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Harry eyed the long, pale fingers playing with the hem of an expensive robe sleeve, a nervous gesture from his boyfriend that he always thought endearing.
“Are you sure I look all right?” Draco asked for the fourth time that evening as he threw him a side glance.
Amused, Harry shook his head with a little laugh. If he had to be honest, Draco looked more than all right today. His hair was styled neatly, but still casual enough to not look out of place for a simple dinner invitation before a sleepover. The light hair had grown long enough to frame Draco’s pointy face, and was tousled to the side in graceful waves. The light coming from Harry’s house lighted up his pale skin, and the sight was something Harry wanted to remember forever.
“Stop staring at me like that, you cretin, I’m serious!” Draco hissed and promptly pouted, making Harry laugh harder.
“You know I always think you’re beautiful no matter what.”
“Yes, but tonight is a special occasion and I need you to be objective just this one time,” he said with a scowl.
“Would you believe me if I said you look absolutely perfect tonight?”
“No.”
“Well, you do,” Harry said, his tone casual but genuine. “Come on. How long are we going to stand in front of my house?”
Harry grabbed his hand to drag him in, but Draco resisted. “Wait, I’m so nervous right now. What if they hate me?”
“The odds of Mum and Dad hating you is smaller than Gryffindor beating us at the Quidditch Cup next year.” Harry grinned. “It’s going to be all right, you’re just overthinking it. We survived the Manor, remember? This is going to be a piece of cake compared to that.”
Draco gave him an unimpressed look. “Firstly, Gryffindor has a solid chance of beating us especially when our Seeker spends more time planning stupid Hogsmeade dates than practising,” he said with a meaningful gaze. “Secondly, I don’t like your optimism. We barely made it out of the Manor alive and you know Father won’t leave you alone next time.”
Harry would like to disagree. In his humble opinion, he did a brilliant job behaving in front of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Well, okay, maybe not brilliant per se, but it was decent enough. Mr Malfoy may or may not have almost exploded at the dinner table when Harry accidentally blurted out his plan to marry Draco right after Hogwarts. Draco did inform him beforehand that his father was not a big fan of the Potters in the first place, so he’d be better off staying quiet and letting Lucius warm up to his presence. But was it really Harry’s fault that he was a boy with a clear vision for his future and he wanted to let it show? He thought in-laws would like someone who planned ahead.
He didn’t understand why the Malfoy patriarch had stormed out of the room. At least Draco’s mother appeared to accept him. She didn’t hate him straight away, and after that wedding plan slip, she patiently told him that going into Sixth Year wasn’t the best time to think about marriage—which Harry thought was fair enough. He should just begin to seriously consider it next year instead.
Throughout all this, Draco had sat on his chair in silence, face red and mortified. Still, if anyone asked Harry, he would say the first meeting went arguably fine.
“Well, we have to always look at the bright side. Your mum was right, we’re still quite young, we’ve got two years left in Hogwarts to plan for our marriage and get your father’s blessing and after that—”
He was cut short when the front door of the Potter cottage swung open, revealing Dad with his eyebrows raised high.
“Did I hear someone’s getting married?”
Draco’s head whipped round so fast, and his unimpressed frown instantly turned into a startled face. “Oh!” he gasped. “Good evening, Mr Potter.”
“Just James, please,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “The sound of Mr Potter makes me feel old.”
“Well, you are old, Dad,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.
Dad pointedly ignored him in favour of addressing Draco. “So, you’re the one and only Draco Malfoy, right?” He leaned closer, grinning. “From the great stories I heard from my son, you might as well hang the stars in the Draco constellation yourself!”
“Uhh...” Draco stammered, leaning back.
“Harry always told me this one story where he had to complete this set of quests more dangerous than the Triwizard Tournament just to win your heart. I’m convinced he made it all up, but he insists it’s true. Is it?” Dad asked, grinning.
Draco’s jaw dropped. He glanced at Harry for help, but before Harry could rescue his boyfriend from his nosy father, another voice piped up.
“Leave the poor boy alone, James.” A ginger head popped up from one side of the front door. Mum smiled warmly at them. “I was just wondering what took you two so long. I thought you decided to elope right after leaving Wiltshire.”
“Seems like they almost did,” Dad said with a snicker.
“Well, then continue your grand planning for elopement inside, please. Dinner’s ready.” Lily ordered them in as she dragged her husband by the arm, whilst muttering, “You’re gonna scare your son’s boyfriend away,” under her breath.
Harry turned to Draco, looking stunned from his parents’ sudden ambush. He couldn’t help a grin spreading on his face from his boyfriend’s adorable expression.
“See? They’re head over heels for you already,” Harry said, nudging Draco’s side.
“Harry,” Draco whispered, very much scandalised, “what quest ?”
Laughing quietly, Harry took his hand and pulled him inside. “I’ll explain at the dinner table.” He steered Draco through a narrow hallway to their dining room, dragging him to walk faster when Draco’s eyes wandered to embarrassing pictures of him as a baby on the wall.
Dad and Mum were already seated at the table, both pairs of eyes watching them with interest. As soon as Harry and Draco joined them, Mum flicked her wand and the meals on the table started flying and rearranging on every place in front of each of them, piling neatly with just the right portion. It was a simple spell that Harry was so familiar with throughout his life, he had watched his mum do at every meal, yet Draco gasped. Thinking about the creepy-looking house-elves serving their dinner at Malfoy Manor, Harry supposed Draco wasn’t familiar with household spells like this one.
He glanced just in time to catch a fascination gleam in those grey eyes. The wonder he found in them spread warmth all through his chest.
“We weren’t sure what to prepare, Harry only said you liked French food, which was a bit vague,” Mum said, throwing a look at Harry who shrugged in return. “I hope you like chicken cordon bleu.”
“This is absolutely lovely, Mrs Potter,” Draco said with his posh and polite tone, but Harry could hear that he was being earnest.
“I’m glad. Also, please just call me Lily,” she replied with a warm smile. Her smile turned mischievous when she eyed her husband and cocked an eyebrow. “You have to know that James insisted on making French toast for dinner before I took over the cooking duty. He really had no idea.”
“Hey! It can’t get any more French than that! It has French in the name,” Dad said, crossing his arms.
Draco laughed in surprise, and his initial tension seemed to ebb away instantly. Soon, Harry and his mum joined in, laughing openly at still pouting James.
James narrowed his eyes at his son. “You’re one to talk. When I asked you what kind of food, you said ‘I don’t know, French fries?’. You’re even worse.”
Draco laughed harder, his hand slapping Harry’s arm lightly at the sight of the blush spreading on Harry’s cheeks. In his defence, Harry hadn’t realised at the time that French fries weren’t fancy delicacies made by deep frying rarely found snails in the finest olive oil or something. No one told him it was just chips . Who the hell named fried potato French fries ? Not the French, Harry would bet.
“Oh.” Draco straightened up when his laugh had died down. “I almost forgot, I brought something for you.” He presented a paper bag which James took with raised eyebrows.
“Wine!” he exclaimed, pulling out a bottle of expensive-looking wine. Harry squinted a little to read the label, but it was in a language that was certainly not English. “I don’t know much about wine, but this looks like a fine kind,” he continued with a tilted head.
“Mother chose it, she hoped it would suit your taste,” Draco said, the corners of his lips curled in a tentative smile.
“Narcissa Malfoy is a woman of taste,” Mum said appreciatively, taking the bottle and peering at the label. “Did she like the biscuits I baked?”
“She hardly got any. Draco ate most of them,” Harry quipped, grinning at Draco’s glare.
“Mother liked them a lot. You’re truly an excellent baker,” Draco said. Harry held back a yelp from a kick under the table.
Lily only shook her head in amusement. “Harry also said that you have a sweet tooth,” she said kindly. “I might have more prepared for our dessert later.”
The entire table could see how Draco visibly perked up at that, and Harry had to physically restrain himself from cooing at his adorable boyfriend. Draco hated it when Harry called him adorable, but honestly, how could he not when Draco practically radiated with excitement from the first mention of sweets?
True to Harry’s expectation, the rest of the dinner went really well. Draco could be very likeable when he wanted to be and Harry’s parents were easily charmed. Thinking about it now, Harry had known him too well from the years they shared a dormitory together that charming his parents would be child’s play for Draco. He was that good. When he wanted his friends to see him as their leader, he would exude the needed charisma to achieve that. When he for some reasons wanted his juniors to fear him, he would effortlessly appear threatening in front of them. When he wanted the teachers to be in his favour, he would simply act like the model student they wanted him to be.
For most, it might seem like Draco was manipulative and cunning, but that was just how good he was with people. It didn’t matter to Harry how Draco acted around anyone else, because he knew what Draco was like on the inside.
The dramatic, clever and unexpectedly warm lover of sweets. Harry knew he could always count on Draco to be himself around him.
Later, Mum brought a big plate of mouth-watering apple tart for dessert. They were all savouring the sweetness melting on their tongues whilst listening to Draco recounting the stressful days leading up to their recent OWLs, making the boring tale a lot more interesting with his animated hand gestures and captivating expressions.
“The anxiety was so thick in our dungeon,” he narrated. “Everyone was so stressed, it seemed like there just wasn’t enough time to revise all our materials. We fifth-years stayed up late every night to study together. Pansy swallowed her pride and asked for Granger’s notes, Greg and Vincent studied harder than they ever had before, Theo and Blaise… well, they kept a nonchalant fa ç ade in front of us, but I know they were secretly panicking, too.”
Dad leaned forwards in his seat. “Let me guess, you’re about to reach the part when Harry got himself in trouble in the middle of all that.”
“You know him too well,” Draco said with a laugh. “So, yeah, we were all stressed out, but no one was even near as restless as Harry. It was almost like the whole Wizarding world would crumble if he failed the exam.” Warmth bloomed in Harry’s chest when Draco paused to give him a teasing yet fond look. “But I suppose he deserves credit for his creativity. During his revision, he charmed every object in the Slytherin common room to recite various lists of potions ingredients whenever it was touched. And I mean, every object. The sofa, the table, the rug, every single book on the shelves. You can’t possibly imagine how noisy it was when the spells went wrong and all those objects chanted the names of magical plants all at once without any context. Now, consider that combined with our initial stress and you have an idea of how much everyone hated Harry at that moment.”
Harry’s parents laughed, shaking their heads at the image of their only son being a common enemy of all his housemates. Harry, on the other hand, suppressed a shudder remembering the murderous look on Pansy’s face when she was a breath away from strangling him to death in the middle of their magically screaming common room.
“But that sounds like decent charm work,” Lily commented after, arching her brow.
“Oh, yes, it was. Professor Flitwick was very impressed,” Draco said. “But Professor Snape definitely wasn’t. The charm was irreversible for a whole week and he had to deal with us Slytherins collectively losing our minds. It was the first time I saw Professor Snape so defeated. He begged Professor McGonagall to take Harry to her House because, he said and I quote, ‘A Potter isn’t supposed to be in Slytherin’.”
That amused Dad more than Harry thought was appropriate. He threw his head back and guffawed, banging his fist onto the table.
“Oh, Merlin, poor Severus,” James gasped. “He must hate me so much for sending Harry to him. A Potter will always be his nightmare.”
“Hush, James.” Lily shoved his shoulder lightly, but she was also smiling.
Harry heard enough of his parent’s history to know that his father and Snape weren’t the best of friends during their school years. They were petty rivals for every aspect possible: academic, Quidditch, House Cup pride, and later their love for his mum. Whilst their rivalry was mostly harmless, it grew increasingly bitter especially after Mum chose Dad and made it clear that she only saw Snape as her friend. Snape didn’t take it too well, which was a little too apparent from his obvious dislike for Harry ever since he was sorted into his House.
At first, Harry hated being in Slytherin as much as his Head of House hated him there. His father had told him so many good stories of his days in Gryffindor and Harry longed to experience it for himself when he got into Hogwarts.
That view soon changed as he grew close with his now-boyfriend. Now, being in Slytherin meant peaceful nights in the dungeon with Draco, getting up to mischief during the day, the hours spent flying together above the field clad in dark emerald, and then the early days when his feelings for Draco grew.
Yes, Snape could give him all the detentions he wanted for every little inconvenience Harry caused him, but he could never make Harry regret being sorted into Slytherin and meeting the love of his life.
“Anyway,” Lily interrupted his thought, throwing him and Draco a knowing look in turn. “I heard about the reason why Harry was trying so hard for his OWLs and I think it was really brilliant of you to push him like that.” She smiled at Draco.
“Oh, of course, the bet!” James exclaimed, snickered to himself, then added, “you’re a really good influence on Harry, boy.”
Draco opened his mouth, but before he could say something, Harry beat him to it. “You have no idea, Dad, Draco is ruthless ,” he said. “A full year ban on Hogsmeade dates if I get a P, a full year ban of all kinds of dates if I get a D, and a heartless break-up if I get a T. Can you believe he put our relationship on the line just for my stupid OWLs?”
“Well, I call it inspiring the best in others,” Draco said with a smirk. “Besides, I’m not putting our relationship on the line. I was confident that even you wouldn’t mess up too badly and get a T.”
“What do you mean, even me ?” Harry said in mock outrage. Draco only shook his head and reached out to pat Harry’s arm. “Watch me get more Os than you and you’ll be wearing that matching jumper for the whole winter.”
“You know it’s not going to happen,” Draco said, grinning.
Dad smiled at them from his seat opposite, then leaned forwards to put his chin on his palm. “Oh, young love,” he sighed dreamily. He turned to Harry’s mum who began piling the dirty dishes with her spell. “This reminds me of how we used to be, don’t you think?”
She hummed, tilting her head. “I can see the resemblance,” she commented. “You wouldn’t have got Head Boy and probably would’ve ended up as a hooligan throughout your Hogwarts years without me. Seems like a Potter in every generation needs someone to steer them to the right path or else they’d be lost in their own stupidity.”
“Hey!” Harry and his dad exclaimed at the same time, prompting a laugh from Draco.
“No, but really, I’m so glad that you’re both together,” she said, her voice soft. “Harry always talked about how you make him really happy and that’s everything a parent could ever ask for. It's truly lovely to meet you at last. You're very sweet together.”
A pretty blush crept across Draco’s cheeks as he listened to her words. “Ah, thank you so much for saying that, I feel truly honoured,” he said shyly and glanced at Harry with a tiny smile. Harry felt like his chest was ready to burst from pride and joy.
With amusement glinting in his eyes, Dad remarked, “I have to be honest, when Harry told me he was dating a Malfoy, I was a bit sceptical. Not only did he get himself sorted into Slytherin, but he also decided to date someone from the most aristocratic pure-blood family there is.” He stopped to raise his hand when Harry opened his mouth to interrupt. “But after meeting you in person, I can see why Harry is so head-over-heels for you. The way I see it, so long as my son is happy, then I’m happy, too.” He paused for a moment, the gleam in his eyes turned mischievous. “And your hair is admittedly a lot better than Lucius Malfoy’s, so there is that. Really glad you took after your mother.”
“Shut it.” She shoved his shoulder again, rolling her eyes.
In spite of all the teasing, Harry could see how pleased Draco was with the warm acceptance from his parents. His thin lips curled up in a delighted smile and his grey eyes were shining in both glee and relief. As the last of the worry dissipated from his boyfriend, Harry felt warm with contentment. At the moment, he wanted nothing but to rush to Draco’s side and gather him in a big hug.
But apparently, their conversation was not over yet.
Dad snapped his fingers to get their attention again. “Now, now, enough of being sappy. You two still need to tell me about that quest more dangerous than the Triwizard Tournament.”
“This is the summer holidays, why are you still reading?”
Draco, propped up on Harry’s pillows in his soft-looking pyjamas, looked up from his book with an arched brow. “There is this thing called recreational reading. You might want to try it sometime.”
“ Animal Farm ?” Harry peered at the cover after he jumped on his bed next to Draco. “Is it a children’s storybook? An Animagus story like Babbity Rabbity?”
Amused, Draco shook his head and turned his eyes back to his book. “No, dummy, it’s a Muggle classic.”
Harry’s brows shot up. “Like that depressing story about an orphan you read last month? Who wrote it again, Dickish?”
“ Dickens .” He rolled his eyes. “And the boy’s name is ‘Oliver Twist’. And no, this isn’t like that at all. It’s a fascinating satire about the evolution of communism during the USSR era when—”
Feeling a potential headache forming just from Draco’s description about the book, Harry snatched it from under his boyfriend’s nose and put it on his bedside table.
“Hey!”
“Come on, it’s a perfectly fine summer night and we’re on my bed and all you want to do is read about Muggle’s politics?” Harry whined, nudging Draco’s shoulder.
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Your parents let me sleep on your bed because they expect me to be the responsible one between the two of us and I won’t betray their trust. No funny business tonight, Potter. Move away.” He shoved Harry away.
Pouting, Harry shifted back to his side of the bed, making an appropriate distance between them but still close enough that he could easily touch Draco’s bare arm only by outstretching his hand a little. Draco gave him an approving look and reached behind him to get his book back, but Harry took his wrist halfway and intertwined their hands.
“Harry—”
“Okay, no funny business, but how about a fun one?” Harry asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
Draco looked at him sceptically. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well, since my parents already knew about how we got together—”
“I can’t believe you dubbed your disastrous effort to do a pure-blood courtship, one I—and in fact no one in the last ten generations—asked for, as a quest ,” Draco groaned. “And you told your parents about it!”
“You loved it. I risked my life and it was the most romantic thing ever,” Harry said with absolute certainty, grinning.
“I assuredly didn’t. You dived into the lake with the help of smuggled Gillyweed, earned both of us detention, and the pebble you got from the bottom wasn’t even magical,” Draco stated. “You could’ve, I don’t know, asked me out on a date to the Three Broomsticks like any other normal student.”
“But then we wouldn’t have had a great story to tell to our future grandchildren.”
Draco groaned again, defeated, and flopped back onto his pillow, face first. Harry couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. He was aware the quest was a stupid choice on his part, but knew Draco found it amusing most of the time. And very flattering. His boyfriend had quite an ego and Harry wouldn’t have settled for less to get his heart.
“What I’m trying to say is,” Harry said, tugging Draco’s hand in his, “since my parents already knew about how we got together, it’s only fair that I tell you about their story, too.”
That seemed to piqued Draco’s interest. The blond head turned a little, letting one grey eye peek from behind his light lashes at Harry. “You know how they got together?” he asked, his brow arched.
“Of course,” Harry replied with a smile, “and it’s a good one.”
Lily Evans was re-evaluating her life decisions.
Last week, when James asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him, hazel eyes big and pleading, she tentatively agreed. By then, the Head Boy had asked her no less than a dozen times and she had run out of ideas to turn him down. It wasn’t as though she didn’t like him, because she secretly did—especially lately when he had left his troublemaker badge and turned to be the model student every teacher ever dreamed, perfecting his natural charm as the school heartthrob. It was just that Lily wasn’t sure if she wanted to hang out with James in public.
And now the reason was clear.
Across from her at one of the tables in the Three Broomsticks, James Potter sat, leaning forwards in enthusiasm, a stupid grin on his handsome face, and a stack of flashcards in his hand. Lily eyed the cards with an exasperated look.
“We have known each other for over six years, there’s no need to play Twenty Questions,” she said, barely resisting from rolling her eyes.
“But this is our first official date, of course there are more things to learn about each other,” replied James, all smiles and innocence.
“Like what?”
James flipped his flashcards. “Indoor or beach wedding?”
Three fifth-year students at the next table whipped their heads at the mention of ‘wedding’ and Lily wanted to smack her head on the wall. She was used to James blurting out the stupid things that crossed his mind—his head was a magical place after all—but that didn’t make it less embarrassing when people overheard. This time, it wasn’t even a random thought, James wrote inappropriately forward questions down on flashcards and planned to shamelessly ask them all.
She should have known the date was a bad idea.
When he finally realised Lily wasn’t going to answer, he wasn’t deterred in the slightest. He just shrugged and flipped to another card.
“Do you prefer a son or a daughter? And how many children?”
Someone from the next table was openly snickering this time and Lily felt her cheeks burn. She looked around and tried to find an excuse to escape this mortifying date before it turned even more disastrous. Before she could find one, someone barged into the pub and approached their table.
“Evans, Potter!”
Lily recognised the witch. Elena Winterbell was a fifth-year Hufflepuff who played Seeker for her house’s Quidditch team, and was a sweet and responsible girl everyone loved.
“What’s wrong, Elena?” Lily asked, noticing her dishevelled pixie-cut hazel hair.
“You both need to help, Alex and Lucas are at it again,” Elena answered breathlessly.
James put his cards in his robe pocket and looked up, a frown forming on his face. “What are they up to this time?”
“Fighting,” Elena said, ‘ as usual’ unspoken in her tone, “in the square. People are gathering.” She furrowed her brow. “But the tension escalated and I have a feeling things can get messy any second now.”
Nodding, James threw Lily a look and got up to his feet, placing a few coins on their table to pay for their drinks. He offered her his hand and tugged her to follow Elena.
As she walked quickly along the pavement in Hogsmeade, Lily wondered how bad it was this time for Elena to find them for help. Everyone in Hogwarts knew Alex Silverthorn and Lucas Quilt and their endless feud. Both of them were Fifth Years, Lucas a fellow Gryffindor and Alex a Slytherin, and they hated each other the moment they stepped foot on Hogwarts grounds. No one really knew what the bottom of their hostility towards each other was—it could be their differing family backgrounds or their clashing perspectives—people only knew that hated each other. Personally, Lily saw their constant bickering simply as the result of their hotheadedness combined with petty rivalry. Whatever it was, it had lasted for almost five years by now, and if anything, it seemed to only get murkier the longer it persisted.
They were nearing the square and the crowd was bigger than she had expected. She could hardly see the fighting boys, hidden behind a sea of anxiously whispering students and villagers alike, but the shouting from each side was clearly heard.
“Scared, Quilt?” Alex’s voice carried across the square; Lily could even picture the smirk accompanying the bait on the Slytherin’s face. “Afraid I’ll hurt your delicate, little arse?”
“You wish, Silverthorn,” Lucas spat back, practically growling.
James dragged Lily as they pushed their way through the crowd. When they made it to the centre, they were horrified to find that Lucas and Alex had their wands out, pointing at each other in a duelling pose. The anxious muttering rose louder.
James shouted, “Hey—”
In Lily’s eyes, what happened next felt like a slow motion. Alex opened his mouth and jerked his wand, a spell ready on his tongue, but Lucas beat him to it. He violently waved his wand in a slashing motion and cried, “ Incido !”
The whole square froze as a red spark flew out from the tip of Lucas’s wand and reached Alex’s chest in a blink of an eye. The red spark smoothly tore his robe and the pale skin beneath it. Alex’s eyes widened in shock, mouth open in a silent scream, as he stumbled and fell hard onto his back.
It took two seconds before blood began dripping from the exposed skin. And there was so much of it, red spreading on the remains of Alex’s robe, some even splattered to the cobblestoned ground of the square. Everyone in the crowd gasped.
Lily felt like fainting. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand seeing, it was blood. And now there was so much red in her vision, making her legs tremble from the sight.
She was vaguely aware of James gripping her arm. “Look away,” James said quietly before leaving her side to rush to the lying figure on the ground.
“You two!” James shouted at a pair of stunned Ravenclaws from the front of the crowd. “Bring Madam Pomfrey here, now!” They didn’t move, both still frozen in shock. “Snap out of it! Bring Madam Pomfrey!”
They jerked themselves out of their reverie, looked at each other in stunned confusion for another second, and then hastily set off.
“You over there!” James called a bunch of Gryffindors watching the event in horror. “Tell Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Slughorn now!”
As the students left, James turned back to Alex, panic clearly etched on his face as the boy panted in fear and pain, looking down at his bloodied torso. “It’s going to be all right,” James murmured, as he leaned down and placed his hand on Alex’s shoulder. He addressed the crowd again, “Is there anyone here who can perform a healing spell?”
People looked at one another and no one answered for a few moments until a lady shouldered her way to the front
“I can’t heal him but I can try to stop the bleeding,” an old witch said.
James nodded and gestured to her to come. The old witch quickly joined him on the ground and cast a few spells with her wand. Lily could see relief flooding James’s face when the blood gradually stopped dripping down Alex’s body.
Standing up, James looked across the square, at Lucas who stood motionless right where he cast his spell before, too stupefied to move. Lucas’s eyes were wide with his own fear, his face pale as he watched the event unfold.
Before James could say anything, Madam Pomfrey appeared in the square, the two Ravenclaws who were sent to call her trailing behind. A moment later, Dumbledore, McGonagall and Slughorn arrived as well, and took over the situation. Madam Pomfrey tended to Alex’s wounds, minimising the damage and nodding in approval at the emergency spell the old witch from Hogsmeade cast on him. Slughorn and Dumbledore told the crowd to disperse whilst McGonagall threw a menacing glare at Lucas.
“We will have a long talk about this, Mr Quilt,” she said before helping Madam Pomfrey move Alex back to the castle.
The people crowding the square began leaving one by one. James and Lily watched them for a while before walking to Lucas who was still unmoving from his spot.
“I—I didn’t mean to—” Lucas stammered.
“But you did,” James said plainly, his voice neutral. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, a little bloodied from where he touched Alex earlier, and bent down a little to look straight into his eyes. “I don’t know what led up to that, or what your excuse was, but you did hurt him.”
Lucas’s face turned impossibly paler. He looked like he was about to burst into tears.
James’s expression softened a little and he nudged Lucas forwards, pointing at the retreating figures of their professors. “Have some courage. Aren’t you a Gryffindor? Follow them and be responsible for your actions. Apologise and work on your issues with Alex when he gets better.”
Lucas gulped, looking as though he would rather just curl up right there and cry. Wiping the sleeve of his robe on his eyes, he nodded weakly. He stared at James for a moment before he went after Alex and their professors back to Hogwarts, head low in shame. James watched him walk away and sighed.
And Lily watched the whole thing, finding herself not able to look away despite the command from James. It took a few more seconds for James to seemingly remember his date. He snapped his head and looked around the deserted square only to find Lily rooted to the spot where he left her earlier. James’s eyes widened a little as he quickly jogged to her.
“Are you okay, Lil?” he asked gently, peering at her through his dark lashes.
She wanted to answer that she was indeed fine, but she couldn’t find her voice. Her eyes caught the red blood smearing on James’s hand and robes, and she winced involuntarily.
James looked down at himself and frowned. “Oh, sorry,” he murmured. After trying to Scourgify it a few times to no avail, he took off his robes—leaving only a thin shirt and trousers—despite the cold temperature and rumpled the stained fabric, wrapping his hands inside it to hide the blood on them. “Um, is it still bothering you? Can I walk you back to the castle?” He looked at Lily in concern. “Or I can find Sirius, Pete and Remus to walk you, they must be here somewhere.”
“No,” Lily said, her voice small. She cleared her throat. “No, it’s okay. Let’s… let’s just go back together.”
She held James’s arm, ignoring the surprised expression on his face from the unusually intimate gesture, and tugged him to start walking. Silently, they returned to Hogwarts, the unforgettable memory of their first date carved in their hearts.
The silly James Potter who could always be relied on at times like this. The dorky Gryffindor with bad hair and tendencies to embarrass people around him, but also very caring and gentle and unexpectedly mature.
Lily finished evaluating her life decisions. Dating James Potter was one of the best she had made so far.
Harry ended his story with the small smile he always had whenever he imagined the days when his parents were young. His smile only grew wider when he turned to look at his boyfriend who had pressed into his side with interest during Harry’s story.
“Wow,” Draco breathed in awe. “What a first date.”
“Right?” Harry chuckled, sneaking his arm to wrap around Draco’s shoulder. His boyfriend let him and shifted a little to get comfortable.
“What happened to Alex and Lucas after that?”
“Oh, that’s another story of its own,” Harry said. “Alex was healed and they made up. The rest was history—which, may I add, leads to Amber Silverthorn, the third-year Hufflepuff.”
“What about her?” Draco asked with furrowed brows. “Wait, Silverthorn? Is she Alex’s daughter?”
Grinning, Harry lowered his voice and said, “Alex and Lucas’s daughter.”
Draco’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’. “No way.”
Harry shrugged. “I don’t know the details, of course, but it’s true. You can ask Amber about it.”
“Salazar, what a bloody history they shared as a couple. Like, literally bloody,” Draco said quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. “And your parents were part of it.”
“Yeah, they were. Alex and Lucas were also part of my parents’ history. A good story, right?”
Draco made an affirmative noise. “And you’re a good storyteller.”
“Good enough that my storytelling can make my half-sulking boyfriend snuggle up to me after insisting on keeping an appropriate distance,” Harry said smugly, a smirk stretched on his face.
The grey eyes narrowed as they stared at Harry. “Was the story merely a scheme to get us cuddling? How very Slytherin of you, Mr Potter.”
“Well, Mr Potter is downstairs.” Harry grinned at his boyfriend cheekily.
Draco groaned and pulled away from Harry’s arm, flopping back onto his pillow. “Can you, for Merlin’s sake, stop reminding me that we’re sharing a roof with your parents? I was just about getting comfortable here.”
Harry chased him to bury his face into Draco’s shoulder, laughing quietly. “It’s all right, trust me. They understand, they were once young like us.”
Draco sighed. “Yeah, from that story about your parents, I can tell that you’re the exact copy of your dad when he was young.”
“Wise, mature and talented?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I meant competent at times but mostly just a reckless silly teenager.”
Another chuckle escaped Harry. “Mum still thinks he is. Reckless and silly, I mean, not the teenager part.”
“Is it too much to ask that your recklessness and imbecility are just a phase and not lifelong traits?”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“A boy can only dream, then.”
Shaking his head, Harry shifted closer to him. He couldn’t help the bubbling happiness and warmth spreading in his body. Draco met his parents and they adored him. He always knew they would, but it still gave him a lot of joy when it actually happened. Now, on a peaceful summer night, he had his boyfriend on his bed, lying close by.
But the said boyfriend wouldn’t stop wriggling away from him. “Come on, Draco. Cuddling doesn’t count as funny business.”
“Aren’t you too hot?” Draco asked.
“What do you think our ancestors created a Cooling Charm for?”
Draco raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know, maybe for anything else than cuddling on a hot summer night?”
“Then they didn’t get their priorities right,” Harry said with a snicker. Without any more words, he moved closer and snuggled against his boyfriend’s lean body. “Oh! You’re cooler than me.”
“Yes, which means you’re hotter and raising my temperature by being so near,” Draco scoffed, but he made no move to push him away. If anything, Harry could feel Draco began to relax and get more comfortable in his position.
Harry smiled to himself. “Goodnight, Draco.”
Slender fingers found their way to Harry's hair, threading gently. “Goodnight, Harry.”