Chapter 12
The wedding of James Potter and Narcissa Malfoy was nothing short of extravagant. Held on neutral ground at a grand manor in Wiltshire, the event was a blend of Malfoy elegance and the Potters' understated charm. But beneath the sparkling chandeliers and flowing champagne, there was tension—unspoken adjustments that all four of them had to navigate.
For Harry and Draco, it marked the start of an unusual, tangled life as not just lovers but also, technically, stepbrothers.
A week after the wedding, the four of them gathered for their first formal breakfast as a “family.” The dining room at Malfoy Manor, usually so stately and imposing, felt almost comical in its awkward silence.
James sat at one end of the long table, his attempt at casual charm faltering under Narcissa’s cool elegance. Harry and Draco were seated next to each other on one side, their knees brushing under the table.
James cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So,” he began, looking between Harry and Draco, “how’s… everything?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, his silver eyes glinting with mild amusement. “Are you asking about our relationship or the weather, Potter?”
Narcissa shot Draco a warning glance, but Harry snorted, barely suppressing a laugh. “Don’t mind him, Dad. He’s just not a morning person.”
Draco smirked, leaning back in his chair with his usual aristocratic poise. “And you’re far too cheerful for someone who’s about to endure another Quidditch season of Gryffindor losing.”
Harry grinned, nudging Draco with his knee under the table. “Careful, Malfoy, or I might decide not to let you wear my Quidditch jersey anymore.”
Draco’s cheeks flushed faintly, though he quickly masked it with a smirk. “As if I’d wear that garish red willingly.”
James and Narcissa exchanged a glance. While it was clear they were still adjusting to the unconventional dynamic between their sons, there was no denying the affection between Harry and Draco, even if it was cloaked in teasing banter.
“I suppose,” Narcissa finally said, her tone measured, “if the two of you are determined to make this work, we’ll need to establish some… boundaries.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Boundaries?”
James raised his hands in a placating gesture. “She just means… this is all new for us, too. We’re all figuring it out.”
Draco folded his arms, but Harry placed a reassuring hand on his thigh under the table, grounding him.
“It’s fine,” Harry said, looking at his father. “We understand. We’ll just… try not to make things too awkward.”
Draco huffed. “Speak for yourself.”
Despite the occasional awkward moment, Harry and Draco’s love only deepened in the weeks following the wedding. Draco began exploring his feminine side more openly, experimenting with softer, flowing robes and delicate accessories. To his surprise, Harry adored it, often complimenting him with a level of sincerity that left Draco blushing.
One evening, Draco emerged from his room wearing a soft lavender robe embroidered with silver accents. His hair was tied back in a loose, elegant bun, a few strands framing his face.
Harry, lounging on the sofa in the library, looked up—and froze.
“You’re staring, Potter,” Draco said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.
Harry stood, crossing the room in a few strides. “Can you blame me?” he murmured, his voice low. “You look… breathtaking.”
Draco’s cheeks turned pink, but he tilted his chin up, maintaining his composure. “I suppose I do have a certain charm,” he said airily.
Harry smirked, stepping closer until their faces were inches apart. “You’re more than charming, Draco. You’re mine.”
Draco’s breath hitched as Harry leaned in, his hands sliding around Draco’s waist. The kiss that followed was slow and deliberate, Harry pouring every ounce of love and admiration he felt into it.
When they finally pulled apart, Draco rested his forehead against Harry’s, his voice soft. “You really mean it, don’t you? You don’t mind… this side of me?”
Harry’s green eyes burned with conviction. “I don’t just not mind it—I love it. I love you, all of you. Don’t ever think you have to hide who you are.”
Draco swallowed hard, his heart swelling. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
Harry cupped Draco’s cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against his skin. “You deserve everything, Draco. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”
As the weeks turned into months, James and Narcissa began to soften. They couldn’t deny the love between their sons—though James still struggled with occasional bouts of overprotectiveness.
One afternoon, James cornered Harry in the garden while Draco was tending to the roses.
“Harry,” James began awkwardly, “you and Draco… you’re serious, aren’t you?”
Harry looked at his father, his expression resolute. “Yeah, Dad. I am. I love him.”
James sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I worry about you. About both of you. People aren’t always kind to relationships like yours. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Harry smiled faintly. “I know. But Draco’s worth it. And I think we can handle whatever comes our way, as long as we’re together.”
From the garden, Draco glanced up, catching Harry’s eye. Harry waved, his grin widening when Draco returned it with a rare, genuine smile.
James followed his gaze, his expression softening. “He’s different with you,” he admitted. “Happier.”
Harry nodded. “And I’m happier with him.”
James sighed again but smiled. “Alright. Just… don’t make me regret giving my blessing.”
Harry laughed, clapping his father on the shoulder. “Thanks, Dad.”
As time went on, Harry and Draco faced challenges, from public scrutiny to their own insecurities. But their love only grew stronger, each hardship bringing them closer together. They built a life filled with laughter, passion, and unwavering support, proving that sometimes, the most unexpected relationships could be the most profound.