What's in a memory?

Chapter Sixteen

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The night fled by.

Moonlight gave way to the dawn's early rays before they succumbed to sleep's sweet siren call.  Wrapped in one another's embrace.  

"Daddy" Teddy squealed. "You're awake."

"Oof, missed you too" Harry groaned as the ten-year-old heavily descended upon the bed.

Draco smiled at his husband and son's antics. Awake, as always despite their late night, a handy habit for a healer. 

Harry hated him ‐ just a little bit.

He couldn't prove it but Draco's grin appeared wider under Harry's scrutiny.

Bloody Slytherin.

"You-You remember me?" Harry swithered back to his anxious son. Eyes wide and today: Green coloured to match his scaled features. 

Harry glanced at Draco, scathingly.

"I told him," Draco announced unnecessarily. 

"So it seems" Harry muttered, snipishly. "I thought we agreed to tell him together." Harry grated out.

"Are you guys fighting?" Teddy's small voice broke the staring contest between them. His long blond waves shimmered under the morning's shine. 

"What? No." Harry answered, without thinking about it. Then cringed. Were they?

"Really?" His scales flushed grey, his eyes hardening.

"We're not!" replied Draco firmly, the same time as Harry opened his mouth. //"Well, maybe..?" Harry queried, still upset that Draco had told Teddy without him.

"Later, Harry." Draco stated. It was almost an order. Harry bristled but subsided at his husband's look, rembering belatedly all he had learned from the pensive last night; Yes, later he thought grouchily.

Teddy waited anxiously for whatever came next. He glanced to each parent in turn, awaiting the impending argument. His head moving to and fro like a muggle at a tennis match. 

Draco saw his son's colours fade.

That'll be enough of that, Draco thought.

Then he brightly asked, "Shall we make breakfast? I know someone who wants waffles" He winked, and Teddy giggled in response.

They both got up from the bed, in practiced motion, then turned to Harry in unison, who was still lounging against the mountain of pillows. 

(Seriously what need had Draco got for so many pillows?)

Draco gave Harry a piercing look, like he knew that he was currently plotting to throw some of the masses of pillows out the window the moment Draco left the spacious bedroom.

"Don't even think about it."  Draco warned.

Teddy had already disappeared under the happy promise of waffles, leaving the two alone.

"Seriously, dude, do you have a pillow obsession or something?"

Draco just smiled and raised a single eyebrow. 

Godric, that look. That look spoke volumes. That look sent sparks all over Harry's body. Setting his nerve endings on fire. Just by that single sultry Look.

"Leave the bloody pillows where they are this time Harry" he growled warningly.

Harry sent an offending pillow soaring in a perfect arc out the bedroom window in a show of effortless, wandless magic; he smirking challengingly at Draco the whole time.

Draco responded instantly by silently stalking back into the bedroom with predatory grace; approaching Harry, pinning him to the spot with an unwavering gaze, which Harry found himself inexplicably unable to tear himself away from.

His body was suddenly hot and cold all over: heart pounding, mouth dry, face blushing furiously, hands clammy as he gripped the sheets desperately in his fists still unable to move under Draco's ever closing stare.

Embarrasingly he realised he was rock hard under the sheets. Fuck, Draco was so freaking Hot! like this, gloriously empowered, uninhibitedly male.

 Then, Draco was there, looming over him on the bed.

Straddling his hips, holding his arms loosely against the pillows with practised ease, that spoke of years of experience, Draco leaned in close as Harry's body instinctively arched against him in unconcious desire. 

A wicked smile flickered across Draco's beautiful face as he ground down briefly against Harry's need and stole his mouth in the hotest kiss of Harry's actual memory, until Harry moaned into his mouth helplessly.

Just as suddenly Draco's weight and warmth were gone and Harry opened his eyes in protest to see his husband leaning indonently,smiling innocently, against the door frame.

"Pillows. Belong. On our bed. All. of. Them. get it back and clean it up!"

Huffing disgruntly under his breath, body aching with needs he couldn't even begin to contemplate much less process right then. Harry drew in a ragged breath and muttered the first thing that came to mind: A childish hex at Draco's smug face. 

The hex hit Draco full on in the face, red slime covering him entirely. "What the ...!?!" Draco spluttered indignantly accidentally getting slime in his mouth in the process. Grimacing he pulled out his wand and cast the counter curse instantly, removing all evidence of the slime bomb Harry had sent. He turned a steely look on Harry, drew in a deep breath and ... let it go slowly. 

Drawing himself up imperiously he levelled a knowing look at Harry. "You" he intoned darkly " need coffee." 

+

Harry ended up having tea just to spite him.

It didn't taste as good.

And Draco smirked over his own brew as if to say 'I told you so'. 

Blasted ferret. Why I ever married such a self-righteous, pillow obsessed, know it all...

Just then, he noticed Draco subtly using his wand at the table. And a steaming mug of aromatic coffee gracefully glided over to land by Harry's rejected, practically untouched, teacup.

Draco smirked again over the rim of his own mug. 

It took all Harry's will power, not to hex him again. 

Harry knew some creative ones, Thanks to Fred and George.

Ginny's bat-boogey hex sprang to mind. 

Perhaps, Teddy would find it funny? 

No. 

He was 27.  A senior auror. A father. 

And married to the smug prick. 

And he really did want that coffee. 

Harry glanced back up from the tempting, tantilizing mug, to see Draco wink cheekily.

Harry bit his lip, if he gave in Draco would win. But then he smelled that intoxicating aroma, dark with hints of something sweeter- some kind of fruity undertones- furthering the inticement.

Harry glanced back up from his internal debate to Draco raising a solitary eyebrow. was it a challenge? a question? 

Harry was so confused. 

Was it about winning?Was it about trust?

Christ. Why couldn't everything be easy? why, since the accident, did everything have to be so fucking difficult?

Now, he found himself debating drinking what was probably a perfectly innocent breverage.

Harry swore to himself he'd find who was responsible to mess and make them pay. 

Draco, from the across the table, watched as Harry's expression turned dark and brooding. A shiver crawled up his spine. 

Harry's face was closed off and hardened, his eyebrows low and his eyes seemed a darker shade. 

Draco knew that face;

Salazar, he'd lost so much time to that face. Harry burying himself in research, and late nights at the bureau, to tracking and hunting.

Draco had spent nights alone, worrying, thanks to THAT face.

That was Harry's determined-work-face.

Fortunately, at that moment, Teddy stopped slurping at his syruppy goodness to pipe up. 

"What're we doing today?" 

Draco's attention moved over, to notice a maple syrup trail dripping down his son's chin. 

He handed Teddy a napkin, with a smile. 

Imagining what his mother would say, if he had eaten with such messy fervor when he was a child. 

"Thanks." Teddy then proceeded to smear the syrup all over, in the hopeless attempt to free himself from the sticky substance. Draco laughed. 

He could clearly hear his mother, shreiking, "Moisten and Dab! Moisten and Dab! don't wipe."

But Draco bit his tongue, allowing his son to learn through his own experience. He didn't want to pressure him with all the rules, Draco had had to live by. 

Teddy eventually gave up, switching out the napkin for another forkful of loaded waffles. 

"I'm not sure," Draco answered, glancing over to Harry who was still lost in his thoughts. Absent mindedly sipping his coffee, which made Draco smile despite himself. "What do you fancy, Bud?"

"Erm, could we go to Diagon?" Teddy asked, before shoveling more food into his fizzgog. 

"Oh, I'm not sure that's a good idea." Draco pondered aloud.

"Come on papa!" Teddy pouted. "We could go to Flourish and Blotts!" He tempted. Knowing his father's weakness.

But Draco remained resolute.

"Dad was just in the papers. It's not a good idea." 

"Why not?" Harry perked up snapping out of his thoughts, "Surely, we're used to the press following me by now." 

"Harry" Draco sighed. Running a hand over his face.

"What!"  

"You don't remember this, but we're private people. The press rarely follows our family, once we made that clear. But paps aside, there's still whoever is targeting you. It's not wise for you to be wandering around in public."

"I can take him." Harry huffed. Confident.

Arrogant twenty-year-old, Draco cursed mentally.

"And how'd that work out for you last time?" Draco verbally slapped. 

Harry stiffened, visibly gearing up for a fight.

Draco frowned, hating this new role as the 'fun police', he downed the remainder of his cup. Hardly tasting it.

"The answer is no."

Harry looked at him sharply, ready to argue. But for the second time that morning what he saw in his husband's face convinced him to uncharacteristically let it go. Albeit sulkily.

Both he and Teddy slumped in their seats, defeated.

Draco looked over his dejected family. 

"We could always.." Draco drawled. "go flying?"

His boys could never say no to that. 

The answering pair of grins were all that he needed to know he was forgiven.

+

Breakfast was quick cleared with Harry's brand of magic. 

Robes were gathered and hastily thrown on. 

Clattering, chattering happiness filled the home and Draco's heart as they floo-ed over to the Burrow and it's spacious fields.

The second Harry's foot landed out of the hearth, Molly wrapped Harry in a tight hug; one that wheezed all his breath out. 

"Missed you too," Harry mumbled into her shoulder, with what lung capacity he had left. 

"Oh, Harry. I was so worried." Molly's hands caressed his broad back, as far as her small stature could reach.

When she finally released him, taking a step back, she peered up into his face.

Harry could see the differences the eight years had on her.

Molly had aged beautifully,  graced with new laughter lines, and wrinkles. But still the only mother Harry'd ever known.

"Have you eaten? I can whip something up." she offered, as always.

Some things never changed.

A warmth suffused Harry's heart. 

"Ohh, could you make your brownies Granny?" Teddy moved forward. 

"Of course," She laughed merrily, sweeping Teddy into a hug. "You're much too skinny." She tickled his ribs. 

Teddy wriggled away.

Then he shifted, carelessly using his metamorphagus abilities, to shrink in size. Jutting out his cheekbones, and jawline horrifically to portray a sickly skinny body. 

"Ahaha" Molly laughed. "Indeed, Far too skinny, I can certainly whip up some post-flying goodies for you, my boy." 

Teddy grinned, before resuming his previous scaly visage.

"Molly. That's really not necessary. We just ate." Draco interjected. 

"Nonsense," she waved away with a frown, contradicting her next movement as she reached forward to embrace him.

"And how are you, dearie?"  She asked, quietly. Sternly. Motherly.

Harry wanted to be shocked that she was embracing Draco Malfoy, but shrugged it off quickly as one of the new adjustments life had made in his memory's absence.

"Oh, I'm..." Draco seemed a little thrown by her questioning. He looked over her shoulder at Harry. "I'm better. Thank you."

Draco literally fell into her warm embrace, loving that Molly was so physical with her affection, so unlike the household figures in his childhood. 

Harry watched as Draco melted into Molly's arms, all pretense forgotten under a motherly hand. 

Meanwhile, Teddy began running off towards the staircase, yelling for George to come flying with them. 

Harry's blood ran cold. George.

George still lived at home, ten years after the war?

Eight years ago, he was a state. Mourning the loss of his other half. Not Angelina.

His girlfriend.

No, for Fred. 

The tragic loss of an identical twin, his wombmate, and best friend. 

George and Angelina had to slow down, last Harry remembered, because living was so delicate for George. 

Survivor's guilt was tenfold and with each look in the mirror the physical reminder of what he'd lost. 

George never moved out?

Teddy's receeding footsteps up the many stairs of the Burrow matched Harry's thumping heart. 

Draco and Molly were talking near Harry but the words were lost to the static in Harry's mind.

Harry tried to remind himself that he couldn't save everyone. That it wasn't on him that this happened. The war wasn't his fault - though at times it felt like it. He wasn't to blame for all the deaths, even if it felt like that. 

Reminding himself of all things his therapist went over.

Harry's vision blurred with tears. 

Washe to blame? He couldn't be sure anymore. 

The static increased, buzzing all around him. Fogging his mind. 

Why hadn't he died? Why did Fred? 

Why did so many good people have die? 

Why was he allowed to keep living when Fred wasn't?

Why was he raising Remus' son? 

How was any of this fair?

It should've been him. 

Harry fell into the spiraling thoughts. Falling. Spinning. Endlessly trapped within these threatening, all consuming ideas.

It was his fault.

Was it?

It wasn't?

It was.

Harry was lost under the thunderstorm of doubt, and guilt, and the familiar feeling of failure.

The pounding of hearbeats, and harsh breaths soundtracked his unending, tumbling thoughts.

Harry deserved this.

It wasn't until Draco took hold of Harry's hand that he returned to the physical plane, that he'd abandoned.

Harry resurfaced to Draco's worried face, still blurred from tears.

Blinking himself into awareness, he began feeling his extremities. 

His right hand tingled, the one Draco wasn't holding. His legs were unsteady, he felt as if a subtle change in the wind, would knock him off his feet. His core shaking. 

The world was too bright. Harry shut his eyes.

"Deerheart?" Draco's voice cut through all of Harry's thoughts. He squeezed his hand harder. 

"Harry, where'd you go?" he whispered, resting his forehead against Harry's. 

Begging to any God listening to bring his husband back. 

"Come back to me" Draco gave a fleeting kiss to Harry's cheek.

Harry rested his right hand over Draco's solid chest, using his steady breaths as a template. Following the rise and fall, Harry breathed in time with his partner.

"Are you okay?" Draco breathed, covering both of Harry's hands with his own.

"Yes." Harry answered, feeling more grounded in the present. His husband in front of him, his hand holding him, his chest under his palm. "Yes, I am. I'm with you."

Draco seemed to understand this. How? Harry couldn't comprehend. He began whispering, repeating it to Harry. "You're with me.", "You're not going anywhere.", "I've got you.", "You're safe.".

At some point during Harry's freak out, Molly left to give them space. As Harry slowly blinked back to awareness, back to reality.  The smell of tea and coffee wafting from the kitchen, cleared Harry's brain fog further. He was safe.

He was at the Burrow.

He was with his family.

+

Flying is exactly what Harry needed to clear his mind.

Up where the wind roared by him on his sturdy broom. Harry felt all his limbs, his lungs, his mind working together to push through.

This was living.

He zoomed around the grounds faster than his firebolt could ever take him. 

His new broom was so responsive to his touch, to each tilt. 

He looked down from 60ft in the air, to see his blue-haired godson zoom around on his own broom. A junior model, not as fast. But Harry could see Teddy's enjoyment all the same.

His grin huge, his scales now flushed orange in excitement. Hair wild with exhilaration.

Draco was following after him. Keeping close, presumably on hand if Teddy needed any assistance.

Which allowed Harry to fly much higher, much faster than the two of them.

He wished Remus could see this;

See his son, barking with laughter, as he flew across the field.

From this height, he could see George emerge with his own broom. His red hair easily identifying him.

Harry flew closer.

George's hair had grown out. It was now shoulder length, not as impressive as Bill's, and tucked up into a ponytail, not in Bill's signature plait.

"Hey Hazza. How's the head?" He asked when Harry hovered close enough. His face, beaming.

Harry's breath caught, he waited so long to see George's true grin again.

Sure, he'd given small half-heartened ones after the war. Briefly smiling, before his eyes would glaze over with guilt and tug his smile back down. Obviously thinking of his brother. Completely overriding his face of joy. 

George had shut the shop down for longer than anyone expected before rekindling the fire inside. Desperate to bring joy to others, as Fred would've wanted.

After the war, everyone needed a good laugh. A good distraction.

Ron said as much during George's bad days. 

Ron and Harry would invite George out as much as they could, after the funeral. Pub nights, early morning workouts, even watching muggle films.

George was so closed off, he'd spend hours in bed, missing his other half. 

Ron made it his mission to get him on his feet again. Even with Hermione burying herself in memory research and eighth-year exams, Ron gave his family his all. 

Probably explains why Ron's grades weren't too hot that year. 

But this George smiled, openly, with no sign of shame. 

It was a good look on him. 

Harry smiled back.

"My head?" He asked, flipping himself and the broom 180 degrees so he was hanging upside down. Harry clenched his thighs together to hold on tight.

Harry thought George was asking about therapy, and the panic attack he just had inside not half an hour ago. 

"Yeah, heard you were down for a week. That's a new record, even for you!" Fred chuckled, dusting off his broom.

"Oh." Harry realised. "Yeah. It's... it's been f-freaky to say the least." Mindful of swearing around Teddy now. Even with him half way across the field.

"Yeah, Ron said you didn't even remember marrying that one." George jerked his head over to where Draco was teaching Teddy some tricks now. 

Harry blushed. "Yeah, It's been...rough going. But we're good now, I think." Harry glanced over to the duo again.

"Alright, ready for me to whoop your arse on the field then?" George flung his long leg over the broomstick. "Hope you haven't forgotten  what it feels like to lose to me." 

"Yeah, alright. You're on." laughed Harry righting himself effortlessly. 

And it was easy as flying always was. 

Surprisingly, Angelina arrived from inside the Burrow onto the grounds and she threw a quaffle up for them, before she too mountained a broom. 

Oh, so Angelina lives here too, he summised.

"Hey Harry, how's the head? Hope you won't use it as an excuse when I kick your arse!"

Godric, these two were made for each other.

The romantic duo began an intricate set of twirls around each other. 

George flew up and over and Angelina dove under and left. As George spun down the right, Angelina flew up and over. 

They swung up and over, down and around with practiced ease. Then they began tossing the quaffle to each other during the sequence.

It was beautiful to watch.

Teddy zoomed over on his broom to take a closer look. 

"Wow. Can you teach me that?" He asked awed. His hair a vivid cerulean. "Please."

"Haha, sure kid. But when you're older." Angelina flew out of the loop and over to Harry's godson, who looked disappointed.

"Maybe after first year?" Harry placated, which got Draco's instant attention

""Absolutely not! Third year, minimum."

Teddy started laughing, "That's so weird. Usually dad's all..." putting on a deep voice, and shortened his hair at will.  "'Absolutely not! It's unsafe'" Then his hair lengthened into a shockwhite blonde that was achingly familar to all present " And Papa's all like, Deerheart you can't be serious!" 

Teddy chucked so hard, he lost his grip on his broom and slid backwards. 

Chaos ensued. 

Draco darted forward reaching for him. Harry instinctively cast a cushioning charm beneath them. Angelina and George zoomed over to catch the broom and/or Teddy. 

Harry then prepared the soft drop spell that Dumbledore used for him in third year (Arresto momentum) to slow the impending fall to find that Draco was craddling Teddy tightly in his arms. 

Draco, in an excellent show of skills (and thigh muscles) had guided the broom one handedly down to the ground. 

Within the next twenty seconds, everyone descended and crowded around the youngster.

"Remember, never to forget to hold onto your broom!" Harry exclaimed

"I'm fine" he argued, batting off arms. Draco quickly cast a few detection charms, while Harry gripped hold of Teddy. 

"Godric, you scared me. No more flying. Ever." Harry boldly declared. 

"Dad' Teddy bemoaned.

Draco moved over, clearly deciding that Teddy was unharmed.

"Harry, he's fine. Teddy, you need to pay more attention" Draco pried Harry's fingers off their son. 

"It's not fine. He could've broken something. No more flying."

"Come on Deerheart, be reasonable. You were far worse at school."

"I wasn't that bad. And I was older!"

"But you hadn't been flying as long" Teddy argued. "Because the muggles wouldn't let you."

Harry's jaw dropped at that particular revelation.

"You were pretty bad, mate. Although you had wicked moves on the pitch." George thtew in

"But I- he's... It's different, okay?"

Angelina quietly stepped forward and gently pointed a rueful finger towards the sky, a wry smile on her face. 

Everyone looked up.

There was Teddy looping the loop above them, orange from head to toe.

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