Chapter 2
Draco’s cottage looked exactly like one might expect from a man who had lost his fortune and social standing—and was far too proud to admit it.The walls were painted in warm creams and greens, and while the furniture was simple, Draco had managed to imbue the space with a certain elegance. Old books were stacked neatly on shelves, a charmed fireplace flickered soothingly, and the kitchen was crammed with potion vials and flasks. However, the real stars of the room were the countless baby items scattered everywhere: dummies, stuffed animals, and nappies that adorned the furniture like relics from a chaotic battlefield.
“Wow,” said Harry, glancing around. “This is… cosier than I expected.”
“Careful, Potter.” Draco balanced Scorpius on one arm while stirring a kettle on the stove, trying simultaneously to stop the baby bottle from overheating.
“It was a compliment.” Harry grinned and stepped closer. “Honestly, I’m impressed you pulled all this together on your own. I’d have pegged you for a villa with half a dozen house-elves.”
“Yeah, me too.” Draco raised an eyebrow. “But apparently, fate’s fond of humiliating me on a regular basis.”
At that precise moment, Scorpius decided to announce his presence with a loud burp—followed by an impressive amount of spit-up landing directly on Draco’s shoulder.Draco froze, standing motionless as if debating whether to scream or simply Disapparate on the spot. “Perfect,” he said flatly. “Exactly what I needed today.”
Harry bit his lip, clearly suppressing a laugh. “Here, give him to me.”
“I can handle this—”
“Give. Him. Here.” Harry took Scorpius from Draco’s arms without waiting for further protest. With the ease of someone who had done this many times before, he fished a clean cloth from the nappy bag and began wiping the baby down.
Draco crossed his arms and watched Harry sceptically. “I could’ve done that,” he muttered, pulling out his wand to cast a cleaning charm on his shirt.
“Mhm.” Harry deftly swapped Scorpius’s spit-soaked outfit for a fresh one, his efficiency both infuriating and mildly impressive. “I bet you didn’t even research your essays yourself back at Hogwarts.”
“Of course not. That’s what first-year Slytherins were for. It’s called delegation.”
“Lazy is what it’s called.” Harry threw him a mischievous look before holding Scorpius up. “There we go, little man. Fresh and clean. Now tell your daddy to relax a bit.”
Scorpius gurgled happily, as though he understood. Draco rolled his eyes. “Traitor.”
Later, when Scorpius was sleeping peacefully in his crib, Draco and Harry sat on the small sofa in front of the fire. Harry cradled a cup of tea, while Draco nursed a glass of Firewhisky, though he’d barely touched it.
“So,” Draco said eventually, breaking the silence. “You and Ginny. I didn’t think you two would split up.”
Harry’s gaze dropped to the flames. “Yeah… neither did I. But eventually, I realised I was lying to myself more than her, and robbing her of a chance at a real family.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “I never thought you’d be brave enough to come out of the closet.”
Harry chuckled softly. “You’ve no idea how long it took me to admit it to myself. Ginny always knew. She could feel it—she hinted a few times. She even claimed she’d seen two wizards sneaking out of the Room of Requirement a few nights.” He hesitated. “I was too much of a coward to face it back then.”
Draco stared into his glass for a moment. “Yeah. Me too.” Harry looked up. “Oh?”
“Potter.” Draco waved dismissively, but Harry’s gaze didn’t waver. Draco sighed. “You know exactly what I mean. Fifth year… those wizards Ginny claims to have seen. I was a coward. And I was unfair to you.” Harry’s expression softened. “Oh, Draco.”
Draco shrugged. “I couldn’t risk it. Not with my family. Not with my name. And now…”
“Now?”
Draco swallowed. “Now it’s too late to think about it. I did what they wanted—a pureblood princess, an heir—and it all fell apart anyway. It’s too late for… anything.”
Harry studied him intently before saying quietly, “I don’t think it’s ever too late.”
The room suddenly felt smaller, hotter. Draco took a sip of his whisky, avoiding Harry’s eyes. “That’s the sort of nauseating optimism only the prince of Gryffindor could afford, Potter.”
Harry smirked. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s exactly what you need right now.”
Scorpius murmured in his sleep, drawing both their gazes. The tension in the room eased slightly, but not entirely.
“Maybe,” Draco murmured at last, and for the first time in weeks, he felt just a little less alone.