Television
The break room at the Ministry of Magic wasn’t exactly cozy, but it served its purpose, with a long table dominated the middle of the room, its surface covered in mismatched coffee mugs. The faint hum of enchanted quills filled the air, scribbling away on unfinished memos in a nearby corner. The magical kettle on the counter released a soft hiss, keeping the tea perpetually hot. Harry sat across from Ron, the two enjoying a rare pause from their chaotic Auror work.
Harry hesitated for a moment, leaning back in his chair as he avoided looking directly at Ron. “Hypothetically, thinking a guy is pretty... would that make you gay?”
Ron, who had been mid-sip of his tea, paused. He slowly set the mug down, his brows furrowing. “I dunno,” he replied, attempting nonchalance. “It’s not exactly what makes you straight, is it?
Ron tried to seem casual, but the suddenness of Harry's question left him momentarily off balance. Was this some kind of test? Since the whole debacle with Teddy and Malfoy, Harry hadn't set foot in the Burrow. While they still spoke at work, the subject of Malfoy had become a unspoken barrier between them.
If Ron seemed uncharacteristically calm, it was because he had already done his fair share of freaking out—with Hermione, of course. He wanted to believe Harry was just messing around. But he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something had changed between them ever since Draco moved in. Something that neither of them had fully addressed, not even with Hermione’s pointed comments.
His mind briefly flashed back to the conversation with Hermione—a conversation he’d rather not think about. Her voice, calm and logical, echoed in his mind: “Harry and Draco... they’re already tangled up in something, Ron. And you know it.” Ron had hated hearing it, hated how she’d said it with that maddening tone of reason that made it impossible to ignore. He rubbed his temples, the weight of it settling in. Was Hermione right? Had Harry already figured something out, something that Ron had refused to see?
Trying to shake off the thought, Ron met Harry’s eyes again. The way Harry was acting—avoidant, fidgety—made his stomach churn. Was this really happening?
Ron grudgingly admitted she might have a point. If his family had reacted so poorly to the simple fact of Draco living with Harry, how would they handle anything more significant? The collective discomfort and hostility had likely forced Harry to bury whatever he might be feeling, assuming he was feeling anything, Ron had added skeptically, though Hermione had merely raised an eyebrow at his denial.
Her reasoning haunted him now, as Harry’s words hung in the air. Could it be true? Were they already navigating something beneath the surface, something neither of them could fully understand yet?
And if they were, what the bloody hell was Ron supposed to do about it?
Harry was still in silence, so the redhead tried again, “Is this about Malfoy?”
“What? No! I mean…” Harry’s voice rose an octave before he cleared his throat and forced a laugh. “Hermione insinuated— I was just— it's not attraction or anything. Just… his face is symmetric.”
Ron blinked, his confusion evident. “Right…” he said cautiously, watching Harry like he was trying to decipher whether this was some sort of elaborate prank or a genuine crisis. “Well, I guess there’s a reason half the Durmstrang boys asked him to the Yule Ball.”
Please be a prank
Harry nearly choked on air. “What?!”
“Oh, Muggles don’t expect people to be gay, right? Well, wizards don’t care about that stuff. We don't have to come out of the closet, cause there's nothing to hide, it’s not a reason to attack anyone. I mean, look at Dumbledore. Loved and respected by everyone.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “Dumbledore was gay?!”
“Seriously, mate? No child, never seen with a woman, nice clothes…” Ron said, his exasperation laced with humor. “I’m thick sometimes, yeah, but even I caught onto that.”
Harry’s mind reeled. “But… thinking back, wizards are still a bit… prejudiced, aren’t they? I mean, they might not care that someone’s gay, but they’d care about bloodlines.
“You might be right. He still would have to marry a woman, have kids, and these things. Just like it was with Salazar Slytherin.”
“Salazar was gay?”
“We studied it in the History of Magic! We had an exam about his life. I mean, I was paying attention," Ron added with a mischievous grin.
"Honestly, I was just glad I did not," Harry muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Didn’t need to know about Slytherin’s dating habits."
Ron laughed. "Well, good for you,” Ron added dryly. “I know more than I wish. Always saw Malfoy snogging blokes all over the place. It was disgusting.”
“But you just said wizards were not homophobic, Ron.”
“What? No, no, don’t get me wrong!” Ron raised his hands defensively. “I’m good with people kissing and being gay. Just can’t respect that man to be Malfoy.”
“That sounds pretty homophobic.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “More like Malfoy-phobic. And anyway, one of my best friends is gay, remember?”
Harry frowned. “I’m not gay.”
Ron groaned. “Not you, dumbass. Seamus!”
Harry froze. “Seamus? What?! How come nobody told me? Was it supposed to be a secret? And since when is he your best friend?”
“First,” Ron said, counting on his fingers, “everybody knows. Second, I said one of my best friends. I can have more than one, you know. Third, we went to their housewarming party last month, Harry.”
“Seamus and Dean?” Harry blinked, stunned. “I thought they were just roommates!”
“For Merlin’s sake, Harry!” Ron leaned back, laughing. “They’ve been dating since the Yule Ball! Dean’s not gay, though. He’s bi.”
Harry looked utterly lost, still trying to piece things together. “But… how did I miss this?”
Ron smirked. “You were probably too busy stalking Malfoy.”
“Shut up, Ron,” Harry muttered, cheeks reddening as he turned back to his paperwork.
Ron snickered to himself, clearly pleased with the outcome of the conversation. Harry could still feel his gaze burning into him, but he refused to look up. There were some things he wasn’t ready to admit—not yet, anyway.
Breaking the silence, Ron leaned back in his chair and said casually, “Oh, by the way, Mum wanted me to ask what you’re bringing for Christmas dinner. And she said there’s room for two more.”
Harry blinked, caught off guard. “I didn’t even know I was invited.”
Ron rolled his eyes with a grin. “Come on, mate. Of course, you’re invited. You’re family. We argue sometimes, sure. But that’s just how it is. Life’s messy, yeah?”
The simple warmth of Ron’s words wrapped around Harry like a comfort he hadn’t realized he’d needed. Family. The idea was both foreign and familiar, and for a moment, Harry couldn’t help but smile faintly at the thought.
But first, Harry would need to reconcile with Draco if he ever hoped to have the chance to bring it up. Still, the only thing that gave him a sliver of hope was the knowledge that Christmas was still two weeks away.
…
Because of their fight at lunch earlier, Teddy, in his childlike way, decided to impose what he thought was a fair punishment for the day’s events. He requested—almost demanded—that both Draco and Harry sleep with him, just like when he was sick. It was a simple request, yet it held an undeniable weight, one that Draco couldn’t refuse. The little boy’s wide, pleading eyes were impossible to ignore, and Draco, despite his reluctance, couldn’t bring himself to say no.
The next morning, however, there was a subtle shift in the dynamic. Teddy had climbed out of bed and quietly made his way to his room, a small, contented smile on his face. He didn’t want to wake the adults, nor did he mind waiting patiently for them to rouse themselves. He was used to the slow, drawn-out mornings now, watching as the grown-ups stumbled to consciousness. In his young mind, they were always so boring when they were asleep, unaware of the world around them, just as he was slowly growing aware of the world around him.
By the time the sunlight had fully spilled through the curtains, illuminating the room in soft golden hues, Harry and Draco were still tangled in each other’s arms, lost in the peaceful depths of a much-needed sleep. The world outside had already begun to stir, but they remained undisturbed, their breathing synchronized, a quiet reminder of the unspoken connection they had forged over time. It was a small moment, almost inconsequential, but it was theirs, shared in the silence of the morning. And for that moment, nothing else mattered.
Harry slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the brightness of the room. Even with the curtains closed, light flooded the space. However, he was startled when he reached out to grab his round glasses from the nightstand and felt a weight on his chest, quite literally. Glancing down, he saw a mop of blond hair sprawled across him.
He didn’t have time to think. On instinct, he shoved the pale body off with more force than necessary, completely forgetting one small detail: Malfoy wasn’t sleeping on the side of the bed closest to the wall. But it was too late. The only thing Harry heard was the dull thud of a body hitting the floor, followed by a groan of pain.
“You troll!” Draco shot up, glaring at him with an expression that could have melted steel. Harry had faced countless monsters and terrifying moments in his life, but there was something positively demonic about that beautiful face twisted in fury.
“Sorry, it’s just that you were lying there... and I woke up—”
“I get it, Potter.”
Despite the situation, Harry had to fight the urge to burst out laughing. Once Draco’s anger started to fade, he looked more like the boy from their Hogwarts days. The only difference was his hair; instead of being perfectly slicked back with gel, it now resembled what he often called Harry’s “rat’s nest.”
“Wait. If we’re here together, then where’s Teddy?” Harry’s face shifted to concern as he looked at Draco, who appeared oddly calm. It only took him a second to conclude. “You were awake.”
“And you’re insane,” Draco snapped back quickly. “Of course, my greatest dream was to wake up wrapped around your sticky, sweaty body. Truly, I’m radiant with happiness, Potter.”
He was awake, but would NEVER admit.
The truth was, Draco had woken up earlier and noticed Teddy crawling over him. After seeing that the boy wasn’t heading for the stairs, he decided to follow Astoria’s advice for once. They’d been living together for so long, and Draco had never taken the chance to relax or enjoy moments like these. So he had shifted closer to Harry. What he hadn’t anticipated was Harry pulling him onto his chest. And honestly? It wasn’t all that comfortable. The morning’s rude awakening, with a push strong enough to send him to the floor, only made it worse. Not the ideal way to start his day.
The household routine quickly resumed. Harry prepared breakfast while Draco got Teddy ready for the day. As usual, when the little boy came downstairs—his small hand clasped in Draco’s—he called out for “Hawwy,” but Harry was already gone.
“Seriously? On a Saturday?” Draco muttered irritably. That idiot worked far too much. One of these days, he’d collapse from exhaustion, and honestly, it would serve him right.
Still grumbling, Draco reached for his tea, only to notice the mug was emblazoned with a Gryffindor crest. It was probably because there were no clean cups left—it had been Harry’s turn to do the dishes, but he’d left in a hurry. Draco briefly debated which was worse: washing dishes or enduring the mug. Ultimately, he decided he wouldn’t lift a finger to clean anything and reluctantly sipped his tea, doing his best to ignore the gaudy golden lion glaring at him. He would do it if he had a wand, otherwise, he decided it would be easier for Harry, although Potter rarely used magic for things like this.
Talking about him, Harry was already at work. He didn’t want to be—he never wanted to be. Things had gotten chaotic because of a sudden rise in new Death Eater activity. Paperwork, meetings, and long hours weren’t exactly what he’d envisioned for himself. But when the Ministry called him for overtime, it wasn’t something he could ignore. Most of the cases he dealt with weren’t glamorous or exciting. They were tedious, exhausting, and occasionally heart-wrenching. But they mattered. Harry didn’t work himself into the ground because he enjoyed it; he did it because someone had to.
And maybe, deep down, he believed that if he helped enough people, he could somehow make up for all the ones he hadn’t been able to save.
…
“What the hell are we doing here?” Draco leaned closer to Harry’s ear, keeping his voice low so the boy in his arms wouldn’t hear.
“An apology.”
The two adults—Draco holding Teddy and Harry walking beside him—were strolling through the busiest shopping area in wizarding London, Diagon Alley. They weren’t using any spells for disguise or even wearing hats, just casual winter clothes. As soon as people caught sight of Harry, the entire crowd paused their shopping to gawk. Some offered brief greetings, others asked for autographs, tried to shake his hand, or even requested him to hold their children, believing they’d be blessed by the Savior. Perhaps this spectacle distracted them from noticing the Death Eater walking beside him. Draco took advantage of the commotion to attempt an escape. But as if reading his mind, Harry grabbed his arm without hesitation, pulling him away from the crowd while offering apologies and excuses about being in a hurry.
Only then did the crowd notice who Draco was, and even though he tried to ignore them, the murmurs were impossible to miss:
“Who’s the blonde?”
“How do you not know? He’s a Malfoy, has Voldemort’s mark on his arm.”
“What’s our Savior doing with him?”
“And that child—who is he?”
“Murderer.”
“You okay, Dwaco?” Teddy’s small hands cupped Draco’s pale cheeks, his tiny face filled with concern.
Slowly, the distant look in Draco’s eyes faded, and some color returned to his face. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and noticed that he’d stopped walking. Harry no longer had a grip on his wrist. Looking up, Draco read the sign above the shop they now stood in front of: Ollivanders. The famous wandmaker. Draco felt his stomach twist. Garrick Ollivander had spent nearly two years imprisoned in the basement of Malfoy Manor.
“You’re insane. I can’t go in there.”
“He’s not a vengeful man.” Harry lied, and Draco knew better than to trust this blunt and childish lie.
“And I’m not an idiot. I can get a wand on my own, thanks. Your permission was more than enough.”
Every time Harry made a mistake, he could feel the wall between them grow thicker and stronger. Draco would pull away, becoming colder and more distant. The sarcastic smiles and teasing remarks vanished, replaced by indifference and icy detachment. And Harry had discovered that it was far worse.
“This was a terrible idea. Again,” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“I’m not surprised. You’re not exactly known for thinking things through,” Draco quipped. He’d intended to say something comforting but abandoned the attempt halfway, defaulting to his usual sarcasm. To his surprise, Harry took it well, smiling as he lightly shoved Draco’s shoulder, seeming unbothered.
“So, maybe I should just return this?” Harry said uncertainly, opening his hand to reveal a worn wand. As he removed the shrinking charm, it grew to its full size, and Draco instantly recognized it. Made of hawthorn with a unicorn hair core, it was his wand.
“I thought it was destroyed,” Draco’s voice faltered as he stretched out trembling hands to take the wand back.
He had believed he would never see it again. The chaotic day when the Golden Trio had been captured at Malfoy Manor was seared into his memory. He remembered Harry charging toward him and how he had loosened his grip, allowing Harry to take the wand. That day was unforgettable for another reason: it was when Draco realized he was in love.
When they had called him to identify Harry, whose face had been disfigured, Draco had tried not to look. But one glance, out of the corner of his eye, was enough. He could never mistake those green eyes.
Until that moment, he had convinced himself that he hated Harry the same way his parents had taught him to hate, the same way all those bearing the same cursed mark on their arms did. But when Draco found himself surrounded by Death Eaters, all eager to see Harry dead, he realized he didn’t want that. He could never want Harry dead. He had never wanted anyone to die, but he had always stayed silent, even as he heard the screams of the innocent being tortured. Draco had no courage, no power. So, he let them suffer.
But Harry was different. Draco couldn’t let him suffer. Still, he was a coward and had a family to protect. So he stayed silent, though he decided to help in the only way he could. He knew that if anyone could find a way out, it would be those three.
Draco had chosen Harry’s side, even knowing the end of the war might not be kind to him. Harry Potter couldn’t die because if he did, a part of Draco would die too.
And so, he’d said, “I can’t be sure,” and seized the first opportunity to slip into the kitchen, his legs trembling. He had asked the house-elves for a glass of water, his hands shaking as he held it. He didn’t know their names—had never cared to—but he prayed that one of them would hear him. Turning the glass in his hand as his whole body trembled with fear and sweat, he murmured just loud enough: “It’s your lucky day. We’ve captured Harry Potter and his annoying friends. Too bad the Dark Lord won’t arrive for hours. They’d never be able to escape on their own.”
The elf froze for a moment, looking at its young master in confusion. Relief washed over Draco as he realized his gamble had worked. Dobby, confused but trusting, had believed him. It was the first time Draco had spoken to the elf without issuing an order, and somehow, Dobby understood that it wasn’t one. It was a plea.
“Draco?”
“What?” Draco blinked, realizing he’d been daydreaming. He hadn’t noticed how much time had passed until he saw Teddy already running around the park, his laughter echoing in the crisp air. Harry’s hand rested on his shoulder, his green eyes filled with quiet concern.
They were sitting on a bench in a Muggle park they usually visited every weekend, since they started to live together two months ago. It was a peaceful place with a beautiful lake, which, unfortunately, was frozen due to the winter. The fresh green grass was covered in snow. But that didn’t stop the kids from playing, and Teddy was rolling around in the snow, smiling. Only then did Draco realize how long they had been living together. He was sure that the first time they visited the park, the sun was so bright that his eyes burned.
Around them, Christmas decorations adorned the lampposts and park entrances. Strings of twinkling lights lined the pathways, and a large, brightly decorated tree stood in the park's center, its ornaments catching the light in dazzling bursts of color. Teddy had insisted on stopping to admire it earlier, his wide grin filled with delight as he pointed out every detail to Draco and Harry.
“You seem distracted today,” Harry said gently. “Sorry for dragging you along. If you’d rather go…”
“I don’t need your concern, Potter.” The words were out before Draco could stop them. He cringed inwardly, hating himself for the automatic sharpness in his tone.
Harry’s expression stiffened, but his reply matched Draco’s bluntness. “I wasn’t worried.” Then, softer, almost teasing, he added, “And my name is Harry, you know that.”
“Why do you care?” Please, shut up. Draco reprimanded himself mentally.
“Well, it’s better that Teddy hears me calling you that, so he gets used to it, right?”
“Oh, sure, Ted,” Draco muttered, running a hand through his messy blond hair and leaning back against the bench. His gaze shifted to Teddy, who was now laughing as he perfected the snowman’s lopsided features.
“You didn’t seem too happy,” Harry said quietly, his voice tentative. “About your wand. I thought you’d be more excited.”
Draco’s shoulders stiffened. “… Thank you,” he said after a pause, exhaling heavily. “Damn, I feel horrible for how I acted. I was so angry yesterday, and—”
“I was angry too. It’s just that Teddy was fussy that day, you arrived late, and you didn’t want to tell me anything, I was worried,” Potter explained, “You were right, if some Death Eater were to hurt you, I’d never forgive myself.”
Draco frowned. “I get it. It’s your job. There are things you can’t tell me, just like there are things I can’t tell you. Like Astoria, I promised her I’d keep her confidence.”
“Yeah,” Harry murmured. “You don’t owe me anything.”
Draco’s gaze softened. “I do,” he said quietly, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips. “More than I could ever repay in a lifetime.” His silver eyes glimmered with something deeply melancholic, a beauty that struck Harry to his core.
Draco had the kind of beauty that touches one's soul. Or at least, Harry felt like this.
“I was an idiot yesterday,” Harry said, not even realizing what had come out of his mouth. He was just so frustrated, and that smile Malfoy had given him had mesmerized him like a spell.
The teasing was light, and it made Harry’s green eyes widen before a sly grin spread across his face. For a moment, everything felt easier, like they’d fallen back into their strange but familiar rhythm.
“You shouldn’t stop talking to your… family because of me,” Draco added, his voice softer now.
“I know,” Harry said, ruffling his already messy hair. “I thought I could fix everything, but I just made a mess of it.”
“Invite them again,” Draco suggested, his tone measured. “But maybe not all at once this time. Let me know beforehand, so I can decide whether to stay or run for the hills.”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Deal.”
Draco looked at him, this time more lightly, and Harry’s green eyes watched him intently, causing Draco’s face to warm slightly. They stared at each other for a moment, feeling the shock run through their bodies and the butterflies in their stomachs. Despite their differences, they both recognized the effort the other was making to make the relationship, whatever it was, more harmonious and easier to endure.
“Excuse me.”
The two adults jumped in surprise when a woman approached them. They were so absorbed in their bubble that they hadn’t noticed her coming. She looked like a regular Muggle, smiling kindly with a few lines of expression on her face as she pushed a baby carriage. Her dark brown hair was tousled by the wind.
“Yes, ma’am?” Harry turned his attention to her, but Draco didn’t bother looking. To him, she seemed like a single mother they had seen around the park on weekends. She was probably trying to make friendly small talk like many others.
“That blonde little boy is yours, right? The one who always wears a hat?” It was true, Teddy wore a magic hat that kept his blonde hair all the time, since sometimes the little boy’s hair would change color by accident, or he couldn’t keep it blue.
“He’s not ours. I mean, we’re not—” Harry was interrupted.
“Ted’s mine. What’s the problem?” Draco finally lifted his head, and his expression wasn’t the warmest when he looked at the woman.
“It’s just that there are some older boys throwing snow at him, and it doesn’t seem very fun.”
“What?” When Harry made a move to get up, Draco was already running toward the boys.
“Thanks for letting us know.”
“You’re welcome, and… I know it must be hard being a young couple, but you always have to pay attention to the kids. Sorry if that sounds rude. It’s just advice from a woman who’s had three kids.”
“No,” Harry couldn’t even deny that they were a couple or thank her for the advice, as he heard Draco yelling at the older kids, who were already starting to call for their mother. “I’d better go there.” The two smiled, but the dark-haired man regretted giving Draco a wand and had to run before something bad happened.
...
At that moment, Teddy was sitting in a chair, eating an ice cream. His face was red from the force with which those boys had thrown snowballs at him, but even so, he had managed to keep his blonde hair intact. Draco was ready to cast a forbidden spell on those boys as soon as Harry arrived, calming him down. The children ran off, calling for their parents and apologizing.
Even with the apology and tears Draco huffed in frustration as he shook Teddy, trying to get the snow off of him.
Despite everything, Potter seemed genuinely cheerful and carefree, even with the earlier incident and the argument he had had with Draco the day before. He felt like the day was still going well. He decided to buy some Muggle items, even though it was difficult to exchange money. Part of him had always wanted to understand and use Muggle technology, even though he wasn’t sure if it would even work in the wizarding world.
“What’s that?” He walked up to the dark-haired man, who had managed to open the box and pull out the newly purchased item.
“A muggle camera. It’s popular these days,” Harry said with a smile.
“We have cameras in the wizarding world.”
“Yeah, but these take color photos and can record videos.”
“Videos?” Draco asked, confused. He never heard that word before.
“Yeah, it’s like pictures, but they move.”
“We have that,” the blonde man turned his attention to the ice cream, losing interest.
“But it’s different. I’ll show you.”
After some difficulty, since he wasn’t yet familiar with the technology, Harry managed to make the camera work and record a video. He hadn’t even noticed, but he was pointing it in Draco’s direction and smiled when the camera focused entirely on the beautiful, distracted expression on Draco’s face as he looked at Teddy with a small smile.
“Say something.”
“How do you mean?” Draco looked confused, only now realizing the camera was pointed at him.
“To record, the camera picks up your voice, too.”
“That’s creepy. How the hell do they manage to do that without magic?” The horrified expression on Draco’s face was amusing. He seemed disbelieving that something like that could even exist.
Harry let out a small laugh before turning his attention back to the godson, who was now squeezing his hands together, fascinated by the sticky texture caused by the ice cream that had spilled on his palms.
“Teddy, look ahead. Tell us about your first time getting hit.”
“Harry!”
“It hurt,” the boy said indifferently, then smiled. “But Dwaco came and yelled, ‘ the bad ones.”
“You should’ve run to us when they hurt you,” Draco scolded.
“I knows, I was going to ‘ that, but Dwaco came quickly,” the little one tried to explain, though with some difficulty. Maybe it was because Harry had grown up getting beaten up by older kids, and didn’t see much of an issue with it. Of course, he didn’t want Teddy to go through the same thing, but he seemed to be taking it lightly.
“Ted, who do you like more?” Harry crouched down to record the, for now, blonde boy.
“Dindo bumm, Duaco buummm,” Teddy exclaimed excitedly. The adults weren’t sure what he meant at first. They thought it was a failed attempt to say “good,” but it didn’t seem like that was the case. Malfoy said it was common for kids to invent words as they tried to express themselves, so they let it slide, only vaguely understanding that it meant something positive and good.
“Why do you like him more than me?”
“Dwaco gave Ted ice cream,” the little boy explained as if it were a great reason.
Draco didn’t bother hiding the satisfied smile when he looked at the dark-haired man, who was pretending to be angry, but soon decided to defend him.
“It was Harry who gave the money. You should thank him, too.”
“What’s money?” Teddy repeated with difficulty.
“Oh, money is a paper Harry gets after working hard. With money, he buys your toys.”
“He works to get money for Ted?” The boy’s eyes brightened as he tried to understand the somewhat complex situation for his little mind.
“Yes.”
“I don’t need toys anymore. I want to play with Hawwy. No need to work anymore.”
The older men exchanged a look. They should have known that Teddy would say this sooner or later. Harry worked too much, and now Draco had started working as well, though Teddy didn’t usually see him leave. The dark-haired man had said that some nights, Teddy would wake up in the middle of the night looking for him and cry when he couldn’t find him.
Potter turned off the camera and knelt next to Teddy, enough for the boy to hold his hands, even though they were a little sticky from the ice cream he had just eaten.
“Harry has many things to pay for and wants to give you a good life, so that’s why I work a lot. But I promise I’ll try to come home earlier. Would you be happy if we always had lunch together?”
The boy nodded eagerly, but then his smile faded.
“But Hawwy always makes me eat the ‘yuck’,” that’s what Teddy called vegetables.
“Draco doesn’t make you eat them?”
“It’s getting late. We should head home. What else did you buy, Harry?” The blonde man blatantly interrupted the little boy, who had opened his mouth to speak. Potter thought about returning to the subject, but decided that the best thing would be to make all the meals together. That way, he’d make Teddy eat his vegetables, or at least try.
...
In addition to the amazing camera, Harry had bought another strangely fascinating item called a television. Draco was completely mesmerized by it. He didn’t understand some of the shows and took a while to get used to it, but after a few days, it became a habit to sit on the couch as soon as the little one fell asleep, although he still found the camera more fun. Teddy wasn’t far behind either; he watched it way too much, so the adults agreed on screen time. Draco was also a bit concerned, knowing that with just one more channel, the boy might end up seeing things that were very inappropriate for his age.
It was dinnertime, and Draco was in the kitchen. He wasn’t doing much, just reheating leftovers and trying not to burn them — he had done that a few times already. It was a complex task for him; he’d gotten used to doing things like cleaning or sweeping, now that there wasn’t a house-elf around, and neither Harry nor he had one. But cooking was not his gift.
“It’s a bit sweet,” Harry tilted his head, wondering if his taste buds had betrayed him.
“I’m picking up two shifts tomorrow, so I’m off today,” Draco tried to change the subject, but it wasn’t working.
“The salad tastes weird,” the dark-haired man frowned, now sure of it after trying it again.
“It must be the poison I added,” Draco said, but Harry ignored him deliberately.
“Teddy, do you taste the sweetness too?” Harry asked, spooning some salad into the boy’s mouth. Teddy chewed and nodded, and Draco let out a frustrated sigh, irritated at not being heard.
“Seriously? I accidentally added sugar. Happy now?”
Malfoy crossed his arms, frustrated. The scarred man sure knew how to be annoying, although Draco didn’t entirely mind that part of him.
“I can’t believe you added sugar to the salad!” Finally, green eyes turned to Draco, and he wasn’t sure whether to throw a glass of water in that idiot’s face or punch him.
“I mixed it up with the salt!”
“You only needed to add the salt! I had everything chopped!”
“I get it, okay?” Draco hid his face, yelling in frustration as he heard the laughter of the other two. Even Teddy was laughing, and Draco could bet the boy didn’t even understand the situation fully.
Things had settled into a more manageable rhythm. With Harry coming home earlier, Draco found himself able to adjust his schedule as well, leaving for work sooner and returning earlier in the evening. It was strange at first—spending so much time in the same space—but they managed, even if it occasionally led to friction.
Their disagreements were mundane, almost laughably so. Harry’s infuriating habit of leaving tea rings on the table drove Draco mad, while Draco’s inability to cook anything more complicated than toast became an easy target for Harry’s teasing. Sometimes, the arguments weren’t about anything at all—just the remnants of old tensions flaring up in bad moods, sending them back to the petty bickering of their Hogwarts days.
But the fights were different now. They never escalated the way they once had; they were quieter, softer, even tinged with an odd kind of fondness.
Their home wasn’t perfect—it was messy and chaotic, with too much history between them for things to ever be simple. But it was theirs, and for all their flaws, they were learning to build something better. Something real.