Chapter Text
“I see you’ve settled well,” Draco’s mother says as Draco serves her a cup of Darjeeling. “Though I must say it is a strange thing to be here again after all these years.”
Draco smiles as he sits. She looks strange too, here in this room that he and Harry moved into a week ago. Hogwarts never was shabby, not even under the war’s direct aftermath. And yet, the freshly restored suite with its comfy furnishing doesn’t befit her elegant robe and hat. “It’s good to have you,” he says and her gaze warms.
“Your father excuses himself, as you might have gathered by his absence.”
“Yes,” Draco says.
He invited the both of them for an afternoon cup, not solely as a concession and to build bridges yet also since manners dictate it. Some things, it seems however, will always stay the same. Not that Draco suspected anything else in this case.
“I take it he’s well then,” he says.
His mother’s eyes twinkle before she takes a biscuit. “He’s disappointed you won’t move into the west wing.”
Draco sighs. “It’s not a slight on my end. It makes more sense for me to live here. For Harry too.”
“How is Harry?”
“Good. He’s been doing lots of reading.”
“So I see,” his mother says, giving the piles of literature on the nightstand a glance.
Sticking to his impulsive nature, Harry made up his mind about what he’d want to do after school within a heartbeat. They’d talked under the covers the eve of their final exam, their conversation unsurprisingly drifting towards nostalgia. Harry reminisced about his first days at Hogwarts, and feeling contentedly mellowed by their accomplishments and naked proximity alike, Draco found himself confessing about the notes he once wrote for Harry, hoping they’d help.
He doesn’t know what he expected. What he didn’t expect was Harry shooting up with the blanket tight in his grip, staring down at him so wildly enthusiastic, Draco felt himself heat.
“That’s the idea!” Harry said. “That’s what I’ll do. You’re a genius.” And before Draco could get a word in, Harry had kissed him hard, leapt out of bed, snagged the nearest clothes, uncaring they were Draco’s, and was strutting towards the door.
“I’ll talk to McGonagall.”
“It’s almost ten o’clock!” Draco called.
“She’ll be up.”
The result is a new position which Harry will occupy by September. The official title is Representative for Muggle and Wizarding Relations—not fully a teacher’s role rather than that of a confidant who’ll help muggle-borns feel more included. Ever since, he’s been deep in research on childhood in the magical world, and Draco has taken him on plenty of excursions, from sightseeing to culinary tastings.
The job’s greatest advantage—as Harry told Draco with a smirk that looked alarmingly Slytherin—is he can stay at Hogwarts. “Maybe with you if you let me.”
It wasn’t really something Draco had to contemplate. After their first night together, Harry practically moved in with him and Millie anyhow.
“I received a letter from Hermione Granger this week,” his mother’s voice draws Draco back to the present. “She wants to talk to Greta and our other house-elves about their working conditions.”
“What did you reply?” he asks.
“I thanked her for informing us, of course. She must do whatever she must.”
“What does Father say?”
“He’ll come around. It’s long overdue someone steps up, don’t you think? I actually was thinking about hosting a fundraising evening at the Manor. Now that we have a ballroom to show for again, it would be a waste not to use it. Even if people won’t donate, it will make a statement. A good one this time. What do you think?”
Her eyes convey a mixture of seriousness and pride so strong Draco swallows before he answers. “Do you need my permission?”
“I do not,” she says. “I’d nonetheless like your opinion.”
“But of course. I’ll help where I can.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” She’s putting her cup down when the door opens and Harry stumbles in.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. Hello, Mrs Malfoy. I talked to the new Mugglelore Professor about a day trip idea, and completely lost sense of time.”
“The tea’s still hot,” Draco says, incapable of holding back a smile when Harry bends down for a swift kiss. “You were successful then?”
“I was. It will be great.” He plops into the third armchair. “What did I miss?”
“Your apartment grants a nice view, Mister Potter,” Draco’s mother says. “I’ve always liked the lake.”
“It’s great, isn’t it?” Harry grins. “How are your frogs, Mrs Malfoy?”
“Leaping. And plenty again. At last.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Draco told me you missed them.”
They talk about their plans for the rest of the summer holidays before Draco tells Harry about the fundraiser idea.
“Hermione will love it!” Harry says. “Should I owl her about it?”
“I’ll do it myself, Mister Potter, thank you. It’s only proper.”
They accompany Draco’s mother back to Hogsmeade, enjoying the fair summer evening. The school grounds are almost back to their former splendour, with only the new gates showing something happened here just over a year ago.
Draco’s magic is back to its former strength as well, and though their N.E.W.T.s results are yet to come in, he’s confident he passed without a hitch. Just as he’s certain Harry gained a solid O in Potions even though Harry likes to say he could have done even better if he’d have added a drop of Neville’s Star Dew Extract—“it would have tasted sweeter, Draco. It matters!”
Things are going uphill at last, palpably so. And Draco can’t help but be suffused with fondness when he sees Millie peeking out of Harry’s collar. She likes to switch between the two of them nowadays, occupying one of them in the morning before most likely returning to the other the following dawn.
Draco touches his mother by the shoulder before she Disapparates, smiling at her surprisedly arched brow when Harry holds out his hand for a shake.
“So,” Harry says when they’re alone. “That went all right, didn’t it?”
“It did,” Draco says.
“Can we stay in town for dinner, you think? I’d like to take you some place nice.”
Draco holds his gaze and lets himself be pulled closer by the waist. “You can take me wherever you want.”