Archive of Our Own

Draco lies curled up against Harry's side and sighs contentedly before taking a long sip of tea from his mug. The fire is sparking and lovely to watch, it creates a perfect atmosphere for the detective drama they’re currently listening to on the wireless.

When Harry had suggested they give things a go, see what happens, Draco hadn’t been sure what to think. Especially since Harry had also suggested they keep it secret, just so they could see whether they could even function in a romantic relationship at all without the outside pressures that would come with their family and friends knowing. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it had made.

Draco’s well aware that his parents would be less than pleased to see him ‘shack up’ with The Boy Who Lived—though he’s sure they’d resign themselves to it if he were really adamant about it—and no doubt Pansy would shriek herself hoarse over what an idiot he is for even entertaining the thought that a relationship between them could work. Blaise would likely just shake his head and look unconvinced…

All in all, Draco had seen the logic in the idea. No doubt would Harry’s family and friends be even less enthused by the idea than Draco’s, so it made perfect sense to him that they should try it out in secret.

Of course, Draco must admit to himself that he finds the secrecy quite thrilling too. There’s just something exciting about having a large and important—though benign and not at all dangerous—secret to carry with you.

So, they’ve gone on secret dates, mostly in the muggle world but also wearing glamours sometimes. It’s a bit of a trade-off, Draco finds. He enjoys magical restaurants far more, possibly because it’s what he’s used to and because he enjoys being able to blithely use his magic as he pleases, but he also wants to be looking at Harry, not whoever he sees in the glamour.

They mostly spend their time at home in Draco’s apartment, since Harry shares his with Granger and Weasley. It’s just a greater risk to spend their time there, when anyone could walk in on them at any time, unlike Draco's apartment, which is warded and won’t even let his parents in unannounced.

Draco sighs in contentment as Harry wraps his arm around his shoulder and pulls him even closer on the sofa. It’s simply… lovely.

He’s not sure how much longer they will need to keep their relationship secret, they have certainly proven that they work together by now… But he’s also not enthused by the idea of having to explain himself and possibly fight with the people he cares for over his relationship.

As soon as everything is out in the open, it's going to be far less comfortable, far less easy. After all, his parents will no doubt demand family dinners—and by Circe, that sounds like a nightmare of awkwardness waiting to happen. There's also the possibility that Harry's family will too, and that, quite honestly, sounds even worse.

Not because Draco has anything against Harry's family and friends—anymore—but rather because he doesn't fancy heading into a dangerous situation with no backup. Who knows what could happen when he's left at their mercy?

The wireless drama episode ends, and as the outro music plays, Draco feels a soft kiss pressed against his temple.

“I need to head off now,” Harry murmurs. “I’ve got an early morning, and Ron and Hermione will be wondering where I am.”

“Of course…” Draco can’t help the stab of disappointment. He feels it every time Harry needs to leave. He needs to be brave, he thinks, and be the one to start the discussion of whether or not they should come clean to their friends and family.

But not now. Not when Harry’s just about to leave.

Draco moves in closer, stroking his fingers up Harry's chest and rests them on his shoulders, thumbs stroking the sides of his neck. Harry's arms immediately encircle Draco, and he has to suppress a shiver at the feeling of Harry's big and warm hands spreading over his back and pulling him in close against his body.

As they stand there chest to chest, Draco rubs his nose against Harry's, a silly little sign of affection he enjoys.

"Are you sure I cannot tempt you to stay?" he whispers, just barely letting his lips brush Harry's.

He loves feeling Harry shudder in response. Loves the way his hands twitch and press them more firmly together.

"You can always tempt me..."

It's Draco's turn to shiver as Harry's warm breath washes over his lips and the sensitive skin of his face.

"So...?"

Harry catches Draco's lips in a deep kiss then.

The separate just slightly, breathing the same air.

And then another kiss.

And another.

And another.

And another.

It takes them a while to finally come up for air proper again, and Draco feels drunk on it. He hadn't been sure they could fit together like this... but they do and he loves it. Enjoys every minute of it, even the dumb spats over dinner choices or manners and lack thereof.

"Mmm," he hums, resting his forehead against Harry's and just soaking in the moment.

"I really need to leave," Harry whispers, though his hands still hold Draco tight. "I really wish I didn't need to, but I do."

"I suppose I must let you leave then..." Draco murmurs and strokes Harry's cheek gently. It is so hard to end the evenings they have together.

Draco kisses Harry goodbye one last time and watches Harry throw a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace and disappear in a swirl of green flames.

He sighs and stares into his cup of tea.

He hates it when Harry has to leave, hates that Harry can’t stay because no one knows about them. As much as he loves their cosy evenings together, he hates that they have to end. Hates that Harry can’t stay the night… or that Draco can’t stay the night in Harry’s apartment.

When they first started this whole thing, he wasn’t sure they would ever reach a stage where their relationship is comfortable before they crashed and burned, but… He’s glad that they have.

As good as the sex is—and the sex is amazing—a lot of the time, he enjoys just listening to wireless dramas and drinking tea together more. It’s the kind of thing he grew up watching his parents doing, and something he’s always wanted for himself. Someone to live with and raise kids with and just... Have a life with. Whatever that life entails.

He could do with a bit more extravagant pampering, he’s not going to lie, but he’s also pretty sure that Harry’s just not that kind of man… Draco can live with that. He can, really. Extravagant pampering and dancing in ballrooms are not the most important needs he has, and Harry meets all of his other needs so…

Who knows, maybe once they’re “out” to their families, Harry will start with the extravagant pampering. Stranger things have happened! After all, Harry somehow defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named using Expelliarmus of all spells. Clearly, that proves that anything is possible.

Still…

He’ll need to bring up the topic of finally revealing themselves to Harry. Maybe next week. And once they have… Well, perhaps they can go on vacation just to avoid the fallout? There's sure to be some sort of dramatics happening once they tell everyone.

Harry would probably call that cowardly and think it’s more important for them to stand their ground and face everyone head on, but Draco would consider it a strategic retreat. Isn’t it much better to let everyone get over their first rush of anger and disbelief before you have to deal with them?

Draco knows from experience that Father is always much easier to deal with after he’s had some time to eat chocolate, drink some alcohol, and pace around monologuing for a while. It lets him get his flair for the dramatics out and redirected into arguing with himself instead of other people. Besides, that way, Father won't have any sort of hysterics to try and "save" Draco from Harry either... And it will give Mother some time to come to terms with things and help Father get on board.

Arguments are better had with cool head rather than in the heat of the moment. Much less risk of saying something you will regret later, too.

Of course, Draco is well aware that he’s dating a Gryffindor and they’re basically all about the heat of the moment… But he’s sure they’ll learn how to work things out between them together. They haven't really had any fights yet, thankfully, just some minor squabbles and times when they're absolute shits to each other. Though there was that time when Harry thought Draco had told his friends... Well, it hadn't been a fight really. Draco had quickly calmed him down after all and they resolved that misunderstanding.

It made sense that Harry would be upset when he thought Draco had told his friends that they were in a relationship, they’d mutually agreed to keep it secret until they both felt ready to share the news. It’s not up to either one of them alone to decide when the time to tell everyone has come, it's a joint decision they will need to reach together, as a couple.

All in all, Draco just feels more certain of his decision to discuss it with Harry next weekend. They’ll see each other over the week, of course, but it’s better if they have most of the day to discuss it and prepare for how they’ll do it in the end.

Smiling and humming to himself, Draco takes his empty cup over to the sink. It’s time to get ready for bed. Draco’s job as an independent potions master and researcher may allow him to set his own hours, but he enjoys having a routine so he’s up at a decent time every day anyway.

“Come on, Draco!” Pansy whines, pulling him in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. “You promised me a drink and I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Draco simply sighs and shakes his head.

“It’s Friday evening, Pansy. I’m sure the Leaky will be more than a little bit busy. Couldn’t we spare ourselves the trouble and take a glass of wine at either of our apartments?”

She lets out a loud undignified snort. If the end of the war has been good for anything, it’s certainly allowed Pansy the freedom to act as she wants, not as she’s expected to. It’s nice. Draco likes her far better like this, headstrong and wilful and entirely without any attempts to tamp it down behind the façade of a simpering, respectable pureblood lady.

“We can do that some other time, Draco. I want a glass of Fire Whisky in the Leaky Cauldron and you are going to buy it for me.”

Shaking his head in resignation, Draco allows himself to be pulled along into the Leaky Cauldron. It’s… far less crowded that Draco expected it to be, and there aren’t nearly as much noise as he’d feared. In fact, it seems rather… pleasant, almost. Well, as pleasant as the Leaky Cauldron ever gets, that is.

Pansy pushes him down into a booth and heads off to the bar, leaving Draco to sit by the table alone.

“So? How’s the house hunting going, Ginny?” someone says loudly just behind Draco’s head, must be someone in the adjacent booth. The voice seems somewhat familiar, and Draco finds himself listening in. There’s also the fact that… well... Isn’t ‘Ginny’ the name of the female Weasley who also happens to be Harry’s ex-girlfriend? Draco can admit to himself that he can be a bit of a snoop.

“You’d think it’d be going better than it is.” The female voice that answers is definitely the female Weasley, presumably ‘Ginny Weasley’, then.

Draco feels like he should know that, considering his relationship with Harry… But Harry honestly doesn’t talk about her much. He talks far more about Weasley and Granger, and then the rest of the Weasleys as a monolith.

“So what’s the problem then?” a second male voice says.

“You wouldn’t think it’s true, but Harry’s the pickiest person I’ve ever met when it comes to living arrangements.” Ginny Weasley sounds exasperated and fond, but the words shake Draco to the very core of his being.

Harry...?

No… No, that’s… Harry’s not looking for a house with Ginny Weasley. He isn’t. He can’t be. That would be absolutely ridiculous!

“Are you kidding? Our Harry? Who seemed to be good just about anywhere as long as there was a minimal bit of comfort?”

“Oh man, you don’t know anything.” Ginny Weasley laughs. “I expected him to be the easy part, but he’s been so difficult to please. ‘The bedroom windows are too small, Ginny’, or ‘I’d like a balcony, Ginny’, or ‘A big bed won’t fit in here, Ginny’ or even ‘The bathroom lighting is poor, and the bathtub is too small’. He’s been absolutely mental.”

The two people with her burst out into loud laughter.

“Harry said those things? He’s literally been complaining about the size of the windows and the bathtub?”

“I’m really not joking, Seamus,” Ginny Weasley says with another laugh. “It’s only going to be temporary while Grimmauld Place is being renovated—and let’s not get into all his demands on that project—but he’s really not pulling his punches.”

“Oh god, please tell me you’re joking. You were the one who made me promise I’d help out with the plans for the renovations!” The voice belonging to the third person complains. “If you knew he’s like this, why would you do this to me? I thought we were friends!”

“Suck it up, Dean!” Seamus says with a braying laugh.

Seamus and Dean… The names seem familiar, but Draco’s mind is still stuck in a horrified loop.

Harry’s looking for apartments with Ginny Weasley. He’s renovating Grimmauld Place.

And Draco didn’t know any of it. Hasn't heard a single word about it either. For all the time they've spent together the last few months during their relationship... Harry hasn't mentioned a single word of any of this. It's not as if they've been only having sex with no conversations, of course not! They've talked a lot, how could they not? They started their relationship from a rather... Unusual place.

Last Harry said, he was still living with Weasley and Granger and he hasn’t mentioned any renovation plans of Grimmauld Place at all. This must be a mistake, Draco must be misunderstanding something.

"So you're not having any luck finding an apartment, then?" Dean says with a sigh.

“I would have said we’d be having luck if Harry wasn’t so picky.” She snorts. “We’ve seen multiple nice places that I was ready to go for, but Harry wouldn’t budge on.”

“Are you serious?” Seamus sounds baffled. “That sounds entirely out of character for Harry of all people…”

And it does. Maybe... Maybe it is a different Harry? Though that does seem unlikely but... Maybe it's someone who's polyjuicing themselves into Harry to trick his friends? But that seems... ludicrous at best. A plan doomed to fail as all it would take is a single conversation between actual Harry and his friends to clear it up...

“You’re telling me. It's been weird to have him be picky. Never thought I'd see the day, but maybe it's good for him to finally have some high standard for his surroundings. All things considered.” Ginny Weasley sounds genuinely contemplative.

There’s a small pause.

“Well, we’re going to be checking out another place on Saturday, actually.”

Oh… Oh. Well. Draco nearly sags with relief. Harry and Draco have a date on Saturday, just as they do almost every week, and Harry hasn’t cancelled it. So… Surely this must be some other Harry they’re talking about. Harry is a very common name after all. Relief washes over like a wave and he relaxes a bit.

How unfortunate for Miss Weasley that she’s ended up dating two men named Harry in a row.

Draco frowns. Well, he doesn’t exactly know if it’s in a row, does he? He’s hardly up to date with Ginny Weasley’s romantic history. And why would he? He may be dating her ex, but that doesn’t mean he knows her or anything about her, really.

Because Harry hasn’t talked much about her really, though Draco’s been under the impression that they’re at least civil to each other.

Still, this whole thing was quite the fright. He’s glad that it’s not… That it can’t be Harry.

It... it can’t be.

It can’t be Draco’s Harry. Because his Harry hasn’t cancelled Saturday, and he’d hardly just not show up. That… That would be very out of character of him. Every time either one of them has needed to cancel so far, they've sent an owl or Floo called beforehand. So clearly he's got nothing to worry about and this is all just a silly misunderstanding that Draco's under because he's being a snoop and listening in on someone else's conversation.

Surely.

Draco swallows and bites his lip.

“Draco! I have our drinks!” Pansy’s loud call pulls Draco out of his thoughts and he forces a smile on his face. He can’t tell her; he can’t let her see that he’s disturbed in the least.

“Ah, thank you Pansy.” He reaches out and accepts his glass. He’s a genius occlumency user, he’s excellent at compartmentalising his feelings and showing nothing of his true turmoil outwards. Well, for the most part. If it’s something big enough to send him into a depressive slump, obviously he won’t be able to hide it. But… But this is enough for that. He can handle this. He needs to think about it before he makes any sort of hasty decision.

He’s not a Gryffindor after all.

“Wait, was that Parkinson? And… Huh, I guess she’s here with Malfoy, then.”

“Well, do you know any other people with a name like ‘Draco’?”

Draco shuts their voices out and turns his attention back to Pansy.

“Well, darling. What were you talking about before you dragged me in here?” he says and takes a sip of his drink, revelling in the burn and the smoke. It’s a good distraction.

As Pansy launches into a long tirade about the latest dumb shit Blaise has been up to—no wonder she refused Draco’s suggestion to invite Blaise along, she wanted ‘complain about my boyfriend’ time—Draco lets her words wash over him. It’s a comfort and almost nostalgic thing.

He can think about what the hell this all means for his own relationship later when he's alone at home. He's probably just being overdramatic and there's some sort of innocent explanation to it all. He's just making a big deal out of nothing.

Most certainly.

Draco stares at his fireplace.

Harry just cancelled Saturday. He just Floo called and cancelled their standing Saturday date, and all the while refusing to explain why. Draco tried, he really did.

“I’m sorry, Draco. Something’s come up,” Harry said.

“What? Why are you cancelling? What's come up? Is something wrong? Is there something you need to tell me?” Draco had really and truly tried to get more information, anything that could quell the churning of his stomach. Something that could keep the fear and nausea at bay. Because it cannot be true. His most horrible thoughts and fears after overhearing that conversation in the Leaky Cauldron cannot possibly be true.

“No, nothing’s wrong. It was just unexpected. Don’t worry about it. I’ll send an owl and maybe I can Floo over on Monday?”

“I… Of course, but… Harry, what's come—!”

“I have to go. I’ll send an owl, promise.”

And then his head disappeared from the flames, and Draco was alone. His questions unanswered, his fears unfettered, and dread churning in his stomach.

He hasn’t moved since. If he does… He fears he’s liable to start crying. His emotions are overwhelming and threaten to choke him, and he wants none of it. It’s too much, and too terrible.

No Malfoy is anyone’s side-bit.

Except Draco has been, unknowingly.

He’s stupidly been considering talking with Harry about possibly telling everyone that they’re in a relationship. Finally bringing it out of the shadows and into the light, now that he was sure that they were good enough together to handle the pressure. Now that he was sure that what they could have was worth that attention and grumblings from the people the love.

He stupidly assumed that Harry had been upset at the thought of Draco telling his friends because he wasn’t ready yet, angry because Draco hadn’t talked it over with him first. Anger from the perceived betrayal of Draco's actions, for his lack of concern for Harry and the decision they'd made together. It made sense, at the time, that Harry would be upset about Draco breaking his word. Draco had absolutely understood, he'd hurried to clear up the understanding... He'd communicated to make sure Harry knew the truth. It seems so long ago now, but it wasn’t. Not really.

But as much sense at it would make for Harry to feel betrayed for a supposed breach in what they’d agreed before they decided to try their hands at having a relationship… it makes even more sense now that Draco knows. It makes even more sense that it was the angry reaction of someone who’s cheating on their partner and doesn’t want it to get out. Of course he would be upset at the idea of Draco telling his friends. If Draco told others then their secret relationship would no longer be a secret between the two of them, and Harry would risk having his duplicity found out. The more people who know, the higher the risk of the "wrong people", in this case, Harry's friends, finding out.

Draco feels so stupid, so naïve. How pathetic of him to allow himself to be played like this. No doubt had Potter been planning on having him on the side for a while longer until he and Ginny Weasley moved in together, and then he would give Draco some trite bullshit about it not working out and ending the whole thing.

It would have been made to be a natural end to their relationship, no matter how sudden and shocking it would have felt to Draco. In the end, Draco would be left thinking that Harry got together with his ex after their relationship ended, and Miss Weasley would never know anything. Would never know that she’d been cheated at all.

He considers letting her know, just… exposing Potter and his shitty actions to her.

But he’s not really feeling up to it. For all he knows, maybe Harry’s been honest about it to her. Maybe she knows and they’ve been having a laugh about how pathetic he is while going bloody apartment shopping and making plans for renovating Grimmauld Place.

Perhaps it was all just payback for how shitty Draco was when they were children. Perhaps the way he and Harry hashed it out was all just a lie, and Potter's been thinking he's the dumbest shit in the world for ever imagining that he or any of his friends would ever forgive Draco for his past. Perhaps this has all just been a long complicated lark at Draco's expense.

It’s possible, isn’t it? Considering how terrible Draco used to be, and all the mistakes he’s made. Isn’t it arrogant of him to think that someone like Harry, who suffered so much due to Draco and his parents, could ever forgive him?

He realises that he needs to get away. Now. Immediately.

He cannot possibly stay here any longer, surrounded by memories of what he thought he and Harry had. Painfully reliving a relationship that was just a play, a most cruel joke, is not something Draco can stand. He's always been a coward, but more so he's always been driven by self-preservation.

Harry will send his bloody owl, and Draco's going to reply to it that he knows the truth and then he'll... He'll leave the country! He'll head off to France, to the Riviera, to lie on the beach and not think about anything to do with Harry Bloody Potter.

He'll need to contact Pansy and Blaise immediately, make sure they're okay with heading off on Sunday.

He doesn’t see any reason why they wouldn’t be. They’ve always been more than up for following him to one of the Malfoy Family houses for a bit of a vacation. And they've been complaining that he's been working too much and not seeing them enough lately! They don't know it's been more that he's been seeing Harry rather than working but...

He’ll do it right now. He’ll just… Wash his face, change his clothes, pull himself together, and then get it all planned. And then he'll leave this whole tragedy behind and cut his losses.

Actually, he should probably check in with his parents about using the Villa first. If they have plans for it, then maybe Draco should take his friends somewhere else. Perhaps the Monaco Villa instead. It’s very close, so they could easily get together with his parents if that’s the case.

Still...

Potter can go fuck himself. Or his bloody girlfriend. He’ll get his when Draco replies to his stupid owl.

Draco’s better than being anyone’s side-piece, even the Boy Who Lived’s.

“Oh, how delightful!” Mother claps her hands together. “I’ll send Mipsy over to the Villa immediately to warn the house elves there that you’ll be arriving shortly, just to make sure that they can stock up on food and everything you and your friends might need.”

Father lets out a gruff huff. “About time you took some time off, Draco. You’ve been locked in your lab for months; we have barely seen hide-nor-hair of you around here.” His face is fond, however.

The words still make Draco slightly nauseous. He’s been putting off Saturday brunches with his parents for Potter, claiming work engagements, he's moved them to Sunday on occasion but... He's spent some Sundays with Potter too, having wanted to wake up with him too.

With how everything has panned out… He hates that he ever did. Clearly, Potter wasn’t worth not seeing his parents as often as they'd all like. Clearly it wasn't worth this distance he's put between them unwittingly. As happy as Draco has been with Harry... The devastation if his betrayal and its consequences may well break him completely.

“Thank you, mother.” He smiles at them. “I’ll be heading over to Pansy and Blaise shortly, but perhaps we can do Saturday brunch tomorrow? I know I’ve missed out on it quite a bit, lately…”

“Excellent!” Father looks pleased. “I’ll have the elves make all your favourites.”

“Thank you, Father.”

He’s missed them. He used to think it was worth it to miss out on time with them because of Potter, because what he and Potter had… But… No.

He can’t allow himself to dwell too much on it. He can’t break down in front of his parents, they’ll want to know and he’s not… He’s too embarrassed, too ashamed to admit it to them. He’s not even going to admit anything to Pansy or Blaise.

As much as he’d enjoy fucking Potter over for what he’s done, he’ll be taking this with him to the grave. Anything else is too embarrassing. To admit that he was deceived by his childhood nemesis, that he actually fell for his honeyed words... Merlin, no.

“By the way, do we still have one of those charms that repel post owls? To ensure they can’t sense you to deliver the letters?”

Mother’s eyebrows rise toward her hairline.

“Oh my. Has something happened?” Her face falls into a frown and she leans forward in her seat. “Are you receiving threats, Draco? You know I don’t want you to keep things like that secret.”

“I agree with your mother, Draco. If someone is sending you threatening letters…”

Draco laughs. He almost wishes that were the case. He actually just don’t want to face the potential shit storm that may come his way in the form of scathing or mocking letters from Potter once he finally sends his own off.

“Nothing like that, I assure you.” He waves his hand dismissively. “I just don’t want any orders to come through. If the owls can’t sense me, they’ll head to my owl box. Which is, quite frankly, what I prefer when I’m on vacation.”

“Your patrons send their orders to you personally rather than the company owl box?” Father raises a single eyebrow, and Draco can tell that he’s a bit disappointed. Probably doesn’t like the idea of Draco being that disorganised.

“No, not at all.” Draco shakes his head. “But some of them come to me from word of mouth about me, rather than my company. I’m just not feeling up to it during my vacation.”

Father hums and nods his head.

“We have it in a cupboard in your father’s study. I’ll go get it immediately, my darling.”

As his mother heads up the stairs, Draco just barely refrains from letting out a sigh of relief. He’s likely managed to hold them off without having to explain everything with Potter.

What a relief.

“What an excellent idea, darling!” Pansy claps her hands together in a way that is frighteningly similar to the way his mother did. “I haven’t been in the Riviera for ages, it feels like. And you definitely deserve a vacation with how you’ve been working!”

“Hear hear,” Blaise says and raises his glass. “It’s been too long since we all went on a trip together. I, for one, can’t wait to laze around on a beach. Well, as long as you’re not going to be a ball of tension from your newly developed and over-developed work ethic.”

“Excellent.” Draco grins and ignores Blaise’s little dig at how much he’s been ‘working’ lately. “I’ll books us a Portkey for Sunday immediately.”

“I will need to find a new bikini, and a new pair of sunglasses, and maybe a sunhat,” Pansy murmurs, deep in thought.

Blaise snorts. "Save some of your shopping for the actual trip, won't you? We can't spend all of our time on the beach, after all."

"Just because I buy some new things in preparation for the trip doesn't mean I can't buy more things when we're on it. Don't be silly, Blaise." She tosses her hair and sticks her nose in the air.

Draco just laughs, feeling lighter than he has since he overheard that terrible conversation and all his delusions were ripped away from him.

Going away for a trip with his friends is just what he needs, clearly. It's already helping.

He’s starting to feel like maybe he’s being overdramatic. Perhaps there is a reasonable explanation for that whole thing. Maybe Draco just… misunderstood something?

Maybe… Maybe Harry, Granger, and Weasley’s lease is running out and they’ve decided to… To not get another apartment together and so Harry’s forced to find another friend to share an apartment with? Maybe Granger and Weasley are planning to start popping out the next generation of way-too-many Weasleys and need a house!

But… But why… Well… Wouldn’t Harry have mentioned it? Why would he be keeping it and the whole thing with Grimmauld Place secret? And… Why would he be so picky if it was just a temporary space? Because Ginny Weasley said Harry’s been unusually picky about it, and…

He’s starting to feel like he’s going insane. Like he’s over-thinking and analysing everything to try and find some way his shitty boyfriend isn’t actually shitty and he hasn’t been making a mistake being together with him in the first place.

He needs to get out of his apartment, and he needs to book his damn Portkey.

Maybe he can be nice in his letter to Harry. Say it just… came up and he needs to get away for awhile?

Because… he isn’t sure that Harry’s… Well, actually having him as sidepiece. Well, technically. It certainly seems like he is. But how can Draco be entirely sure? Appearances can be deceiving after all… And maybe Harry just hasn’t told him yet? Maybe he’ll explain in his letter? Maybe Draco’s just being over-dramatic and should trust Harry.

Maybe he and Ginny Weasley are just moving in together as friends, and they truly have broken up and it’s nothing Draco needs to worry about. Maybe… Maybe he shouldn’t put too much stock in an overheard conversation where he doesn’t have the full context?

That… That would be a logical and reasonable thing to do, right?

He draws another deep breath and tries to keep his tears at bay, feeling entirely wrung out and exhausted. Still, he needs to fix the Portkey, because he’s already made his plans so now he’ll need to live with it.

Maybe Harry will be a bit hurt that Draco didn’t mention anything before now, but…

No.

No, he needs to stop thinking about this. About Harry.

He makes it to Diagon Alley painlessly enough and starts to head to the Ministry to book his Portkey and get that whole thing sorted. He could technically make his own Portkey—he’s always been good at charms—but the Ministry tends to get fussy when you do international Portkey travel without alerting them. And, well, Draco doesn’t want to risk any of it getting back to Harry.

If, against all odds, this whole thing is just some silly misunderstanding, Harry might try to go after him. And really, Draco’s not feeling up to it. He needs some time to relax and lick his wounds. He can consider doing something as exhausting sounding as talking about it once he’s had that vacation.

If there’s even anything to talk about at all.

As he makes his way down the street however, he ends up seeing the last thing he wanted to see: Harry and Ginny Weasley walking arm in arm.

Panic and hurt and anguish flares up in Draco's chest, and in a panic he turns to the closest shop—oh bloody hell it's a furniture store—and ducks inside to hide. It's completely undignified, but he just can't deal with it. Not at all. Not now.

It's too raw and too fresh and Draco's quite sure he'll burst into tears immediately if he looks Harry in the eyes.

It may be undignified of him to run away and hide, but at least it's not as undignified as bursting into tears in the middle of a public space in front of his maybe-boyfriend-maybe-cheating-asshole.

He busies himself by settling into a lovely set of sofas and grabbing the Prophet lying on the table, opening it up and neatly hiding his face from anyone who might possibly be looking his way. Not that anyone will.

Of course, it seems the universe truly does hate Draco, because Harry and Ginny Weasley step inside the shop.

He focuses on keeping his breathing steady and holding the Prophet in front of his face without it rustling too much from his shaking hands. He swallows and tries to not immediately pull out his wand to cast some sort of silencing spell.

No doubt would that just end up scaring someone and make him look like a lunatic. There are other people in the shop after all. He’ll just… have to suffer through it. Perhaps it’ll even clear things up for him.

If there’s context he’s missing, if there’s an innocent explanation to what he overheard from Ginny Weasley’s conversation with “Dean” and “Seamus” in the Leaky, then perhaps he’ll find out now. He can always hope…

“Ginny, we really don’t need to go looking at beds right now…” Harry groans just as the door closes behind them.

She laughs at him. “Considering how you keep rejecting apartments due to your fear of not being able to fit the large bed of your dreams, we need to go find it. I have the measurements of the two apartments we saw today, so we’ll be able to fit any bed that catches your fancy within them to make sure.”

“I thought you said we had another apartment to look at…”

“We do, but there’s a two hour gap before we can go view it, so just suck it up buttercup.”

“I hate shopping…”

She laughs again. “Oh Harry, I love you. Now come on.” She wraps herself around his arm, pressing her… chest… against it and leans up to—og Merlin he can’t stand to look. He can’t stand to see her kiss him.

As she drags Harry off farther into the store, Draco remains frozen in place, desperately trying to quell his sudden urge to throw up.

There is no innocent explanation… Ginny Weasley loves Harry Potter, and he’s been two-timing her for months with Draco Malfoy, his childhood enemy. Draco’s going to be sick, he’s going to throw up and scream and cry…

He swallows the urge and as soon as Potter and Ginny Weasley round a corner at the back of the shop, he closes the newspaper and staggers to his feet.

“Can I help you, sir?” The shop assistant gives him a kind smile.

Draco tries to return it, but he fears it likely comes out as more of grimace than anything else.

“I… I do believe i need to test a few more chairs before I can make up my mind… But I’m afraid my stomach seems to be acting up a bit.” He swallows. “How long will you be open?”

“Oh, well, until 8pm tonight!”

“Excellent,” he says, without really thinking it’s especially excellent at all. “If I come back at… 6pm, could you have prepared your most comfortable armchairs? You don’t need to take the price into consideration.”

He’s going to buy himself a new armchair.

Because why not.

Might as well try to spend some money to help his aching heart.

“Certainly, sir! Under what name?” She looks genuinely excited at the prospect.

“Malfoy,” he murmurs.

She waves her wand, no doubt making some sort of note, and Draco flees the shop as soon as he can.

Draco tried to escape them, tried to avoid overhearing their conversation… Potter might go Auror on him later, so it’s for the best if he actually has something to proof that he didn’t follow them.

He can point to the now existing papertrail that shows that he was in that shop to try out armchairs. He’s innocent.

Though he can’t help but wonder if Potter will even care in the end… After all. If your side-bit decides to be over and done with you for finding out that they are, in fact, the side-bit… Most people would likely just cut them loose. Unless they have some weird possessive “if I can’t have you no one can” type of personality, but Draco doesn’t want to think about that. Harry’s not like that.

He has a Portkey to book.

And tears to hold back.

Draco,

Sorry I had to cancel on Saturday, but I hope you had a good time without me.

I was thinking we could go out for Indian food on Monday evening. Or maybe you have some other idea?

Let me know, alright?

Love, Harry

Potter,

I'm afraid that your little game is up. I happened to overhear a very interesting conversation between two men called Seamus and Dean and your girlfriend, Ginny Weasley. Something regarding plans for moving in with her?

Now, I was—of course—willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I know as well as anyone that appearances can be deceiving and that there might be a perfectly innocent explanation as to why you would be moving in with Ginny Weasley while you are restoring Grimmauld Place without mentioning either thing to me.

Unfortunately, I ran into you two on Saturday which firmly told me otherwise. I've wanted a new armchair for a while, you see, but unfortunately the two of you stepped inside that same store after me. And yes, Potter, I did overhear what you were talking about. The importance of a large enough bed, going to try one out and measure it against the rooms you'd been viewing. I heard her tell you she loves you, though I’ll admit I looked away before I saw the kiss. I’m no voyeur after all.

Don't worry. I'm not going to expose you as a cheater to her. It's not my place. But you should come clean to her. Maybe you can salvage your relationship with her even if you admit you had Draco Malfoy as a side-piece for months.

Please don’t try to contact me after this, you won’t get through anyway as I’ve changed my wards to not allow you in and no owls will reach me for the time being. Further, I will be going away on a short vacation, so even if you were to go to my apartment to try and threaten me into silence or some such nonsense, I will not be there to hear you.

Piss off,

Draco Malfoy

Having spent most of the night bawling his eyes off before he sent the owl off in the morning just before he headed off to Blaise and Pansy’s apartment to use the Portkey, Draco is very grateful for the fact that he can wear sunglasses without either of his friends remarking on it in the least. After all, they’re heading to the sunny Riviera, of course he’ll be wearing sunglasses.

He sent Archimedes off with a few scritches and instructions to return to his parents in the Manor afterwards. He knows he’ll return to a very fat owl who will need to go on a diet—his father spoils him far too much whenever Draco leaves Archimedes for his parents to care for him—but it’s worth it. Archimedes deserves only the best treatment, and Draco absolutely cannot simply leave him alone at home with refillable food and send for a carer or something.

Especially not since that would ultimately be a weak point in his defences if Potter decides to get nasty. Anyone could easily fall victim to the Boy Who Lived’s charms. Draco would really rather not have someone help him break into his apartment. However unwittingly, of course.

The French Villa on the Riviera is, as always, spectacular.

The lush gardens surrounding it and the large pool truly is a sight to behold. This is where Draco first learned how to swim, as the Manor held no such opportunities. Wiltshire is landlocked, and there are no proper swimming places. A few lakes, certainly, but Draco’s parents would never have taught him to swim in them.

“Honestly, Draco,” Pansy says suddenly, pulling down her sunglasses to shield her eyes and cocking her hip. “I don’t think I’ll ever quite understand why you persist to stay in that tiny apartment of yours when you could live here at all times!”

“Agreed. Sure, you’ll be further away from your family and friends—” Blaise makes an extravagant motion towards him and Pansy—”But you could easily set up an international connection between this floo and your apartment. The Ministry wouldn’t need to know that you’re living in France rather than Britain.”

Draco snort. “Well there’s an idea.”

And… it is. Now that he’s thinking about it, that actually sounds quite lovely. His family certainly have more than enough money to get through all the red-tape regarding private international floos, and Draco knows his parents would metaphorically jump at the chance to spoil him in such a way. He’s been very strict regarding wanting to work on his potions business and living in his own apartment—even though of course he’s always had his full Gringotts vault to fall back on—so to give them a chance to spend money on him…

Well, he knows they’d appreciate it. Sometimes he’s quite certain they would have liked time to have stopped entirely somewhere around the time he was a very happy and spoiled nine year-old. Impossible, of course, but he catches them looking at old photo albums quite often these days.

They haven’t yet gotten on his case about grandchildren, but he’s fairly certain that’s because they’re still reeling from the war and having nearly lost him entirely. They’ll probably start hinting about wanting grandchildren to spoil sooner or later. Of course, considering the fact that Draco is—and has been for a while as far as they know—depressingly single, they’re not likely to be pushing so hard. Probably just gentle nudges wondering if he, perhaps, has someone special in his life.

Draco does want children, in the future anyway, but he wants to have them with a partner. And as he’s now back to being single after what seemed like a promising relationship…

Well, it seems farther away than it ever has before.

“What are you sighing about, Draco?” Pansy is suddenly all up in Draco’s face, and her red-painted lips scrunch together.

“Only what a genuinely good idea living her with a private international Floo sounds.” He shrugs elegantly and lifts his bag and starts moving towards the Villa, knowing Pansy and Blaise will follow. “I’m actually surprised my parents haven’t thought to do so between the Manor and Château already.”

Pansy laughs. “Perhaps they simply haven’t mentioned it to you, darling? Perhaps that’s their little secret: they head off to the Château during the weeks.”

Draco joins in, shaking his head. It wouldn’t surprise him, it’s not like his parents much like showing themselves within most of wizarding Britain’s society these days. With one of them pardoned and the other having served his time, they much prefer to spend their time with the friends they still have, and mostly outside of Britain where their family name is not so reviled.

In fact, in both France and Monaco, the two places Draco actually has personal experience with, no one even so much as bats an eye at his last name. Instead, it’s… well respected. Like it once was in Britain before the war.

Draco has no illusions regarding the fact that his potions business would likely be more profitable and have more clients if he didn’t use his own name and pretended to be someone else. Draco is not, however, willing to make that change and he can get away with not doing it because he doesn’t need to. He’s privileged enough to not need to rely on his business to survive, it’s more of a hobby for him than anything else.

He likes making potions, he likes researching and improving potions, so of course he can do so for the benefit of the people who are willing to trust him with it.

He’d briefly considered going into healing, but he’d realised after taking his N.E.W.T.s as he started looking at the application processes for healing schools that… Well… Regardless of his grades, they wouldn’t accept him into the programs.

He could get a well-regarded French potions master to take him on as an apprentice and get a secondary degree in medicinal potions in France… But he knows he’ll never be able to work with the likes of St. Mungo’s.

It is a consequence of his own and his parents’ actions, and it’s simply something he has to live with.

He’d said as much to Ha—Potter once, when they’d been on the topic. He’d seemed pleased with Draco’s acceptance and the fact that he’s willing to take accountability for the way he’s treated… But with recent events being what they are, Draco can’t help but wonder what Potter was really thinking.

Perhaps he was surprised that Draco is less of a spoiled shit, or perhaps he didn’t even believe that Draco was telling the truth at all…

Forcing down the sudden re-emergence of an urge to cry, Draco finally enters the Villa as the large doors open up for him.

He feels the warm brush of the Villa’s magic rush over him—contentment, pleasure. It’s pleased that he’s here. The generational blood magic that ties him to all of his family’s land and properties… It’s distinct in each place, and yet still familiar. He loves it.

He doesn’t want to be the last Malfoy.

He… doesn’t know if Harry would have understood that. Perhaps it was silly of Draco to have ever gotten involved with Harr—Potter in the first place. They’d been friendly before, they’d buried the hatchet, so to speak, and… Well, even with a broken heart, Draco can admit to himself that his eyes had lingered longer on Potter than they should have for years. He’d wanted it.

At the very least... he’d wanted to see if there ever could be anything between them.

He thought there could be… Perhaps even if Draco hadn’t been deceived, even if Harry’s interest and their relationship had been genuine, they would have ended up breaking over the question of children.

At least that would have been a dignified ending…

“Where is your head at, darling?” Pansy’s voice sounds distinctly annoyed now. “Really, one would think you’re still entirely wrapped up in work. We’re on vacation, remember?”

“I… Yes. Of course.” Draco clears his throat. “My apologies.”

“Pansy’s just peeved that it’s taking longer than she’d like for her to be able to plant her tush in a chair in the sun for some tanning.” Blaise smiles slyly. “Pay her no mind. As soon as she gets a drink in her hand she’ll be just dandy again.”

Draco snorts. “True, she does hate Portkey travels.”

“I am right here, thank you very much.” Pansy plants her hands on her hips. “But you are right, Blaise. I’m simply dying for a drink.”

Draco looks around the grand room, spotless as it is, and gently puts his bag down. Where is—!

A loud crack, and suddenly the resident house elf stands before them.

“Loulou!” Draco says, delighted. It’s been quite some time since he’s seen her, since she’s tasked with taking care of the Riviera Villa and only rarely comes to the Manor.

“Maître Draco!” she squeaks, and then she’s off in rapid-fire French.

Draco happily chats with her. Mipsy came by and warned her, and has been staying on to help out even though Loulou and Bibi no doubt have things well under control on their own—Mipsy has never really been willing to share Draco, having been his nanny elf as a baby. The Villa is well cared for and according to Loulou the herb garden is flourishing extra nicely this year.

A small cough interrupts them.

“Draco. Darling,” Blaise says, exaggerating the endearment. “Please remember that neither Pansy nor I speak French, yes?”

Draco flushes. “Right. My apologies.” He turns back to Loulou, but before he can say anything, she speaks up on her own.

“Loulou is sorry, she will being speaking l’anglais for Maître Draco’s guests.” She gives a small bow and her ears twitches. “I will being telling Bibi and taking the bags now.”

“Merci, Loulou.” Draco smiles as her and she disappears with another crack.

“But what about my drink?” Pansy whines.

Draco just laughs and hers her out into the garden again.

“Come on now, you cow. I can call for one of them when we’re out there. It’s time for us to relax now… And maybe take a dip in the pool.”

“I do like the sound of that,” Blaise says and they head back out into the sunshine to soak up some sun.

“You truly do need it, Draco. You’re practically a ghost, you’re so pale. Staying inside brewing all day isn’t good for you!”

Blaise snorts. “Especially since he doesn’t even need the money or anything.”

“Nag nag nag!”

Draco flounces past them. As much as he’s playing up his annoyance, he’s glad for it. If nothing else, his friends are excellent at distracting him from his own awful and dreary train of thought.

He’s here on vacation. Harry should not factor in at all.

As the days pass with good food, lovely trips to the sea as well as places to shop, Draco slowly starts to feel better. He hasn’t even cried every night! Last night he just… nearly cried rather than actually cried, so clearly he’s doing better.

Mother and Father of course thought the idea of connecting Draco’s apartment and the Villa through a specific international floo connection was a brilliant idea, and Draco’s sure they’re hard at work to get that political red tape all sorted.

Pansy and Blaise have, of course, made themselves into absolute nuisances by pointing out every single fit looking man they’ve seen, with more than a few insinuations that Draco should, perhaps, make the most of his vacation and get a few shags done.

Of course, they’re labouring under the impression that Draco hasn’t had any sex for months, and as he’s still not ready to explain his whole failed relationship with Potter, he can’t disabuse them of the notion.

In fact, he may never tell them about the whole thing with Potter, he thinks bitterly. He’s not sure he’ll ever reach a level where it doesn’t hurt like a slicing hex to the spine. He’s not used to be so easily used and discarded… Only one person has ever treated him or his parents like that before, and considering that was the literal self-professed Dark Lord…

Potter would probably resent the comparison, but Draco is currently feeling about equally charitable to both of them. His utter disdain for Voldemort having only softened slightly because the bastard is dead and ashes and actively hating him is more effort than he’s worth. Really, Draco would rather not think about him ever again than go on hating him. He's simply not worth the effort.

Potter on the other hand... That is a fresh wound, and a far more personal one.

He wishes he’d been wrong. That the truth really had been innocent and he’d just misunderstood that first conversation. He’d wanted to talk to Potter about it, sort it out. But then Potter had cancelled without telling him what it was about and Draco had overheard that second conversation too…

It’s too much. He’s sure Potter can spin some fucking bullshit explanation if Draco were to ask, probably something about the lease or maybe being tired of living with a couple who probably has loud sex—oh Merlin, why did he have to have that thought? That’s disgusting, he doesn’t want to think about what Weasley and Granger get up to at all.

Draco takes a long sip of his drink and closes his eyes, soaking in the sun. He’s going to make the most of this absolutely lovely vacation, regardless of how torn up he feels inside.

He was stupid to think there could ever be anything nice and real between him and Potter. It was naive, without a doubt too. If the general public, most of who were never directly affected by Draco or his parents but rather just Voldemort and the Death Eaters in general, for the most part can’t stand him, why would Potter be able to?

Did Draco just expect him to be that good a person? To not only forgive the horrible things he did to try and save himself and his parents, but also all the unnecessary antagonising and the ways they hurt each other during Hogwarts?

Draco had, so he’d thought… Well, perhaps it’s easier to forgive and move past when you’re the one who was the primary antagonist. When most of what happened was because of you rather than the other person. He supposes that it’s pretty typical of him to believe that just because he wants something, it makes sense for it to come true.

He’d thought he’d gotten better about that whole “spoiled” thing, but it seems his entitlement still runs so strong he was blind to the fact that Potter deceived him. And here he is, heartbroken and embarrassed.

He was the side-piece.

Potter even straight up told him they should keep the whole thing secret and Draco just went along with it. Thought it made perfect sense. And of course it does, for a cheater who’s trying to ensure no one finds out about the fact that he’s having an affair.

It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so much.

Perhaps in a decade, when he’s settled with at least one child he’ll be able to look back at this and laugh about it. Perhaps one day it will be nothing more than a funny anecdote.

“Darling…” Pansy says suddenly.

Turning to her, Draco sees her push her sunglasses up on her forehead as she sits up properly swinging her legs over the side of the reclining chair. Blaise suddenly gets up from his own chair on her other side and takes a seat next to her.

Merlin’s beard, what is this?

“Yes? Is this an intervention of some sort? You both seem very serious all of a sudden.”

Blaise sighs.

"Draco, we've been your friends for years. We can tell when something's wrong." He shakes his head. "We've tried to humour you, we've tried to accept that you don't want to talk about whatever it is, but..."

"You've been crying." Pansy looks at him with huge doe eyes then. "Don't think we haven't noticed. You've refused to take off your sunglasses for most of the time, and I have managed to catch your red-rimmed eyes."

"You know you can tell us anything, right?" Blaise's eyes seem to shine, and Draco knows they're both being sincere. "We've already seen you disappear down a road we couldn't follow once... I don't want to see it happen again, Draco. It nearly destroyed you last time..."

Merlin.

"I'm not involved in anything like that, Blaise. Merlin."

Morgana’s tits. If Blaise and Pansy thinks he’s involved in something like the Death Eaters, then he’s clearly done a very bad job at hiding his feelings.

“We don’t think you’re involved with dark shit, Draco, chill.” Blaise rolls his eyes. “But we know you’ve… had someone. You’ve been sneaking around with someone for months, you know your ‘job’.” Blaise gives Draco a very arch look.

“And then you suddenly want to go on a vacation? And you’re crying at night?” Pansy continues. “You’ve broken up with them, haven’t you?”

Draco feels nauseous and he can’t look at them. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not at all. It’s embarrassing and he’s still hurting. As touched as he is that his friends have noticed that something is up with him, that they really care… It’s just too awful to even think of telling them the truth.

“I’m fine,” he croaks, and takes another long drink from his glass. Bottom’s up for the broken hearted, hahahaha…

“You’re not, Draco.” Pansy’s small hand suddenly close around Draco’s wrist, just as Blaise’s large hand encircles his ankle. “It’s okay if you’re not… We just… We just want you to talk to us. You don’t have to hide anything from us. Regardless of what you think, we’re not going to judge you…”

Blaise snorts. “Not unless you’ve been shacking up with Zacharias Smith or something, if that’s it I will be judging you, sorry mate.”

Draco bursts out laughing, huge guffaws from the pit of his stomach… Until they transform into huge sobs. Oh Circe, he dated and broke up with Harry Potter.

“It wasn’t Smith, was it?” Pansy’s voice is coloured with panic before Draco is pulled face first into her bosom.

“Draco, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…” Blaise begins, but Draco squeezes his wrist to silence him.

“Wasn’t Smith,” he chokes out through his sobs.

He’s kept this whole thing secret from his friends and now they don’t know and he needs their support but he… He doesn’t want to admit what’s happened. It’s just too embarrassing to admit that he was tricked by Harry Bloody Potter of all people. That he was the side-piece. That he was stupid enough to keep it secret because he thought it sounded logical at the time…

He should have had that damn conversation with Potter earlier. It would likely have forced his hand and they’d broken up then and Draco would have been blissfully unaware that their relationship had been a sham all along. He would have left it slightly disappointed, maybe a bit heartbroken, but at least not… not feeling used and worthless like this.

How do you even admit something like this to someone? Even people who are your best friends? Who stuck with you even as you made the kind of mistakes that generally end with prison or death?

“He had someone else…” he chokes out, and clings to Pansy.

He feels her muscles tense under his hands as he holds on to her, as she takes in Draco’s rather bad summary of his and Potter’s relationship.

“He cheated on you?” Pansy’s shrill voice echoes over the gardens, and Draco is so so relieved that the Villa has privacy charms all around them.

“No… He cheated on them…” He shudders, hating that he’s admitting it. Hating that this is the truth of it all.

The silence that follows seems so loud suddenly, and Draco wonders what his friends are thinking. What they think about him now that they know.

“Did you know?” Blaise’s voice is low and painfully neutral, the way it is whenever he’s got an assumption but hoping it’s wrong.

Draco pulls out of Pansy’s arms, suddenly furious. He gets to his feet and walks away, throwing his damn class onto the ground and taking pleasure in the sound of breaking glass.

“No, Blaise! I didn’t know!” he snarls, yells. “I wouldn’t have been with someone who already had a partner if I’d known! I’m not like that!”

“Draco, please, I didn’t mean—!”

“But you did! You thought that maybe I went into it willingly! That I’m only sad because he didn’t choose me over them or some such rot!” Draco’s fingers twitch and he wishes he hadn’t left his wand by the chairs. He’s not going back closer to his friends.

“Draco, please…” Pansy’s voice is teary… But Draco can’t listen to that right now. Can’t care about the fact that she’s sad and hurt. He's sad and hurt and feeling awful.

“No matter how much I might ever love someone, I will never be someone’s side-piece knowingly, Blaise. I don’t think my Malfoy pride could bend that far, no matter how desperate I personally got.” He laughs then, loud and hateful. Because isn’t that just the thing?

A Malfoy is no one’s bit on the side. A Malfoy has more pride than allow themselves to be hidden away while someone plays happy family with someone else out in the open.

Draco, on the other hand…

It’s a pathetic and shameful secret, one he won’t ever admit to. If he hadn’t had pride in his family line, regardless of how tarnished since the war, he might just have stayed with Potter and kept quiet. He might have been willing to take what Potter was willing to give him.

But pride and self-preservation demanded he cut his losses and leave. How could he ever hope to find someone and have a future, have children, if he’s tied up in something that’s a dead end? A relationship that was doomed from the start?

“I found out I was the side-piece, that he has someone else who he's moving in with, and I cut my losses and came here to get away from it.”

His friends are quiet, and he wonders what they’re thinking.

He rubs at the tears on his cheeks, wishes the flow would stem so he could appear stronger than he is. So he could at least look a bit less pathetic than he is.

“You weren’t the side-piece, Draco.” The words are soft, but they carry easily across the gardens.

Draco chokes down a sob at that familiar voice saying those words, tries not to listen to his friends sharp intakes of breath, and feels frozen in place.

How is he here? How did Harry Potter somehow reach Villa Malfoy? He clearly came from the damn house itself, but he shouldn’t even know where it is, much less how to get there. He must have had help from Draco’s parents to get here unless he’s broken more than just a few laws, and some of them international and… Merlin, he can’t have. But why would Draco’s parents help him?

“How did you get here?” Draco wishes his voice didn’t waver, wishes he wasn’t mostly naked in only a swimsuit and standing around hugging himself like the world’s greatest loser.

He’d hoped never to have to face Potter again, not after…

“I… Well, uhm…” Potter’s probably doing that infuriatingly charming thing where he scratches the back of his horrible nest of hair and slouches. “I asked your parents, actually.”

Draco must have misheard him. He cannot possibly have said that he asked Draco’s parents where to find him. That’s… that’s ridiculous. Absolutely insane. It cannot possibly be true. Draco may have had the thought himself, but it’s still absolutely ridiculous.

It cannot be true, even as Draco knows it’s the only explanation. He must have misheard it because it’s bloody well insane.

Harry Potter just walked up to Malfoy Manor and asked Lucius Malfoy to please let him into Villa Malfoy? And father did? It just cannot be true.

“You what?” His throat feels tight, and anger is starting to swell besides the hurt. What gives Potter the right to come here and do whatever he feels like? Draco promised to keep quiet, didn’t he?

“Draco, please… Will you at least look at me?”

“No.” He can’t. He’ll break down again if he does, he knows he will. He needs to seem strong now, even though Potter has somehow convinced Draco’s parents to not only tell him where Draco is, but also let him gain access to their private property. Something that should absolutely have been impossible.

“Draco… I’m sorry. But it’s all a misunderstanding, love.”

“Oh, so you aren’t moving in with Ginny Weasley? You didn’t go bed shopping together? And she didn’t very clearly tell you she loves you? I must have imagined all of that then, I suppose. Silly me.” If he clenches his jaw any harder, he’s likely to start ruining his teeth, but…

He hasn’t been able to properly feel angry until now, he’s just been hurt.

“I… No, those things aren’t wrong, exactly, but you don’t know the context! Ginny’s like my sister, Draco. Yes, we used to date, but that was years ago, we broke up before the war was even over and we never got back together again after it.”

“What a convenient little explanation. So is there any particular reason you’re not going to keep living with your other friends? Or why you refused to tell me any of this? Or even that you’re renovating some place? Hmm?”

"I—!" Potter stumbles over his words and Draco snorts loudly.

“Didn’t think so.” His arms hurt where his nails are biting into the skin. He wishes they weren’t having this conversation in front of Blaise and Pansy, but he’s also glad that he’s not alone. “You might have managed to trick my parents, Potter, but you won’t find me as easy a target.”

Potter sighs loudly. “Please come here, Draco. Let’s go inside, you can get dressed, and we can have this conversation calmly over a cup of tea. I’m sure the elves can manage to make some of your favouri—!”

“Stop it! Just go away, Potter! I don’t want to go and sit down and have a cup of tea with you so you can try and lie your way out of this.” He shakes his head wildly, his sunglasses sliding down his nose from how violently he does it. “I asked you to leave me alone, and I promised not to expose you. What more could you possibly want?”

“For my boyfriend to stop being an arse and let me explain everything so we don’t break up over a misunderstanding?”

Draco whirls around. How dare Potter—!

“I’m the arse? You’re the one who wanted to keep things secret and very nearly lost your shit when you thought I’d talked about us with my friends! And then I find out through overhearing something that you’re moving in with someone you’ve been in a relationship and I overhear her confess her love to you. How the hell was I supposed to take that, Potter?”

He wishes he had another glass to throw.

“Draco, please…”

“No! I even tried to ask you what you were doing when you blew off our standing Saturday date! And you just told me to not worry about it! And then the whole thing with her happened!”

“How did you even… Did you follow us?” Potter frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, looking more like the frustrating shit he’d been in school than the man Draco had gotten to know over the last few months of their relationship.

“Bloody—! No!” He stalks up to the chairs and grabs his wand before he shoulders his way past Potter. “I explained all of that in the letter, and I will reiterate what I said in the end: piss off, Potter. I’m not having this conversation with you. You seem to be under the impression that I’m the problem here rather than your lies. Or lack of communication, in your bloody version of events.”

“Draco!” Potter hurries after Draco, but he’s not stopping. He needs to change, because he cannot handle being so exposed, both literally and figuratively, in front of Potter right now.

“Don’t follow me!” he snarls. “I’m getting dressed, and I want you out of here before I come back. Go away!”

He leaves Potter in the foyer, wonders what the hell Blaise and Pansy will think of the whole thing. After all, they kept unusually quiet during the whole thing. Draco nearly forgot they were even there in the first place.

He needs to calm down, he needs to get dressed.

He needs to think.

Even after Draco has finally put on some proper clothes—it really was more about getting some actual physical distance and walls between him and Harry than the clothing, he could use magic for that after all—he still doesn’t want to leave his room. He doesn’t want to face Blaise and Pansy, and he has little hope that Potter has actually done as Draco asked and left.

And then, with a shiver, he realises his mistake.

He left Potter with Blaise and Pansy. Potter, who’s already convinced Draco’s parents to help him follow Draco despite the fact that Draco clearly didn’t want to get contacted at all. His parents knew that, so they must have been convinced enough to go against his wishes—implied though they were.

Nausea climbs up his throat. Potter’s going to twist everyone against him, make everyone turn against him. Maybe that’s… that was the plan all along? Maybe it was all about turning everyone in Draco’s life against him?

His wand drops from nerveless fingers, his knees shake, and he slides to the floor. He covers his mouth with a hand to desperately silence the sob that forces its way out of his throat.

He can’t believe that Potter would go this far. Would… would come after Draco like this.

Draco doesn’t want to listen to his attempts of explaining all of this. There cannot possibly be an innocent explanation.

Because if there is…

Draco just went completely nuts, broke up with his boyfriend, and decided to book an impromptu vacation to mope for no damn reason. And that’s… He can’t handle that. It’s too stupid, too embarrassing, to even consider the possibility of it.

A soft knock on the door startles Draco out of his downwards spiralling thoughts. He stares at the door, waiting and saying nothing. Trying to keep his strained breathing so low whoever is on the other side of the door might even think he’s not even inside.

“Darling…” Pansy’s voice is soft. “Blaise and I have refused to let Potter explain anything—though believe me, you and I will be having words regarding the whole ‘relationship with Potter’ thing later—but… If you want to hear him out, we can be there for you.”

He doesn't want to.

He doesn't want any of it.

He wants to go back to that Thursday before he overheard Ginny Weasley's conversation. He wants to go back to being ignorant. He wants what they had before this whole thing ever happened.

He wants to go back to thinking he and Harry actually had a relationship and there was a chance for them to come clean to their friends and family, that there was a chance for them to have a relationship out in the open.

It was so recent but it still somehow feels so long ago, as if his heartache as made time slow down to an unbearable crawl and even brief spans of time stretch out into infinity.

He’s scared.

He’s a coward at heart and he knows it, and he is terrified of the thought of sitting down to let Potter talk to him about this.

It feels like a stupid thing to be afraid of, especially considering how much heartbreak he’s felt since it happened. He should be happy that maybe there can be reconciliation, that maybe he’s just misunderstood something and Harry’s a damn dingus who keeps dumb secrets.

He wonders if it’s his Malfoy pride that doesn’t want to entertain the idea of being wrong. If it’s the shameful thought of having cried himself to sleep night after night over something that wasn’t real. If his friends saw through him—the embarrassment threatens to set his face aflame even as he wants to simply crawl into a hole—then no doubt his parents did too.

They saw and oh Merlin.

"Draco?" Pansy's voice is soft, but he can hear the worry in it.

He swallows convulsively.

Perhaps he should listen. Perhaps he should… try at least, to communicate. After all… Harry blew up on him once, thinking Draco had betrayed the agreement they’d had… If he hadn’t let Dravo explain then, their relationship would likely have ended then and there. But Harry listened… And while Draco has not thought that Harry blew up in the first place for rather terrible reasons…

Perhaps he should extend Harry the same courtesy he was given at the time.

He shudders and gets to his feet, unsteady as they are.

The door swings open for him, revealing a concerned looking Pansy who’s now wearing a summer-dress. She and Blaise likely don’t want to be mostly-naked for this conversation either.

“Is he downstairs still?” His voice is little more than a croak, but Pansy hears him.

“Yes… He refused to leave, said he needs to tell you some things he should have told you before… We stopped him before he could explain any more than that, though.”

Draco nods.

Time to face his fears.

The walk back downstairs to the foyer feels like an eternity, as if time is slowing down around him as he moves, or perhaps as if he's moving towards his doom.

He's being dramatic and he knows it, but he can't help himself.

Just as they’re walking down the stairs, Draco turns his head.

“Please don’t say anything unless… Unless... Just. Please don’t say anything, okay, Pansy?”

She gives him a glare, but then she nods with a sigh. He knows that she likes to make her opinions known, but… He needs to stay quiet just this once. Blaise is better at waiting to give his opinions in private, so Draco doesn’t think he’ll need to ask him to be quiet at all.

Harry is in the foyer with Blaise, and it's first now that Draco gets any sort of good look at him. He adamantly refused to before after all.

Harry looks tired, even more rumpled and casual than usual… and sad. He looks very sad, with slumped shoulders and defeated posture.

Draco hates it. Hates that he's the one who's made Harry look like a kicked puppy. Of course, he'll hate himself even more later if this is all an act and he falls for it.

"I suppose we can go sit down in the lounge," he croaks, and watches as Harry's head flies up. He looks surprised and ecstatic, as if Draco just promised him the world.

An uncomfortable squirming feeling of guilt is starting to grow in his chest, next to the hurt, and he doesn't like it one bit.

They sit down in the opulent sofas in the lounge, and Mipsy is quick to bring Draco a cup of tea, though she leaves the rest of them for Loulou. Who, as it turns out, gives Harry a very suspicious glare as she hands over his cup of tea, as if she's not sure if he deserves it or not. So unfailingly loyal.

Pansy makes a big show of taking her cup of tea and thanking Loulou. Merlin forbid anyone forgets that she’s right there in the room with them, judging. At least Blaise is less obvious about his judginess.

Harry takes a long drink and clears his throat.

"I… I understand if you don't trust what I say, because I've realised what it has sounded like for you, but… You parents ordered two Portkeys, and Ginny and some others—including your parents—are ready to come over as soon as I send a signal… If you need Ginny to back me up."

Draco narrows his eyes.

"I'd like to listen first." If it makes him cry again, he'd rather have as little of an audience as possible.

"Right. Yeah, uhm…" Harry scratches the back of his head and leans forward into his chair, staring into his cup of tea.

Draco keeps his silence and waits. Sometimes it takes Harry a while to gather his words, and Draco would like this over with as quickly as possible. Usually he'd be needling Harry about it, but not now.

"I… I wanted to surprise you. When Ginny came to me and Ron and Hermione and asked if she and Padma—one of the Patil twins from school, you know? They're dating… Anyway, she and Padma wanted to move in because they want to live together, but they can't really afford anything on their own and Ginny's going spare in the Burrow."

Ginny Weasley… is dating Padma Patil? Draco tries to remember her, but it takes him an embarrassingly long time to recall that she's the Ravenclaw twin. Huh. Well.

"... I… Okay…?"

He's not sure what to say. If Ginny Weasley isn't dating Harry but rather Miss Patil…

"So since our lease was nearing renewal, we started looking into something bigger where we could all fit, especially since Ginny also wanted to bring Luna. Her father's in St Mungo's and she wants to live closer to the hospital and also not be alone so…" He shrugs. "That's about when I decided that maybe I should just renovate the very large wizarding house I own…"

Draco fidgets with one hand in his trousers and takes a long sip of tea before he manages to say anything.

“So why… Why didn’t you just tell me?”

If this is all there is to it, if it’s this simple and this innocent… Why would Harry have refused to tell Draco? Deflected away from it?

Maybe…. Maybe the problem isn’t that Draco is Harry’s side-bit… Maybe Draco is just more invested in their relationship than Harry. So Harry doesn’t feel the need to tell Draco about most of his life...

"I just... I don't care about what the place I live in looks like, really... But I know you do. So I wanted to live somewhere I could take you and... surprise you with a nice place. Because you've been at my current apartment a few times, and I know you haven't exactly been impressed with it." He laughs awkwardly and shrugs again. "I wasn't thinking. I fucked up. Since I wanted to keep it a secret that I wanted a nice place like that, and since I wasn't sure yet if you wanted to tell everyone about us yet, so I... I wanted to keep it secret."

Draco bites his lips but keeps quiet. He’s not going to say anything else until Harry’s finished. Probably. He’s at least going to try to not say anything and let Harry finish. It’s probably better that way, but Draco’s not sure if he’ll be able to. He does tend to interrupt Harry to be snarky but… it’s not the time right now. It really really isn’t.

“Ginny called me a dunce about it. And she’s right, because I could just have told you what was going on while keeping the fact that I was looking for something you’d like because I wanted us to… well, come clean I guess… To myself. I didn’t need to keep all of it to myself and that was so stupid of me.”

Harry sighs and runs one hand aggressively through his hair, mussing it up even worse than it usually is.

“I want to be angry that you assumed the worst and dumped me in a letter and then immediately left the country… But you actually gave me a chance to tell you what I was doing that day and I blew you off.” He laughs again then, but it sounds bitter rather than amused. “I even felt bad about it at the time, because you sounded so worried… When I got that letter I felt like the hugest dick in the world.”

Draco swallows and turns his gaze down into his lap, staring into his tea cup. He feels awful and horrible because… He believes Harry. And that means that Draco has been terrible and made Harry feel horrible and…

He needs to say something.

“Part of why I was so hurt… Was because I was planning to discuss maybe telling everyone on that Saturday… and then the whole thing just…” He shrugs and avoids looking at anyone. “I both felt heartbroken and fucking stupid… And I’m sorry for not giving you a real chance to explain yourself.”

There’s a shifting sound from Harry’s chair, so he probably shrugged.

“I guess we both fucked up… But uh… Well, I’m glad you wanted to tell everyone because… Well, I kinda have now. In my short depressive episode right after I got the letter, I ended up crying on Ron’s shoulder about it, so probably not the best way to tell him and Hermione about it. And I got to have Hermione sigh ‘Oh Harry’ at me just like old times… So.”

Draco suddenly feels a chill run down his spine.

“Oh… Oh.”

Somehow he hadn’t even been able to process the fact that everyone knows now.

“Oh Merlin, you told my parents…”

Harry told Draco’s parents that they’re dating and Draco wasn’t there to see it. Oh Circe and Morgana, Draco doesn’t even want to consider how that conversation must have gone down. Oh dear, oh no.

Harry winces, when Draco looks up at him in horror.

“Yeah… I did…” He bites his lip in that way Draco finds so damn frustrating and charming at the same time. “It was genuinely more terrifying than walking up to Voldemort to face my death. Jesus.”

Draco lets out a loud inappropriate snort of laughter at that. Only Harry would think facing down Draco’s parents and telling them about their relationship is worse than facing Voldemort himself.

He hears Pansy mutter something to herself, most likely something unflattering knowing her.

“Only you, Harry… My parents could hardly have been worse than Voldemort!”

Harry shakes his head. “You didn’t see your father’s face when I told them. I’m quite certain he was contemplating strangling me with his bare hands, not even using magic for it.” He tilts his head to the side and looks pensive. “Though I think the look your mother gave me might have been worse, like she could stare into my soul and found me lacking. It took me a few days to convince them to at least let me explain before they summarily banished me from the Manor.”

Draco snorts again.

They would have.

“I ultimately had to ask for reinforcements, because they didn’t believe me. And then both Ginny and I had to take Veritaserum. Which we had to go and buy. All of us. Because they didn’t trust that we wouldn’t switch it out or something.”

Draco hides a strangled laugh behind a cough. His parents would, wouldn’t they? They have refused to take any risks when it comes to him ever since the end of the war. He wonders if they’ll ever be willing to do so again.

“I… I suppose we should have your friends come over… I want them to corroborate your story. I just…” Draco bites his bottom lip. Maybe he should take a leap of faith and trust in the light feeling in his chest… But he remembers the hurt and despair too well, it’s so near still because it was only about thirty minutes ago he last felt it nearly crush him. He couldn’t bear to have it happen to him again.

Perhaps he and Harry won’t last the rest of their lives, he’s prepared for that… But he can’t be the side-piece, and he cannot handle being cheated on. He thinks it might kill him the next time.

“No, I… I understand.” Harry gives him a wan smile, and pulls a galleon out of his pocket. He puts his wand to it, and Draco can only assume it’s one of the coins Granger used the protean charm on back in fifth year for their little battle club.

The silence that spreads is quite awkward, and Draco doesn’t know how to break it. He doesn’t know what to say at all.

Blaise lets out a loud cough, but he doesn’t say anything. Judging from his facial expression he’s struggling a lot to keep his silence. Draco really appreciates his restraint, but he also absolutely hates the fact that both Blaise and Pansy are here for this conversation.

If Draco and Harry resolves this whole thing and their relationship comes out intact and Harry didn’t keep Draco as a side-bit… Blaise is going to give Draco so much shit about this whole thing. He is going to mock Draco’s dramatic heartbreak vacation until the end of time, and Draco has no one to blame but himself.

Draco focuses on drinking his tea and avoids looking at anyone else in the room. He’s too embarrassed to really… Merlin, this whole situation is hateful. And the worst part is that he absolutely sort of created it himself, even if Harry is definitely to blame for it too.

Draco could have not been a drama queen about it all and maybe…

The sound of multiple voices drawing near pulls Draco out of his self-deprecating thoughts and soon a very large group of people—Dear Morgana, why isn’t it just Ginny Weasley why are there so many and… why are Draco’s parents there—is following Bibi into the lounge.

“Oh my darling!” Mother says suddenly, breaking away from the group.

Draco catches his father’s eyes—he doesn’t seem angry— just before he’s swallowed into his mother’s embrace. Sweet Circe, why is she being openly affectionate like this right now? Is she trying to prove a point of some sort?

“Malfoy!” Ginny Weasley’s voice is loud and her tone is hard.

Draco stiffens in his mother’s arms, only barely daring to peak up over her shoulder at the redhead who’s pulling—ah yes, he remembers the Patil twins properly now—a lovely, dark woman behind her.

“Look. Harry’s a total dunce who doesn’t always think things through. But!” She raises her and Patil’s entwined hands into the air. “We were two bisexuals dating and we broke up before the war ever happened! And we’re both dating people of our own sex, currently. Well, unless you really did break up with Harry, I guess.”

“Ginny!” Granger sounds scandalised. Merlin’s beard, why are she and Weasley here too? Is this some sort of party he missed out on the invitations to?

“What? You know it’s true, Hermione!”

“Well, we need to be sensitive about this. Malfoy must have been terribly upset when… Well, things seemed to be like they seemed to be.”

Weasley mutters something, but Granger just elbows him in the side. If there’s something Draco hasn’t looked forward to regarding the idea of coming clean, it’s spending time with Weasley as a consequence.

"I'm just saying, Hermione, I'm genuinely surprised Malfoy Senior is calm about this." He shrugs and looks entirely unrepentant even as his girlfriend glares at him. "I expected more weirdness from him."

Of course Harry's friends live to make this whole thing as awkward as possible. Draco may just combust in his mother's arms from the sheer humiliation.

Father lets out a haughty sniff and raises his chin in the air, the very picture of affront and good breeding. And drama. Draco knows he comes by his tendencies honestly.

"As long as Mr Potter takes care of my son and makes him happy, I have no quarrel with him."

Draco's eyebrows fly towards his hairline in surprise. My, these days since Harry first came to the Manor must have let Father rant quite a lot judging by how calm he is. That's a relief.

Everyone else let out vaguely disbelieving noises and Draco can see naked disbelief on Harry's face, but no one calls Draco's father out on what is likely a barefaced lie. Is there any way for Draco's father to not have quarrel Harry, all things considered?

There's a bit of shuffling as no one seems to know what to say anymore. Draco bites his lip; he wants to talk to Harry alone, but he doesn't want to ask for it. Especially since his mother still hasn't let him go—at this point he's fairly sure that she's just doing it to embarrass him.

"Perhaps we should give Harry and Draco some time alone?" A dreamy voice says from the back of the group.

Straining to see over his mother's shoulder because her head is blocking his view, Draco sees… Bloody hell, why is Loony Lovegood here? Did everyone decide that they needed to be a part of this?

Well, whatever, at least she's being a voice of reason and logic. Right now, anyway.

"Too many people invite Nargles, and there's no chance of a good discussion then."

Draco immediately takes that back. Bloody Lovegood and her made-up creatures.

Mother finally pulls away, but not before stroking Draco's hair first.

"How about it, my darling? Do you want some time alone with Mr. Potter?"

Draco presses his lips together and gives a single nod. He doesn't actually want to voice the words, it's bad enough as it is.

"Well then!" Mother claps her hands together and turns to the rest of the group. "How about Lucius and I take you all on a bit of a trip around Nice to show you the sights? But before that, let's head upstairs. We're not dressed properly for such an excursion. Come along now."

Without giving anyone any time to argue, Narcissa herds everyone out of the room. Lucius just has a dutifully placid-but-interested look on his face. Mother's taken charge far more often since the Second War ended and Father has clearly just learned to accept it and go along with it. Of course, between the two of them, Mother's made fewer bad decisions. That must surely count for something.

Before long, Draco is left alone in the lounge with Harry.

Draco shifts in his seat and looks up at Harry who's been staring at him almost all this time.

He pats the sofa next to him and watches as Harry lights up like a small child on Christmas before he makes his way over and sits down. They're pressed together all along their sides—Harry has never cared much for personal space—and Draco can smell him. It’s as if they’re right back to where they were on Thursday evening, pressed together and listening to their wireless drama.

“I’m sorry,” Draco says, the words barely more than a whisper.

“Draco?” Harry’s voice is soft. Draco is sure that Harry’s probably quite surprised, because Draco doesn’t generally like apologising and he doesn’t do it often. Usually his apologies are indirect and implied, but…

This is too important for that. He needs to swallow his pride and accept that he fucked up. He was distrustful and basically ended up breaking his own heart.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats the words, stronger this time. “I should have… I should have tried to talk to you.”

Harry takes his hand then, and squeezes it.

“You tried, Draco. You did try to talk to me and I blew you off. We both fucked up here. I should have been open with you and you should have tried being explicit… Besides, I know that you’re dramatic, and that sometimes you get away from yourself like this.” He laughs softly. “It’s one of the things I love about you. If I couldn’t handle you being dramatic, we wouldn’t have made it as far as we did before all of this in the first place.”

Draco finds himself leaning into Harry side, letting out a small sigh of contentment. He wants things to go back to the way things were before this whole thing, but… Considering everyone knows now, it can’t. They’re no longer a secret.

“I’m sorry too, Draco.” Harry presses his lips to Draco’s hair. “I just… I wanted to surprise you and…”

Draco smiles and leans in closer, squeezing Harry’s hand. “Were you trying to spoil me?”

“Uhm... Maybe a bit.” Harry sounds a bit embarrassed. “I thought maybe you’d like that.”

And Draco had thought Harry wasn’t the spoiling type. Clearly he’s been wrong about a lot of things lately. All the more fool is he.

“I do.” Draco laughs. “I absolutely would like being spoiled rotten… But perhaps we can try and keep surprises on a more… short time-frame and make sure that they don’t get leaked out of context?”

Harry laughs then too, that charming full-belly laugh of his.

As their laughter dies down, Draco sighs again and squeezes Harry’s hand once more. He’s… relieved and happy. But considering how awful he felt after ending their relationship… He doesn’t want to consider how he’d feel if they broke up in the future.

“Are we… okay? I mean, uhm… Are we broken up or…?” Harry says as the silence has lasted for a short while.

Draco considers the question. He doesn't want them to be broken up, not anymore, not now that he knows that hasn't actually been Harry's side-piece and that it was all a misunderstanding.

Draco shifts in his seat. “I think we need to have that conversation… The one we probably would have had regarding telling everyone about our relationship in the first place.”

Harry frowns. “Why? I mean… I already told everyone… Which, I mean, I guess if you want to talk about that, since I didn’t ask first, then we could but, uhm…”

Draco shakes his head and smiles. Harry’s general obliviousness can, at times, be frustrating, but it can also be incredibly charming. And sometimes it’s both. At least to Draco.

“I was always thinking that when we discussed that… We’d also be discussing where we see the relationship going… If we think… If we think that it’s going to be a long term one… That’s why we kept it secret in the first place, isn’t it? So we could get a feel for it without external pressures.”

If Draco misunderstood that, he’s probably going to need to lie down and reconsider his whole life. But he can’t have. He can’t have. He knows that’s what they decided, that’s what they said so of course that must have been the plan all along.

“Oh!” Harry looks genuinely surprised. “Yeah, that’s true. I guess… I guess I just assumed that we were in it for the long-haul, you know?”

Draco blinks at him, and feels a blush coming on, heating up his cheeks. He can’t believe… well, it is rather typical of Harry, isn’t it?

Still… There are important topics for them to discuss, and Draco can’t hide them away. Not now, not when they came so close to losing everything…

“I want children.”

Harry splutters, and likely would have spit out any food or drink he had in his mouth, so Draco feels almost entirely too relieved that they finished their tea earlier.

“Now?!” Harry’s eyes are huge.

“No! Not now! Merlin, Harry. We almost-mostly just broke up, and we’ve dated for a little less than a year. Of course I didn’t mean now.” As if Draco would have children outside of a marriage anyway. And truly, their relationship is far too new for talking about that.

Harry hasn’t even survived a Saturday Brunch with his parents yet.

“Then why did you bring it up now?” Harry runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further.

Draco rolls his eyes. “Because, for me, ‘in it for the long haul’, as you put it, means at the very least an attempt at ‘for the rest of our lives’, in which case we really should go into it with similar expectations regarding children, shouldn’t we?”

Relationships have ended for less than that, after all.

“Oh. Well, uh… Yeah, I want kids. Someday. Not now, but someday.” Harry scratches his cheek and shrugs, but he’s still frowning slightly.

Draco looks at him imploringly. “I’m… I’m going to want to raise them… Well… I’m not going to be teaching them any of the blood supremacist nonsense, you know how I feel about that, but… I do want to teach them about pureblood customs and… Well, history and culture and familial history. I want to raise them as a Malfoy… Just… Without the horrific blood supremacist ideals and assholery.”

But he’d need Harry to be on board with it, if it were to be their children, rather than Draco’s children with someone else. Draco couldn’t take Harry’s children from him even if he wanted to, no custody court in the wizarding world would ever favour Draco Malfoy over Harry Potter.

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know any of that stuff though, I think you’d need to explain it better for me before I could really… say anything about it.”

“That’s… That’s fair, Harry.” And it is. It’s better than anything Draco could have hoped for, after all. And even that concession is enough for Draco to feel comfortable to continue being together with Harry, because Harry’s not immediately against the idea.

And that means everything.

“But… Wait a second. I’m a halfblood. If we had kids, why would we teach them pureblood customs?”

Draco shrugs his shoulder.

“Our children would still be considered pureblood, Harry. Both your parents were magical… And besides, you wouldn’t be the first halfblood spouse in the Malfoy family tree.” He gives an elegant shrug with one shoulder.

“What?” Harry looks genuinely gobsmacked, which makes Draco smile a bit.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, and a lot of the members of my family have been… Well. Stringent. But overall? In the context of the rest of the Sacred Twenty-Eight? The Malfoy Family has always been one of the least stringent. We’ve always known the importance of fresh blood, thus we’ve always accepted magical spouses with magical parents, pureblood or not.”

“Wait… Really?” Harry scratches the back of his head. “By the Black family… and…”

Draco shakes his head. “The Black and the Lestranges, for example, are among the most extreme, Harry. That’s why they intermarried so much not just among each other, but also within their own families.” He shrugs again. “No one’s as extreme as the Gaunts, though. They intermarried with siblings and first cousins until they inbred themselves into their entire family line going extinct.”

“Oh wow… that’s uh…” Harry looks a bit shifty. “Voldemort was a Gaunt.”

Which… What? Morgana’s tits. What did Harry just say? He cannot possibly be serious.

“Voldemort was a Gaunt?” Draco shakes his head. “The family line went to tatters before Voldemort would’ve been born, he can’t have been…”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know the full details, but his mother’s name was Merope Gaunt.” He doesn’t seem to want to get more into it, and honestly, Draco doesn’t mind. He’d rather not be discussing bloody Voldemort anyway.

Though…

“I suppose that fits.”

“What fits?” Harry blinks at him, looking so charmingly confused.

Draco smiles slightly.

“Well, Voldemort being a Gaunt of course. He was absolutely mad, and considering that family line bred itself asunder… Fitting.”

It has Harry laughing loudly, though Draco doesn’t think it was quite that funny. However, he does always enjoy it when Harry finds amusement in his wit. It’s very pleasing.

“Enough about him, though. I don’t want to talk about bloody Voldemort right now. Or ever.”

Harry’s laugh quiets down and he gives a small shrug.

“Well… As long as I’d get a veto on something that I find terrible, I wouldn’t mind. I mean, you’d get a veto the same way back at me, I guess…” He scratches the stubble on his chin. “I feel like raising children should be a joint venture and something where we need to work together as a team. Besides, aren’t relationships about compromising?”

Draco just laughs.

“Only as long as what you compromise on isn’t your happiness.”

That has Harry smiling that soft smile of his, the one he likes putting on when they’re cuddling—bloody sap that he is.

“I like the sound of that.”

Draco lies curled up against Harry's side and takes a long sip of tea before he sighs contentedly. The fire is sparking and lovely to watch, it creates a perfect atmosphere for the detective drama on the wireless. They’ve missed a few episodes, sure, but that’s not a problem. It’s an episodic drama anyway.

Draco burrows in closer and smiles as Harry’s arm wraps around his shoulders and he feels lips press against his head. What a sap.

By the time they’re out of tea, their program is over and Harry is stretching his arms over his head.

“I suppose I need to head out now,” he murmurs. “I have an early morning tomorrow.”

He gets to his feet and Draco follows him, like a moth drawn to a flame.

“Of course…” he murmurs, running his fingers down Harry’s arm. Oh Merlin, Draco is so gone on this man. Truly, it’s ludicrous.

At least he can rest assured in the fact that Harry is equally gone with him. As Draco slides his arms around Harry’s shoulders, he revels in the feeling of Harry’s hands on his waist.

“Can’t you stay?” he murmurs just before he presses his lips against Harry’s.

It’s not until they come up for air much later that Harry finally replies.

“I can.”

Draco can’t stop the happy laugh he huffs out against Harry’s lips. In fact, he doesn’t want to stop it.

He’s happy.

And Harry stays.