Nearly

A heavy silence settles over the Slytherin table. Most of the students return to their breakfasts tensely and try to pretend like nothing is out of the ordinary. Harry can see Crabbe and Goyle exchange a meaningful look before huddling over their plates as usual, but it’s impossible to tell whether the tension in their shoulders is holding them back from bolting or leaping up in celebration. 

Harry feels a shiver pass through him and quickly hugs himself. In the seat next to him, Draco is unconsciously dragging his fingertips over the lower edge of the newspaper, his eyes staring unfocused at the headline. Harry frowns down at the cackling portrait of Bellatrix Lestrange and shivers again. He wishes Draco would just fold the paper up already, if he’s not going to read it… as if hearing his thoughts, Pansy leans in and whispers to Draco, ”Aren’t you going to see what the article says?”

Draco gives an involuntary headshake, but opens the paper up nontheless. They all lean over to read, but Harry stops almost immediately. He feels rather sick. 

No-one has ever escaped from Azkaban prison before. It’s meant to be impenetrable — going in or out, without permission!

He remembers sitting in a similar place along this table five years and a lifetime ago, staring at another copy of the Prophet, stunned with a similar reaction. That time, it was vault in Gringott’s that had been broken into. Another impenetrable place. He knows now that it had been Voldemort who broke in to that vault, even if he was possessing Quirrell at the time. And if there was any doubt in Harry’s mind who broke these Death Eaters out of prison, that connection would surely convince him. 

Glancing over at the others’ faces to gauge their reactions to the article, Harry can’t help but wonder how the Ministry is going to be able to deny it. Or maybe they won’t, he thinks. Maybe they’ll finally come out and say what everyone already knows, or at least expects. That he’s back.

”When is that little toad going to resign…” Seamus mutters. 

I guess not, Harry thinks dully. 

”Not one word about Him, or Harry…” Blaise says in a level voice. ”I’m surprised the Prophet thinks they can get away with that. Surely people will start putting two and two together now…”

”Don’t count on it”, Pansy mutters, ripping the paper away from Draco and shaking it open to continue reading the article on the next page. ”…’On no accounts should any of these individuals be approached’ — that’s the understatement of the century. Imagine encountering Antonin Dolohov in Knockturn Alley…”

Draco’s body lurches subtly, as if trying to get him to shake out of his stupor and leave, but he quickly conceals the impulse by reaching for the coffee pot and pours himself another cup. Harry notices that his hands are shaking. Pansy’s hazel eyes have flitted away from the paper to fix on the blonde’s hands as well, narrowing as some drops of coffee spill over the rim of the cup and pepper the pale skin of his hand. But she, like Harry, says nothing about it. Instead she begins to skim the other articles in the Prophet, sighing at one in particular before folding the paper again with a look of disgust.

”This is useless”, she mutters. ”Why am I even reading it… Draco, why don’t you cancel your prescription already?”

”Can I have a look?” Harry asks, a sense of foreboding settling into the pit of his stomach. 

”Don’t know why you’d want to…” Pansy mutters, but tosses the paper sideways along the table. 

It lands between Harry’s porridge bowl and Draco’s plate, one drooping corner poking a piece of toast and steadily darkening as it soaks up the melted butter. Some of the colour returns to Draco’s face as he frowns at it, before pulling his plate away. 

Harry opens the paper up again and starts to skim through it, looking for… something… it must have been something, for Pansy to sigh like that, he thinks, scanning the headlines with trepidation. The girl sighs again, but this time it’s more of an annoyed huff. 

”Page seventeen”, she says curtly. 

Harry shoots her a look, then flicks the pages a little quicker until he gets to seventeen and spots the headline: ”Tragic demise of Ministry of Magic worker”

His heart seems to stop inside his chest as he’s seized by panic. Not dad —? 

He searches the article text frantically until the name Broderick Bode jumps out at him and he sags with relief. 

But wait — Bode? — he works with dad, in —

In the Department of Mysteries!

Scanning the article again, now almost eagerly, Harry learns that Bode had been injured in a workplace accident and taken to St Mungo’s, where he tragically died due to another accident… strangled by a potted plant, of all things! 

”… a spokeswizard for the hospital said in a statement, ’St Mungo’s deeply regrets the death of Mr Bode, whose health was improving steadily prior to his tragic accident. We have strict guidelines on the decorations permitted on our wards, but it appears that Healer Strout, busy over the Christmas period, overlooked the dangers of the plant on Mr Bode’s bedside table. As his speech and mobility improved, Healer Strout encouraged Mr Bode to look after the plant himself, unaware that it was not an innocent Flitterbloom, but a cutting of Devil’s Snare which, when touched by the convalescent Mr Bode, throttled him instantly… St Mungo’s is as yet unable to account for the presence of the plant on the ward and asks any witch or wizard with information to come forward.’…”

Harry sits back again. Who gives someone a potted Devil’s Snare for Christmas? Unless…

”Come on, let’s go…” Draco says quietly.

Harry glances over to him, but the blonde isn’t looking at him but staring with an unreadable expression over at the Gryffindor table. Harry follows his line of sight, expecting to see one of the Weasleys, or maybe Granger (the blonde has become more and more obsessed with that girl, or rather her prospective O.W.L. results) but is instead surprised to see Longbottom, hunched over a plate of bacon and eggs, glancing around him nervously. Harry looks around as well and he can tell why the plump Gryffindor is looking so uncomfortable. At least a handful of students are whispering and throwing furtive glances his way and a couple of them are even outright pointing in his direction. 

Then Harry remembers. Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband were sentenced to Azkaban for torturing a couple called Longbottom. They must be related… a second memory filters into Harry’s early morning mind and it’s the time in Third Year when someone told him that Longbottom’s Boggart had turned into Professor Snape, and in order to get rid of it, Harry’s daddy had instructed him to picture it wearing his grandmother’s clothes — that’s right, Harry thinks now. Longbottom lives with his grandmother. So… that couple that Bellatrix tortured until they lost their minds, they must have been his parents…

”Yeah”, Harry mumbles, getting to his feet. ”Let’s get out of here.”

”The Ministry might still have their heads stuck in the ground like a herd of Dugbogs”, Pansy comments idly, while they make their way towards their first lesson of the day, with a sly look at a group of Hufflepuffs huddled together in the Entrance Hall. ”But at least some of them are starting to wizen up…”

Harry glances over at the group of Hufflepuffs and notice them all staring back at him, their whispered conversation rising in volume and speed so that they sound like a beehive. Harry is used to people whispering about him, of course. Has even managed to block it out for the most part. But there’s a slightly different tone to the whispers now, he notices. And the looks thrown his way, too. They’re more curious now, rather than scared or accusatory, or taunting which has become the new norm ever since the Daily Prophet’s smear campaign against Dumbledore (and by extension, Harry) that started in the summer.

”Obviously the Prophet’s version of events isn’t adding up, so now they’re starting to doubt what they’ve been saying all along…” Pansy adds drily. 

”Sir”, Seamus says, thrusting his hand into the air during their Potions lesson the next day. ”Do you think there’ll be any more breakouts from Azkaban?”

Twenty-seven worried pairs of eyes swivel from the Irish boy to the Potions Master stood at the front of the classroom, looming over them all like an oversized bat and scowling in irritation at having been interrupted when instructing them to get started on their Wiggenweld Potions.

”I’m afraid the newest Decree prevents me from answering any questions unrelated to potions…” he says slowly, voice devoid of feeling but his eyes darkening further. 

A collective sigh rises from the class and the students exchange glum looks with one another. Professor Snape’s scowl darkens and he taps the black board pointedly with the tip of his wand, which emits a couple of involuntary, angry sparks. 

”The instructions are on the board”, he repeats slowly, each consonant sharp enough cut. 

His mood doesn’t appear to have improved when Harry joins him in his office later that evening, rather the opposite. Nor does it improve during the lesson. If anything, it darkens with every dip into Harry’s mind when Harry repeatedly fails to expel him. 

Harry had hoped that he would get used to occluding the more he tried it, and get better at it. But it seems the opposite is true in this case as well. It seems to get harder and harder to force Professor Snape out of his mind again once the man has delved in, and it also gets harder and harder to endure the experience of having him in there. By his third attempt, Harry’s head is pounding worse than ever and he is shivering violently from the cold sweat coating his skin. 

He struggles to get back up on his feet after having collapsed on all four for the third time, but his knees buckle under him and he falls back down. 

”I’m not feeling too well”, he admits.

”Get up”, Snape snaps. ”You are not trying hard enough!”

”I am”, Harry snaps back. ”Sir.”

”I said, get up!”

Harry struggles to his feet, his legs shaking under him but he manages to straighten up. Professor Snape is watching him with worried eyes, but he raises his wand again. Harry swallows thickly and tries to focus, but the wand pointed at his chest is now swimming in and out of focus and his scar is searing. 

”I… I don’t think….” 

”Wand at the ready”, Snape’s stony voice reaches him as though from a great distance. ”We will try again.”

”I don’t think… I can…” Harry mumbles, feeling the blood drain from his face and his arms go numb. 

The next thing he knows, he’s lying on his back on the cold stone floor and Professor Snape’s worried face is looming over him. Something slaps against the side of his face suddenly, jostling him out of his sluggish stupor and he blinks some of the cobwebs from eyes and glares up at the Potions Master. 

”Get up—”

”Seriously?” Harry splutters incredulously. 

”Get. Up.” Snape says coldly. 

Harry feels firm hands grab his arms and then he’s hoisted up to sitting. 

”Drink this”, Snape adds and thrusts a cup into his face. 

”What—” Harry jerks back, glaring at the foul-smelling potion. 

”Just drink it!” the man snarls impatiently.

He grabs the back of Harry’s head, tipping the contents of the cup into his mouth and Harry gags, spluttering at the foul taste. Snape gives him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t force any more of the potion into Harry’s mouth, just lets go of his head again and pulls away. 

Harry watches him sweep across the office to put the half-empty cup down on a shelf full of potion phials in different colours. He pulls a face as the horrid taste of dirt and rotten eggs that lingers in his mouth, but at the same time he feels most of the ache disperse from his head. 

”Thanks”, he mumbles and pushes to his feet, relieved to feel his legs steady under his weight again. 

”You’re welcome”, the Potions Master mutters. ”How are you feeling?”

”Better. Thanks… I’m ready to go again”, he adds. He raises his wand and plants his feet squarely apart, steeling himself. 

But Snape just throws him another unimpressed look and swoops down in his chair behind the desk. 

”Sit down”, he says curtly. 

”No, really. I’m fine to go agai—”

”Sit. Down.”

Harry’s shoulders slump with defeat and he shuffles over to the other chair. Snape is once again watching him with that unreadable expression on his face, his narrowed, dark eyes glittering and Harry feels a prickle behind his eyes, as if his mind is being invaded again. But he figures it’s probably just his imagination. 

”Have you been emptying your mind every night before bed?”

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says earnestly. 

He meets the man’s eyes dead on, willing him to believe him. For once, he’s actually been doing what he’s been told, yet he’s still not improving and he doesn’t want Snape to think that is because he’s lying to him about doing his exercises.

Professor Snape sighs and looks down at his clasped hands on top of the desk. Harry’s heart sinks into his stomach. Either his Head of House thinks he is lying, or he thinks he’s completely hopeless and incompetent — and Harry doesn’t know which is worse, but he definitely knows that he doesn’t want Snape to give up on him! 

As horrible as these Occlumency lessons have proved to be, if Dumbledore and Snape, and Harry’s dads, all think needs to learn this, if they think Voldemort might try and possess him and this is his only chance to avoid it, then he wants Snape to teach him. Even Remus said that if he had to have private lessons in Occlumency, then he’d want Professor Snape to teach him. 

”Please, Professor…” he says and the man’s eyes immediately dart back up to meet his. ”I swear I’m trying my best—”

”I know that”, Snape says quietly. ”Harry, don’t think — I didn’t mean —” He trails off with a sigh and glares down at his hands again. ”I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m sorry. When you managed to expel me on your first try, however belatedly, I thought — but it’s only your second lesson and you’re only fifteen, I shouldn’t have pushed you so far, so soon… keep emptying your mind before bed, like you have been, and next lesson we’ll… we’ll try again. Okay?”

”Okay”, Harry mumbles, feeling like a failure despite the professor’s reassurances. 

Toadface’s momentary triumph at having put Hagrid on probation has clearly been squashed by the current crisis at the Ministry. The escaped Death Eaters is the new favourite topic of conversation at Hogwarts and not just among the students, but the teachers as well, who can often be seen congregating in hallways, speaking in hushed voices until they spot approaching students. Harry figures they can’t speak freely in the staff room anymore, with Umbridge being there. Something that’s surely added to her grief as well. 

Draco, on the other hand, seems very eager to steer everyone’s conversation back to Hagrid’s probation. Not only is he excited about the half-giant’s imminent degradation back to gamekeeper, but he’s almost as keen as Longbottom to avoid the topic of the escaped Death Eaters. 

Harry thinks back to his day at Grimmauld Place in the summer, when Sirius showed him the tapestry with Black Family Tree embroidered on it and pointed out the sisters Bellatrix and Narcissa to him, one connected to Rodolphus Lestrange and one to Lucius Malfoy, and connected to the latter by a thin golden thread, had been Draco himself. Harry isn’t sure if Draco knows that he knows about this family connection and he’s not sure how to tell him either. 

But one thing is for sure, Malfoy Manor might have been safe at Christmas, but it certainly isn’t a safe place anymore.

*

The notice announcing the dates of the Hogsmeade visits of the term appears on their house noticeboard, stuck rather pointedly on top of the latest Educational Decree so that it’s obscuring Umbridge’s name, and Draco nudges Harry, nodding towards it. 

”Next Hogsmeade visit is on the fourteenth”, he says. 

Harry glances over at the noticeboard as well and nods, as he sinks down on the loveseat next to Draco. He’s yet to ask the blonde if he wants to tag along to his dads’s but the visit is a whole month away, so he’s got plenty of time —

”Of February”, Draco adds. 

Harry wheels his head back around and frowns at the other boy. His eyesight may be bad, but the noticeboard is only a few feet away. Does Draco think he can’t read anymore?

”Yeah…” he says slowly.  

”Want to… go? Together, I mean?”

”What?”

”To Hogsmeade”, Draco ducks his head and grabs a book from his book bag on the floor and then begins to read casually, the subtle pink in his cheeks the only thing revealing that he might not be as unconcerned as he appears. 

”Well, yeah…” Harry says slowly. ”But, actually, my daddy said to ask you if you wanted to come over for lunch—”

Draco’s head snaps back up.

”Really?”

”Yeah. If you want…”

”Hey guys, did you see the new notice?” Pansy says, flopping down in the armchair next to them and twirling a lock of hair around her well-manicured finger. ”Next Hogsmeade visit is on Valentine’s Day… wonder which romantic amongst the teachers who decided on that date… I’m sure it wasn’t Umbitch—”

Valentine’s—

Harry’s snaps his eyes back to Draco, feeling his face flush. 

”Oh — shit — I — I didn’t think —” he stammers. ”We don’t have to have lunch with my dads—!”

”No, no, I want to”, Draco says hurriedly. ”Really. I don’t mind, at all—”

”Spending Valentine’s Day with your in-laws”, Pansy coos. ”Wow, Draco—!”

”Pansy”, Draco snaps, with a warning look thrown in the girl’s direction, but she simply smirks back. 

”Are you sure?” Harry says. ”Because we can go next Hogsmeade visit, if you want to do something else? Just the two of us? My dads won’t mind! I completely forgot what day it was—”

”Harry”, Draco says gently. ”I would love to have lunch with your dads. We can do something just the two of us after. We have all day.”

”Okay… if you’re sure…” 

Despite Professor Snape’s reassurances to the contrary, Harry feels like he’s getting worse at occluding with every passing lesson. His scar, which would only prickle every once in a while before, usually at night when he’d had a nightmare, or on those rare occasions when he’d caught a glimpse of Voldemort’s thoughts or a flash of his mood (as he now knows them to be), now hardly ever stops prickling. And more and more often he’ll be walking along a hallway between classes, or lounging around the Common Room or Library with his friends, when he’ll feel a sudden lurch of emotion (usually anger or annoyance, but sometimes cheerfulness too) that has nothing to do with whatever he’s feeling at the time, and those moments are always followed by a very painful twinge in his scar as well.

What’s worse, is that he now dreams of walking down that corridor outside the Department of Mysteries every single night, with a feeling of building excitement and longing that leaves him feeling extremely frustrated when he wakes up, after having stood staring at the door for what always feels like hours. He almost wishes the door would open, just for the variety of it. But also, because that’s what he longs for in the dream. 

”It sounds like the lessons are prying your mind open”, Blaise comments lightly one evening, his sharp eyes glittering in a way that lets Harry knows that by lessons, he means Professor Snape. ”And since you’re no good at closing your mind—”

”Yet”, Draco cuts sharply, his arms tightening around Harry’s shoulders in some show of support and Harry smiles.  

”—Yet”, Blaise repeats with an appeasing nod towards the blonde. ”It stays open…”

”Yeah”, Harry nods. ”I’ve been thinking that, too…”

”Have you told Professor Snape?” Draco asks. 

”Yeah, I have. But he just tells me to close my mind…” Harry sighs in frustration. ”I don’t know. He’s a brilliant teacher in Potions, because when you’re brewing, it is that simple, you know? — ’my Potion is the wrong colour, dice your Mandrake Root into finer pieces’ — you know, simple. But in Occlumency…”

”It’s more like, ’I can’t close my mind, close your mind’…” Pansy supplies with a smirk. 

”Yeah”, Harry says heavily. 

”Well, to be fair, it sounds like one of those things that is really hard to describe how to do”, Draco murmurs hesitantly. ”Like breathing.”

”What do you mean?” Harry frowns. 

”Well, imagine I started choking suddenly…”

”No thanks”, Harry mutters and Draco’s lips twitch. 

”No, really… imagine I started going like this…” 

He pulls his arm away from around Harry’s shoulders and begins to clutch his throat and gasp rather convincingly.

”Stop it, it’s not funny—” Harry complains. 

Draco just shakes his head and begins to flop his hands desperately, miming ’can’t breathe’ between his realistic wheezing gasps. 

Pansy, never one to back down, immediately joins in and clutches Harry’s arm in a bruising grip. 

”He can’t breathe”, he squeals and fixes Harry with a tearful look. 

Harry glares at the girl, feeling more and more unsettled as he watches the drama unfold itself in front of him. 

”This isn’t funny—”

”Harry!” she shouts, shaking his arm. ”He. Can’t. BREATHE—!”

”Who can’t breathe?” Zoe Accrington, the Head Girl, calls out from across the Common Room, but Blaise waves her off with a reassuring smile. 

Draco lurches forward, clasping the front of Harry’s robes desperately and even though he knows it’s all pretend, Harry feels his pulse quicken. 

”Harry, help him!” Pansy urges. 

”I…”

”HELP HIM!”

”Okay!” Harry exclaims, feeling cold sweat begin to break out along his hair line. ”Er — just — ehm —”

Draco sucks in a shuddering half-breath, fisting the front of Harry’s robes as his whole body begins to spasm as if he’s having a seizure. 

”Breathe!” Harry shouts. ”Just — breathe in—!”

Draco’s frighteningly accurate display is suddenly cut short as he begins to snicker. He lets go of Harry’s robes again and falls back against armrest, giggling loudly. Harry glares at him, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. 

”Wow, remind me never to choke around you, Harry…” Pansy says drily, but her voice trembles with a suppressed chuckle. 

”What is going on ever there?” Zoe Accrington demands from the other side of the Common Room.

”Nothing, we’ll keep it down!” Pansy calls back. 

”You’re scaring the First Years!” Zoe calls back sternly. 

”Sorry!” Pansy and Draco calls out, then Draco turns back to Harry with a grin. ”But I believe I’ve made my point…”

”Never make a point ever again”, Harry retorts. 

As January draws to a close, the Semi-permanent Sticking Charm on the mandrake leaf comes off and Harry gently plucks the leaf from under his tongue before brushing his teeth, then spends the rest of the morning swirling his tongue around in his mouth, feeling like something is missing. 

Towards the end of breakast, Hedwig brings him a sugar quill and a note from Sirius that simply says, ”Suck on this — it’ll help!”

”Doesn’t he think there’s anything around here for you to suck—?” Seamus comments with a leering grin, wagging his eyebrows at Harry. 

Draco chokes into his juice goblet mid-sip and then begins to splutter and cough, even as he laughs along with the other boys, his eyes tearing up. Harry and the girls are the only ones not laughing, Daphne opting for a groan instead and Pansy calling Seamus gross, while Harry simply glares at them all and willing his blush to subside. 

He feels Draco’s hand rub across his shoulders and shoots him a half-hearted glare. The blonde gives him a look of compassion, but still chuckles helplessly. 

”Don’t know why you’re laughing”, Harry grumles under his breath.

”Oh, come on…” Draco murmurs cajolingly. ”It was just a joke…” 

”Isn’t it your parents who wants you to be discreet?” Harry gripes back, but even as he says it he feels bad for bringing it up and when the laughter fades from the blonde’s glittering eyes he reaches out and touches his leg under the table. ”Sorry. I didn’t mea—”

”It’s okay”, Draco says quickly, his smile returning just as suddenly as it had flickered away. ”You’re right… but say what you will about Toadface, at least she’s managed to keep Rita Skeeter off the premises…”

”What do you mean?” Harry says in surprise. 

”Haven’t you noticed? Skeeter’s not writing about you in the Prophet anymore—”

”She’s not writing for the Prophet, full stop”, Pansy cuts in and nods towards Draco. ”I thought maybe your parents finally got her sacked…”

”No”, Draco shakes his head. ”At least, I don’t think so…”

*

To Harry’s immense surprise (and Draco’s ire), Ginny Weasley approaches the table where he and Draco are studying in the library one day and asks him how he’s been. Harry is struck by how much the girl has changed, not just physically — because she’s definitely grown taller and lankier, like her brother Ron — but she actually looks him straight in the eye, which she’s never done before, and there isn’t even a hint of red in her face either. 

”Er… yeah, good…” he says, nodding awkwardly. ”Ehm, what about you?”

”Good, thanks”, the girl says happily. ”Have you got any plans for the weekend? You know, there’s a Hogsmeade visit on Saturday—”

Harry feels his face flush slightly and instinctively tenses up, readying himself to intervene should Draco suddenly attempt to hex the girl, which, judging by the thunderous look in the blonde’s face, is looking more and more likely… 

”I’m asking for Hermione”, the Weasley girl says quickly, glancing over at the blonde as well and realising she may have stepped on some toes. 

”Granger?” Harry says, feeling even more at a loss. ”Why?”

”She needs to talk you, but it can’t be at the school… Umbridge, you know…”

”If this is about that secret Defence group again…”

”No, it’s not about that”, Ginny assures him. ”It’s about what happened last summer…” 

Harry stares at her, but she just shakes her head and looks around rather doggedly. 

”Look, I can’t say any more here… just meet Hermione in the Three Broomsticks on Valentine’s Day—”

”Yeah, that’s likely!” Draco snarls. 

”It’s not like that, I promise!” Ginny says in exasperation. ”You guys have a date, I’m assuming? Well, go on your date, and then meet up with Hermione after? Malfoy, you can tag along, I’m sure Hermione won’t mind, and that way you’ll know it’s nothing like that, it’s… It’s about You-Know-Who and it’s important… Okay?”

”Okay”, Harry says, not knowing what else to say. 

”Okay”, Ginny repeats, looking extremely relieved. ”So I can tell Hermione you’ll be there? At Midday on Saturday?”

”Sure, I guess…” Harry mumbles. ”We’ll… We’ll be there…”

Ginny smiles happily and gives him a quick half-wave, before strolling back down the aisle. Harry watches her retreating back with a sense of foreboding and when she disappears around a bookcase he sighs and turns back to Draco. 

The blonde is clutching his head with both hands and growling quietly under his breath. 

”Ehm…” 

Harry reaches out a tentative hand, but before he can place it on Draco’s shoulder, the blonde springs up and Harry jerks his hand back again, startled. 

”We need to take a break!” Draco exclaims shrilly, gathering up his books with twitchy movements. 

”What”, Harry says, startled. 

His heart begins to pound in his chest and a layer of cold sweat breaks out in his face. Draco wants to break up—?

”We’ve been sitting here for too long. I can’t think anymore”, Draco continues in a rush, piling his books in a toppling pile and Harry sags with relief. ”The brain best retains information reviewed at the beginning and end of a session, so to best utilise one’s study time is to segment it, that way you increase your chances of remembering what you’ve read…” Harry shoots the other boy a glum glare. ”Harry? Are you even listening to me?”

”Yes…” he mutters and pushes to his feet. 

”Well, let’s go then! I can only afford to take a ten minute break, then I have to come back here…”

Harry rolls his eyes and straggles after him out of the library. He would suggest they simply stay in the library and stop studying for ten minutes, but he doesn’t really fancy having his head bitten off. 

He writes to his dads later that evening and tells them about the change of plans and asks if he and Draco can come by later in the afternoon instead. Draco is watching him, grumbling under his breath about the rudeness of changing lunch plans last minute. Harry rolls his eyes, but doesn’t respond. It’s his parents, not Draco’s. And even if they did care about social etiquettes, they still wouldn’t mind.

”It’s just rude… and it’s extremely rude of Granger to suggest it in the first place… typical mu—” Harry shoots Draco a warning glare, and he corrects himself quickly. ”Muggleborn… what? They have different customs to ours!”

”So you should be understanding, then”, Harry retorts. 

”Well, I would be, yes”, Draco says bracingly. ”But she’s been living in our world for five years now and she’s a bloody information sponge, so she should know—”

”Draco, just let it go…”

”I’m just saying! Who suggests a meeting with such short notice? And who suggests a meeting on Valentine’s Day, with someone who isn’t single and has probably planned a romantic outing? I mean, couldn’t it have waited until the next Hogsmeade weekend—?”

”Clearly it couldn’t”, Harry says exasperated. ”Which is the only reason I said yes! Do you really think I want to see Granger on Valentine’s Day?”

Draco slumps a little and his earlier passion reluctantly simmers down to indignation. Harry gives him an expectant look. 

”What, that wasn’t a rhetorical questio—?”

”No”, Harry exclaims. ”It should have been. But you’re kicking up such a fuss about this, I’m actually worried now that you believe I don’t care!”

”No, no, I don’t believe that…” Draco murmurs quietly and peers up at Harry sheepishly from behind his long fringe. 

*

On the morning of the fourteenth, Harry slowly wakes up feeling warmer and cosier than he’s ever felt before, with something nuzzling the back of his neck. He stretches out languidly and is pleasantly surprised to find himself cocooned in a warm embrace with a solid chest pressed against his back. Surprised, because he didn’t go to sleep next to anyone, but clearly Draco has decided to crawl into his bed at some point during the night — or maybe just now, to wake him up. 

Harry stretches a little more and twists around inside the loose embrace, that loosens even more to allow him to turn onto his back. He squints up at the blurry outline of the other boy, who props himself up on his elbow and looks down on him. 

”Morning…” Harry murmurs thickly and smiles. 

”Morning…” 

The blonde blob becomes a little less blurry as Draco leans closer, then Harry lets his eyes flutter closed and tilts his head up to accept the kiss the other boy plants on him. He feels the palm of Draco’s hand caress his forehead as it moves the fringe from his face, before fisting it gently and pulling Harry’s head a little further back to deepen the kiss. 

Harry was already quite hard when he woke up, but now his cock swells into a full-on erection and twitches eagerly against the cotton confines of his pyjama bottoms. He moans into the kiss and reaches up to caress the side of Draco’s face, but the blonde slaps his hand away and interlaces their fingers together roughly, pressing Harry’s hand into the mattress. 

Draco’s other hand tightens its grip in his hair and pulls a little harder on it. Harry gasps as the sharp sting in his scalp triggers a series of pleasureable jolts to shoot through his body. Draco growls softly and begins to trail kisses down the length of his neck instead. Harry digs his heels into the mattress and bucks up against him, desperate for friction. 

Draco lets go of his hand and scrambles to grab Harry’s head with both hands, while positioning himself between his legs and sliding against him in long, firm movements. Harry’s eyelids flutter and he fists the sheet on either side of him, his heels slipping as he scrambles to meet the other boy’s thrusts. 

Suddenly Draco pulls away and sits back on his heels, pulling his pyjama top off and tossing it aside. Harry starts to sit up as well, but before he can the blonde has pushed him down once more, lapping the moans and whimpers from his mouth like he’s starved for them. 

Draco makes quick work of the drawstring in Harry’s pyjama bottoms and only shoves them down far enough to free his erection. Harry shivers pleasantly as the cool dungeon air hits his hot, sensitive skin and then nearly swallows his own tongue as he feels fingers wrap around his throbbing flesh so tightly it almost hurts. Almost. 

He fumbles to get Draco’s pyjama bottoms down as well, but with Draco basically still sitting, his bent legs shoved under Harry’s sprawled thighs, they just bunch at his waist. So instead Harry simply pushes his hand inside them and then, bending his arm at an awkward angle, he begins to pump the other boy’s cock, eagerly matching the rhythm of Draco’s own movements until he feels the other boy’s body curl up even tighter around him, trembling with tension. 

Draco bites down on Harry’s shoulder and squeezes his cock tightly in his fist. Harry swears and bucks up involuntarily as the steadily building pressure in his abdomen draws into a tight, hot ball that suddenly explodes, sending sparks of pleasure along his nerves. 

He relaxes back into the mattress, catching his breath. His fingers and toes are tingling and his crotch is throbbing. 

Draco goes limp against him, finally sprawling out, with his head pillowed on Harry’s chest and Harry raises heavy arms to hug the boy closer. 

”Your heart’s  — racing”, Draco pants. 

”Yeah”, Harry gasps, just as out of breath. 

”That was — really — quite something!”

”Yeah!”

When they’ve both caught their breaths, Draco props himself up again and pecks Harry on the nose. 

”Come on… we need to get going…”

”What’s the rush?” Harry mock-whines, but obediently sits up and reaches for his glasses. 

”Have you forgotten what day it is? Again?” Draco asks pointedly and Harry blushes. ”We have a date to get through before midday, so we better hurry!”

”That’s romantic…” Harry grumbles, peeling off his sweat-damp pyjama top. 

”I’m not the one who double-booked himse—”

”Don’t start”, Harry says sharply. 

”Fine. But hurry up — I want you to myself for at least an hour, before we have to go meet Granger!”

”You have me for yourself right now”, Harry points out, but speeds up his movements anyway. 

”Not the same”, Draco says with a dismissive hand wave in his direction. ”I want sit somewhere with hideous heart decorations and eat stuff that will rot my teeth while we hold hands and gaze stupidly into each other’s eyes—”

”Really?” Harry says sceptically. 

”Yes. I need another shower. You better be changed by the time I get back—”

”What do you mean, I’m coming too…” Harry says, grabbing his toiletry bag from his trunk. 

”Fine, I’ll wait”, Draco says in a long-suffering voice from the doorway. 

”I mean you don’t have to…” Harry says teasingly, sidling up to him. ”But it would make it easier for us to shower together…”

”We are not showering together. There isn’t time”, Draco says, leading the way out of the dorm. 

”Technically it would save time—”

”You know perfectly well what I mean…”

They’re the only boys in the communal bathroom, but Harry still keeps his hands to himself and showers quickly. He’s almost certain that Draco was joking about the heart decorations and holding hands in public, but he’s not so sure about the rest — so just in case, he tries to get ready as speedily as possible. 

However, he treats himself to some shameless leering when the other boy steps out of the shower and begins to dry himself off. The blonde is simply gorgeous, his body tall and lean, and ever since he started eating properly he’s gained some muscle definition in all the right places… it’s almost a shame to cover it up, Harry thinks. But he quickly changes his mind once Draco has squeezed into his casual clothes, that are so well-fitted they leave next to nothing to the imagination. 

”Are those… new?” he asks, aiming for casual but probably failing spectacularly. 

”Yeah. Christmas gift from mother”, Draco says happily, his eyes glinting with surprise. ”You like them?”

”Yeah…” Harry says slowly, unable to tear his eyes away from the other boy’s body. ”Remind me again why we can’t stay in bed all day?”

Draco rolls his eyes at him, but they glint with a warm kind if happiness and his lips twitch. But then the blonde glances into a nearby mirror discreetly and Harry spots a small but unmistakable doubt flare up and push the happy away. 

”You look stunning”, he says seriously. ”Let’s go to Hogsmeade, so I can show you off…”

”You don’t have to overdo it”, Draco mutters.

Harry simply smiles however because the doubt in the other boy’s eyes flickers out of existence again, at least for the time being and that’s all that matters. 

Despite their earlier… distractions, Harry is proud to see that they’re still two of the first students to queue up in front of Filch, mainly because Draco suggests they skip breakfast in the Great Hall and have it in town instead. When they exit the gates and start to make their way down the long, winding road into Hogsmeade, there isn’t another soul around as far as Harry can see… Draco might have been joking earlier about holding hands in public, he figures. But what harm will it do to try? In for a Knut…

Harry reaches out and interlaces their fingers together. Draco gives him a startled look, then glances back over his shoulder quickly to make sure no-one is walking behind them. But he doesn’t pull away. 

The High Street is still empty of students, but the shops have opened. Harry doesn’t really fancy looking in any of them though, at least not before he’s had some breakfast. 

”Coffee?” Draco suggests lightly as if reading his mind and Harry whips his head around and smiles at him. ”Brews and Stews?”

”Really? I would have thought you’d want to go to Madam Puddifoot’s what with it being Valentine’s Day and all…” Harry says teasingly. 

Draco takes a deep breath and gazes down the High Street, eyes narrowed in mock-consideration. 

”How much do you want to bet she’s got giggling hearts floating all over the place?” Harry adds with a grin. 

”Sorry, but not even a bet will get me across that threshold again”, Draco says shaking his head. ”I went with Pansy once. The woman was insufferable. Kept coming over and making cooing noises… I’ve never been so embarassed in my life.”

”You went there with Pansy?” Harry asks casually, feeling a ghost of his old jealousy flare up inside his chest. ”When you and I were… you know… in Third Year?”

”Yeah, at the start of Third Year”, Draco nods, then catches himself and gives Harry’s hand a gentle squeeze. ”We just went as friends.”

Harry nods quickly, looking away. He suddenly comes face to face with a Wanted poster featuring the same ten portraits of the escaped Death Eaters that had been on the front cover of the Prophet and frowns. Bellatrix Lestrange’s sneer seems to be even more taunting than when he’d seen her portrait last time. 

”Let’s make a compromise”, Draco says in a rather cheerful voice suddenly.

”Okay. What?” Harry asks. 

”This way…” 

Draco jerks his head and pulls Harry along, swinging their arms, until they reach a cosy teashop at the end of the main street. It’s got a moss green store front and some subtle Valentine’s Day decorations floating discreetly in the windows and the name of the teashop — Rosa Lee Teabag — is written in big, swirly letters along the top of the window. Harry recognises it, but he’s never actually been inside before. The few times he and Draco have gone for coffee together, they’ve opted for Brews and Stews Café, which also happens to be his dads’ café of choice. 

Draco pushes the door open and enters, pulling Harry along behind him. The teashop is quite small and cosy and Harry is happy to see that the rest of the shop is just as sparsely decorated as the front window. A few hearts are floating along the ceiling, emitting little noises like contented sighs but it’s not overbearing at all. 

Draco pulls him towards a small circular table at the back, where the light from the windows doesn’t quite reach, even though they’re the only couple in the teashop. If Harry were to hazard a guess, he’d say they’d only just opened because the shopkeeper, a wizard in his mid- to late thirties who appears at their table and greets them glumy before lighting the candle on their table and handing them a couple of menues, looks like he’s just rolled out of bed. Harry smiles and thanks him.

They order their breakfast and then spends a few moments commenting on the decor and the mood of their host, or rather Draco makes comments, most of them derisive, while Harry listens and grins like an idiot. 

”It’s nice though…” he says softly once they’ve received their food, glancing around.

”Sure, if you’re in the mood for bad service in a Spartan setting…” Draco agrees with a serious nod and Harry chuckles. ”But I suppose it’s rather cosy…”

It is cosy, and so far quite private as well (the only other customer to have entered the teashop since they sat down is a witch in her late twenties, sipping black coffee from a massive mug while writing something on a piece of parchment trailing over the edge of her table), but that’s not the only reason Harry likes it. Although he would never admit it out loud, the main reason he likes it is because neither one of them have been here before, so there’s no history for either of them. 

Not that we need a fresh start or anything, Harry thinks. But this is our place now. Just ours.  

”It is”, he responds to Draco a little belatedly and nods. ”I’m glad we came here.”

”Me too…”

They eat in companionable silence, making eyes at each other every once in a while. By the time they’ve finished their eggs, the parchment the witch by the window is writing on has reached the floor and is inching across the aisle between the two seating areas of the teashop, much to the shopkeeper’s annoyance when he has to step over it to collect Harry’s and Draco’s plates. 

Draco reaches out to grab Harry’s hand again on top of the table and then they sit sipping their coffees and chatting idly, keeping it light by steering clear of any uncomfortable subjects such as the escaped Death Eaters and Umbridge and yet, the atmosphere gets heavier and heavier the later it gets. Harry can’t make sense of it at first, but then he realises it’s the mysterious meeting with Granger in The Three Broomsticks that is looming ever closer on the horizon and putting a damper on their conversation. 

Finally, Draco huffs in annoyance and pushes to his feet, saying they should just get it over with. Harry nods and stands up as well, while Draco makes his way to the cashier to pay for them both. Harry joins him at the front of the teashop, looping his Slytherin scarf securely around his neck as the blonde holds the door open for him. 

”Thanks…” he mumbles, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on the other boy’s mouth. 

Draco tenses up immediately, glancing around. Harry looks around as well. The High Street is milling with students now, peering into shop windows or messing around on the pavements, testing out their Zonko products. None of them seem to have noticed their kiss however. 

”Let’s get this over with then…” Harry sighs. 

It starts raining heavily as they make their way back up the High Street towards the Three Broomsticks and they run the last of the way to avoid the worst of it. Draco is just about to grab the door handle, when the door swings open swiftly and they have to stagger back to avoid being mauled by a very morose-looking Hagrid. 

”Oh, hello, Harry”, the half-giant says glumly. ”And Malfoy. Happy Valentine’s Day…”

”Er…”

But before Harry can come up with an appropriate response, the large man has already pushed past them and is lumbering off down the street, his massive shoulders slooping. 

”Seriously…” Draco whispers, shaking his head. ”How is that oaf a teacher? I mean, seriously.”

”Yeah…” Harry mumbles, gazing at Hagrid’s retreating back. ”I feel kind of bad for him, though…”

Draco lets out an impatient hm and urges him inside the pub with an insistent hand on his back. 

”I do, too”, he says and Harry shoots him a sceptical look. ”But that’s what I mean. He’s clearly not up to teaching and now with the probabation and everything, the pressure is obviously getting to him and affecting his gamekeeper duties as well — I mean, didn’t you see his face?”

Harry nods. He had also noticed the fresh cuts and bruises in Hagrid’s face. 

”It would simply be better for everyone, if Dumbledore demoted him”, Draco says reasonably. ”Hagrid, too.”

”Yeah, I guess you’re right… he was always happier when he was just taking care of the animals and stuff.”

”Exactly”, Draco nods. 

”Harry! Harry, over here!”

They wheel around to see Hermione Granger waving happily at them from a corner booth on the other side of the crowded pub. Draco ducks his head and raises his hand up to his forehead to hide some of his face,  grumbling something about Granger keeping it down. 

”Come on…” Harry says and leads the way through the crowd. 

When they reach the booth, Harry realises that Granger isn’t alone as he’d initially thought. Sitting next to her is the two people he’d least expect to see her having a drink with. Loony Lovegood, the Fourth Year Ravenclaw oddball, and a very haggard-looking Rita Skeeter. He blinks. 

”You’re early!” Granger exclaims happily, getting to her feet and making a move towards him as though intending to hug him, but Harry recoils and gives her a wary sort of wave instead. ”Thank you for coming — both of you!”

Draco grumbles something under his breath, but everyone ignores it. Harry gestures for him to slide into the seat next to Skeeter, so that he himself won’t have to sit too close to her and the blonde does without complaint, but shoots him a glare. 

The woman’s eyes are flitting between the two of them eagerly and Harry can see her reaching for her crocodile handbag, presumably to release that horrid quill from its confines, but he’s surprised to see her stop herself when Granger coughs rather pointedly. 

Skeeter looks worse for wear, Harry realises. Her hair that was a perfectly kempt mane of bouncy, blonde curls the last time he saw her now hangs lankly around her face. The scarlet paint on her two-inch talons is chipped and her winged spectacles are missing a couple of their fake jewels, as well. 

”What’s going on?” Harry asks Granger warily. 

”Little Miss Prissy here was just about to tell me when you arrived”, Skeeter says acidly, taking a large gulp of her butterbeer, her sly eyes sliding from Harry to Draco. ”So are the two of you official now? How does your family feel about that, Draco? Do they appr—?”

”We are not here to talk about anyone’s love life”, Granger snaps sourly. ”And if you keep asking about it, the deal is off.”

”What deal?” Skeeter snaps right back. ”You haven’t mentioned any deals. You just told me to turn up… oh, one of these days…”

”Yes, yes, one of these days you’ll be writing more horrible stories about us all, I’m sure”, Granger says loftily, shaking her massive, frizzy mane from her face with a haughty sniff. ”Find someone who cares, why don’t you?”

”They’ve run plenty of horrible stories about Harry without my help lately…” Skeeter retorts, then gives Harry another sideways look. ”How does that make you feel, Harry? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstoo—?”

”Well, he feels angry, presumably!” Granger answers for him and Harry frowns. ”Who wouldn’t be? He’s told the Minister of Magic the truth, yet the Minister is too much of an idiot to believe him—”

”Ehm, Granger…” Harry mutters. 

”So you actually stick to it, do you, Harry?” Skeeter asks sharply. ”That He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back? You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore’s been telling everybody about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness?”

”I wasn’t the sole the witness”, Harry snaps before he can stop himself. 

”Ah, yes… you also claimed that there were a dozen-odd Death Eaters present… care to tell me their names?”

”I don’t care to tell you anything”, Harry snarls. 

”Well…” Granger says slowly. ”Harry… please hear me out, before you say anything… but I thought you might want to tell your side of the story, to the public, let them make their own minds up?”

”You want me to give an interview?” Harry asks incredulously. ”To her?”

”Yes, but listen — she wouldn’t be allowed to use a Quick-Quote Quill and you would have complete control over what she puts in the article before it gets published—”

”Excuse me”, Skeeter snarls. 

”—and it wouldn’t be the usual sensational tosh”, Granger ploughs on. ”It would be the true story. Your story. All the facts, exactly as you report them. What really happened that night. Who was there. What Voldemort looks like now — oh, get a grip of yourself”, she snaps at Skeeter, who jumped so badly at the mention of Voldemort’s name that she’d slopped half her butterbeer down her front. 

Granger throws her a napkin across the table with a contemptuous look and the witch begins to blot the front of her robes, while staring at Granger. Harry can tell there’s a hint of reluctant respect in her eyes now, that hadn’t been there before. 

”The Prophet wouldn’t print it”, she says curtly. ”I’m sorry but, in case you hadn’t noticed, nobody believes his cock-and-bull story, they all think he’s delusional or worse, but… if you let me write the article from thatangle…”

”No”, Granger says firmly. ”I think we’ve seen enough articles about Harry losing his marbles, don’t you?”

”But—”

”I want him to have the opportunity to tell the truth. That’s the deal…”

”But there’s no market for a story like that”, Skeeter says impatiently.

”You mean the Prophet won’t print it because Fudge won’t let them”, Granger retorts. 

Skeeter stills, eyeing the Gryffindor girl quietly. Harry can see the cogwheels turning in her head. Then suddenly she tosses the damp napkin aside and leans forward across the table, pinning Granger with a piercing look. 

”All right. Fudge is leaning on the Prophet. But it comes down to the same thing. They won’t print a story that shows Harry in a good light. Besides, nobody wants to read it. It’s against the public mood. This Azkaban breakout has got people worried enough as it is, they don’t want to hear about You-Know-Who being back as well.”

”So the Daily Prophet exists to tell people what they want to hear?” Granger says with sarcastic smile and earns a cold glare back. 

”My dad thinks it’s an awful paper…” Loony Lovegood pipes up unexpectedly and everyone else around the table snap their heads around to look at her in surprise. 

The girl stops stirring her drink with her cocktail onion stick and pops the onion into her mouth, while pinning Rita Skeeter with her enourmous, proturberant eyes. 

”He says it only cares about selling copies, while he publishes important stories he thinks the public needs to know about. He doesn’t care about making money.”

Skeeter lets out a derisive huff. 

”I suppose your father runs some stupid little village newsletter, does he? Probably, Twenty-five Ways to Mingle with Muggles and the dates of the next Bring and Fly Sale?”

”No”, Loony says lightly. ”He’s the editor of The Quibbler—”

Harry swallows a groan and shoots the Ravenclaw girl a piteous look, while Skeeter lets out a snort so loud it attracts the attention of people sitting at nearby tables. When she starts disparaging the paper, Draco leans in to hiss in Harry’s ear, ”What are we even doing here?”

Harry sighs and gives him a small headshake, catching Granger’s eye when she looks between them worriedly.

”Look”, she says, straightening up. ”I just think the public deserves to hear the truth and you deserve to give your side of the story as well—”

”Weren’t you listening, girl?” Skeeter snaps. ”The Prophet won’t publish it—!”

”No, but The Quibbler will”, Granger says, glaring at the woman when she starts cackling. ”I know some people won’t take him seriously, but the Daily Prophet’s version of the Azkaban breakout had some gaping holes in it and I think a lot of people will be wondering whether there isn’t a better explanation of what happened, so if there’s an alternative story available, even if it is pubished in a —” she glances nervously at Loony. ”In a — well — an unusualmagazine — I think they’d be rather keen to read it.”

”All right, let’s say for a moment I do this…” Skeeter says shrewdly. ”What kind of fee would I be getting?”

”I don’t think daddy exactly pays people for their stories”, Loony says dreamily. ”They do it because it’s an honour and to see their names in print…”

”I’m supposed to do this for free?” Skeeter splutters. 

”Yes”, Granger says simply. ”Otherwise I’ll inform the proper authorities that you are an unregistered Animagus—”

Harry blinks in surprise, looking between the Gryffindor girl and the scowling journalist. So that’s why she’s stopped writing for the Daily Prophet, he thinks in wonder. Granger has been blackmailing her — but how did she even find out Skeeter is an animagus?

”The Prophet might pay you rather a large fee for an insider’s account of life in Azkaban”, Granger adds, taking a sip from her drink. 

”Well”, Skeeter says sourly. ”Looks like I don’t have much of a choice, then.”

”No, it doesn’t look like you do”, Granger agrees pleasantly. 

”So why did you waste my time trying to convince me?” Skeeter snarls. 

”I wasn’t trying to convince you…” Granger retorts, then glances over at Harry again, her face softening. ”Harry? What do you say?”

”I…” Harry hesitates, looking over at Draco for support. 

The blonde frowns uncomfortably, shrugging. 

”I don’t know… I think maybe I should talk to my dads first…”

”If I’m doing this”, Skeeter says loudly, wrenching her crocodile handbag open and digging around for a quill impatiently. ”I’m doing it today. I am not coming back here on a different day — I do have a life, you know!”

Granger shoots her glare, but then turns back to Harry again with an apologetic look. 

”I think time is of the essence, Harry… if we wait until the next Hogsmeade weekend—”

”Yeah”, Harry says impatiently, rubbing his hands over his face. ”I get it… all right, then… let’s do it…”

Harry feels awkward talking about what happened that night again, especially with a crowd of cheerful people around him. Draco sitting next to him gives him mixed feelings, too. 

Mostly, his steady presence in Harry’s peripheral is comforting, as is the discreet way he places his hand on top of Harry’s thigh under the table. But at the same time, Harry is keenly aware that Draco’s father is one of the Death Eaters he’s expected to reveal the identities of now and if he does, it will have a massive impact on Draco’s life. 

And he can’t very well name the other Death Eaters and omit Lucius, just because he’s in a relationship with his son, either. 

He glosses over the arrival of the Death Eaters and skips to the duel with Voldemort, just like he’d done when he’d retold the story to his friends in the dorm the morning after it happened. But Rita Skeeter isn’t as forgiving as Harry’s friends. She pauses the frantic movement of her quill and pins him with sharp look. 

”And the identities of the Death Eaters?”

Harry swallows thickly. 

He wants to look over at Draco to gauge his reaction, but he knows that if he does, even if he doesn’t tell Skeeter a single name, she’ll put two and two together and she’ll know about Lucius… Draco’s hand on his thigh gives him a gentle squeeze and Harry takes a deep breath, rattling off the names in a rush. He saves Lucius for last, risking a quick look at Draco’s face before dropping it. The blonde gives him a minute nod of encouragement. 

Skeeter’s eyes are almost the same size as Loony Lovegood’s once it’s out of Harry’s mouth and they flit between him and Draco eagerly. Harry can picture the headlines composing themselves in her head… Deranged By Trauma, The Boy Who Lived names Father In Law as Death Eater… The Chosen One Enamoured with the Son of a Death Eater… Forbidden Love at Hogwarts… 

Granger seems to be thinking the same thing, because gives another little cough and Skeeter shakes herself out of her thoughts. 

Once she’s got everything down, she packs up her notes and quill again and gives them all a curt nod of farewell, before striding out of the pub. Loony Lovegood trails after her, looking like she’s just drifted in by accident and is now making her way out again. 

Granger stands up as well, smiling at Harry and Draco both, ”I’ll let you get back to your date…”

Harry nods, then a thought strikes him, ”Hey, Granger… how’d you find out about Skeeter being an unregistered Animagus?”

”Oh”, the girl blushes slightly and smiles. ”I suspected she must have had a secret way of getting onto the school grounds after Dumbledore banned her, since she kept getting inside information for her articles… then I saw that bug flitting around your head that one time…”

Bug, Harry thinks in surprise, the many memories of Granger acting strangely around him and the weird conversation he’d had with her in Grimmauld Place last summer flashing into his mind. 

”It was a long shot, but I just had a gut feeling — then I managed to catch her—”

”You — you caught her?”

”Yes, in the library”, Granger nods proudly. ”She can turn into a green beetle. I knew as soon as I had the beetle trapped that it was her, because it had black marking in the shape of glasses around its eyes… you know, like Professor McGonagall has when she turns into a cat?”

”A green beetle…” Harry murmurs, as another memory flickers into the forefront of his mind. ”I saw a green beetle on the window sill in the Divinations classroom, just before I had that vision that one time…”

”You did?” Draco says in surprise. 

”Yeah, that was her”, Granger nods. ”Anyway, when I didn’t find her on the Animagus registry, I knew she’d studied to become an animagus illegally. So I told her, unless she stopped writing her horrible stories for the Prophet, I would turn her in!”

”Well… thanks”, Harry says awkwardly and holds his hand out to her with a blush. ”For all of it.”

Granger rolls her eyes at his outstretched hand, but grasps it with a smile. 

”You’re welcome, Harry… see you later…”

”How do you feel?” Harry asks Draco quietly as soon as they’re alone and the blonde gives a jerky shrug, frowning down at the table top. ”D’you… want to stay for a drink before we head over to mine?”

”Yeah, all right…” Draco mumbles. 

”I’ll get them”, Harry says quickly, sliding around the table to get out of the booth. ”Butterbeer okay?”

Draco nods. He’s still staring at the table top with a small frown on his face when Harry returns with the two flagons, and Harry watches him worriedly as he takes his first sip of butterbeer. 

”What do you think will happen now?” Draco asks finally, grabbing his own flagon.

”I don’t know”, Harry says truthfully. 

”Well. Whatever it is, it was probably inevitable…”

”I’m still sorry—”

”Don’t be”, Draco says immediately.

He takes a few large gulps of his butterbeer and Harry watches the way his throat works as he swallows them. They finish their drinks in silence, not a tense one exactly, but not as companionable as the one they’d shared in the teashop either. 

Harry finishes his drink first, so when Draco has drained the last dregs of his own butterbeer he pushes the empty flagon away and moves to push to his feet. Harry reaches out and puts a hand on his arm to stop him and he sinks back into his seat with a questioning look. 

”Before we go, I need to tell you something…”

”Okay… what?” Draco asks, eyeing him warily. 

”I need to tell my dads about Umbridge and the blood quill”, Harry admits and the blonde blinks in surprise. ”And I need to do it today, or Snape will tell them at half-term. But I’ll wait until it’s time for us to go back to Hogwarts and… and you can wait outside, if you want…”

”You haven’t told them about the blood quill?”

”No…” Harry sighs. ”I didn’t know how to bring it up…”

”Are they going to get really angry?” Draco frowns uncomfortably and Harry nods. ”With you as well? For not telling them sooner?”

”Maybe. But they probably won’t yell so much if you’re waiting for me outside…”

”Don’t be silly”, Draco shakes his head dismissively. ”I’m not going to go outside. I’ll stay with you.”

”You don’t have to—”

”I know. But I’m going to.”

It’s still raining quite heavily when they get outside and they start to jog side by side. When they get to the end of the High Street, and the thatched roof of Creirwy’s Hollow can be seen at the end of the smaller road up ahead, they sprint the rest of the way, lauging slightly. 

Harry’s dads are waiting to greet them just inside the door, Sirius shaking hands with Draco while Harry hugs Remus. But when they switch, Remus darts forward and envelops Draco in a hug instead of shaking his hand. The blonde stands rigidly in the embrace, but if Remus thinks the reaction is odd he doesn’t show it, he just pulls back again and claps the blonde on the back, smiling at him kindly. 

”Come in, come in…” he says, gently ushering both boys into the house. 

Harry feels the warm gust of a Drying Charm as Sirius hits him in the back with one, before doing the same to Draco. 

”Th-thank you, Mr—”

”Sirius.”

”Y-yeah, Sirius, thank you”, Draco corrects himself awkwardly. 

”Come on in”, Remus says again as he squeezes past them in the doorway to the kitchen and walks over to the oucnter to grab the last items. ”Sit down, sit down… Draco, do you prefer tea or coffee?”

Harry smiles affectionately at his daddy and takes his usual seat at the table. Draco ambles up to the chair next to him with a hesitant look at Sirius, until the man rounds the table and chooses another one. 

”Coffee, please, M- hm- Remus”, Draco stutters.

Despite Harry owling his dads to say they would have to make it afternoon tea instead of lunch, Remus has gone all out with the sandwiches and scones and Harry’s extremely grateful for it, as is his cramping stomach since he hasn’t eaten anything since the meager breakfast at Rosa Lee’s. 

He waits until everyone is seated and tucking into the rather massive spread, before telling his dads about the interview he just gave. They’re surprised to say the least, but they don’t seem to think it was a bad idea. Quite the opposite. 

”I like it”, Sirius says decisively, leaning his chair back on two legs until Remus shoots him a warning look. ”Let people make their own minds up! Maybe if enough people start to wizen up, the Prophet will stop their obsession with us and Dumbledore…”

”I was thinking more along the lines of putting enough pressure on the Ministry and the Wizengamot to actually start putting some strategies in place”, Remus says, reaching past the sandwiches to grab a chocolate muffin. 

”The Ministry…” Sirius snorts derisively. ”Resembling a Bundimun more and more each day — a stinking pest, and when they choose to shut their eyes it’s easy to mistake them for any old moss! I have a good mind to resign…”

”Well, that’s hardly an option, now is it…” Remus murmurs not unkindly, giving his husband a pinched smile. 

”I know”, he mutters. ”But we might need to start thinking about our options, anyway. I might get the sack any day now — it’s not like they’re not aware of my association with Dumbledore!”

”They don’t know about the Order”, Remus says, but Harry can clearly detect a flicker of worry in his eyes. ”And anyway, we’ll be all right.”

”If I were to look for a different job, though…” Sirius says slowly, his eyes twinkling with humour. ”I wouldn’t know what to put on my Cirriculum Vitae, it’s not like I’m allowed to list the work tasks at my previous job… even listing my skills would be stretching it.”

Remus smirks, ”You can list your skills. Don’t be silly.”

”I knew I shouldn’t have taken this job straight out of Hogwarts…”

”Didn’t you have to train to become an Unspeakable?” Harry asks curiously. 

”No, I did. But the Ministry does their own in-house training. It’s a four-year training programme…”

”Four years? Is the Auror Programme four years as well?”

”No, the Auror Programme is three years, but a lot harder and physically taxing—”

”Why are you asking about Auror training?” Draco asks Harry sharply and he shrugs, he’d only asked about it because it’s the only Ministry programme he’s heard of before, mainly from Tonks when he was kid because she’d gone through it at the time. ”I hope you’re not thinking of becoming an Auror?”

”No”, Harry says slowly and rolls his eyes. 

”What about you, Draco?” Remus asks gently. ”Do you know what you want to do after graduation?”

”Yes, I want to continue studying”, the blonde answers immediately. ”I want to get a Mastery.”

”You d-do?” Harry asks in surprise, feeling like the worst boyfriend ever. How did he not know that already? 

”A Mastery”, Remus says with an impressed nod. ”What subject?”

Draco seems to hesitate for a moment. 

”Well, my mother wants me to be an Arithmancer…” he says slowly. ”Probably because it’s the safest profession she could think of…”

”But you don’t even take Arithmancy right now, at Hogwarts!” Harry says. 

”No…”

”What about your father?” Sirius asks, gazing at Draco steadily. ”What does he want for you?”

”He doesn’t really care, as long as I work for the Ministry in some capacity”, Draco mutters. ”He wants me to follow in his footsteps, basically…”

”Does he…”

”And what do you want?” Remus asks kindly. ”You said you want to get a Mastery, so you’ve obviously thought about it…”

Draco nods, hesitating again. 

”I want to study wandlore.”

”Wandlore?” Harry repeats in surprise. ”You want to be a wandmaker?”

”Yeah…” Draco murmurs. ”Maybe…”

”But they’re all anti-social weirdos—” Harry starts to protest. 

”Harry”, Remus admonishes gently. 

”Well, aren’t they?” he insists stubbornly. ”Ollivander was a real creep. Anyway, I would have thought you’d want to be a Potions Master, since you love Potions and Professor Snape so much…”

”Because he’s such a social butterfly…” Draco murmurs, his lips twitching. 

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter, pushing his chair onto its two back legs again and balancing happily on them. Remus shoots him another look and he grins back, letting the chair fall forward once more. 

”It’s getting late…” Remus sighs, with a regretful look at the clock above the doorway. 

Draco reaches out and grabs Harry’s hand through the sleeve of his jumper and gives it a squeeze of encouragement. Harry nods and takes a deep breath.

”Before we go… there’s something else I need to tell you…”

Both men still. Sirius shoots Remus a subtle look, probably to gauge his worry level. But Remus’s face is a mask. Harry swallows and takes another deep breath. 

”At the start of the year, I got into a bit of a… thing… with To- ehm — with — with Professor Umbridge, the new Defence teacher…”

”A thing?” Remus frowns. 

”Yeah. I was ehm… insolent… in class”, Harry mumbles, feeling his heart begin to beat a steady tattoo in his chest. ”But it was because —”

”Insolent?” Remus interrupts. ”How? What did you do?”

”I… I talked back—”

”Harry!”

”But you should have heard her, daddy!” Harry exclaims. ”She was saying nasty things — really awful — about you — she called you horrible things, she said — said — I don’t want to repeat what she said, but it was just awful, evil—”

”It’s true”, Draco murmurs quietly. 

”She’s a complete hag!”

Remus and Sirius exchange a look, then Remus turns back to Harry with a small, but sad smile. 

”Harry…” he says heavily. ”I’m sorry you had to hear that but, as much as it pains me to say this, that is something that you’re going to have to get used to. A lot of people think like Professor Umbridge and you can’t go flying off the handle every time you run into them. All right?”

”Yeah…” Harry mutters nervously. ”There’s more…”

”Go on…” Remus sighs. 

”Well, she gave me detention, every night for the rest of the week, so eh… three… ehm, detentions, that first week of school…” he continues carefully. ”And I tried really hard to behave after that, daddy, I swear I did…”

”Yes, I’m sure you did, cub”, the man says gently. ”But…?”

”But, then… I was talking in class one day and she completely flipped out on me. I swear I didn’t even do anything. I just made a comment to Draco, not loudly or anything, but she just freaked out and gave me another week’s worth of detentions—”

”She gave you a week’s worth of detentions for talking in class”, Sirius says incredulously. 

Remus shoots him a hesitant look, worrying his lip but not saying anything. 

”Yes! She completely has it in for me—!”

”Harry”, Remus cuts in, pinning him with a serious look. ”Regardless of whether the detentions were deserved or not, why didn’t Professor Snape write and tell us this at the time? Two weeks of detentions is quite serious. Usually he’ll write to inform us if you’re more than ten minutes late for a lesson…”

Harry blinks. He really hopes his daddy is exaggerating, because that’s a lot of owls going back and forth between Hogwarts and Creirwy’s Hollow if he’s not…

”He, ehm… he thought it would be better if I told you myself, and ehm”, he hesitates and takes a shaky breath. ”And I’ve been sort of… putting it off because, well, I’ve been working up the ehm… courage to eh, bring it up…”

”Harry”, Sirius says, frowning. ”You shouldn’t be scared to tell us anything!”

”I wasn’t scared… exactly…” Harry mumbles awkwardly, looking down at his balled up fists on the table, hidden inside the sleeves of his jumper.

”Cub…” Remus murmurs gently, reaching out to smother his hands with his own. 

”There’s… one… more thing”, Harry says quietly, pulling his hands out from under his daddy’s. 

Swallowing thickly past the lump in his throat, Harry pulls the sleeve back from his left hand before resting it flat on the table again. 

It takes the men a moment to notice it, but even without looking up Harry can immediately tell when they do, because the very air in the kitchen seems to freeze over around them. 

”Professor Umbridge, she… she makes you do lines in detention…” Harry says, his voice coming out strangely strangled due to his lungs having seemingly frozen as well, making it really hard for any air to pass through them. ”Please don’t be angry…”

”Moony…” his dad says slowly. 

Harry glances up and catches the furious glint in his daddy’s eyes as he stares down at the words carved into Harry’s hand. Sirius is watching him with a worried, almost frightened look in his eyes. Both of their faces have drained of all colour, but they both remain calm. 

Although, glancing over at his daddy again, Harry can’t help but to think that this is a different kind of calm… like the kind before a storm… 

And suddenly Harry is glad he waited to tell them. Because if his daddy is this furious now, he dreads to think how he would have reacted if he’d seen his hand before the cut had healed over and scarred. Sure, the pink words look obscene against Harry’s pale skin. But the effect is significantly less dramatic now, compared to when they were still blood red… 

”Daddy?” Harry says in a small voice. 

”Get your coats, boys”, the man says quietly. ”We’re taking you up to the castle.”

Remus sends Hedwig with a message to Dumbledore, before he and Sirius Side-Alongs Harry and Draco to the edge of the school grounds. By the time they’ve walked along the winding road from the wrought-iron gates up to the castle, Professor Snape is waiting for them at the top of the staircase, looking extremely apprehensive. 

”I’m not angry with you, Severus”, Remus murmurs quietly as soon as he’s reached the top step. 

He attempts to push past Potions Master, but Professor Snape takes a step back so that he is still blocking Remus’s path even as he gives him an apologetic look. A soft growl escapes Remus and Harry can tell that he’s more or less vibrating with barely controlled rage at this point. Something that might be fear flickers in Professor Snape’s black eyes, but despite this he puts a calming hand on top of Remus’s shoulder and murmurs his name quietly. 

For some mysterious reason, this seems to relax Remus slightly and he nods, taking a deep breath. Harry looks over at hid dad curiously, but the other man is too caught up with glaring at Professor Snape to notice.

”Professor Umbridge is with the Headmaster in his office…” Snape murmurs, letting his hand fall away from Remus’s shoulder again. ”But she is refusing to see you, Remus…”

”She can’t refuse”, Sirius snaps. ”As legal guardians of one of her stu—”

”She is, however, fine with meeting with your husband”, Snape continues in a louder voice, completely ignoring Sirius’s outburst, and then adds regretfully, ”Technically, the law is on her side…”

Remus nods his understanding. 

”But—” Sirius starts. 

”Sirius”, Remus interrupts him this time. ”You’re Harry’s only legal guardian. I’m hardly going to fight about this, when the woman has permanently disfigured our son’s hand! That’s obviously her intention, to provoke a fight and draw attention away from why we’re really here. Will you please just go to the meeting?”

”But I… yeah, fine…” Sirius mutters darkly. ”I can’t promise I won’t hex her into oblivion, though.”

”I will endeavour to restrain you”, Professor Snape mutters, sending Remus an exasperated glare that makes both Remus and Harry huff a surprised chuckle, despite everything. 

”Please do, Snape”, they hear Sirius say acidly as he and Snape disappear into the castle. ”I would love the excuse…”

Remus ushers Harry and Draco out of the drizzling rain and into the slightly warmer Entrance Hall, then pulls Harry into a big hug. 

”Daddy, we’ll wait with you—”

”No, no. It’s getting late, you go to your Common Room and I’ll wait here for your dad”, Remus says. 

He plants a kiss on the top of Harry’s head before pulling away, then reaches out to pull a startled Draco into a quick hug as well. 

”Everything is going to fine”, he tells them both firmly and the slightly furious glint that is still present in his eyes adds I’ll make sure of it.