Chapter Text
At exactly four o’clock, December 25th, eighteen people took their seats at a magically extended table in the newly decorated dining room at #12 Grimmauld Place, London. All of the Weasleys except Percy had accepted, including rather awkwardly not one but two of Harry’s exes, Ginny and Charlie. Neville, Kingsley, and of course Luna and Lucy, Blaise and Pansy, Hermione and Draco and his mum made up the rest.
Harry had fought and lost a valiant battle with Lucy, Blaise and Draco over whether he would preside at the head of the table. His only consolation at occupying the embarrassing position of “master of the house” was that Narcissa, as de facto “lady of the house,” was sitting as far as physically possible at the other end. He personally felt like he’d made peace with Narcissa, that he could contemplate her sharing his house indefinitely without it feeling like a recipe for disaster. Draco swore she was extremely pleased with the house and satisfied with their current arrangement, not that Harry could tell. But their current state of mutual toleration did not mean he found her company especially relaxing or fun, so he was relieved to be able to enjoy his meal without worrying about her scrutiny.
The seating plan had been extensively negotiated between Draco, Pansy and Blaise, since they, unlike Lucy, knew everyone invited and unlike Harry, they had firm opinions about which guests could safely be put next to each other: for example, Arthur was seated next to Narcissa, but not Molly, who’d murdered Narcissa’s sister. (It was that kind of party); Bill was fine with Draco, but better not risk Ron or Gin; Neville, whom Harry knew would be coming directly from St. Mungos after his Christmas day visit with his parents, who’d been tortured to insanity by Bellatrix, deserved to be seated amongst the Gryffindors and not forced to make conversation with the Slytherins.
And Harry did have to credit Slytherin tact or cunning or whatever it was, because as soon as the first course popped up (Cream of cauliflower soup, which sounded gross but tasted amazing) the conversation all over the table took off and never seemed to lag. Seated at the end of the table between Luna and Hermione, the two women he loved the most in the world and who understood him best, Harry was under no pressure to make charming conversation and could mostly smile and laugh, enjoying the delicious food and wondering how he’d gotten there.
This house which had been a temple to dark magic and bigotry, and then the headquarters to the resistance, had somehow been forged into a home by two of his enemies from the war. The sight of George, seated next to Luna, making her laugh at some joke, was a sobering reminder of those who weren’t here: Fred, Sirius, Remus and Tonks, Snape, Dumbledore, his parents…
And on the other side, Draco’s aunt and uncle, Bellatrix and Rodolphus, his friend Vince, his father, Lucius, who wasn’t dead but might as well be, Peter, who was once a friend before he was a traitor, Tom Riddle, another half-blood orphan who’d never known love and so had been willing to rip apart his soul and then his entire society…
It was a long list. So much loss, so much pain.
But down the table, Lucy was telling Ron the story of Harry’s triumph with the triangle during the performance of Fury Moonrider’s Demon Eyes, while Neville detailed his Herbology apprenticeship to a fascinated Hermione; Blaise was flirting shamelessly with both Gin and Charlie, while Draco made a dramatic gesture as he described the explosion of Christmas decorations that had taken over Grimmauld Place--apparently the result of lifting the curses; at the other end, Arthur was speaking loudly of his pleasure that Fleur and Bill were expecting the first Weasley grandchild, while Narcissa smiled graciously at Kingsley while he refilled her wine glass in a manner that Harry could have sworn was flirtatious?
They’d all survived and now they were healing, rebuilding. This dinner was something new, something that had been impossible before: all four houses, both sides of the war, sitting around a table, celebrating Christmas.
Harry didn’t feel like he deserved much credit for it: Pansy and Narcissa had gotten the house ready, Lucy and Blaise had planned the party--mostly he’d just had to show up.
But his conversation with Narcissa that first night had lingered in his mind. For all of her disdain, she viewed him as the victor, the key to winning the war. It was unsettling to have someone so critical of him also fundamentally believe he was the savior, a label which had always made him profoundly uncomfortable. He didn’t feel like a hero: he’d have sat out the war had that been an option. He’d happily have hidden in some remote land if it meant he could have his parents.
He never wanted to be the savior; he was always just a boy who’d been forced into a war that started decades before he was born, whose only choices were to win or to die.
But now that his life was falling into place--with a proper home, the man he loved, his chosen family, and maybe even a career--Harry felt more comfortable with his role. He’d fought and won the battles that he, Harry Potter, emphatically had to win to end this bloody war. If people wanted to call him the savior that was on them. He couldn’t stop them, but it wasn’t a burden he had to carry. What mattered was helping his friends, his family, and himself heal and grow and thrive.
That was a life he could embrace, one he could be proud of.
As everyone finished up their helpings of treacle tart and plum pudding, Harry decided it was time for him to at least try to play his role as ‘host.’ He did the tapping thing against his glass and when the table quieted, he stood up. “This is the first party I’ve ever hosted, so I hope you’ll bear with my usual awkwardness. I could probably spend the rest of my life thanking the people who’ve helped me, but tonight, I’d like to call out four who made tonight possible. Pansy Parkinson basically hired herself to decorate this house, and you’ve seen for yourself that it’s incredible--so thanks, Pans, for making this wreck into a true home. Mrs. Malfoy moved in here weeks ago to make sure the work got done in time for all of us to be here tonight--I owe her a lot.” More than he’d ever feel comfortable saying in fact. “Lucy Borgia bulldozed me into hosting a party and then with Blaise Zabini did almost all the work to make it happen. Thanks for not listening to me whine or try to back out--tonight has been amazing.”
There was a round of cheers and clinked glasses, and Draco gave him an approving nod, and Luna a gentle squeeze of his hand, so Harry figured he got that part right. It felt strange giving a toast that left out the people he most loved--Ron, Hermione, Draco, Luna--but he realized that part didn’t need to be said.
Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the words that he did need to say. “There are too many who are missing from the table. Friends, family, loved ones. People we will never stop missing.
“I was born into this war. My earliest memories are of my parents’ deaths, my childhood was dominated by their loss. From the day I found out that magic existed, I also learned that I would have a crucial role to play in this war. And for seven years I fought--along with most of you, whichever side you found yourself on.
“My life was so dominated by it that it was hard for me to even imagine a future, let alone work towards one. So I didn’t bother planning much because I didn’t dare. But tonight, right now, I finally know what I want my future to be: I want to discover what life is without the war. I want my godson Teddy and Bill and Fleur’s baby to grow up in a world where the war is just a story. That’s the real victory.
“That world starts right now, with all of us seated at this table--all four houses, both sides, leaving the war behind so we can discover something new. Whatever my future brings, I will never stop fighting to make that world a reality.”
He was afraid to look up after, afraid to see anger or grief over the bitter losses so many of them had endured--children, brothers, sisters, friends. But he heard Ron say, “Well it’s pretty clear ‘Mione and I have been all in with you since we faced that troll first year. So we’re in, Harry.”
“Not that you could ever get rid of us,” Hermione added knowingly.
“I’m ready to live in a world without Tom Riddle,” Ginny said.
And to his shock, Draco added, “I am too.”
Arthur stood up then. “I will lose no more children to this madness.” His voice cracked and he paused to pushed back his tears. “I will see my grandchildren grow up in this world of yours, Harry.”
Narcissa rose as well. “I will see our children friends instead of enemies.”
“We will not turn our babies into soldiers,” Molly said hoarsely. “We will allow them to be children and keep them safe--all of them, no matter who their parents are.”
“I’ll see all of our children grow up with their parents,” Neville said. “Not orphaned before they knew what war is.”
George went next. “We knew what we were fighting for,” he said, voice eerily calm. “We knew the war was necessary, but now it’s over.”
“The war is over,” Ron said.
Blaise nodded. “The war is over.”
“To peace,” Kingsley said, “And the friendships that will make it possible.”
“To peace,” everyone murmured.
Later that night, as he cuddled with Draco in their room, Harry said, “I’m thinking of dropping out of Hogwarts.”
“Excuse me?” It was rare that anything Harry did surprised Draco, so he took a moment to enjoy his lover’s shock. “Is this because of Mother?”
“A bit,” he admitted. “I’m not exactly doing much at Hogwarts. The only reason I’d stay is for you. The truth is I talked to Bill Weasley. He’d be willing to take me on as a sort of informal apprentice to start proper training for curse-breaking.”
“So that was what that was about--you did seem quite… intent.”
“Bill’s always like that, but yeah, he did have a few words to say about my breaking a room full of cursed Black family heirlooms. But he’s excellent at what he does.”
“Well, as long as it’s not the brother, I guess I shouldn’t complain,” Draco said sourly.
Of course, Draco had picked up that he and Charlie had been involved. “It was never serious with us--you have to know that.”
“I should hope not,” Draco sniffed. “But honestly, Potter. The chosen one dating a dragon-tamer? Could you get more cliched?”
Harry laughed. “Wow, I never guessed you’d be so adorable when you’re jealous. I should have mentioned Charlie earlier.” Draco tried to push him away, but Harry rolled over onto him, pinning his hands, and kissing him thoroughly. “Given that Zabini is currently staying in my house, I really don’t think you have much to complain about.”
“Let’s just hope Weasley’s not in there with him right now--either Weasley I should say. Your exes getting together with mine is a bit too much togetherness, thank you.”
Harry laughed outright. “Fuck me. What an idea.”
“Blaise likes it here too much to risk your ejecting him from the house, but I wouldn’t count on his staying clear of either of them. He’s not easy to resist, even without his power.”
“They’re both of age. And neither has a problem telling you to fuck off when you cross a line,” Harry said, wondering if the fates would lead Gin and Charlie to share not one but two lovers.
Ultimately as he said, Gin and Charlie were more than capable of deciding what they wanted, and neither of them were interested in his opinions. “Would you be okay if I dropped out. It’s only a few months--and you do have N.E.W.T.s”
“I’m not worried about my N.E.W.T.s.” Draco said loftily. “But it makes sense that if you are interested in curse-breaking you’d start learning it rather than laying about Hogwarts, waiting for Moonriders to end so we can shag. Grateful as I am that you saved Pans, it was a trifle clear you were winging it.”
“Don’t worry, your mother already shared her opinions on that.”
“Ugh, I can only imagine. I know she can be a bit… pointed in her commentary. It took me a lot of years, but I finally did learn that she is not infallible, and anyway, I don’t have to listen to her.”
“She was right, much as it pains me to admit. I wasn’t ready before, but I think I am now. At least, ready to see if I really do like it enough to do it as a career.”
“Then you should,” Draco said gently. “Of course, you should. It’s five months. And you are quite distracting.”
Harry kissed him again. “At least it’s the hols.”
Draco blushed and looked a bit awkward.
“What?”
“No, I just had something, but I’m not sure this is the right moment.”
“Something to tell me?”
“Sort of--more show you. I wanted to make it a late Christmas gift, I suppose.”
“Whatever it is, Draco. Anything. You know that.”
“Stop--it’s nothing bad. Fuck, why is everything always so ridiculous with you, Potter.” He got to his feet and picked up his wand from the bedside table. Draco closed his eyes and got a look of intense concentration, before saying quietly, “Expecto Patronum.”
A fierce white light burst from his wand, coalescing into the shape of a swan. Watching it glide around the room, Harry thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“It’s perfect,” he murmured.
“Territorial, dangerous, mate for life--can’t say I can complain.”
“Protective, loyal, with incredible strength,” Harry said. “A swan.”
“Well, I am part Veela.”
Harry kissed him deeply. “You are indeed. When did you do this?”
Draco huffed. “I tried it after you gave me this,” he said, holding up his hand to show the Room of Requirement’s ring. “And I think watching Poppy and Cece’s reinterpretation of ‘Demon Eyes,’” Draco smirked. “What could ever match the pure sublime joy of seeing the great Harry Potter ring that triangle.”
“I’m never going to stop hearing about that, am I?”
Draco smirked, but then looked down almost bashfully. “There have been a lot of happy memories, you know, since….”
And in fact, Harry did know. New memories to go with this new world. It was not a world without problems or sadness or failures. But it was a world without war, a world with new friends and old friends, and even an only-sorta-evil mother-in-law who gave him actual parental advice. A world where he and Draco could love each other instead of being enemies.
“Too many happy memories to count.”