had it that they had to be given to a person rather than brought and each had purchased one for each other. Draco smiled as he recalled the little speech Seamus had given in his sing-song Irish lilt, explaining the symbolism and history of the Irish love tokens -- how the hands stood for friendship, the crown for loyalty, the heart for love, which when combined would lead to a good marriage. And, he pointed out, if people looked closely they would see Harry and Draco were wearing the rings on their left ring fingers with the heart pointing towards their hands. This, Seamus explained, showed the two were married.
Engrossed in his thoughts, Draco was surprised to find himself at the top of the stairs leading down to the dungeons. He looked down into the shadows and considered whether he might be missed if he went down there. But it was as if his feet had a life of their own and he stepped down into the familiarity of the castle underbelly. Even after all that had happened and all the years that has passed, the corridors still felt the same. He could almost taste the pleasant cool darkness with the familiar hint of Slytherin magic that had soaked into the very fabric of the stone over the millennia since the castle had first been created.
Did the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Towers feel like this? What about the Hufflepuff rooms? No, he decided as he rested his left hand on the wall. This was something intrinsically Slytherin. No doubt others would feel some connection, but not like this.
He brushed his fingertips over the stone and wondered if the entrance to the Slytherin common room was still here. Hogwarts had been left physically and emotionally a shell by Voldemort. The Dark Lord had sucked the stones of their magic like a cancer eating away at flesh and after the war some had thought the castle should be torn down and rebuilt from scratch.
But Harry had found a little spark of life still clinging to the castle and he’d poured Earth Magic into the stone until that spark became an ember and the ember a flame. Then, while the Ministry debated Hogwarts’ demolition, Harry had strode into the Debating Chamber and demanded his reward for vanquishing the Dark Lord.
Hogwarts had been left in peace to heal. It had taken fifty years, but at last here she was, whole again and ready for the Wizarding community’s children to return from what had always been a temporary home since the war -- Malfoy Manor.
Draco pressed his hand flat onto the stone and asked the castle to let him in.
For a moment nothing happened, then without a sound a stone door concealed in the wall slid open and for the first time in fifty-eight years a Slytherin gazed into the common room.
There was no furniture in the huge low underground room, but the rough stone walls and ceiling glinted in the light from round, greenish lamps which hung on gleaming chains and, as he walked in, a fire in the elaborately carved fireplace crackled into life. In a couple of months time the room would once again buzz with the sound of voices, but for the moment Draco let the silence soak in ... silence that echoed with the voices of ghosts from his childhood.
He walked deeper into Slytherin, his meandering footsteps taking him to familiar places. The castle had regenerated into something that was exactly as it had been when first created, yet there was something ... different. Here, in the alcove he’d once kissed Harry during one of their nightly assignations, there he’d tripped and shattered a bottle of ink on the floor. The ink mark had been lost but the emotion still lingered in the alcove.
Turning a corner he paused and for a moment he thought he’d lost his way, but memories flooded back as he recognised a doorway.
His room.
He pushed lightly on the wooden door and it opened with a puff of dust, which hung briefly in the torchlight. As if the castle knew he was there candles sprang into life, casting their soft glow over the familiar space.
He stepped in.
And felt like he’d stepped back those fifty-eight years. He was once again seventeen and in his final year at Hogwarts. He whole life was stretched out before him and here was where it would all morph into the future he’d lived through.
The room was bare, but he could remember it all. The little window high in the wall where the moonlight would spill in. The narrow four-poster bed with its green curtains. The desk where he’d worked so diligently on his studies. The fireplace where, in his day, there had been a comfortable armchair where he’d while away many hours deep in thought.
Almost instinctively he reached for his wand and caressed the smooth holly length thoughtfully. It had been Harry’s wand all those years ago, but Harry had gifted it to him and Draco had found the wand fitted his own magic like a glove. It could have been made for him. Of course he didn’t need it now, not since he’d learned to share Harry’s Earth Magic, but sometimes casting a spell with a wand was fun. And sometimes he would pretend to cast with a wand because there were wizards and witches scared of magic without wands.
He closed his eyes and reached for the spark of Earth Magic burning deep inside him. Using it to connect with the castle, he asked for the room to be recreated as he remembered it. The wand in his hand vibrated a little and he thought he could hear the song of the phoenix that had provided the core.
As the song faded, Draco opened his eyes to find the room recreated as if he’d just returned from lessons. Even one of his book bags had been tossed on the chair by the desk. A smile slowly grew on his face as he walked around trailing fingers over the surfaces. It wouldn’t do to look too closely though, because he knew this was just an image -- a snapshot of a memory -- and if he looked too closely he’d see the edges of the painting fade into nothingness. But for the moment he was there, back in his childhood before the fighting and death and destruction.
His life hadn’t been just that though, had it? The wondrous things far outweighed the terrible.
There were his two children, Freya and Anthony and their children ... his four grandchildren. And Harry’s child Nicolas, who had just become the father of twins. They all thought of themselves as one family even though his children had one mother and Harry’s another. Draco was as proud of Nicolas as he was of his own two children and was delighted that the man had inherited his mother’s skill for potions.
Pansy would be proud of him.
But above all else there was the person Draco thought of as he own soul. His lion.
His Harry.
Of course there’d been up and downs over the years, but they had made it a rule after one almost disastrous row that they would never go to sleep on an argument. That rule had led to some sleepless nights, but they’d always won through and survived.
He paused and touched his fingers to the calendar and to the date that had yet to be crossed off. The memory was from Friday 6th March 1998. The day Harry had come to his room for the first time and to an image engrained on his memory as if he’d carved it there.
Of Harry without his glasses. Naked eyes, bare emotions. Pupils large black pits dragging him in. Dark hair spilling like night, accentuating the sharp, flushed lines of his cheekbones. Mouth red, slightly open, lips wet from his tongue, which flicked subconsciously over them. The small framed body, adult yet still childlike. Shirttails dragged out on one side, still tucked neatly into his waistband on the other. Trousers just begging to be peeled away from the bulge that pressed into the material.
“Malfoy.”
Draco turned towards the door at the sound of the voice and felt his heart do a little flip as he realised his husband had followed him down into Slytherin. He stared, comparing the memory to the real thing.
Despite Harry’s salt and pepper hair and the way age had softened the once taut frame, Draco still saw the boy he’d spent seven years with at Hogwarts. Harry wore glasses again, the magic Draco had used to correct his lover’s eyesight had finally dissipated a dozen or so years ago. He’d offered to do the magic again, but Harry had refused -- there was no way he would let Draco perform Dark Magic again.
Standing there in the open door Harry had crossed his arms and raised his chin in that holier-than-thou self-righteous Gryffindor way he always used as a child. Draco’s lip quirked slightly and he couldn’t help himself. With a flick of his wand Harry’s dress robes shimmered and in their place were the all-to-familiar school robes of childhood.
He smirked, first at Harry’s momentary look of shock and confusion and then at the way his husband feel back into character. His smirk grew as he felt a ripple of magic flow over him and he knew Harry had done the same to him. He was once again dressed in Slytherin green and silver.
“Potter.”
“I might have know I’d find you down here ... lurking and plotting.” Harry stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Out wandering the corridors at night. You’re lucky you don’t get a detention.”
Draco gave a snort. “Who’s going to give me one? You?”
“I might.”
He gave a single hard laugh. “Ha! And, of course it doesn’t matter if the Great Harry Potter is out.” He strode across the room and stopped toe-to-toe with his lover. “But then you didn’t think rules apply to you. Saint Potter.”
“Someone’s got to keep an eye on you.” Harry reached up and grabbed at the green and silver tied, using it to pull Draco a little closer.
“And you think that’s you, Potter?” Draco gave a scowl. He was close enough now to feel Harry’s breath on his face and his own fingers grabbed for Harry’s glasses, pulling them from his face.
“Of course it’s me.” Harry twisted the tie around his hand and flicked the tip of his tongue over the corner of Draco’s mouth. “Who else, Malfoy?”
“Want to try playing with the big boys, Potter?” Draco slithered his hand down to the front of Harry’s trousers and cupped him. “You’re the one who’s just walked into the snake pit. All alone.”
Harry opened his mouth to reply and instead burst into laughter as he pulled Draco into a hug. “I’m sorry ... I just can’t get all wound up and angry with you anymore.” He pushed his fingers into Draco’s hair. “When I got here and saw you standing there, in your old room it was like I was back there again ... here with you that first night.”
Draco let his head drop back as Harry nuzzled into his neck. He gave a moan as the little kisses nipped their way to the hollow at the base of his throat and he felt the hot wetness as Harry flicked the pulse point with his tongue.
“And I’d forgotten just how sexy you looked in uniform.” Harry tugged gently at the tie. “I plan to carry this on at home when I will have my wicked way with you.”
Draco started to answer but was prevented by the sweet pressure of Harry’s mouth against his. Pushing his hands into Harry’s robes, he wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist and pulled him closer. Chest pressed against chest, he dissolved into the kiss, enjoying the way Harry’s tongue teased against his and the way Harry’s bottom lip tasted as he caught it between his own.
The kiss was languid and sensual, interspersed by the occasional word and mumbled endearment. Harry’s back rested against the wall and he took the weight of Draco against him as hands pushed into clothes, fingers teasing at buttons to slowly expose skin to the touch.
Finally, with a sigh, Draco pushed his hand into Harry hair and pulled back a little so he could see his beloved face. Harry’s eyes were bright with emotion, the deep emerald green of his pupils gem-like in the candle glow. “Did you ever think all those years ago when you came to this room that we’d still be together.”
Harry shook his head imperceptibly. “No, I thought I’d lose you to Voldemort.”
Draco raised a questioning eyebrow. “You thought I’d go to him?”
This time the shake of head was more obvious. “God! No! I thought he would take you from me. I thought when you went home for your birthday and that you’d never be able to come back to me.” Arms tightened around Draco and he felt Harry bury his head in the crook of his neck.
“You should have know he’d never keep me from you.” Fingers ran little circles over Harry’s shoulders as he nuzzled into the once black hair. “Do you remember what we did that night?”
“Oh yes.” Harry looked up and tugged gently on Draco’s earlobe with his teeth before chuckling. “I let you shag me for the first time. Good it was good ... quick, but so good.”
Echoing the chuckle, Draco pulled Harry in the direction of the bed. “Are people going to come looking for us?”
“No. I told Freya we just needed a bit of space. It’s been a long day.”
“Yes, it has.” Briefly Draco considered just magicking their clothes away, but instead he delighted in slowly stripping Harry, exposing the familiar skin, which he knew every inch of. His fingers and lips traced over scars and in his mind he could remember how each had been earned. Then stripping himself he gestured to the bed. “Lie down on your front.”
“Okay.” Harry pulled back the green bedspread and sprawled on the cool cotton sheet.
Draco watched appreciatively as Harry made himself comfortable. Then he pulled open the bedside table drawer. He didn’t know why he expected to find what was inside, but somehow he could sense the castle’s magic as if it was fulfilling his wishes. Inside was a small bottle of oil and when he opened it the smell of sandalwood pervaded the room.
“Mmmm. I remember that. That smell seemed to linger for days.”
With a chuckle Draco poured some of the oil onto his hands and began rubbing them together, warming it. Then with practiced fingers he began to slowly massage Harry’s back. This had been part of their lovemaking all their lives and Draco enjoyed the way he would feel the cares and worries leave Harry as the tension left his muscles.
Sometimes he worried about getting old. They were both wizards so should live longer than Muggles, but he’d watched as Harry aged a little quicker than he did and wondered if it was because Harry was a half-blood. Or maybe it was to do with all the magical energy Harry used as an Earth Mage. Maybe that leeched the life magic from Harry and just in case that were the reason Draco tried to stop him going on too many healing journeys.
But Harry was Harry and would do what he thought he had to. So Draco spent his time looking for potions and things that would strengthen his husband and keep them together for as long as possible.
“I’d like to go flying later.” Harry gave a little sigh. “Try out the new Quidditch pitch and maybe chase a Snitch with you.”
Draco laughed. “I’d beat you.”
“Well, that’s because I’m old now. You’ve had to wait until I’m really old to beat me, Malfoy.”
“Flying would be good, Harry. Tomorrow morning when everyone else is still asleep.”
“Okay, love.”
He pushed his fingers into Harry’s hair, delighting in the feel as the oil coated the strands before laying down beside his lover and taking him into his arms. “I love you, Harry.”
“And I love you.” Harry snuggled in closer, skin against skin. “There is something I want to ask you, Draco.”
“Okay.”
“If there were no barriers, what would you want?”
Draco let out a long, low moan as he felt Harry’s breath feather across his nipple. “I have everything and there are no barriers left, Leoninus.”
Harry clung closer. “Draconis ... my dragon.”
Around the two lovers the castle sighed and dimmed the candles.
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The beautiful artwork that sun_chan created for my birthday was partly the inspiration for this story. Although Harry and Draco are much older in this story, the look they are giving each other says it all.