Chapter 6
It had been weeks since Draco moved out with James and Lily. The separation had been hard on all of them, especially the kids, but Harry was doing his best to make things work. He visited them regularly, picking them up for outings, bringing them back to his place, or taking them to Diagon Alley for a treat. But today was different. Today, he was heading to Draco’s apartment to pick them up, and something in the air felt heavier than usual.
When Harry arrived at Draco's flat, he could hear the sound of laughter coming from inside, and for a brief moment, he felt a rush of warmth. But when he opened the door, that warmth immediately turned to something sharp—something unfamiliar.
Ron was there.
Harry’s heart dropped at the sight. Ron was sitting on the couch, his arm casually draped around the back of it, while James and Lily giggled as they played with some toy on the floor. Draco stood in the kitchen, his back to Harry, stirring something in a pot. The whole scene felt so domestic, so… normal.
For a split second, Harry's stomach twisted in a strange, protective way. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Draco to move on—he knew that wasn’t fair—but seeing Ron here, sitting so comfortably in Draco’s space, made something ugly flare up inside him.
“Ron?” Harry managed, his voice tighter than he intended.
Ron looked up, his usual grin in place. “Oh, hey, mate. Just thought I’d pop by and see the little ones.”
Harry tried to smile, but the tension in his chest only grew. “Right,” he said, his eyes flickering to Draco, who was still focused on the stove.
“Everything alright, Harry?” Ron asked, looking concerned.
“Yeah,” Harry said, though his voice lacked conviction. “Just didn’t expect to see you here, is all.”
Draco turned around then, his eyes briefly meeting Harry’s before he gave him a small, almost apologetic smile. “I asked Ron to help me with a few things for the kids. It’s been easier with him around, you know, with the transition and all.”
Harry nodded, his mind whirling. He should be happy that Draco was getting help, that the kids were comfortable, but seeing Ron—his best friend, who Harry had spent years fighting alongside—sitting so casually in the space that used to be *theirs* was making him feel irrationally possessive.
“Right,” Harry said again, forcing a smile. “I just came to pick them up. We’ve got some plans today.”
James and Lily rushed over to him, clearly excited to see their dad. James grabbed Harry’s hand, and Lily clung to his leg, chattering excitedly about something she’d done at school. Harry’s focus shifted to them, but even their warmth couldn’t quite shake the feeling in his chest.
Ron stood up then, giving Harry a teasing look. “You’re still the same, mate. Can’t take a little jealousy, can you?”
Harry stiffened, his face flushing with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. He didn’t want to admit it—not even to himself—but yes, he was jealous. He didn’t like seeing Draco with someone else, even if it was just a friendship. The idea of Ron in Draco’s home, so comfortable and familiar, felt like a betrayal—one that he had no right to feel, but he couldn’t shake it.
“Shut up, Ron,” Harry muttered, though there was no real heat behind it. He wasn’t sure who he was more angry at—Ron, for being there, or himself, for feeling this way in the first place.
“Alright, alright.” Ron held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, Harry. You’re the one who broke it, not me.”
That comment hit like a punch to the gut. Harry’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. He didn’t need to. Ron had a point.
Draco, sensing the tension, cleared his throat, and with a quick glance between the two of them, said, “Alright, I think it’s time for the kids to go with you.” His voice was calm, but there was a hint of something unreadable in his gaze.
As Harry bent down to scoop Lily up and hold James’s hand, Draco’s eyes lingered on him for just a moment too long, as if searching for something. Harry’s chest tightened, and he knew that this wasn’t just about Ron.
It was about the life he’d destroyed and the family he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to repair.
“Take care of them,” Draco said quietly, the words not quite a command, but an unspoken plea.
“I will,” Harry said, his voice quieter than he intended. He wanted to say more—wanted to apologize for everything, for the mess he’d made—but all he could do was nod, swallowing down the lump in his throat.
As he walked out the door with the kids, his hand brushing against Draco’s, he couldn’t help but feel a knot of jealousy unravel inside him. He wasn’t sure if it was because of Ron or because of how far he’d pushed Draco away. But one thing was certain: the emptiness in Harry’s chest had little to do with what was happening now. It was all about what he’d lost, what he couldn’t take back.
And that, more than anything, stung.