Bright lights were the first thing Draco saw. Aggressively bright, in his opinion. Unnecessarily so. Complete overkill for wherever he was. He decided to keep his eyes closed, in light of his observation. It seemed sensible.
“Mr Malfoy? Can you hear me?” A woman asked him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Do you know where you are?” She sounded kind. Presumably she wasn’t actually that kind though because she was going to make him open his eyes and face the excessively bright lights again. He huffed and squinted, taking in the room and his state of undress.
“St Mungo’s.” He replied, voice gravelly from lack of use. “What happened?” He asked, trying to clear his throat. His immediately regretted it as a jolt of pain ran through him.
“Take it slowly, you’ve been here for a while. Let your body catch up.” The mediwitch said. He idly wondered why the hospital had such little regard for the state of patient’s eyes, considering the stupid lights and her even more stupid lime green robes. There were so many shades of green to choose from. Who had landed on the worst one possible, and why had nobody questioned it before now? There was emerald, or jade, or hunter green. Sage. Moss. Your basic dark and light green. Slytherin green, of course, a personal favourite of his for the sake of nostalgia. Seafoam. Pistachio. Apple.
“You have a very impressive knowledge of all of the shades of green, Mr Malfoy. Are you in any pain?” The mediwitch asked, somewhat dryly. He hadn’t meant to say all of that out loud. Did he really have so little control of his faculties? “It’s the potions we’ve given you.” The mediwitch replied. “This isn’t an uncommon reaction.”
Oh, he thought. “Oh.” He said.
“I’ll go and find your healer. He can explain everything to you, answer any questions you might have. About your condition and treatment, I mean, rather than who chose the colour of my robes.” She said with a smile. “I will also let your family know that you are awake. They’ve been quite impatient to see you.”
“I have one of those?” He asked. He wasn’t particularly sure where the question had come from, but it felt like the right thing to ask. Something was telling him that he didn’t deserve to have the things he did. No idea why that was, but it was a strong feeling all the same.
“A family? Yes, of course you do.” She replied. Her face then changed, a slight grimace forming. “I’d, um, avoid the Prophet for now. Until you’re caught up with everything and the healer says you’re stable.”
He just nodded. In the past, he might have immediately summoned a Prophet and ignored her advice completely, but his head hurt and, by the sounds of it, the paper would make his head hurt more. If only they could turn down the bloody lights.
“Mr Malfoy, how are you?” A tall man strode into the room, projecting rather too much confidence for Draco’s liking. Like he had the world at his feet and he knew it.
“I don’t know.” Draco replied. Not a particularly helpful answer, nor the most eloquent, but it was the truth.
“Ok. Amnesia isn’t uncommon in patients that have been asleep for as long as you have, so I don’t believe that to be anything to worry about. Things should start coming back to you. I imagine seeing your wife and mother will help enormously.”
“I…don’t remember having a wife?” He frowned. It was a different type of remembering. It wasn’t the foggy shroud that surrounded the rest of his brain, he wasn’t wading through mud to get to the memory. It just wasn’t there at all. Or it was, but it took a different shape.
One thing about Draco Malfoy was that he was a very talented occlumens. A skill that had come in handy more times than he could say when the Dark Lord decided to move in to the Manor. With that thought, the war and everything he did suddenly became clear, and his feelings from earlier made more sense. No, it didn’t seem like he did deserve to have a family. The thing about being a very talented occlumens, though, was that his memories were stored in meticulously neat rows, not a speck of dust on them, ready for review at a moments notice. Perched upon a shelf in a particularly dark room at the back of his mind was a box with the words ‘marriage contract’ written across the front of it. He didn’t open it, as something told him that he wasn’t ready to see what was inside, but it gave him the context he was looking for. He looked back at the healer, who was observing him with a curious expression. “I don’t have a wife.” Draco said.
“Astoria Greengrass seems to be of the opinion that you do, but that can all be dealt with later.” The healer replied. He then reached for the chart hanging at the end of the bed and flipped through the parchment clipped to it. “Do you feel stable?” He looked up.
Draco blinked. “Do I…feel stable?” He repeated. That didn’t strike him as a normal question for somebody to ask. Particularly when the answer that clattered around in his skull was ‘absolutely not’. Stability had been a stranger to him for years. It had all started when one of the peacocks, Reginald, had died when he was 8. A cursory glance at the time line of his life told him it had all been downhill since then.
“And how does that make you feel?” The healer asked, a notepad and pen in his hand. Muggle stationery, he mused. Ah, he was talking out loud again. “You never stopped.” The healer replied. Draco frowned, turning his nose up. He didn’t like being so out of control. Knowing some things and not knowing other things. Did he even know anything at all? Who on earth was Astoria Greengrass? Why wouldn’t his mouth behave itself? Why wouldn’t they just turn down the fucking lights?
***
“Congratulations, Harry.” Kingsley said warmly, handing over the award. Harry didn’t even know what it was for, but smiled anyway. Thunderous applause threatened to split open his skull and swallow him whole, but he smiled anyway. Ginny pulled him into a tight hug, her swollen stomach pressing against his torso. He felt like he could throw up. He smiled anyway.
Turning to the crowd, he waved at the faceless rows of people, desperately searching for a familiar face. A specific one, he realised. It couldn’t be just anyone, that wasn’t what he needed. He needed his person. They’d look back and they’d see him, just Harry, no scars or prophecies or stories written in the stars. They’d know who he was and what he’d been searching for. They’d know what he needed them to say. They’d know how to free him from the prison of his own making.
“So, Head Auror now, huh?” Ginny smirked, nudging him gently. Harry grinned.
“It’s been a dream for a while.” He replied. He didn’t know why he’d said that. It wasn’t true, not in the slightest. He hated being an auror. The work stopped him from healing, from moving on from the war. He’d wake at night, covered in sweat, phantom twinges in his scar. The letter McGonagall had sent him was still in the top drawer of his desk, mocking him for his terrible decision making. He wanted to teach Defence Against The Dark Arts. He wanted to go back to Hogwarts and find some room to breathe. Instead, he stayed at the Ministry, expending all of the energy he had on keeping his head above water. He’d drown eventually, he knew that. It was inevitable.
“Oh! He’s kicking!” She suddenly exclaimed, and Harry placed his hands over hers on her stomach, feeling his son moving about. He never should have let things go so far. He’d been desperate for a family, and now he had one, but it wasn’t right. He had work friends and a dutiful wife, the woman of his dreams, but it wasn’t right. He’d made a mistake that he couldn’t undo, put himself on a path he couldn’t leave. He was letting people down, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Today was a perfect day.” He said, beaming down at his wife. Ginny nodded.
“Wasn’t it?” She smiled.
They floo’d home, stepping into the sitting room at Grimmauld Place. Harry hated Grimmauld Place. He got Ginny comfortable on the sofa with a magazine and a cup of tea before heading out into the garden, where he stared straight up at the sky and wondered what the fuck he thought he was doing. A stray Prophet blew over the fence on the breeze, hitting him in the leg. He picked it up and read the headlines.
‘SON OF DEATH EATER FINALLY CAUGHT!’ It shouted at him, flashing up photos of a man with messy black hair and dull brown eyes. Eyes that should sparkle, he idly thought. It was a shame to see them so flat. ‘HARRY POTTER KEEPS US ALL SAFE ONCE AGAIN BY ARRESTING KNOWN CRIMINAL THEODORE NOTT’ Harry frowned. It didn’t feel like he’d kept anyone safe. He didn’t know Theodore Nott, but he wasn’t sure he could be described as a known criminal. Why had he arrested him? He couldn’t remember. Was that what his award had been for? Surely this Theodore had a life before Harry had thrown him in Azkaban. What of that now? Did he have people waiting for him? An empty home, a cold bed, food going stale in his cupboards. What if he had pets? Who would feed them? Had Harry sentenced a dog to death by sentencing Theodore Nott to years in Azkaban? Why couldn’t he remember what he’d charged him with, and why did he feel like Theodore was the person with all of the answers? Why did he feel like the only time he’d seen those brown eyes twinkle was when they were looking at him? Why did he desperately need to see those eyes in person?
“Harry?” Hermione called. He startled, dropping the paper. It blew away, back over the fence. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. Is everything alright?” She asked, coming to sit next to him.
“Everything is really great, Mione.” He replied with a wide smile. A lie.
“I can’t believe how much you’ve achieved. It’s so inspiring.” She said. “When the baby is born, I want to name him after you.” Her hands went to her stomach, and he gasped.
“You’d do that?”
She nodded fervently. “Of course I would. You are my best friend and I want Harry Jr to be just like you.”
“What did Ron say?” He asked.
“He loves the idea.” She replied. “He’s my soulmate, we agree on everything.” She laughed lightly, and he joined in, even as he felt his stomach shifting uncomfortably. Like something was really wrong.
“When is he due?” Harry asked, nodding at her rounded stomach.
“A few months yet. You’ll be there? For the birth?” Her eyes widened as she looked at him. He grabbed her hand.
“Of course I will.” He promised. The Prophet blew back over the fence, landing just by their feet. Hermione picked it up and scoffed.
“Exactly where he belongs. Gods, it must have been so hard for you, all that work to catch him.” She said, gesturing to the photo of Theodore. He nodded.
“It was hard.” Not technically a lie, he thought.
“These people, these monsters, should never have been left out in the world like they were. They should have been sent to Azkaban straight after the battle.” She continued. He was still nodding for some reason. He’d known monsters in his life, some bigger than others, but there was a fundamental fact that lived in the very centre of his heart, and it was that Theodore Nott was decidedly not one of them.
***
“You’re saying I’m an auror, I was injured on a mission, and I’ve been in a coma for two years?” He repeated slowly, none of it feeling like the truth.
The healer nodded. “You jumped in front of your partner to save her.” He said. His partner. That felt like more steady ground.
“I…care about her.” He said. A fact, rather than a question. There were hundreds of boxes in hundreds of rooms in hundreds of the buildings in his brain that housed memories of her. None of the ones that were accessible were able to tell him her name, though. He, apparently, had rather a lot of feelings about her. Far more than his supposed wife, at any rate. He could only find a single box to do with her.
“It might be wise to keep an open mind. A lot has happened since you were asleep.” The healer said seriously, and Draco frowned again.
“Is that why the mediwitch told me to avoid the Prophet?” He asked.
He nodded. “It wouldn’t be good for you to see how events played out from the perspective of Rita Skeeter. I think I would be best if your mother and Mrs Greengrass talked you through it.” His wife didn’t take his name. He considered this for a moment, and decided he didn’t like it. He didn’t like having a different surname to his wife. It didn’t sit right. He supposed it was up to her, though, so there wasn’t much he could do about it. “I’ll send them in shortly. If you’re up for visitors?”
Draco nodded. “I’d like to see them.” He replied. He wasn’t sure that he really did, if he was honest, but he was fed up of the Mungo’s staff drip feeding him ominous comments and wanted answers. Where was his partner, for example? She felt like his other half, in more ways than one. Like she should be here, with him, never too far away. She was too far away.
“Oh my darling, look at your poor face!” A woman with brown hair piled on her head exclaimed as soon as she entered the room. He hoped she was his mother and not his wife. He hoped he’d had better taste in women than that. A second woman followed in, her hair a mix of bright white blonde and black, and he inwardly sighed. No, she was definitely his mother. Perhaps Astoria had a wildly engaging personality. “Saving a mudblood like that, what were you thinking?” Astoria continued as she climbed on top of him with little regard for his injuries. She peppered his face with kisses and he sneered.
“Don’t use that word.” He snapped coldly, surprising himself. He wasn’t completely sure which word he was referring to, but he really wasn’t happy with her for saying whatever it was that she’d said.
“That’s what she is, my dove. You might as well accept reality. Especially after everything she’s done to us.” She replied, hands roving over his chest, knees either side of his hips.
“Tori, dear, perhaps we should explain what’s happened first. Draco must be rather desperate for some context by now.” His mother said. He nodded. He decided he liked his mother. She struck him as a sensible woman. Perhaps he could get her to persuade them to turn the lights down. Astoria huffed as she clambered off the bed again, her skirt riding up as she did so, giving him a prolonged view of her exposed arse. He supposed that if they were married, it was alright that he’d seen it. Presumably, he’d seen it before. He did wonder why she hadn’t worn knickers to a hospital, though.
“Why did the mediwitch tell me to avoid the Prophet? Is it to do with my partner? At the Ministry?” He asked. Astoria sneered so aggressively, he was slightly taken aback by the expression. His mother nodded.
“Yes, my dragon. You were on a mission together and you saved her life, throwing yourself in front of her when your protective shields began to fail. You were struck by several curses, leaving you incapacitated for the last two years. In all honesty, it’s a miracle you survived.” She said, faltering slightly and brushing away a single tear. “She rather got the wrong end of the stick, thinking you’d saved her as a grand romantic gesture. She tried to claim custody of young Scorpius, but when that failed, she began to stalk Tori and I, breaking into our homes to steal documentation that might tell her where Scorpius was.”
“Scorpius…?” He asked. Astoria gasped. Somewhat dramatically, he thought.
“Our son, my dearest husband. Scorpius is our perfect little baby boy.” She replied. He hummed. He was a father? He searched his mind and found that it felt true. He enjoyed being a dad. He was good at it. Better than his own had been.
“Why would she try and take my son?” Draco asked. Interesting use of ‘my’ instead of ‘our’ considering the boy’s mother was sat next to him, but he didn’t think much of it. It felt like the right thing to have said.
“She claimed that he was hers. That Astoria hadn’t given birth to him.” His mother replied.
“Surely that’s quite an easy claim to dispute?” He scoffed. “We know who he came out of.”
“She became dangerous. The stalking was getting worse, and I was worried what she might do if she ever found Scorpius, so we did what we had to.” Astoria said, looking quite pleased with herself. Draco blinked. He looked at Astoria, and then his mother, before retreating into his own head and searching his boxes of memories. Astoria was gripping his hand and his thigh, which he really didn’t like, but he was too busy to tell her to let go. He ripped through his memories of his partner, flashes of brunette shiny curls and amber eyes that he wanted to swim in. Oh? That didn’t feel like an appropriate thought to have about a work colleague, but it was there nonetheless. Memories of her holding a blonde baby, smiling up at him. His heart felt fuller as he thought of that. Memories of a wedding. Of being happier than he ever had. Then he found the word he’d been searching for. He found her name.
He launched himself out of bed on surprisingly steady legs, grabbing his wand from the table beside him and pointing it at the two witches.
“What did you do to my wife?” He growled. He knew now. He was certain. Draco had a wife, and she was definitely too far away from him.
“I’m here, baby. I’m right here!” Astoria simpered. He didn’t even look at her. He looked into the panicked eyes of Narcissa Malfoy.
“Mother, where is Hermione?” He asked coldly.
***
Harry wasn’t particularly familiar with love. He knew of it, but in a distant, detached way that made him feel like he was stuck outside, peering in through a window at the concept. He knew his mother had loved him, that was a well documented fact. One taught to children who asked about the war and how Voldemort had finally been defeated. It made him angry that he’d never known her love first hand. That it had been made public property. That it had been made everyone else’s business.
Ginny loved him. He didn’t know why. He told her that he loved her back, but that wasn’t true. Harry didn’t believe that he had the capability to love anyone. In all those books that Hermione had read, love was described as this riotous, all-encompassing feeling that changes everything. Harry had definitely not felt anything like that before. He valued Ginny, as he valued Hermione and Ron and his other friends. He liked having them around. He wasn’t sure that he loved them. He hoped he’d be able to love his son once he was born. He hoped he’d still be enough for him if he couldn’t.
Those dull brown eyes had kept Harry from sleeping for days. All he dreamt about were those eyes. Eventually, he couldn’t ignore the pull. He had to see those damn eyes before he lost his mind.
“Prisoner 1206 for you, sir.” The guard barked, gripping Nott’s upper arm with an unnecessary amount of force in Harry’s opinion. “I’ll be outside if you need assistance.” He added, before forcing Nott to sit in the chair and leaving the small room, slamming the door behind him. Harry winced.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Nott sneered, his voice hoarse.
“Who are you?” Harry asked.
“What?” Nott frowned.
“Who are you?” He repeated. “To me. Who are you to me?”
Nott blinked. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I don’t know anything about you, but I feel like I should. Why is that?”
“This isn’t something you need to push, Potter.”
“Tell me why!” Harry slammed his fist on the table, meeting Nott’s eyes. Those dull brown eyes that he was convinced should be shining.
“Harry.” He said, almost begging. “Please leave it.”
“I don’t love my wife. You can tell me why. I know you know why.”
“Why do you think I have all the answers?”
“Because you do! I was lost, I am lost. Drifting. It was you that grounded me, Theo, so tell me what the hell is going on here!” He shouted. Then he blinked. “Theo…” He said softly.
“Harry, you need to go home.” He said lowly, but Harry shook his head.
“I am home. Home is wherever you are. How did I forget that?”
“I don’t know you.” Theo said, almost desperately.
“You’re the only person that does.” Harry shot back. “Did he say prisoner 1206?”
“No.” He said quickly.
“He did. I heard him. 1206. Why are you 1206?”
“It’s just a number.”
“It isn’t just a number.” Harry said. He stared into those brown eyes again. He remembered. “It’s a date.”
The room faded around him. Theo disappeared, sinking down through the floor. The table folded in on itself. Everything was spinning.
He took a deep gasp as he sat up in the bed, feeling like he was surfacing from the depths of deep water. There was chatter he couldn’t quite make out around him, a vague feeling of alarm. Suddenly, he was falling asleep again. He tried to fight it, but it was too strong. His eyes fluttered closed just as the first bars of a song played out in the room. ‘The power of love is a curious thing. Make a one man weep, make another man sing…’
“You’re doing so well, Gin.” He murmured in her ear as she pushed, crushing his hand in hers. The healer between her legs told them it wouldn’t be much longer. Baby James was on his way. Ginny screamed, the bones in his hand shifting as she gripped it somehow tighter.
“Merlin, how much more of this?” Ginny cried.
“I can see the head, Mrs Potter.” The healer reassured her. “Push, Mrs Potter. Push.”
“What the bloody hell do you think I’ve been doing?!” She snapped back, and Harry smiled.
“You’ve got this, Ginny.” He said. “Just picture our son. You’ll get to meet him soon. I hope he has your eyes.”
“My eyes?” She looked up at him.
“Brown and shining.” He replied with a soft smile. Then he frowned. “Wait…”
“Comfort your wife, Mr Potter. She’s doing an amazing job.” The healer prompted. Harry dropped Ginny’s hand.
“Those eyes. His eyes.”
“Who do you mean, Harry?” Ginny grit out, gripping onto the bedsheets.
“This is wrong.” He said, looking around the room. “This is all wrong.” He bolted through the door, reading the names on the other rooms as he passed. The letters were printed on the wood, but they didn’t make words. Strings of letters that made no sense. Until he reached a door where they did. “Malfoy.” He said urgently, slamming into the room and seeing the blonde man holding his wand to a witch’s neck.
He frowned at Harry. “Potter? What are you doing?”
“Something isn’t right here.” He said.
“You’re bloody right about that, this harpy sent Hermione to Azkaban! We’ve got to get her out!” He exclaimed, shoving the wand further into the woman’s throat.
“Hermione isn’t in Azkaban, Malfoy.”
“She is. It’s in the Prophet.” He growled, looking at the woman and not Harry. The paper floated in through the open window and landed at Harry’s feet. ‘GOLDEN GIRL TURNED STALKER INCARCERATED! MALFOY HEIR IN COMA!’ The front page read. Harry scoffed.
“It’s not real. None of this is real. Ginny’s giving birth down the hall. To my son.”
Malfoy frowned. “How can it be yours? You’re with Theo.”
Harry pointed an enthusiastic finger at him. “Yes! I bloody knew it! Yes, I am!”
“Potter, what’s going on?” He asked again.
“Don’t you get it yet? Wherever we are, whatever magic put us here, it isn’t enough to make us forget completely. That’s the power of-“ Harry shot through the ceiling and up into the sky.
***
Draco blinked. “Potter?” He said, looking at the place where he’d just been standing.
“My dragon, please. Lower your wand.” His mother begged quietly. He pulled his wand from Astoria’s neck and frowned.
“Scorpius’ middle name.” He said. “What is it?”
“Hyperion.” Astoria replied. He smiled.
“No, it isn’t.” He said. His body melted, pouring onto the floor tiles and making a glittering puddle of Malfoy.
He gasped as he woke up in the bed. The room was dark. He was grateful for that. He’d had enough of those bloody blinding lights.
“You’re completely ridiculous.” Hermione said flatly, standing at the foot of his bed with her arms folded. “You know that, don’t you?”
“And yet I still managed to convince you to marry me.” He replied. “Perhaps we’re both a little ridiculous.”
“Harry was better at noticing things were off. You gave me more data, but he got out quicker.” She said, flicking her wand and pointing at various flashing lights on the diagnostic floating above his face. “Your biggest fear is losing me?” She asked, her face softening.
“Of course it is.” He replied immediately.
She sighed. “You stupid man. You couldn’t lose me if you tried. We’re in this now. No getting rid of me, Malfoy.” She smiled, wiggling her ring finger at him.
He smiled fondly at her before realising what she’d said. “How did Potter know faster than me?”
Double doors to his left swung open, and Theo swanned across the room looking more smug than he’d ever seen him. “Never underestimate the power of my eyes, apparently.” He grinned.
“What?” Draco frowned. Hermione sighed as Harry shuffled in after him, looking red. “Were you a sappy prat, Potter?”
“Apparently.” He replied testily.
“In his scenario, he was married to Ginny and was head auror. Ginny was pregnant, and Theo was in Azkaban.” Hermione explained. “Harry’s subconscious kept sending the Prophet his way with prompts. Things he was unable to believe.”
“My eyes were too dull.” Theo said, still grinning. “He saw a photo of me and immediately thought it was wrong because my beautiful brown eyes weren’t sparkling for him like they usually do.”
“I’m never speaking to you again.” Harry replied.
“We both know that isn’t true.” Theo waggled his eyebrows, approaching his husband and wrapping his arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder. “You loveeee meeeeeee.” He teased. Hermione chuckled into her hand. “You remembered the date of our wedding and assigned it as my Azkaban number, my dearest darling.”
“Malfoy imagined he had a kid with Mione! Bully him about that!” Harry exclaimed.
“I could not be less embarrassed about that, Potter.” Draco replied with a smirk.
“Why did the middle name make you realise it wasn’t real? You told me in eighth year you’d name your son Scorpius Hyperion. You’ve had that planned for years.” Hermione asked. He smiled.
“That was before I started picturing you as his mother. I knew it wasn’t real when fake Astoria said Hyperion because I knew I’d never pick that name now, not since we got married.”
“What would you choose instead?” She asked.
“Edward.” He replied simply. Her eyes widened.
“After my dad?” He nodded, and she wrapped her arms around him as best she could, seeing as he was still lying down.
“That’s serious husband points.” Theo commented.
“Piss off, Theo.” Hermione muttered, her face in Draco’s neck.
“That’s no way to treat your esteemed colleague and brother in law.” He replied. “Especially after I so generously allowed you to go traipsing about in my beloved’s head.” He caressed Harry’s face and grinned as Harry swatted his hand away.
“With some tweaks, this will be really effective, Mione. Even though I felt like something was missing, it didn’t click that it wasn’t real for a while. That would give you enough time to search someone’s memories.” Harry said as Hermione stood up. “I never felt scared, either. Just-“
“Lost.” Theo finished for him.
Harry nodded. “Lost. It was sort of the feeling you get in a lucid dream, but without knowing you’re actually dreaming. If that makes any sense.”
“It’s not dissimilar from lucid dreaming in essentials.” Hermione replied. “You just seemed to be uncomfortable until Astoria and your mother came in. Then you got too annoyed to notice any details.” She turned to Draco.
“I think it was because my fear is something more tangible than Potter’s sounds. It’s specifically losing you, not knowing where you are, not being able to protect you. I was scared, not necessarily for my own well-being but for yours.”
“I’m not sure I can articulate mine that well. I guess it’s to do with the fears I held before I came out. What my future would have looked like if I hadn’t been honest with myself. How I would have just gone along with everything so nobody around me would be upset.”
“It all centred quite heavily around Theo, Harry.” Hermione smiled at her friend, who acquiesced.
“And if I hadn’t found Theo, yes.” He said, a reluctant smile on his face. Theo grinned smugly again. “Because he represents that shift.”
“How horribly saccharine of you.” Draco smirked, and Harry rolled his eyes.
“Can’t really deny it, not when they’ve been in our heads.”
“Mm. Nothing so sweet from you, Malfoy. Just your endless wittering about the lights.” Hermione smiled.
“The ‘Hermione Granger’ wing of my brain wasn’t enough for you? You saw the way my occlumency works.” He replied.
“Granger-Malfoy.” She corrected with a smirk. He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it.
“Damn right it is.”
“Have we got to go under again? Or have you got enough to go on?” Harry asked her.
She shook her head. “I’ll need another volunteer. You were pretty useless, to be honest, Harry.”
“As I say, never underestimate the power of my eyes.” Theo replied. Harry then turned to look at him.
“Did you play that song at me? When I woke up?”
He smirked. “Couldn’t resist. Mione was so annoyed that you love me too much for her potion to work properly.”
“Good thing you’re mine, then. If you were loose, out in the world, who knows how many suspects would break out of the dream for thoughts of you?” Harry smirked.
“My boyish good looks and charming personality might be considered a threat to national security if you hadn’t had the good sense to marry me. Yet another sacrifice on your part, oh mighty chosen one. However can we repay you?” Theo replied. Draco grimaced.
“Can you at least make it home before you get your dicks out?” He said. Hermione swatted him on the shoulder.
“Oh, big talk from the man who thinks nobody knows about his preferred supplies cupboard for illicit activities.” Theo shot back. “Just bringing my wife lunch and then popping in to grab a few folders together, nothing suspicious about that. The spare stapler is ever so stimulating to look at.”
Draco was about to reply, but was cut off by Hermione. “Enough. Harry, you need to rest. No strenuous activity for at least the next two hours.” She said, looking between Harry and Theo. “I’ll let you go, but you have to come straight back if you feel off.”
“I’ll keep a close eye.” Theo said, hand on his heart.
“I promise, Mione.” Harry added.
“Thank you for helping. I know this was…intrusive.” Hermione said, but Harry waved her off.
“I trust you, you know that. I hope it ends up being useful.”
“I won’t be able to tell you if it’s implemented. You aren’t Ministry staff.” She smiled.
“And I thank Merlin every day for that.” Harry grinned, before grabbing Theo’s hand and leading them out of the lab.
“You’ll tell me right?” Draco asked after they were gone.
“Obviously. I couldn’t keep a secret from you if my life depended on it.” She chuckled. “I actually already have clearance from Robards and Kingsley to test it on a real suspect, to search for the information he’s hiding. I just don’t want to go ahead before I’m 100% certain that it works.”
“You should have more faith, love. What you’ve achieved is insane.” He replied. “Surely it’s only minor adjustments? Both Potter and I were under long enough for you to have a decent dig around in our heads.”
She nodded. “You were. It’s just Harry’s experience that’s throwing me off. He never fully settled into the fake narrative, he immediately knew something was wrong. What if that happens again?”
Draco sat up properly, placing his feet on the floor and pulling her down to sit next to him on the edge of the bed.
“What do you think happened? I know you, Hermione. You’ll have a theory.” He smiled, and she returned the expression.
“I think Harry and Theo are soulmates.” She said. He blinked. Then barked out a laugh.
“You’re serious?”
“It’s the only thing that makes any sense. You love me, I know that, but it made no difference, you still believed your dream. With Harry, his connection to the real Theo was just too strong. It was like he had one foot planted in the real world and one in the dream, and there was nothing I could do about it. Even when I put Ginny into labour, he left her because he knew it wasn’t real. I think that it would only work if I put Theo under too, because their souls are two halves that make a whole. As long as he is without his other half, he’s going to know something is wrong.” She explained.
“There’s no way to know for sure.” Draco replied. She nodded.
“I know. But I think it’s nice to just believe things to be true sometimes. And true soulmates are so rare that I doubt it would be a common problem.”
“Are you going to tell them?” He asked.
“You saw how smug Theo was earlier. I’m not sure the world is ready for the levels he’d reach if he knew he was Harry’s soulmate. I might tell them one day, but not now.”
“I agree. He’s my brother and everything, but that might make me hate him a bit.”
Hermione snorted. “You’re not jealous?”
“Course not. I have you, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. I like that we weren’t fated. That we don’t make much sense to other people. You were a choice I made, my own decision, my own path to walk.”
“I agree. I’ve had enough of prophecies. I don’t need us to be written in the stars. You’re enough as you are.” She kissed his temple gently, and he smiled. “Supply cupboard?” She asked suddenly.
He grinned. “What an excellent idea, Mrs Granger-Malfoy. Slightly hypocritical, given your advice to Potter, but excellent nonetheless.”
“Well, Scorpius Edward isn’t going to make himself.” She replied, tone matter of fact.
He all but dragged her into the cupboard, a broad smile on his face. She was definitely close enough now.