Chapter 5
Draco stared at Harry as though the man had just suggested inviting the Dark Lord over for afternoon tea.
“You want to what?”
Harry grinned, gently patting Scorpius on the back as the baby wriggled contentedly in his arms. “I’ve got a few days of leave left. Thought I’d stick around and help you get the hang of single life.” Draco raised an eyebrow. “You want to help me, Potter? Or are you just enjoying my company a little too much?”
Harry pretended to consider this. “No, actually, I’m here for the deeply intellectual conversations I have with Scorpius. The fact that you happen to be around is purely incidental.” Draco snorted, but Harry didn’t miss the faint blush creeping up his pale cheeks. “Charming as ever. Truly. I’m overwhelmed by your tact.”
“I knew you’d appreciate my honesty.” Harry carefully placed Scorpius in his seat, where the baby gurgled happily. “And you genuinely believe you can help me?” Draco leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms as he gave Harry a look that hovered somewhere between scepticism and amusement. Harry simply grinned. “I’m fantastic at dealing with chaos. Just look at you—you’re a walking catastrophe, and yet here I am, not only calming your child but feeding him and making him laugh.”
“Wonderful. Don’t expect a marriage proposal.”
“No problem. I’ve been waiting for a more romantic gesture from you since fifth year—I’m nothing if not patient.”
Draco nearly choked on his coffee, while Harry smugly tucked into his cereal.
The morning passed surprisingly peacefully—until Harry decided to extend his influence over Draco’s inner chaos to the physical state of his house.
“What’s that?” Harry asked, pointing to a toy in the corner of the living room.
“That,” Draco said, lifting a warning hand, “is an old magical dragon. My old dragon, to be precise. And it’s not exactly—”
Too late. Harry had already prodded the little red dragon with his wand. With a shrill roar, the toy came to life, unfurling its leathery wings and spitting sparks.
“—stable,” Draco finished, leaping to his feet.
Harry swore as the dragon zipped erratically through the room, its tail leaving trails of fire in its wake. Scorpius squealed with delight, clapping his hands as Draco tried, and failed, to subdue the rogue toy with his wand.
“This is your fault!” Draco shouted as the dragon sprayed a shower of sparks over the carpet.
“You should’ve put it away!” Harry retorted, ducking behind the sofa for cover.
“You shouldn’t go around enchanting things you don’t understand, Auror Potter!”
A well-aimed spell finally hit the dragon, which let out a pitiful squeak before curling into a lifeless heap on the floor. Draco bent to pick it up, then threw Harry a triumphant look. “And you think you can help me get my life in order?” Harry collapsed onto the sofa, running a hand through his messy hair. “At least I’m helping you remember how to laugh.” Draco opened his mouth to argue—but instead, to his surprise, he laughed. For the first time in months.
When evening came and Scorpius was peacefully asleep in his cot, Draco and Harry worked together to tidy up the remnants of the day’s chaos. The broken dragon lay forlorn on the table as they stacked plates and cleared the kitchen. While Draco washed a mug, Harry’s hand brushed his lightly.
Draco froze.
“All these years,” Harry said softly. “All these years… I missed you.”
Draco blinked, turning to face him. For a moment, it felt as though his heart stopped. Then, instinctively, his defences kicked in.
“Oh, Potter.” His tone was dry, but his eyes were uncharacteristically gentle. “So many years wasted. Who’d have thought you secretly had a thing for damaged wrecks?” Harry smiled, though there was a deeper emotion in his gaze. “Maybe I just like your chaos. And maybe…” He took a step closer. “…I still like you.” Draco opened his mouth, searching for a witty retort, but before he could find the words, Harry leaned in.
The kiss was tentative. Gentle. Yet it felt as though time had stopped. Draco felt the warmth of Harry’s lips, the slight tremble of his hands—and then he gave in, deepening the kiss, as if finally surrendering to something he’d been resisting for far too long.
When they broke apart, they stood in silence for a moment, the air between them heavy with unspoken truths. Draco exhaled shakily, then said, “I knew it. Chaos is exactly your thing.” Harry grinned. “I’ve always thought your chaos might be the best adventure of my life.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “That sounds dangerously like you’re trying to court me.”
“Maybe I am.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “In that case, you’d better brush up on your knowledge of toy dragons. And perhaps on proper courting etiquette—I am a pureblood, after all, even if a disgraced one.”
“Deal.” Harry’s grin widened, and for the first time in years, Draco allowed himself to feel the faint flicker of hope in his chest.