It was Teddy Lupin’s first birthday. A crowd had gathered: his grandmother, who was raising him; Harry Black, his godfather; Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, his uncle and his great aunt; the Weasleys, who had adopted Teddy as surely as they had adopted Harry and Remus; Angelina, who had supported George through losing Fred; Hagrid, Hermione, Neville, and Luna, simply by virtue of being Harry’s friends; and, in a turn of events Harry himself could not have foreseen, Minerva McGonagall, who had become as much a friend to him since leaving Hogwarts as Ron and Hermione.
Teddy, being the only person there who was underage, remained the only one not drinking except for the heavily-pregnant Fleur. And that, Harry thought somewhat blurrily, may have been a poor decision to make for a first birthday party. They really should be doing things Teddy would enjoy, not draining Andromeda’s liquor stores.
But then again, Teddy didn’t really enjoy anything except changing his appearance at will, eating messily, laughing, and crawling. The only thing that would cause adults to enjoy those things was alcohol. Perhaps that was why they’d opened that first bottle of mead.
Fleur was currently holding Teddy in one arm while the other wrapped firmly around her swollen stomach. She was fit to burst, in Harry’s opinion - not that he had any education or experience on the matter.
“Due in a month,” Hermione reminded Harry under her breath, and he tore his eyes from Fleur’s belly.
“Right,” he said stupidly. Then, “You and Ron okay?”
Hermione shrugged. “Fine,” she allowed. “Did he tell you I wanted to look for my parents now things have settled down a bit, and all the trials are concluding?”
“No,” Harry said, surprised.
“Exactly,” Hermione muttered. She sighed. “I know he means well, he’s trying not to get my hopes up in case I can’t undo the memory charm. But he doesn’t realise how unsupportive he’s being… I could actually really use his help.”
Harry, who felt that he might be more functional drunk than sober, said, “Well, it doesn’t need to be Ron. Why don’t you ask Minerva?”
Hermione blinked. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Good idea.”
“Doesn’t take a genius,” Harry muttered.
“You make sense when you’re drunk,” Hermione returned thoughtfully. “It’s worrying.” She stuck her tongue out at him and turned away, making determinedly for the Headmistress.
“You look cheerful, Harry,” Luna said dreamily as she wove towards him. Harry couldn’t tell whether she was drunk or not - then again, that was true most of the time. Luna always seemed to be on a different planet. Of all his friends, she was the one he had been least concerned about explaining his heritage to, once he had found out himself ten months ago - and indeed, she had simply accepted that which had tipped the world on its axis for most of them, moving on to ask serenely whether he would run for Minister for Magic. He had told her, very firmly, that he would not.
“It’s a nice party,” Harry replied, smiling. “Are you having fun?”
“Yes, but I was becoming a bit of a third wheel over there,” Luna said without bitterness, nodding back the way she had come. “It was time to give them some space.”
Harry glanced over to see Ginny and Neville revolving slowly on the spot, her arms around his neck, murmuring to one another. They looked equally smitten.
“Still going strong, then?” He asked, equally neutrally. He had been surprised to find, three months ago, that Ginny’s quiet admission hadn’t hurt.
“Oh, yes. They have always had chemistry,” Luna reported matter-of-factly. “They went to the Yule Ball together, do you remember? But Ginny needed to get you out of her system and Neville needed to grow up before they would be truly aligned.”
Harry blinked. “I suppose they’ll go to the Anniversary Ball together too,” he said. “Who are you going with?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Luna said. “It doesn’t seem right, to dance where we once fought. I might come to the speeches and then visit the Thestrals.”
Harry took her hand and squeezed it, touched by her insight - perhaps more as a result of the firewhisky than just her words. She smiled at him and drifted away.
“You and Loony?” Draco drawled.
“What?” Harry asked. “Oh, no. It’s Luna,” he added defensively.
“Luna,” Draco allowed. “Sorry.” He fell silent for a moment, and Harry wondered if his thoughts, like Harry’s own, were on the trials that had concluded just a fortnight before. Luna had testified that both Narcissa and Draco had treated her kindly during her captivity in Malfoy Manor. It had been difficult to hear, in Luna’s matter-of-fact tone, exactly what she had endured alongside Ollivander, but gratifying to hear how vehemently she had defended his family.
“Fresh air?” Harry asked after a moment, deciding that his head was, finally, beginning to spin a little. “Might have overdone the firewhisky -”
“And the butterbeer, and the mead,” Draco teased, rolling his eyes and following Harry outside to where the sky was clear and deep blue, and the first stars were glittering above them.
“Alright, you’ve made your point,” Harry said, chuckling. “So I’ve never had Wizarding alcohol before, so what? I’m not going to be able to let loose at the next couple of events, so it might as well be now.”
Draco quieted at this. “Are you really going to do it?” He asked, hushed.
“Yeah,” Harry said. “I have to. Don’t you see? I’m the bridge to peace. I’m a Black who ended Tom Riddle. I’m the Gryffindor who chose to be. I am one of countless illegitimates who were given every reason to join him… I am a pure-blood who grew up in the Muggle world. I can’t hide that. Anyway, it gives the real Potters the chance to come back, doesn’t it? And I can carry on the Black line. Give the House a good name, instead of the Toujours Pur shit they’ve been spouting for generations.”
“Carry on the Black line with Luna?” Draco asked after a moment’s silence, and Harry, despite knowing it was a deflection from the bigger statements which Draco was still processing, snorted. Later he would blame the alcohol for such an inelegant response.
“No ,” he replied, grinning. “She’s great, but no. Anyway, I’m not even sure she… never mind.”
“Likes people? Neither am I,” Draco finished, smirking at Harry’s blush. “So you aren’t taking her to the Ball?”
“I’m not taking anyone. I’m expected to speak, and my speech is going to cause a stir… I’m not dragging anyone through that with me,” Harry said with a note of finality that had nothing to do with the alcohol.
“So it’s not because you can’t get a date?”
Harry flipped him off. Draco raised an eyebrow and Harry swore the Muggle way, laughing. “It’s very rude,” he assured him. “I forget how much Muggle stuff you don’t know.”
“Yeah, well, I forget how much Wizarding stuff you don’t. Also, I liked ‘Potter’ better. It was easier to spit it in anger.”
Harry chuckled and stuck his middle finger up again. “So, this is a rude gesture. Now you know a rude Muggle gesture. Your turn. Teach me something that every Wizarding family knows.”
“Like what? I don’t know what isn’t normal to you!”
“Neville told me that Wizarding families use Seers to name their kids.”
“Well duh. Remus Lupin the werewolf… how did you not see that one coming?” Draco smirked, but it slid from his face when he realised Harry wasn’t joking. “Oh Merlin. You really didn’t know that.”
Harry shook his head.
“You can’t come out as a Black without knowing things like that!”
“Then teach me!” Harry hissed. “We’ve spent enough time together in the last year. I’d like to think that we’ve gotten to know each other, since you don’t usually act like you hate me any more. What do I need to know, as the Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, before I go to the Anniversary Ball?”
Malfoy gaped at him for a moment, and then cleared his throat. “You need the right clothes,” he said decisively. “And new glasses. And you need to know how to dance.”
Harry winced. “I’m not asking McGo-”
“I’ll teach you.” Draco’s ears went pink, but his porcelain skin, impressively, remained white. “I can teach you,” he repeated. “Just come and stay at the Manor for a while.”
“Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure… do it, or feel my wrath yourself!”
A log fell in the fire: flames reared, their light darting across a terrified, pointed white face - with a sense of emerging from deep water Harry drew heaving breaths and opened his eyes. He sat up. Malfoy’s gaunt, petrified face seemed branded on the insides of his eyes. Harry felt sickened by what he had seen, by the use to which Draco was now being put by Voldemort.
“I don’t want to-”
“It’s not like it was,” Draco interrupted. “We’ve… we’ve cleared it out. Moved some walls, lightened it up, got rid of the twenty-foot hedges and the prison gates. The only thing you’ll recognise is the damn peacocks.”
Harry, who had been refusing to return to the place of so many of his nightmares, stood in shocked silence for a moment, wondering how he hadn’t realised that it was the place of Draco’s nightmares and Narcissa’s too. And then he laughed.
“The bloody peacocks,” he muttered, wiping his eyes.
“Side, and back, and - ouch! ”
“Sorry,” Harry muttered, dropping his arms and scowling with frustration. His scowl deepened as Draco, who had been massaging his abused foot, suddenly straightened up and grinned. “What?” He asked, annoyed.
“ Training for the ballet, Potter?” Draco said in a high-pitched voice evidently meant to mimic his own in his early teens.
For a moment, Harry stared at him, uncomprehending. Then the memory clicked into place and he began to laugh helplessly until tears streamed from his eyes. “It’s a good job I wasn’t, isn’t it,” he said breathlessly. “I can’t waltz for toffee so I’d imagine my ballet would be worse than awful.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Draco agreed dryly. “Come on. Again.”
“It was easier when you led,” Harry complained.
“It’s you refusing to take anyone to the Ball,” Draco replied. “You will have to dance with anyone who asks, and they will expect you, as the Heir to your House and as the male, to lead.”
“But they all know I grew up with Muggles,” Harry started half-heartedly.
“And you have had a year to learn. Come on.”
He was a stern teacher. Harry scowled, but straightened up, opening his shoulders and extending his neck. Draco’s neck, by comparison, seemed to double in length, and the unnaturally elegant posture he took repeatedly surprised Harry, who had spent his youth expecting violence from the boy who had grown into a really quite beautiful man.
“Promenade,” Draco prompted and Harry took his waist and his hand, ignoring the anxious jump of his heart as he hoped he didn’t get it wrong again. “And one, two…”
So Harry’s days went. They rushed by in a blur of lessons on dancing, etiquette, and family history - not just the family tree, but family secrets, scandals and fallouts, and the system of hierarchies and titles within families as old as his own. It was mind-boggling.
“Of course, they’re a bit behind with Presentations, given the whole War thing,” Draco was saying three days before the Anniversary Ball, “but they’ll catch up.”
“Presentations?”
Draco stared at him. “Presentations,” he repeated. “When the… when the Head of the family presents the heirs at court? When they come of age?”
“Court?”
“Oh, Merlin,” Draco groaned. “Surely the Weasleys are presented?”
“Never heard of it,” Harry said. “Presented to who, by who?”
“For me, it should have been my grandfather, Abraxus, to the Wizengamot, when I came of age. He died just after I came of age, though, and my father is.. Indisposed, as you know. So when my time comes, I assume my mother will present me, or Andromeda.”
“What’s the point?” Harry asked carefully.
“It’s just an old tradition. It’s something the Muggle nobility used to do, I think, and someone high up in the Ministry at some point decided to adopt it. We’re a comparatively small community, really, the British Wizarding World… so why not present every witch or wizard when they come of age and officially join that community?”
Harry thought about it. “So it’s everyone?”
“Technically. Often, Muggle-borns didn’t attend as they had no-one to present them. But everyone is entitled to - or they were before the war.”
“I actually quite like it,” Harry admitted. “As traditions go.”
“Well, mine will be before yours because I’m older. You can come and watch,” Draco said. “So you know what to expect.”
“I’ll ask Andromeda to present me,” Harry decided quietly. “And then I will make sure that every Muggle-born knows of the tradition, and I will offer to present every single one of them that doesn’t have anyone else to ask.”
Draco smiled so softly it almost hurt.
In the end, Harry felt both well-educated and also woefully unprepared for the Anniversary Ball. He had new dress robes, embroidered with the Black coat of arms, which was glamoured until the time came for it to be revealed; his hair, which had developed a definite curl as it grew, had been cropped short and carefully styled; and his glasses, which he had fought hard to keep, had been repaired and slightly magically adjusted so the frames were thinner.
“To match your lighter bone structure,” Draco had said as he had handed them back that morning. “You’d be so much better with a different shape.”
Harry, who knew nothing of fashion or design, had just put them on and avoided mirrors. His circular glasses were as much part of him as his scar; he couldn’t lose them too, not yet.
Now, standing behind the dias from which he was to give his speech, Harry was visibly shaking. Kingsley - who had been voted Minister for Magic less than three months after the Battle of Hogwarts, after doing an admirable job of the immediate clean-up - was introducing him, and now he had to go up there and somehow follow the slow, deep, calm voice of the Minister himself -
“Harry Potter.”
Harry swallowed. Kingsley knew the plan, and so did everyone who had been at Teddy’s party, but the rest of the Wizarding World was about to be stunned into silence.
He stepped forward on wobbly legs, passing through the curtain of magic that had kept him from view. A murmur started across the front few rows; his new face, or perhaps the haircut or glasses, had been noted by some of those close enough to see the details.
His eyes swept across the crowd - most of Wizarding Britain was there, crammed into the Great Hall of Hogwarts, and everyone was looking at him, supposedly their saviour, to give them something inspiring, something hopeful -
His eyes met Draco’s steely grey ones. Draco blinked, raised an eyebrow, and took an exaggerated breath in.
Harry copied him, and then cleared his throat.
“Good evening, Minister, and thank you. Good evening, one and all.” Harry paused. “How things have changed, in the year since we last gathered here en masse. The grief is raw, and yet the changes are undeniable.”
There was a murmur of approval.
“Tom Riddle is gone. Some of you in this room were his sworn enemies; some were his supporters. Some declared no allegiances. What binds us together now is our shared history; that we all lived, and loved, and lost, through the terror of his return. Through our Ministry being infiltrated. Through our media being corrupted. Through our school being overrun.”
Another murmur, stronger this time.
“We are bound by our shared experiences, and it doesn’t matter which House we were sorted into when we sat in this hall as children. It doesn’t matter whether our blood is pure, or our families are Muggles. What matters is that we are here, and we are one.” Harry squinted at Luna, who smiled back at him. Her father sat beside her, and Harry’s heart swelled with joy; he hadn’t seen them together since the Battle.
Teddy, who was on Andromeda’s knee, chuckled and clapped into the silence. Harry smiled and stepped forward, holding out his arms; Andromeda passed the tot up to him, and Teddy laughed, patting Harry’s cheek. His hair turned his usual turquoise. The crowd sighed softly.
“This,” Harry said, “is Teddy Lupin. My godson. His parents died here, a year ago, when he was just a few weeks old. They died so that he could know a better world than they had.” He paused for a moment to take Teddy’s hand off his nose. “Teddy’s dad was a werewolf. He was the best teacher I ever had - no offence,” he said hurriedly, aiming his words at the Hogwarts staff who were gathered at the far end of the Hall. “And yet he couldn’t get a job because once a month, he turned into a wolf - a wolf that was entirely harmless with the right potion.”
Harry swapped Teddy to his other side. “Remus Lupin died so his son could grow up in a world with less prejudices than the one he lived in. Remus Lupin died so his son wouldn’t have to fight in a war - especially not before he left school.
“Teddy’s mum, Tonks, fought for a long time for Remus, because he didn’t believe he should be loved. He didn’t believe he could have a family, or be happy - because that is what the world had taught him. And he died, and Tonks died with him, so that we can create a world that teaches us that everyone can be loved - no matter what their conditions, or their blood status, or their name. A world where we can be judged on our choices.”
Harry passed Teddy back to Andromeda, who smiled tremulously up at him. He smiled proudly back.
“A wise man once told me that it is our choices who make us who we really are, far more than our abilities. He told me this because the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin.”
A collective gasp ran around the room.
“I thought that was because I was marked by Tom Riddle. I chose Gryffindor, and my path led to Tom Riddle’s downfall - because I was surrounded by the people who helped me make that happen.
“I was wrong. The Sorting Hat didn’t see Tom Riddle in me. It just saw me, exactly as I am. And now, in the interests of fostering peace, I am choosing to share that information with you. I am choosing truth, in the hope that every person here can then look around and judge people on their choices. Not their names, or their histories, or their blood status, or because of old family feuds… because of who they have chosen to become .
“If they’ve chosen to become rude, ignorant people, you’re still allowed to dislike them,” Harry added, to break some of the tension that had swelled in the room. There was a nervous laugh; Kingsley’s booming chuckle erupted behind him and relaxed him somewhat.
“The Sorting Hat saw this: that my whole family, with very few exceptions, have been sorted into Slytherin House.” Harry stood still, letting the wave of dismay and disbelief, and even a few vocal protests, wash over him. He raised his voice to continue, “Harry Potter is a myth. Harry Potter is a fable. I am not him.”
The noise was insurmountable, but Harry had aimed for that; for the element of surprise, to get the shock out of the way so he could tell his story to a quiet audience. It took almost three full minutes, and two minor explosions from Kingsley’s wand, to restore order.
“I am Harry Ignatius Black,” Harry said calmly. The glamour over his robes fell away. “I was born to Bellatrix Black before her marriage, and fathered by Regulus Black. I believe I was taken by my father immediately after my birth. He and Severus Snape - who, as is modern legend, was deeply in love with Lily Potter - planned the entire conspiracy. Given that they are both dead, we do not know the details. The Potters and their son Henry, however, went into hiding. As far as we know, they were never found.”
“Who died?” Someone called. “Your mother’s love saved you, you said. Who died for you?”
“I did,” Harry acknowledged. “And I believed it. I now believe that it was my father, not my mother, who died to save me. The same magic; the same protection. But Regulus Black, not Lily Potter, was the source.”
There was a stunned silence in the hall.
"My father chose to stand up to Tom Riddle, for me. Severus Snape chose his love for Lily Evans over his loyalty to Tom Riddle. Remus and Tonks chose to fight for Teddy's future. Their choices define their characters - not their Hogwarts Houses, or their blood status, or Remus's lycanthropy.
“I have not told you this to shock,” Harry said. “I have not told you this to crumble everything you knew, or change the world as you know it. I have told you this because I am a Black. I am everything Tom Riddle valued; I am from a family tree dominated by Dark magic and those who value it. But I grew up believing myself to be Harry Potter; I grew up in the Muggle world, when my blood - courtesy of the Black habit of marrying their cousins - is purer than many left alive. I chose to value Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. I chose to value courage, to the point of stupidity at times-”
“Hear, hear,” Madam Pomfrey said loudly, and Harry smiled apologetically down at her.
“Sorry,” he acknowledged, before looking back up at the silently gathered faces. “I chose, in short, to fight. I saw injustice, and sought to fight it. My name, my parents, my upbringing, my blood status - I was wrong about most of them. But it doesn’t matter.
“I bridge that gap, now. I bridge the gap between the old pureblood families, and the Muggleborns. I bridge the gap between supporter and defender. I died for you all, and I would die for you again… that hasn’t changed. So when you see the person you have always hated, because your parents hated theirs - make the effort to find out who they are. When you see someone wearing patched robes, reach out to them. Perhaps they don’t come from a wealthy family; that doesn’t mean they can’t be the best person you have ever known. When someone pushes you away, before you give up on them, ask yourself why. Because they might believe themselves unworthy of your love - and if the last few years has taught us anything at all, it should be that love is the greatest gift, the greatest defense, and the greatest magic we have.”
Harry’s voice had grown in power and strength as he spoke, realising the conviction he held for what he was saying. His final statement rang out, echoing across a room stunned into silence.
And then Minerva McGonagall got to her feet, met his eyes with her own, which were tear-filled, and began to clap.
Harry stood stock-still, shocked into statue form, as the applause gathered momentum and rang deafeningly around him. Hagrid hollered a loose sort of hail, and suddenly half the Hall was on its feet, stamping and cheering.
Kingsley clapped him on the shoulder and nodded. “Well done,” he said solemnly. “The next few weeks may hold some challenges and demands for proof, but I think tonight will be just fine. Those words will be printed in the Prophet tomorrow, and quoted for centuries to come.”
Harry smiled weakly and stumbled off the dias. Draco caught him and tackled him into a ferocious hug.
“Since when do we -”
“Shut up,” Draco advised him.
“Right,” Harry said, holding him closer. “Shutting up.”
Harry opened the Ball with Minerva McGonagall without standing on her feet or embarrassing himself. She complimented him quietly on his speech and his dancing. “Mister Malfoy has taught you admirably,” she said.
“How -”
“Narcissa drops by for a weekly tea,” Minerva answered mildly. “It is nice to see you practising what you preach, Mister Black.”
“Harry,” Harry corrected her. “Please.”
“For once, I think I will find that easier,” she admitted, and glanced around at the many other pairs who had now joined them on the dance floor. “Now, Harry, your obligation is fulfilled, and much as I have enjoyed the dance, I must find Miss Granger. We have plans to discuss.”
“Thank you,” Harry said. “For helping her.”
“Always,” Minerva replied.
Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears.
“After all this time?”
“Always,” said Snape.
Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well then, Professor. Enjoy the Ball,” he said, bowing. She inclined her head in return, smiling strangely as she took her leave.
“She’s impressed,” Draco drawled. “She didn’t expect you to know the etiquette when she said she was leaving.”
Harry spun round to find him lounging against a nearby pillar. “Shut up,” he hissed.
“Why, when teasing you is so much fun?” Draco flicked some invisible lint off his charcoal robes. “Would you like to dance?”
“I’ve done nothing but dance with you for nearly three weeks,” Harry sighed.
“And we are both still alive. It’s a miracle.” Draco bowed, and held out a hand. Harry rolled his eyes, but stepped into the hold, relieved that Draco was to lead.
“A miracle,” he agreed, glancing up and meeting his eyes. The grey of his dress robes highlighted the silver of his eyes, and whatever else he had been about to say melted from his mind. To his surprise, Draco had no snarky follow-up either; he simply held his gaze with the faintest of smiles and led him expertly around the floor.
Seventeen days later, Harry woke luxuriously and slowly to the sun streaming in. He sat up abruptly.
“Tempus,” he said blankly.
10:04.
He’d slept in until after ten in the morning. He hadn’t been interrupted by owls, fire calls, or summons to the Ministry.
Was it finally over? Had he provided all the required evidence, and sat through all the necessary interviews?
It seemed he had. By midday, Harry was bored. He hadn’t had this much free time since he’d lived with the Dursleys, and that had been miserable.
He sent his stag patronus to Draco and Andromeda, and turned on the spot, forcing himself through space. He reappeared on Andromeda’s doorstep to find her already there, smiling, and holding out Teddy.
“Couldn’t have come at a better time,” she announced. “I’m beat. I’m going to sleep all day. His bag is Banished, just Summon it when you want it.” She kissed his cheek and, without further preamble, shut the door on them both. Harry, bemused, looked down at his godson, who made grabby hands at him and laughed.
“Just the two of us then, eh kid?” Harry ruffled the tot’s hair and turned his back on the house.
“Oh, sorry, was my invite accidental?” A dry, sarcastic drawl asked. Harry rolled his eyes.
“No, but since I can’t see you, I didn’t know you were here.” He looked directly at the Dissolutioned Draco.
“I wasn’t sure whether Andromeda knew you’d asked me.”
“And even if she didn’t, why would it be an issue?”
“She’s my aunt, but I don’t know her,” Draco said after a pause, letting some vulnerability through his spiky exterior, which he covered by busying himself with the reversal of his Charm. “She might not like it.”
“Well, she does know, so untwist your panties and let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“No idea,” Harry said cheerfully. “Anywhere. I have nowhere to be today. No plans, no appointments, and no summons. I’m free.”
“Free, huh? Well then, Harry Black. Let’s make the most of it.”
That Draco had spent the day with Harry and Teddy was touching, more than Harry would like to admit. That he had then spent the evening with Hermione, Neville and the Weasleys, including Bill and Fleur’s newborn, and no-one came to blows or even seemed to think about arguing, was a minor miracle.
No, actually. A major miracle.
Harry’s grin felt so wide it was almost painful. When Draco picked up his fourth joke wand and joined in the good-natured laughter yet again as it turned into a rubber duck, he thought his joy might actually suffocate him. That moment was topped only by the expression on Draco’s face when Fleur gently passed him the baby girl. He looked like he had been given a star.
“‘Er name is Victoire,” Fleur said proudly. “She was born at the same time ‘Arry was making ’is speech, at the Anniversaire. We named ‘er for Victory Day.”
Draco stared and stared at the baby girl, and Harry’s breath caught.
He tried to put how he was feeling into words as he and Draco walked towards the Apparition point later that evening, leaving Teddy fast asleep in the Burrow at Molly’s insistence.
“Thanks,” he tried, and then stopped. “For… you know.”
“Cat got your tongue?” Draco teased. “Saviour of the Wizarding World, stuck for something to say?”
Harry elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Shut up,” he said, laughing despite himself. He sobered and took a deep breath. “Thank you for spending the day with me,” he clarified. “I know the Weasleys are overwhelming, and they aren’t your people -”
“Stop,” Draco said, more gently than Harry realised he knew how to be. He drew Harry onto a bench; they had walked past the Apparition point. “Harry, they aren’t my people, but… have you ever thought that maybe I'd like them to be?”
Harry opened his mouth, but nothing happened. “What?” He managed finally.
“I was told who I was allowed to be friends with at school. If we hadn’t had a war, I would have been told by now who I’d be marrying - if not married already. I had no friends, I had the acquaintances I was expected to make, and the complexities of generations of family ties to uphold. Did it never occur to you that half of the horrid things I did to you were out of obligation, and the other half were jealousy?”
“Jealousy?” Harry managed.
“You had friends, Harry. You had a team that you didn’t have to buy your way into. You had people who were loyal to you because they liked you, not because of their surname.” He sighed. “I don’t have friends. Maybe I’d like to. Maybe this ‘found family’ thing you have going on is something I want in on.”
Harry’s heart pounded. He understood more than ever the importance of what he had said at the Ball - not just from his point of view, now, but from Draco’s, too. “You already have me,” he managed.
“I do,” Draco said, with a wry smile and something like fondness creeping into his voice. “And are you my friend, Harry Black?”
“Do you want me to be?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Draco’s eyes flicked down to Harry’s lips. “But there is this thing, among the Blacks… with cousins.”
“Yeah,” Harry said weakly, trying desperately to remember when he last had a drink and concluding that it hadn’t been today, no matter how drunk he felt. “Yeah, I’d heard that.” He swallowed hard, and Draco’s grey eyes followed the movement.
“Think there’s anything in it?” He asked, his voice dropping an octave, becoming secretive, sultry.
Harry cleared his throat twice. “Erm, probably,” he tried clumsily.
“Merlin, you’re awful at flirting,” Draco sighed.
“Yeah,” Harry said. “I know.” They smiled tentatively at each other. “Dance with me?” Harry asked quietly.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
They didn’t waltz, not truly; they revolved on the spot in the moonlight, forehead to forehead. Harry sighed. “I think I’m only just realising how much he took from us all,” he confessed. “I felt like I was hard done by, with the upbringing I had and the constant threat of him. But you missed out on so much as well. Everyone has something, don’t they?”
"Perhaps,” Draco agreed softly. “But we can’t make a better world until we’ve seen how to do it wrong. We have so much to learn, now, about the future, and about each other.”
Harry lifted his chin, bumping their noses together. “All the things I thought I knew about you were wrong,” he admitted. “And I was as blinded by Ron’s preconceptions as you were by yours.”
“But now we are free,” Draco murmured. “We have time to iron out all those things, don’t we? We can ask all the questions we want, and we can unlearn and relearn everything we thought we knew.”
“What do you want to ask?” Harry was so full of fluttering nerves that he thought he could float, if he wasn’t wrapped in Draco’s wiry arms.
“How you got off the Express after I broke your nose,” Draco said after a moment’s thought, chuckling lightly. “Sorry about that, by the way. It was a crappy summer and a worse school year.”
“No kidding,” Harry said sarcastically, laughing. “I’m sorry about the curse… it was a bad year for me too. And - and actually, it was…it was Tonks.”
“Think she knew, then?”
Harry remembered her mousy hair, her preoccupation. “I don’t think so,” he said cautiously. “But maybe. I suppose there are some things we’ll never know.”
“Some,” Draco acquiesced. “But not all.” And the butterflies burst out of Harry as Draco finally closed the tiny gap between their lips - literal butterflies that poured from him as he gasped and tugged at Draco’s shoulders and kissed him back.
“Not all,” he agreed breathlessly. His cheeks ached from smiling.