Slytherin's Son of Poseidon - year 3

Draco’s eyelids felt impossibly heavy. His entire body ached, but the worst of it was the sharp, burning pain in his side. He groaned softly, shifting slightly against the crisp sheets beneath him.

A hand tightened around his.

His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was a mess of black hair, bright green eyes filled with exhaustion and relief, and a face that looked far too worried for someone like Harry Potter.

“Draco,” Harry breathed, his grip tightening.

Draco blinked slowly, taking in his surroundings. He was in the Hospital Wing. White curtains. The faint scent of antiseptic potions. And Harry—sitting beside his bed, looking like he hadn’t slept in days.

“You look awful,” Draco muttered, his voice hoarse.

Harry let out a choked laugh, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Yeah, well, I was worried about you, git.”

Draco smirked weakly. “Figures.” Then he frowned, his mind catching up. “Wait—what happened?”

Harry swallowed. “You got hurt.” His voice was strained, like just saying the words made it worse. “Remus—when he transformed—” He trailed off, his jaw clenching.

Draco exhaled slowly. “Right. Werewolf attack. Should’ve guessed from the agonizing pain.”

“You almost died, Draco,” Harry said sharply, his voice trembling slightly. “Will barely managed to stop the curse from spreading. If he hadn’t been there—” He cut himself off, inhaling shakily.

Draco squeezed his hand, trying to ignore the way his chest tightened at the look in Harry’s eyes.

“I’m fine, Potter,” he murmured, softer this time.

Harry didn’t look convinced.

Before Draco could say anything else, the Hospital Wing doors creaked open.

Remus Lupin stood there, looking worse than Harry. He was paler than usual, dark circles prominent under his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between Draco and Harry, before he finally stepped forward.

Draco immediately stiffened.

Lupin noticed. His expression twisted with guilt.

“I wanted to come sooner,” he said quietly, “but Madam Pomfrey said you needed rest.” He hesitated before adding, “How are you feeling?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Like I got mauled by a werewolf.”

Lupin winced. “Draco—”

Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look. I know it wasn’t your fault,” he muttered. “You weren’t in control. I get it.”

Lupin looked at him for a long moment before exhaling. “That doesn’t change the fact that I hurt you.”

Draco glanced at Harry, who was watching the exchange closely, before turning his gaze back to Lupin.

“You didn’t mean to,” Draco said finally, his voice quieter. “I’ve seen plenty of people who do mean to hurt others. You’re not one of them.”

Lupin’s shoulders sagged slightly, as if the weight of guilt was crushing him.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Merlin, you look like a kicked puppy. Relax, Professor.”

Lupin let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“You’re a remarkable young man, Draco,” he said softly. “And I truly am sorry.”

Draco just nodded, and that seemed to be enough.

Lupin’s expression turned somber. “I won’t be staying next year,” he said, almost hesitantly.

Draco frowned. “What?”

“I’m resigning,” Lupin said. “Snape let it slip that I’m a werewolf, and—well, the Board won’t want me around students now.”

Draco scowled. “That’s stupid.”

Lupin chuckled. “I won’t argue with you there.”

Harry, who had been silent, finally spoke. “You don’t have to leave.” His voice was firm. “You’re the best Defense professor we’ve had. You belong here.”

Lupin’s eyes softened. “Thank you, Harry. That means more than you know.”

He hesitated before adding, “Look after each other, alright?”

Draco and Harry exchanged a glance before Harry gave a small nod. “Yeah. We will.”

Lupin smiled, then turned toward the door.

But before he could leave, Snape entered, looking as sour as ever. His gaze immediately locked onto Lupin, and something unspoken passed between them.

Draco definitely didn’t miss the way Lupin’s shoulders stiffened—or the way Snape’s expression was softer than usual.

Harry blinked. “Are they…?”

Draco smirked. “Oh, definitely.”

Harry snorted.

Lupin sighed, rubbing his temple. “Not a word from either of you.”

Draco grinned. “No promises.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Idiots, the lot of you.”

Lupin just smiled.

---

Draco knew he had nothing to worry about. He and Hermione had spent weeks revising, after all. But still, as he sat in the Great Hall, his fingers tapped anxiously against the table.

Harry nudged him. “Relax, genius. You probably got full marks.”

Draco scoffed. “I’m aiming for better than full marks, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes fondly. “Of course you are.”

The results finally arrived, and as expected:

• Draco and Hermione tied for first place in their year.
• Harry had solid marks (even in Potions, surprisingly).
• Ron, Nico, and Blaise barely scraped by (Ron looked far too pleased about it).
• Pansy and Will did well, though Will was more focused on healing spells.

As everyone celebrated, Draco felt a warm hand slip into his own.

He turned, meeting Harry’s soft gaze.

“Told you you’d do great,” Harry murmured.

Draco smirked. “And you doubted me?”

“Never,” Harry said easily, and then, right there, in front of everyone, he leaned in and kissed him.

Draco’s face burned, but he kissed back, his fingers curling into Harry’s shirt.

When they pulled away, Ron gagged. “Honestly. Can’t you do that somewhere else?”

Pansy smirked. “No, no, let them have their moment.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “It’s been their moment all year.”

Draco ignored them, his gaze locked onto Harry’s.

Maybe, just maybe—this had been a good year after all.

---

Draco sat in the empty Potions classroom, idly spinning a vial of sleeping draught between his fingers. The dim candlelight flickered, casting elongated shadows against the cold stone walls.

He hadn’t meant to linger after class, but something about the silence was… calming.

“Brooding doesn’t suit you, Draco.”

Draco didn’t even jump. He’d known Snape was there before he spoke.

“I wasn’t brooding,” he muttered. “Just thinking.”

Snape strode forward, his robes billowing as usual, before sitting at the desk across from Draco. His dark eyes studied him carefully.

“About?”

Draco hesitated. He could lie, say he was thinking about exams or his parents or something else safe. But Snape always saw through his lies.

So instead, he sighed.

“Relationships,” he admitted.

Snape arched an eyebrow. “You and Potter?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Who else?”

Snape made a noncommittal noise. “I fail to see the issue. The two of you are practically glued together as it is.”

Draco smirked but quickly sobered. “It’s just… sometimes, I wonder if it’s real,” he admitted. “If we weren’t soulmates, would he have still… you know?”

Snape’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something—understanding, perhaps.

“Love is not dictated by fate, Draco,” he said quietly. “Soulmates or not, the connection you have with Potter is something you built. The bond may have drawn you together, but everything after that? That was choice.”

Draco stared at him, processing those words.

Snape exhaled, his fingers steepling together. “I spent years convincing myself that love was predetermined, that once lost, it could never be regained.” His voice was softer now, more personal. “I was wrong.”

Draco caught the way his professor’s gaze flickered just briefly toward the open doorway—toward where Remus Lupin had passed by only minutes earlier.

Draco smirked. “So, you and Professor Lupin, huh?”

Snape gave him a look. “Mind your own business, Malfoy.”

Draco chuckled.

But inside, something felt lighter.

---

Harry’s hands clenched into fists as he stared at Sirius.

“You’re serious?” he blurted out.

Sirius grinned. “Always.”

Harry groaned. “I walked right into that.”

Draco snickered beside him, but his teasing expression softened when he saw how tense Harry was.

Sirius leaned forward, his eyes earnest. “Harry, I know I’m not the best guardian—I haven’t exactly been around—but I want to be. You don’t have to go back to the Dursleys.”

Harry swallowed. “But… would I even be allowed to?”

Sirius nodded. “Dumbledore’s already spoken to me. If you agree, we can make the arrangements.”

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. The idea of not going back to Privet Drive—of finally having a place where he was wanted—it felt unreal.

He turned to Draco, whose expression was unreadable.

“What do you think?” Harry asked quietly.

Draco tilted his head, his gaze searching. Then, after a moment, he smirked. “I think it’s about time you had a home that actually felt like one.”

Harry exhaled, his chest feeling lighter than it had in years.

Sirius grinned. “So, what do you say?”

Harry grinned back.

“I’d love to.”

---

Draco sat beside Harry on the Hogwarts Express, his fingers absently playing with the edge of his sleeve. Outside the window, the countryside blurred past, signaling the end of another year at Hogwarts. But despite the usual chatter and laughter from their friends in the compartment, Draco was quiet.

Too quiet.

Harry nudged him. “Alright, Malfoy, what’s with the brooding?”

Draco scowled. “I do not brood.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You’ve barely insulted Weasley in the past hour. That’s suspicious.”

Ron, who was stuffing his face with a chocolate frog, made an indignant noise but didn’t argue.

Draco hesitated before sighing and finally looking at Harry. His expression was carefully neutral, but his fingers gripped his sleeve tightly—his tell.

“So…” Draco started, voice softer than usual. “Now that you’re living with Sirius, does that mean you won’t be coming to Malfoy Manor anymore?”

Harry blinked. Of all the things he thought Draco might say, that was not on the list.

“What? Of course I’ll still come,” Harry said immediately. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Draco glanced away. “Well, I dunno, you’ve got your godfather now. Maybe you won’t have time to spend with us.”

Harry sighed, reaching out to take Draco’s hand. “Draco. Just because I’m living with Sirius doesn’t mean I won’t see you. You do realize I’d be miserable if I didn’t, right?”

Draco still didn’t look fully convinced, but his grip on Harry’s hand tightened. “Promise?”

Harry grinned, squeezing back. “Promise.”

---

It was safe to say that dinner at Grimmauld Place was not what Harry expected.

For one, Snape was there. Willingly.

Harry had nearly dropped his fork when he saw the man sitting stiffly at the dining table, a glass of wine in one hand, his expression unreadable. Across from him, Remus Lupin looked far too amused.

Draco, sitting beside Harry, was smirking like he knew something the rest of them didn’t.

Sirius, meanwhile, was glaring at Snape like he was the one who had personally wronged him instead of the other way around.

“Remind me why he’s here?” Sirius muttered to Remus, jerking his head toward Snape.

Remus gave him a patient look. “Because, Sirius, we’re all adults.”

Snape snorted. “Debatable.”

Sirius growled at him.

Harry exchanged a glance with Draco, who was casually sipping his tea, completely unbothered by the tension in the room.

“So,” Draco said smoothly, setting his cup down. “Should I assume we’ll be having family dinners often now?”

Sirius looked appalled. Snape looked equally displeased.

Lupin, ever the peacemaker, smiled. “I think that would be nice.”

Harry, hiding his grin, nudged Draco under the table. “Better get used to it, Malfoy. You’re stuck with us.”

Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he casually reached for Harry’s hand under the table, intertwining their fingers.

And despite the bickering, despite the chaos, Harry couldn’t help but feel… content.

Maybe, just maybe, this was what family was supposed to feel like.