Chapter 1
Harry stood in front of the mirror, gazing at his own reflection. His 17-year-old face stared back at him, unchanged, unyielding, as if frozen in time. It was the same face the world had seen the day he vanquished Voldemort. His face hasn't aged a moment since, as though the passage of time had no dominion over him. He concealed this eternal youth, of course—glamours carefully woven over his features whenever he stepped outside. He couldn’t let the world think he was even more of a freak than they already did.
His eyes drifted to the vanity beside his, its surface untouched and gathering dust as one thought flitted through his mind. Ginny. Her name echoed in his mind like a bittersweet memory. When they had first moved in together, they had vanities built side by side in the master bathroom, a symbol of the life they were supposed to share. She hated Grimmauld Place—too dark, too heavy with ghosts—and though Harry couldn’t bring himself to sell it, he had bought her a new home.
They were married under an old oak on the property, and Harry thought it would last forever. They were divorced little more than 2 years later. Ron blamed Harry of course for the whole ordeal, and though Mrs. Weasley never said a word, her silence spoke volumes. Everyone assumed it was his fault, and as always, he was happy to take on the blame if it meant Ginny could be happy.
Hermione had been the only one who understood. She always had. She was the only person Harry confided in, the only one he trusted with the burden of his decisions. After the war, they had leaned on each other in ways that no one else could understand. Hermione had tried to make it work with Ron, but they had too little in common beyond their shared history. Love, they had discovered, sometimes wasn’t enough. The nights grew silent, the dinners awkward, and eventually, the inevitable happened.
She had been spending more and more time with Harry, which annoyed Ron to no end, but Ron couldn't possibly understand. By then they shared his curse. They were united in ways no one on earth could ever truly understand. They couldn't reduce what they had to friendship. They were akin to soul mates. But Ron only saw her spending time with Harry while she pulled away from him.
Since the war, Hermione had become fiercely protective of Harry. Even before the curse, the war had bound them together in ways deeper than friendship. She had watched him walk into the Forbidden Forest, knowing he was going to die, and when they carried his lifeless body back to the castle, something inside her had changed forever. She carried guilt like a weight on her shoulders, blaming herself for not realizing sooner that he was a Horcrux.
Harry worked as Senior Undersecretary for almost a decade after stepping down from the Aurors before realizing he truly couldn't make a difference. Everything was decided by vote and the votes never changed. Hermione finally made him quit when she saw how the job was killing him.
He taught at Hogwarts for years after as the defense against the dark arts professor. He even built a dark arts class, hoping to end the stigma against dark arts. He eventually left the school. The one time he tried to move on from Ginny. But the incident left him scared. He came back to the home he built with Ginny and he never left.
But in truth he never like being a professor, he loved teaching but the school felt different after the war, it never felt like home again. Nowadays, he doesn't do much of anything really. He worked on potions with Hermione and new spells, recipes. Whatever he wanted. But he missed having a purpose. But he also missed Ginny, not the person but the love. Having someone to love who loved him. Hermione loved him but it was different and Harry longed for the love he no longer deserved.
Harry splashed water on his face, breaking the trance of his memories, and heard Hermione’s voice float up the stairs. “Harry, stop brooding over that bloody sink and get down here, or I’ll blow it up!”
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She wasn’t joking either. He dressed quickly and made his way downstairs, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek as he passed. “Morning, Mione.”
She stood by the stove, her hair tied in a messy knot atop her head, wearing the floral apron Harry had bought her as a joke. The smell of lemon and ricotta filled the kitchen, and she was busy plating up breakfast.
“I made lemon and ricotta pancakes with fruit on the side,” she said, beaming with excitement. “It’s a new recipe. Tell me what you think!”
Harry sat down eagerly, taking a bite as she watched him, her eyes wide with anticipation. He smiled. “They’re perfect.”
Hermione’s face lit up, and she squealed in delight. “I knew the sourdough starter would add a nice touch! It gives them that extra rise, don’t you think?”
He nodded, amused by her enthusiasm. She had thrown herself into their latest project—a cookbook they were writing together. It was something to keep them both grounded, a shared passion that gave Harry purpose as he figured out what to do with his life now.
They ate in a comfortable silence, the quiet moments between them no longer awkward, but warm and familiar. When the clock struck eight, Hermione jumped up to get ready for work.
Her beauty struck Harry even now that he'd seen her everyday for years. She had blossomed since the war, her hair now tamed into soft, glossy curls thanks to potions Harry had bought for her at Pansy's insistence. It cascaded down her back in shimmering shades of gold and copper, a transformation she owed to Draco of all people.
Her skin, once marked with the stress of battle and endless study, was now radiant and clear, glowing with the vitality of someone who had finally found balance. She was breathtaking. Her face was 24 years old and not a moment older, frozen like Harry's but at a different point in time since the curse sunk into her. She applied glamors as she did everyday but age did not change her beauty at all it enhanced it. She looked as lovely older as she did younger.
She hugged him tightly before leaving, her arms wrapped around him in a way that always felt like home. “Wish me luck!” she called, stepping into the fireplace.
“Good luck,” Harry said with a smile, just as she vanished in a swirl of green flames. He said it every time, though he never quite knew what she needed luck for. Some new bill, no doubt—one that would almost certainly be rejected. But she tried, and Harry admired her for that.
In truth, they both carried more weight than they let on. They had become something different after the war. An experiment with a spell had made them both immortal, bound to the Elder Wand and to each other, co-masters of death. Time no longer touched them, and though the world aged around them, they remained the same, frozen. Harry at 17, Hermione at 24. And so they carried on, together, their lives intertwined in ways that few could understand.
They lived together now, and though it had started as a temporary arrangement, it became their way of life. When Ginny had left, Harry had found solace in the bottom of a bottle, but now Hermione was there to stop him from spiraling. After her fight with Ron, she had come to stay, ‘just for a little while,’ she'd said. But when she appeared at his bedroom door late that night, tear-streaked, clutching her pillow like a lifeline, they had shared the master bedroom to comfort each other. One night turned into two, two into weeks, and after a year, they had simply accepted that this was how their lives would be. It was unspoken, but they knew: they needed each other.
Hermione technically had her own room, but it mostly sat untouched. She slept in Harry's bed nearly every night, both of them finding solace in the other's presence. After all they had been through, silence was a daunting thing. Being alone was unbearable. Even when they weren't doing something together, they found ways to stay connected. If Harry was testing a recipe, Hermione would be in the same room, tinkering with a potion. If one went shopping, the other tagged along. Their bond was intense, and they knew it wasn’t the healthiest way to live—but after everything they had endured, who could blame them? It brought them confort. Solace. In ways Ron and Ginny never had. And didn't they deserve that?
The world assumed they were together, and they never bothered correcting the assumption. It was easier that way. Only their closest friends—Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Theo, Neville, and Luna—knew the truth. Harry and Hermione were as close as family, and the thought of anything romantic between them was strange, even to themselves. A drunken kiss had only confirmed this, ending in a fit of laughter. Harry had even realized, sometime after the war, that he was gay. It took a few more tipsy confessions to sort it all out, but he found that he didn’t desire women in that way, despite loving them deeply as friends or sisters.
It was Draco, of all people, who helped Harry come to terms with his sexuality. Arter some drunk ramblings from Harry, Draco kissed him and asked if that confirmed anything. And Harry laughed, realizing it had. They’d had their own messy fling, a brief and fiery affair. Draco was engaged to Astoria, who didn't care who her bisexual fiance had sex with. They had even tried throuple for a few months, when Draco suggested it. But over time it became clear she felt left out. Their triad ended amicably, though Harry and Draco continued to see each other occasionally. But Draco never stayed the night. No matter how casual their dalliances, Harry always returned to Hermione—he couldn’t bear to leave her alone, and she never questioned it.
It was late in the afternoon after his nap when Harry found himself pacing the house, lost in thought, until a letter from Pansy arrived, breaking the monotony.
"Hey Scarhead,
Meet us for lunch at that bistro Mionie likes. Rough day for her. I’m making her take the rest of the day off, but we’re dragging her to lunch first. You should be there—she’ll need her Harry hugs. I’m picking up the tab this time!
– Pans."
There was no need to respond. Harry dressed quickly, applied his usual glamours to blend in, and left. He arrived early at the restaurant, choosing a secluded table in the back, the kind Hermione liked best. The charm-laden curtains ensured privacy, and the enchanted window let them see out, but no one could peer in. Before Pansy or Hermione arrived, Harry paid the tab and ordered their favorite drinks—rosé for Hermione, and a dry, bitter red for Pansy.
When the girls finally walked in, accompanied by Draco and Blaise, Harry was already seated, wine chilled and glasses filled. He rose immediately, arms open wide as Hermione collapsed into his embrace, her head resting on his chest with a sigh heavy with exhaustion.
"What happened?" Harry asked gently, sensing the weight she carried.
Pansy answered first, her voice uncharacteristically somber. "New regulation. After three failures, a bill gets tabled for three months. And if it doesn't pass after a year, it can't be put to a vote again. Today was the last vote."
Harry’s brow furrowed. "And it didn’t pass? What bill was it?"
“The education of muggle offspring for promoting muggle and magical integration and intelligence initiative,” Pansy said robotically.
Harry shot her a confused look and she scoffed, “how does Mionie deal with you Potter? It's a bill we wrote that would begin magical education with muggle born children at the first sign of accidental magic. So when children like Hermione or you, come to Hogwarts at 11, you aren't so behind.”
"It would benefit everyone, not just Muggle-borns," Draco chimed in, his voice sharp with frustration. "By eleven, I could brew several potions and cast spells. But we have to start from scratch because Muggle-born kids don't have that foundation. It’s not their fault. How could they?"
Blaise nodded, adding, "This way, everyone would start Hogwarts with the same basic knowledge, and we could build from there."
"That sounds brilliant!" Harry said, bewildered. "Why didn’t it pass?"
Pansy snorted derisively. "They argued it would violate the Statute of Secrecy—expose too many Muggles to magic. It failed by a landslide. Over eighty percent voted against it."
Hermione buried her face deeper into Harry’s shoulder, her voice muffled as she began to cry. "Now they’re pushing a bill to keep Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts altogether… and it’s because of me."
Harry held her tighter, trying to soothe her as her sobs grew louder.
"She made too good of an argument," Pansy explained quietly, her voice filled with regret. "She said Muggle-borns come in at a disadvantage, and that it puts Pure-blood kids at a disadvantage too, because they have to relearn basic things they grew up with."
"Now," Draco finished grimly, "they're using her argument to propose separating Muggle-borns from Pure-bloods and Half-bloods. They want separate schools—Muggle-borns in one, everyone else in another. And it almost passed… it failed by just six votes. It'll be back next month."
Hermione’s sobs were ragged now, and Harry held her, his heart aching with her pain. The world was trying to change, but the weight of the past still clung too tightly. All he could do was hold her, and wish he could make it right.
Harry’s grip on Hermione tightened as her sobs racked through her body. His jaw clenched, and he felt a surge of anger rise in his chest. He couldn’t sit by and let this happen.
“They can’t do this,” Harry said, his voice low but firm. "I won't let them."
Draco raised an eyebrow from across the table, sensing where Harry was going. “What do you mean?”
Harry looked up, determination burning in his eyes. “I’m going to go public. I’ll condemn the bill, and anyone who supports it. I'll make it clear that I'm disgusted by the very idea."
Pansy’s eyes widened, but it was Draco who spoke first. “That’s social suicide, Potter,” he said, his tone sharp. “You’ve seen how the public turns. They’ll tear you apart for going against the Ministry, especially with this kind of legislation.”
“I don’t care,” Harry said, his voice resolute. “Will it help?”
Pansy hesitated, but then nodded. “Yes, it’ll probably kill the bill entirely if you speak out. You’re still Harry Potter. The Chosen One. They’ll listen to you. But…” She glanced around the table. “Yeah, the public will smear you. You’ll lose favor with the Ministry. You know how they are—anything that shakes their foundation, they’ll come for you.”
Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “I don’t care.”
Hermione lifted her head from his chest, her tear-filled eyes searching his face. “Harry, you don’t have to—”
“I won’t let this pass,” Harry interrupted, his voice gentle but firm as he looked down at her. "You’re right, Muggle-borns shouldn’t be put at a disadvantage, and they definitely shouldn’t be separated. Not after everything we’ve fought for. I’m not letting this happen."
Tears brimmed in her eyes again, but this time they didn’t spill over. She gave him a watery smile, her voice shaky as she whispered, “Thank you.”
Harry smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Always.”
They all sat back down, the tension in the air slowly easing as Hermione wiped her face, her breathing steadying. Harry poured them all a glass of wine, the chilled rosé calming Hermione’s nerves as she took a grateful sip.
Draco and Blaise exchanged a glance, then both signaled the waiter for firewhiskey. Harry, still feeling the weight of his decision, nodded when the server turned to him. “I’ll have one too.”
The firewhiskey arrived, its amber liquid warm in their glasses. Harry knocked it back, feeling the burn of it settle in his chest. The strong drink seemed to loosen the tight coil of anger in him, and the others followed suit, raising their glasses for a quick toast to solidarity.
After they placed their orders, the tension in the air seemed to lift. The clinking of glasses filled the quiet corner of the bistro, and the conversation began to flow naturally once again.
Blaise took a sip of his firewhiskey, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin. “So, Potter, you’re really going to martyr yourself for this bill, huh? I always knew you had a hero complex…stupid Gryffindor tendencies never die.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well, someone has to do it.”
Draco smirked, raising his glass. “As if you’d have it any other way, Potter. The Ministry should start carving your next statue now.”
“Please,” Harry shot back. “At least mine wouldn’t have a nose job as dramatic as yours, Malfoy.”
Blaise nearly choked on his drink, snorting with laughter. “That’s rich coming from you, Harry. Last time I checked, you’re basically addicted to gamours now. I swear, every time we meet, you look a little different. Less like ‘The Boy Who Lived’ and more like a Quidditch heartthrob.”
“Quidditch heartthrob?” Pansy laughed, her sharp gaze cutting to Harry. “Oh, darling, no. He’s more like a scruffy, lovable puppy. You know, the kind you find wandering the streets and take pity on.”
Hermione shook her head, trying to suppress her smile. “Hey! Don’t pick on him,” she defended, ruffling his hair with her fingers. “He’s too cute to be a stray.”
Draco leaned forward, his smirk widening. “Ah, yes. The famous Harry and Hermione show. Which reminds me...” His voice dripped with mock-seriousness. “When’s the wedding, then? You’ve kept us all waiting. Daily Profit wants to know!”
That set off a burst of laughter from around the table, but none louder than Harry and Hermione’s. They both doubled over, tears of mirth in their eyes.
“Oh, soon,” Hermione managed to gasp out between giggles. “Very soon. You’re all invited! We’ll make sure to send the invites by owl—front row seats for each of you.”
“So, Potter,” Draco began again, leaning in as if preparing to deliver another punchline, “if this hypothetical wedding of yours is happening soon, does that mean I’m your best man?”
Harry snorted. “I think you’re pushing it, Malfoy.”
“Oh, come on,” Draco teased, “we’ve shared some rather intimate moments, haven’t we? I feel like I’ve earned it.”
Blaise smirked, watching the back-and-forth with amusement. “You’ve certainly earned something, but best man might be a stretch.”
“Hey, if anyone’s Harry’s best man, it’s me,” Pansy interjected, nudging Draco aside. “I’ve been friends with him longer, after all. And, more importantly, I know all his embarrassing secrets.”
“You were his friend by months longer than me,” Draco whined. “And that wasn't fair, Granger invited you to dinner with them and broke the ice!”
Hermione laughed, her eyes darting between them. “If this fake wedding ever happens, I’ll let you fight it out. Winner gets the title.”
“Winner?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting a duel?”
“Obviously,” Pansy said, her lips curling into a grin. “The only proper way to decide. You know originally the best man was meant to be a protector for the wedding. You'd be too busy fussing over your hair!”
The entire table dissolved into laughter, “Hermione will give a long speech that'll put us all to sleep,” Blaise said with a laugh, “about how she’s known you since first year, how you saved her life a million times, blah blah blah," Blaise mimicked, his voice taking on a mock-dramatic tone. "We’ll all be asleep before the cake’s even served."
Harry chuckled, raising his glass in response. "And you’d all be wide awake for yours, I’m sure. What would you talk about, Blaise? The importance of hair products for a successful marriage?"
Blaise smirked. "It’s all about presentation, Potter. You’d be wise to take notes."
Pansy leaned in with a wicked grin, swirling her wine glass. "I’ll make sure the ceremony has enough firewhiskey to keep us all from dying of boredom during those long speeches. But don’t worry, Hermione, I’ll make sure to keep Harry on his best behavior."
Hermione snorted, shaking her head. "As if anyone could keep him in check."
Draco leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. "I’m more concerned about the seating arrangements. If I have to sit next to Neville for the whole night, I might just hex myself. I love the bloke but when he goes on and on about plants…I want to drink the drought of living death just to be through with it! Any chance you could seat me with Luna instead? She’s always entertaining, and far less prone to…gryffindor-like outbursts."
"You’ll survive," Harry teased, grinning at Draco. "Maybe you can swap stories about how much I annoy you."
Pansy shot Harry a sidelong glance. "Annoying, yes. But lovable in that annoying way, wouldn’t you agree, Draco?"
Draco sighed dramatically, casting an exaggerated look at Harry. "Unfortunately, yes. The whole world seems to be under his spell. It’s infuriating."
They all laughed, and Hermione chimed in with a playful nudge at Harry. "See, they adore you, despite their best efforts."
Harry smiled at her, his eyes soft. "It’s a curse, I think."
Draco raised an eyebrow, swirling his firewhiskey. "Speaking of curses, Astoria says we should plan a curse-breaking adventure soon. Our last one was eons ago! You in, Potter?"
"Always," Harry replied, grinning. "But only if Blaise and Pansy come. I need witnesses when you eventually get us lost…again!"
“One time Potter, once!” Draco whined. “And I told you, the compass didn't fit in my bag with my mirror and sunscreen! SPF is important!”
Blaise chuckled, lifting his glass. "Sounds like a plan. Just make sure there’s a decent bar wherever we end up. The last excursion Hermione planned didn't have a pub around for miles."
After their meal, they all sat back, lounging in their chairs with satisfied expressions. Harry, feeling the warmth of the firewhiskey in his veins and the laughter still lingering in the air, glanced around the table.
“So, are you lot actually going back to work?” Harry asked, his eyebrow raised in mild amusement.
“Hell no,” Blaise, Draco, and Pansy chorused at the same time, their responses so synchronized it made them all laugh again.
Hermione, however, sighed and shook her head, already starting to rise from her chair. “Of course, I am.”
Pansy immediately reached over and gently pushed her back down. “Oh no, you're not! I already wrote in your absence, love. You’re taking the day off, and the rest of the week. We start again on Monday on our useless journey.”
“It’s not useless, Pansy,” Hermione huffed, though there wasn’t much conviction in her voice.
Draco snorted, swirling his drink lazily. "Come on, Mionie. We’re pushing bills that’ll never get passed. Even with the golden boy on our side," he gestured towards Harry, "the Wizengamot is built of pureblood families with pureblood ideals. They’re not going to vote for anything that changes the status quo unless it’s for their benefit… or they’re afraid. The only one who’s made any real change recently was Voldemort."
Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping a bit in defeat. “Maybe, but we still have to try. If we don’t, who will?”
Harry leaned in, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at her. “How many have we actually managed to get passed?”
Hermione hesitated, then held up three fingers. “Three.”
Pansy let out a bark of laughter, her eyes rolling. “And two of those were just lowering taxes for wealthy families so they’d pretend to support the bills we actually wanted. Which didn’t work, by the way.”
“And one was about muggle artifacts that no one cared about, it passed because only half the Wizengamot showed up!” Draco added.
“But eventually the seats will pass on and maybe then I'll have better luck,” Hermione said softly.
Draco shrugged, “my dad's only got like 70 more years in him after all. But there's been talk, most of our parents don't want to leave their seats with us. Who knows where the seats will end up,” he said with a shrug.
“We do what we can, but we know our jobs won't actually make a difference. Its tĥe perks we work for, I got tickets to the world cup 3 years in a row,” Pansy said with a smile full of regret.
They all laughed, though it was tinged with a bit of bitter truth.
"Ah, the sweet sound of failure," Blaise said dramatically, leaning back in his chair. "Shall we toast to it?"
Harry raised his glass. "To failure!"
"To failure!" they all echoed with playful enthusiasm before clinking their glasses together.
Draco, his eyes a little too bright with drink, leaned over to Harry with a smirk. “You know, Potter, if you ever want to really shake things up… there are other ways to get people’s attention. Perhaps we should get the Boy Who Lived to do a bit of… magical streaking at the Ministry?”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he looked sideways at Draco. “I’m flattered you think so highly of my body, Malfoy, but I’m not sure that’ll pass any bills either.”
Draco's smirk deepened, and he leaned in closer. “Oh, trust me, it might pass something.”
“Might raise something,” Blaise snickered under his breath.
“Bit of an uprising was never a bad thing,” Pansy added with a laugh.
Harry blushed bright red and Draco drunkenly leaned over and whispered something into Harry’s ear that made Harry snort with laughter and push him back into his seat.
“Merlin, Malfoy, are you always this handsy when you’re drunk?” Harry asked, his voice laced with amusement.
Draco grinned lazily, resting his chin in his hand. “Only with you, Potter.”
Pansy cackled. “He’s not wrong, you know.”
“Flattered,” Harry quipped, though his eyes sparkled with warmth as he shot Draco a fond look.
Harry rolled his eyes, but his grin widened. “You’re impossible when you’re drunk, Malfoy.”
Draco winked, his voice lowering into a mock-purr. “And you love it.”
“Someone has to,” Harry shot back, laughing, and he nudged Draco's shoulder playfully. “Dunno how Tori puts up with you!”
Hermione shook her head, though she smiled fondly at the two of them. “Honestly, I don’t know how I put up with any of you.”
“Because we’re irresistibly charming, obviously,” Pansy said with a wink, topping up Hermione’s glass despite her half-hearted protest. “And because we make life interesting.”
“‘Interesting’ is one word for it,” Hermione muttered, taking a sip of her wine anyway.
“You love us, Granger. Admit it,” Blaise chimed in, his lazy smile betraying just how much he was enjoying the playful banter.
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Harry cut in, flashing a mischievous grin. “Oh, she definitely loves me. Isn’t that right, darling? I think we’re getting married soon, aren’t we?”
Hermione burst out laughing, her eyes sparkling as she nodded. “Oh but my love, you haven't proposed!”
Draco snorted, giving Harry a dramatic once-over. “If you’re planning to marry her, Potter, you better hope you’ve got something more exciting planned than a dinner at the Leaky Cauldron like with Ginny. Honestly, I expected better from the Chosen One.”
Blaise chimed in with mock seriousness. “I think he’s going to propose during a Quidditch match. Something flashy, you know? He can’t resist the spotlight.”
“Merlin, can you imagine?” Pansy gasped dramatically. “Harry, in his Quidditch robes, flying down on one knee at halftime with a ring in hand!”
“Or riding in on a dragon!” Blaise exclaimed.
Harry rolled his eyes, laughing even harder. “You lot are the worst.”
“You love us,” they all said in unison, leaving Harry shaking his head, grinning as he took another sip of his firewhiskey.
The warm flicker of the pub's fire had cast a soft glow over their table, the drinks continuing to flow freely as the group relaxed further into their seats. Hermione, already tipsy, raised her wand with a lazy flick, charming Harry’s chair to stretch out like a lounge. She grinned as she climbed onto it, settling herself comfortably by his side, her head resting on his shoulder as he draped an arm around her.
Draco raised an eyebrow, smirking at the sight. "You're not helping the rumors, love."
Harry scoffed, taking another sip of his drink. “I don’t care about them. It's been YEARS! They should get over it, after I quit the Aurors, especially after the crap with Ron, none of it matters to me anymore. I gave my life for these people…they never fully appreciated it. I don't owe them anything else.’
Hermione shifted slightly, snuggling deeper into Harry's side. “I wish you hadn’t quit. Ron should’ve been fired!”
Pansy, sitting across from them with a curious tilt to her head, leaned forward. “What exactly happened, Potter? You never really gave us the full details.”
Harry paused, his gaze dropping into his glass for a moment before he spoke. “After the Daily Prophet ran the story about me and Hermione being ‘together,’ Ron… well, he was livid. Started yelling at me in the office, calling me all kinds of things.”
“We heard he was making the office miserable,” Draco said with a frown. “You should have told me! I wouldn't have done something!”
“That wasn’t exactly why I quit,” Harry said with a shrug.
Hermione nodded, her voice soft but steady. “No, it wasn’t. He went on a mission to bring down some underground Voldemort supporters. And he got hurt…”
“I heard about that, but what does that have to do with Ron?” Draco asked.
Harry let out a deep breath, setting his glass down on the table. “We were closing in on this group of Death Eater remnants, and I got hit from behind by some curse. It threw me into a wall, fractured my spine. I couldn’t move. I was stuck there, unable to call for help. I went with Seamus and his team…Ron included.”
Draco’s smirk faded, his expression turning serious. “Ron found you, didn’t he?”
Harry nodded grimly. “He did. He saw me, i couldn't do much with my spine as fucked up as it was…but we made eye contact. Then he just left me there. Told the others he didn’t see me, so they thought I’d been kidnapped. They filed a report and launched a search team.”
Pansy’s eyes widened in shock. “He left you there!?”
Hermione’s grip tightened on Harry’s arm, her voice edged with anger. “It gets worse. The Death Eaters found him before the search team did. They… they tortured him for hours. If I hadn’t gone looking for him when he didn’t come home for lunch, I’m not sure what would’ve happened.”
Harry rubbed a hand over his face, the memory still raw. “She saved me. But I reported what Ron did. Told the Ministry he left me there. Ron claimed I was lying, and Seamus backed him up. But the Ministry backed me. It all came down to whether I wanted to file my full statement… which would’ve gotten Ron thrown in Azkaban.”
Pansy frowned. “So what stopped you?”
Harry sighed. “Molly. She came to me, begging me not to do it. She’d already lost Fred, and she said she couldn’t lose another son. So… I said I had lied.”
Hermione’s jaw tightened, her voice quiet but fierce. “Of course, that meant Harry was fired for lying about another Auror. But because of who he is, they gave him the chance to resign instead.”
“So, I quit,” Harry finished simply, his voice tired. “Seamus thinks I lied and hasn't spoken to me since, or anyone else on the aurors. They think I tried to get Ron fired and it almost got him thrown in azkaban.”
There was a long, heavy pause at the table. The usual chatter and laughter faded, replaced by the weight of the story hanging between them.
Draco was the first to break the silence, his voice soft but firm. “You should have let him rot in Azkaban, Potter.”
Harry gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe. But I couldn’t do that to Molly. She’s been through enough.”
Pansy shook her head, still in disbelief. “I knew things were bad between you and Weasley, but Merlin, Harry, that’s beyond anything I imagined.”
Blaise, who had been quiet for most of the story, finally spoke, his voice low. “And Seamus backed him up? After everything?”
“Yeah,” Harry muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Seamus and Ron were thick as thieves by the end of it. I guess he thought loyalty to his friend mattered more than what actually happened.”
Hermione sighed, her head still resting against Harry’s shoulder. “We just moved on. There was nothing else we could do.”
Pansy drained her glass and set it down with a clink, her eyes flashing with anger. “We’ll drink to that then. To moving on, and to not giving a damn what people think anymore.”
They all raised their glasses, though the mood had shifted to something more somber.
Draco, in an attempt to lift the mood, grinned and leaned over toward Harry again. “Well, if you don’t care what people think, Potter, maybe you’ll finally give in to my charms and be my side piece.”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Merlin, you’re relentless.”
Draco smirked. “What can I say? You bring it out in me.”
Pansy rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile on her lips. “Honestly, you two are worse than a pair of teenagers.”
Hermione laughed, finally breaking through the tension. “I’d say they’re more like an old married couple.”
Draco winked at her. “Don't get jealous Granger, your husband is gay but I'm bisexual…and always down for a three sum!”
Harry groaned, throwing his head back. “Merlin, help me.”
But despite his groan, a smile tugged at Harry’s lips. For all the pain and darkness they’d shared, moments like this—where they could joke, laugh, and be vulnerable with each other—were worth every moment.
Draco slid his arm around Harry's shoulders, his smirk replaced by a more thoughtful expression. “Alright, seriously, Potter. We’re pushing 40 here. We’ll be too old for adventures soon, we’ve gotta take one soon.”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, we’re not pushing 40!”
Blaise leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink and giving Harry a knowing look. “Dude, 38 is literally pushing 40.”
“38?” Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing between Draco and Blaise. He hadn’t really thought about their ages in a while, especially since he and Hermione didn’t really celebrate birthdays. The realization hit him a little harder than he expected.
Pansy smirked, swirling her glass. “Yeah, you and Hermione look 35 at most. You must’ve found the Fountain of Youth or something. But we’re getting up there, Golden Boy. Don’t you forget it.”
Draco grinned and clinked his glass with Blaise’s. “Astoria wants me to go on a trip before the baby comes, and I think it’s a good idea. One last adventure before I’m changing diapers for the next decade.”
“How is Aatoria, by the way?” Hermionie asked?
“She's good,” Draco said smiling. “She's glowing! And the house elf's wait on her hand and foot! She's had the strangest craving for chocolate covered crisps…but she's doing wonderful. After the hard time we had conceived we gave up on children. Finding out we were having a baby after all, has been marvelously terrifying.”
Blaise raised his glass with a grin. “I vote Japan volcano exploration. I hear they have some dragons you can ride across it, and some rare potion ingredients grow in that soil.”
Hermione perked up. “Or… we could search for Cleopatra’s library like I suggested last summer!” Her eyes glinted with excitement. “It’s buried in the desert, but it’s said to contain magical scrolls beyond anything anyone could comprehend!”
Harry nodded thoughtfully, before turning to Draco. “You’re going to be a father, Draco. You pick. Pick an adventure, any adventure, and I’m funding it. We’ll all pack up when you say and take off.”
Draco's eyes widened as he looked at Harry, a grin spreading across his face. “Really?!”
Harry gave a firm nod. “Of course! You pick it, and I’ll make it happen. You’ve been there for all of us, so this one’s on me.”
Draco’s grin turned into a smile full of warmth. “Alright… I know what I want to do.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, curious. “Okay, what’s your idea?”
Draco leaned in, excitement sparking in his eyes. “There’s a cave in West Africa. Years ago, it had the most gorgeous magical diamonds you could mine, they're said to have unique magical properties but you can't buy them you HAVE to mine them yourself. And there’s an underwater fountain with water that’s said to fulfill your dreams or something like that. Astoria was obsessed with the place.”
The group leaned in, intrigued.
“But a few years ago,” Draco continued, “something happened. The cave entrance was cursed. No one’s been able to lift the curse, but the cave is open to the public for anyone to try. If we can find the cave and break the curse… I can mine a diamond for Astoria and bring it back for her. Then, after the baby’s born, I can take her on a trip to see it!”
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a pretty big adventure. And expensive as hell to get a guide, I’m assuming?”
Draco nodded. “Yeah, exactly. Most of my finances have been tied up lately. Father is once again contesting my inheritance, and contesting my claim to the Malfoy fortune. So it’s a bit out of reach for me at the moment.”
Harry leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table. “When it’s official, we’re all going to Africa! I’ll fund the whole trip. We’ll get a guide, we’ll find the cave, and we’ll help you break the curse. You just focus on mining that diamond for Astoria.”
The table erupted in cheers as they all clinked their glasses together.
“Cheers to Africa!” Pansy said, laughing.
“Cheers to breaking curses and finding diamonds!” Blaise added with a grin.
“Cheers to one last big adventure!” Hermione said, raising her glass in solidarity.
Draco beamed, his smile broad and genuine. “Alright, you’ve got a deal, Harry. Africa, here we come!”
Pansy raised her glass with a sly grin. “Speaking of funding,” she said, waving the waiter over. “I’m picking up today’s tab.”
The waiter made his way over, but before he could say anything, Pansy asked, “The tab, please.”
He hesitated for a moment before replying, “Mr. Potter already paid in full.”
“Potter!” Pansy groaned, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You always beat me to it!”
Harry laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I like spoiling my friends.” He smiled, a bit sheepishly. “Come on, I’m filthy rich, and me and Hermione hardly ever spend any of it.”
They all thanked him, raising their glasses. Hermione, who had been leaning against Harry’s shoulder, suddenly started to doze off. Harry grinned, effortlessly lifting her bridal-style and standing up.
“Let’s get you home, love,” he said softly, before walking out to the street and apparating them both home.
The next morning, Harry made sure Hermione was comfortable on the couch, a cold compress on her head and a hangover potion in her hand. “Drink this,” he said gently, handing it to her.
“Thanks,” Hermione muttered, taking the potion and sipping it slowly.
He smiled, running a hand through her hair. “You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”
Later, after Hermione had recovered, Harry handed her a parchment and quill. “Here,” he said. “Write a letter to your work and tell them you’re taking a month off. We’re going on an adventure with Draco and the others.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow but took the parchment. “A month off? That sounds rather extravagant, even for us.”
Harry chuckled. “We deserve it. Besides, Draco’s already invited Neville, Luna, and Theo. It’ll be a proper group trip.”
After a moment, Hermione smiled, starting the letter. “Alright, alright. I’ll take the month off. But only because you’ve made it sound so enticing.”