Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

                Harry used to wonder what was wrong with him. Why didn’t his family care? What was it that made him unlovable? That’s what Uncle Vernon said. Even at his ripe old age of four, Harry couldn’t understand why.

                For a while, he thought it was just the way they were. Maybe they didn’t have any love on the inside to give away.

                …But that wasn’t true. They loved Dudley. Harry could tell by the way Aunt Petunia would kiss his cousin’s cheek in the morning. Or the way his Uncle would ruffle Dudley’s hair. They loved Dudley but yet they hated Harry. Why? What could he have possibly done?

                Perhaps he really was unloved? Maybe something really was wrong with him? If they could show love to Dudley, then that meant that Harry was just broken?

                It wasn’t until Harry was six that he felt his hand start to burn and he knew that the Dursleys had lied to him! The unbearable pain was the sign of a soulmate bond forming.

                The only thing that made the pain and the tears worth it, was when Harry looked down and saw the name of the person that was made to love him.

                Draco Malfoy

                Harry traced the letters on his tender skin and marveled at the name. He knew that everyone had a soulmate and that this wasn’t technically special… but to Harry it was. This meant that there really was someone out there that could love him. They might not, Draco could even dislike him. But there was still a chance of love. Maybe they could be friends? Maybe they could be enemies? Maybe they would just be people who pretended to get along? None of that mattered, Harry would take Draco in any way possible. Because somewhere there was someone peering down at their own palm and seeing his name on it, wondering what kind of person Harry was.

                Hopefully, he would live up to the expectation.

                “No nephew of mine is going to be homosexual!” Those words were reverberating inside Harry’s mind as he tried to make himself smaller, even in the privacy of his cupboard. What did it matter if his soulmate was a boy? Didn’t it just show that a boy could love him? Didn’t it just show that love happened in many different ways? Why did it matter if the name was a boy?

                Personally, Harry had never even heard of the name Draco before. Did it sound masculine? Wasn’t his Uncle being a little presumptuous?

                Harry closed his eyes and tried so hard to picture what his soulmate would look like. Would they be a boy? Would they be a girl? Would they have long hair? Short hair? Would they have red hair? Black hair? Blonde hair? Brown hair? He didn’t care either way. The beating of his heart just ached for understanding. That’s all he wanted from his soulmate was understanding. If they could look at him and see someone worth taking a chance, then that’s all he could ask for.

                “Draco,” Harry whispered, tracing the name on his palm softly.

                His entire youth, the Dursleys forced Harry to wear gloves. They didn’t want anyone to see that his soulmate was a boy. Or even someone with such an odd name.

                At first, it really bothered Harry. His mark wasn’t an inconvenience or a hindrance. It wasn’t a bad thing, nor did it deserve to be hidden away. He was proud of the name on his hand. Proud of whoever Draco Malfoy was as a person.

                This was special. The name on his palm meant everything to Harry. It was something that was just for him. Something to treasure. So, in the end, it was okay to keep it covered. The rest of the world didn’t need to know who his soulmate was. They weren’t the ones who would be there. They weren’t the ones who would love Draco.

                Harry found himself caressing his soulmate mark often and usually subconsciously. It was a form of comfort. Every time Uncle Vernon threw him into his cupboard, he would rub the mark and imagine that Draco would take him away from them. Every time Aunt Petunia would send him to bed without dinner, he would peer at the name and wish that Draco was there to comfort him. Every time Dudley and his gang would bully him, he would press his fingers to the words softly and envision Draco coming to help him.

                “Draco,” Harry whispered, eyes clenched and fingers roaming his hand. He wished that he could find his soulmate He hated the idea of waiting until he was older to search for Draco.

                Soulmates weren’t always something great. Harry saw the stories, read the paper and watched the news. Sometimes, even being a soulmate can’t stop the evil that can lurk in some people. Everyone has a soulmate. Murderers, criminals, thieves and everyone in between has someone that was meant for them. The marks don’t discriminate.

                … But they also aren’t always fair. Mrs Figg across the street, her soulmate died before she was born. His teacher’s soulmate committed suicide. Some people have more than one soulmate but don’t want to share. Some don’t want a soulmate at all and refuse to acknowledge the marks on their hand. Some choose to just be friends. While others despise their soulmate.

                It would kill Harry if he finally found Draco, only to be turned away. The years spent picturing who his soulmate was couldn’t have been a waste. It couldn’t. What kind of justice would that be? He hoped beyond hope that somewhere Draco was of the same belief as him.

                Please let them want me.

                Harry spent his free time searching any database for a Draco Malfoy. The searches were always fruitless and completely disappointing. He had always assumed that since the name was so unique, that it wouldn’t be hard to find. But it was as if Draco didn’t exist.

                That either meant that Draco wasn’t born yet or he had died already. Harry had been too afraid to search the obituaries for his soulmate. Didn’t want to see the person he dreamed of for years being already gone to the world. That would crush him in ways that he wasn’t prepared for.

                By the time Harry was seventeen, he had searched every possible database, including foreign ones for anyone even resembling Draco’s name. But it came up empty.

                This wasn’t the end of the search. That could still mean that Draco could be born at any moment. Harry could wait a few years and continue the search again. But doing nothing in the meantime was not preferable.

                With a glance at the search engine for lost soulmates, Harry knew that he had to know. He just had to know if Draco was still alive.

                Another two years before he had searched every single death in the last seventy years on all continents.

                There wasn’t a single Draco Malfoy in any of them.

                What did that mean? Did his soulmate even exist? Was there a Draco Malfoy in the world at all? The only conclusion that was left was that they just weren’t born yet. But Harry was already nineteen, that was a big age gap already. Did that mean that he was just supposed to be a friend? Or even a mentor?

                Harry clenched his eyes tightly as he fought the tears that were threatening to come. He was right here. Waiting for the evidence of his soulmate. Hoping that this wouldn’t be his life. He couldn’t spend every waking moment just waiting for Draco to come along. He couldn’t. That would crush his spirit.

                But giving up on wasn’t something that Harry could do either.

                Where are you Draco?

                “Excuse me, are you Harry Potter?”

                Harry had been about to get into his car, one that was on its last leg and definitely not up to anyone’s safety standards. His brows rose at a man with a fiery red robe of some kind that clashed horribly with his red hair that was several shades lighter.

                “Depends on what you are selling. If it’s a new life, then I’m sold.”

                The man looked so taken aback that Harry wondered if he wasn’t much of a joker.

                 “Yes, that’s me,” He said, tone cherry in the way that it didn’t match his personality.

                “The same Harry Potter that has the name Draco Malfoy on his hand?”

                The whole world came to a standstill as Harry’s breath left him in a whoosh. His heart was beating so rapidly that he wondered if he'd be okay. Surely, that wasn’t normal.

                “Do—” Harry’s voice cracked. “Do you know where they are?”

                The flicker of pain on the stranger’s face had Harry’s face falling and tears already forming. “No. No, No.” He shook his head rapidly. “Please tell me they are alright.”

                “I—” The stranger looked around the driveway before looking at his feet. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

                In the back of Harry’s mind, he knew that if he missed work, he would be fired. But he had spent so much of his life looking for Draco that he couldn’t turn the man away. Not even if this was bad news. He had to know.

                Harry turned around and walked back up the five flights of stairs that led to his tiny apartment. He couldn’t bring himself to speak up but the sound of the man following him was enough for now.

                After apologizing for only having the one couch to sit on, Harry gazed steadily at the other man who had introduced himself as Ron.

                “I don’t know where to begin and I hate that I have to be the one to tell you this.”

                Harry closed his eyes at the first stinging to them. He clenched his fists tightly and prayed that the words he knew were about to come out, would magically be different.

                “Malfoy—I mean Draco—uh.” Despite the situation, Harry couldn’t help but feel for Ron. He was obviously uncomfortable. “As of last week, Draco has officially been declared dead.”

                The tears fell, and Harry didn’t bother stopping them. He had always known that it could be a possibility, but the reality was far more painful than he thought it would be.

                “How? What happened?” Harry choked out, not able to open his eyes and see the pity that he knew would be there.

                “That’s hard to explain.”

                There was a hesitant quality to his tone but Harry was far from caring. “Just tell me.” The demand wasn’t as firm as he would have liked it to be. It would seem that the pain in his heart was manifesting in his voice as well.

                “There is an… organization… that isn’t known to the public. Draco was a part of that organization, as well as I am. Which is why if you have gone looking for him, you wouldn’t have found anything.”

                Harry opened his eyes and blinked away his tears enough to be able to see Ron. “Some kind of Government organization?” That would make sense, he had searched every possible database for Draco.

                “Sort of.” Harry could tell that Ron wasn’t exactly being truthful but if it was classified, then that also made sense.

                “We were at… war… and Draco, unfortunately, got caught in the crossfire.”

                War?

                “What war? Surely, that would have been announced.”

                By the way Ron looked away, he knew that something else was going on, but Harry didn’t have any standing to make Ron talk. Especially if it really was something to do with the government.

                “I can’t go into any details regarding what happened, but I have something that he wanted you to have.”

                Ron reached into his funny looking robe and pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper. Only the paper was old and kind of reminded him of what a scroll would be like.

                The breath that was already shaky, left Harry in a painful whoosh. This would make it too real. This wasn’t something that he could handle.

                Harry stretched his trembling fingers out and gently pulled the paper out of Ron’s hands. He looked down at it with reverence.

                “What was he like?” Opening the letter wasn’t something he wanted to do in front of Ron but he also needed to know more about Draco.

                An uncomfortable look flittered across Ron’s face. “I’m not the best person to answer this,” He began in a warning. “We didn’t get along. Complete opposites.”

                There was a fond look on Ron’s face and that hurt Harry more than he thought it would be. Ron got to know Draco. Ron got to know him enough to be fond of him. It wasn’t fair.

                “Our families have known each other for a long time and it was always a feud.” Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t tell you what kind of person he was because I didn’t know him well enough. Not really. I never bothered to get to know Draco like that.”

                That bothered Harry. Because he had spent his whole life wishing to be able to get to know Draco, and Ron had the opportunity and didn’t even try? The feud must have been bad.

                “But what I can tell you, is that he loved you.”

                Harry gasped painfully and shook his head, trying not to start crying again.

                “It was always hard to get Draco to talk about himself, his family, or really anything at all. Especially after he joined our side. But anytime soulmates were brought up, he would always smile softly and tell everyone that he knew his was the best.”

                The battle not to cry was nonexistent as Harry covered his mouth with his hands and begged silently for Ron to stop talking. But a small part wanted him to keep going.

                “Draco loved to imagine who you were and what kind of person you would be. We used to tease him that you could be someone mental, but he always said that that wouldn’t bother him if it was true. That he would be proud of whoever you were.”

                Harry had never had someone be proud of him. Never had someone who had said anything remotely nice to him like that. It hurt, hurt badly.

                “He had plans to find you when the war was over. He was going to search the world until he found you. Didn’t even care that you might be a muggle.”

                At Harry’s confused look, Ron coughed and hurried to explain himself.

                “That’s just a term we use for people who aren’t in on our organization.”

                Harry nodded his head and looked down at the letter. “Thank you for finding me.” He bit his lip, tears causing his vision to be blurry. “I have looked for him for a long time. Knowing is better than dreaming.”

                Ron’s eyes were suspiciously wet as he bade him goodbye, but Harry couldn’t judge him for that.

Dear Harry,

                I never wanted to write this. This was something that I set up just in case I don’t make it out of this war alive. I know none of this makes sense and I wish that I could elaborate. Just know that I am in an awful position and will probably have done something stupid.

                Being afraid of death has never been something I considered. Everyone dies at one point. The only question is, when? There aren’t many things in life that I regret, but never meeting you is one of them.

                Merlin, Harry. I have spent my whole life wondering who you could be. I know that soulmates are everywhere and don’t always end well, but I couldn’t help but dream for the best. I didn’t have the best childhood. This might sound silly, but I used to dream that you were my family. That you could somehow find a way to save me.

                But you weren’t there. I had to save myself.

                No matter the situation, whether I was happy, upset, safe or in danger; I always wished that you were by my side. I know that not all soulmates crave a relationship or even close comfort, but I hoped that you would be the exception.

                Because I love you.

                I know that might sound weird, especially considering we have never met, but I do. I love you. I know that I would have loved everything about you. Even if you have awful bad habits or no sense of fashion. I would have loved you if you snore in your sleep or have to have a window open at night. I would have loved you if you had no self-esteem or heaping amounts of it. I would have loved all your imperfections and definitely your merits. I love whoever you are Harry Potter.

                I wish that things could have gone differently. It kills me that I have to write this. I am not afraid of dying, as I have already said, but I am afraid to leave without you. How can you spend your whole life dreaming of someone, only to have the cruel temptation of love ripped away? It’s not fair. I see happy soulmates everywhere I look and I hate them. I hate that they get the one thing I can’t have.

                I will have died by the time you are reading this and I can’t stress enough how sorry I am. I have it easy, death is easy. You have to live with the grief of not only my death but also never meeting me.

                I’m sorry, Harry. So sorry. I would trade everything I possibly could to be able to see you. Even if it is just once.

                Please don’t grieve for me too hard. I want you to enjoy the world. I want you to be able to live your life. I know that this might not be worth something, but I really do love you. Not even death will be able to take that away from me. So, in your waking life, know that with each breath you take, my love will continue to flow through you.

                That was terribly sappy, pretend I didn’t say that.

                I wish I could write forever. If it is the only way to be close to you, then I will take it. I will take all I can get. If you don’t love me, I understand. I know that this is all slightly insane but don’t begrudge me of my fantasy. Because when I die, it’s going to be with the thought that you love me just as much as I love you.

                You better live a long and happy life. I don’t want to see you in the afterlife until it’s your time. And that better be when you are old and wrinkling. We may not have gotten this lifetime together, but maybe we can be together in another one?

                I guess I’ll see you on the other side. Goodbye Harry.

With so much love,

Draco Malfoy.

             Harry clutched the letter to his heart as he sobbed uncontrollably.

             “I do,” he whispered brokenly. “I love you too.”

                It wasn’t as if his life had changed drastically. Harry didn’t have a life with Draco before the knowledge of his death. But he mourned him. He mourned the life they could’ve had together and what they could have been. Harry mourned the boy who had loved him. Mourned Draco Malfoy and above all, never stopped loving him. Never stopped finding comfort in the name that was still on his hand.

                Harry was late for work, again. His car had finally given up and just died on him. But he felt the urge to walk slow. Felt the need to take things light today. As he looked around the buildings that he usually whizzed past on his commute, he noticed a few odd ones. Some seemed to be there but no one else noticed them. It was as if they didn’t exist outside a few others.

                He shook his head and decided to never skip his morning tea, especially if thoughts like that were making their way into his mind.

                Harry was about to start a quick jog, hoping to make it to work at an acceptable fashionably late, instead of one that would get him fired, but the sight of a familiar man with red hair had him pausing.

                Ron was sitting in one of the buildings that a lot of people seemed to ignore—he was talking to a woman that Harry couldn’t see well. She had really bushy hair but other than that, it was hard to make out anything else.

                When Ron looked up and spotted him, Harry waved, a little unsure if he really wanted to see Ron again. The wide-eyed look of horror was not something that Harry thought he would be on the receiving end of. Did he do something wrong? It wasn’t like he had been following Ron. He just happened to be walking by.

                Harry watched Ron speak to his companion before they both stood up and ran towards the exit. He debated with himself, wondering if he should just take off running. 

                He had just turned to sprint when a cry of his name was called. Harry sighed heavily before he turned around and plastered a fake smile on his face.

                “Ron.” He didn’t bother saying it was nice to see him. Because it really wasn’t.

                “You saw me,” Ron panted when he was right next to him.

                Harry’s brows pinched as his forehead wrinkled, he looked at the woman to see if it was making sense to her, but she looked equally surprised.

                “It was a window. They are see-through, you know.”

                A surprised snort escaped Ron’s companion before she let out an exasperated, “Your personality fits Draco’s so well.”

                “Don’t,” Harry’s voice cracked. “Don’t talk about him. Please.” Not when he was still having trouble going a single day without thinking about his soulmate.

                Compassion filled her warm brown eyes and Harry was just grateful that it wasn’t pity.

                “Harry, I know this won’t make sense,” Ron began patiently. “But you can see the building I was just in?”

                Harry was beginning to think that Ron was a little mental, but he nodded his head and glanced back towards the building.

                “Yes. It looks a little dodgy, but yeah, I can see it.” The why, was clearly heard but not spoken.

                Ron’s face crumpled before he took a step away. “Don’t kill me.” The begging tone was a surprise and had Harry arching a brow.

                “It would seem that we have a lot of explaining to do,” the woman began softly, stepping in front of Ron, making her the only thing he could see.

                “Because Draco is alive.”

                “Let me get this straight,” Harry clenched his fists tightly, glaring between the two.

                “Magic exists, I am a wizard that either got missed or I am squib, a war happened inside the wizarding world, Draco didn’t die but I was told he did because it was easier than explaining all of this to a muggle, and it turns out that I mourned him for over a year!”

                The guilty expression on Ron and Hermione’s face didn’t make him feel sorry for them. It was their own fault in the first place.

                “It’s not that it would have been too difficult to explain,” Hermione said, tears in her eyes.

                “Muggles can’t see magical buildings. The charms repel them away. Draco has been inside St. Mungos for a long time. If you had been a muggle, there was no way that you would ever be able to see him. We have no idea how long he will be there for. It could be the rest of his life.”

                Harry shook his head rapidly. “Didn’t you think it wise to test me first? Shouldn’t I have been given a say so? He’s my soulmate!” He had never been so angry in his life, nor as sad. Draco was alive. Actually alive and he may never have known about it.

                His glass of water shattered, startling him but one glance towards Ron and Hermione had him realizing that it might be expected of someone with magic whose emotions were getting the best of them.

                “Take me to him,” Harry demanded, not bothering to beat around the bush. He was done with being lied to.

                “He was on the receiving end of a curse that tortures the body,” Hermione whispered on the way towards Draco’s room. “His father was the one who did it.”

                Harry paused for a moment and closed his eyes. When Draco said he didn’t have the best childhood, that was obviously an understatement.

                “His father was on the opposite side of the war and didn’t appreciate Draco changing sides. The curse was reapplied so many times that it… messed… with Draco.”

                They paused by a closed door and Harry placed a hand on the wall, wondering if it was Draco’s room. “Messed with him how?”

                “There are times where he isn’t sure where he is or even what year it is. His mind can’t cope with the horror that it went through and the healers believe that he goes through episodes of clarity and then regression. There are times that he knows exactly what happened to him and seems to be okay and there are times where he retreats into his own mind.” She paused for a moment, trading a look with Ron.

                “They don’t know if he will get better,” Ron added. “They’ve been working on him for over a year, but it’s still a really slow progress. He might not ever be who he used to be.”

                Harry nodded before pushing open the door, ignoring their surprised looks. If they thought he was going to turn around and leave just because Draco was like this, then they didn’t know him at all. Which they didn’t.

                The room was small and a bit stifling, but that was alright. A man with light blond hair was sleeping on a bed that looked uncomfortable, his skin was pale and slightly creamy looking. Black lashes were touching pale cheeks and pink plump lips stood out to Harry. He ached to touch Draco, but not in this circumstance. Not in this way. Not now.

                The longer Harry stared, the more he noticed things about Draco. How beautiful he was, how much he longed to be right next to him.

                Harry took a step back when Draco’s lashes fluttered before a beautiful shade of silver eyes were staring towards the door, where Ron and Hermione were standing.

                “Weasel, what are you doing here?”

                Harry gasped at Draco’s voice, unable to help himself. He had spent so long dreaming of what Draco would sound like. There was an elegance to the voice and it matched the elegant cursive on his palm.

                When those silver eyes locked onto him, he could tell that Draco was confused.

                “You don’t look like a healer. I would say muggle by your choice of style.” He looked Harry up and down in interest. “Not that your fashion sense is any good. Are you here to help me? Or hurt me?”

                Harry wasn’t sure if Draco was joking or not, but he raised his hands in the air, showing that he meant no harm.

                Amusement briefly flickered in Draco’s eyes before they narrowed in on his hand, or more noticeably the name on his palm.

                When Draco let out a gasp of his own as he sat up, Harry took a step forward.

                “I’m Harry.” Emotion causing his throat to constrict briefly. “I have waited my whole life to meet you.”

                Harry wasn’t sure what he expected Draco to say or do, but seeing Draco lunge at him, certainly wasn’t it. He quickly wrapped his arms around Draco and held tight, making sure not to drop him.

                “Harry.”

                He felt tears on his neck as Draco hid his face.

                “I got your letter.”

                Draco’s head snapped up. “But… why would you have gotten,” He trailed off in confusion before he turned his head and narrowed his eyes at Ron. Who was hiding behind Hermione, again.

                “I want you to know that it’s not silly or insane. I have loved you too.” Harry whispered, not caring about Ron and Hermione at the moment.

                The sheer wonder in Draco’s face took Harry’s breath away. They stared at each other, eyes roaming, taking in details and committing them to memory.

                They moved as one, a gentle press of lips. Kissing Draco was unlike anything Harry had ever imagined. Details that his imagination missed completely. The softness to pink lips, the tingle that went down Harry’s spine, the feeling of Draco’s hand twining his hair, the little breathy sigh they both released before the kiss deepened—all of that was something that his mind couldn't have dreamed up.

                One kiss turned into two and then three. Harry continued to hold Draco, even when his arms quivered and muscles began to strain. He hadn’t waited this long to not hold Draco.

                “I want to know who you are,” Draco whispered as he pressed soft kisses to Harry’s face and neck. “Everything. Tell me everything.”

                “That will take a while,” Harry warned with a wide smile. He glanced towards the doorway and noticed that Ron and Hermione had left.

                Draco looked up at him with bright eyes and a sweet smile.

                “I have all the time in the world.”

Chapter Text

                Draco had always known that he would get a soulmate. Everyone has one. Even Muggles and Magical Creatures. Most wizards are born with the name already on them but not Draco. His father worried that it meant he was a squib—despite squibs also having soulmates. Paranoia can make logic take a back seat. 

                It took six healers and even a foreign ambassador of unique medicines before Lucius would believe that Draco was not actually a squib. It was advised that the mark would appear at its own rate.

                At first, he wondered why everyone else seemed to look at him with pity. It wasn’t his fault that the name hadn’t showed up yet. It didn’t bother him that it wasn’t just there, he knew that he would one day get his mark too.

                When he was four, it was announced in the Daily Prophet that the heir of the Malfoy line still hadn’t received a soulmate. Which was the longest any wizard child had gone without a mark in over two centuries.

                Whispers aren’t as quiet as some believe. Draco heard other kids his age teasing him for being unlovable. That’s what they all told him. That he didn’t have a mark because no one was made to love him.

                … But that wasn’t true. Draco knew that there was someone out there for him. He knew there was.

                There just had to be, right?

                “Maybe we should find an eligible pureblood who lost their soulmate. That way it doesn’t matter if Draco gets a soulmate or not.”

                Draco froze in the hallway at his father’s words. No. They couldn’t do this! He did have a soulmate, he did! He bit his lip as he looked down at his palm, where there was supposed to be someone’s name.

                “If he gets a soulmate after a contract is made, the soulmate can fight the marriage in court,” his mother said with no emotion. As if they weren’t discussing Draco’s entire future.

                “If being the operative word,” Lucius drawled. “I won’t sign anything, but I will begin a search.”

                That was enough for Draco. He walked quietly and quickly out of the hallway before he made a run for his bedroom. He closed the door silently before he grabbed his duvet and burrowed underneath the bed.

                There was a feeling of being protected down there, no one could harm him if they couldn’t find him. Draco decided that he wasn’t going to come out until he got his soulmate mark.

                It wasn’t too long before the rumbling of his stomach let him know that it was getting close to dinner, but Draco wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t going to cave. Dobby always said strength and inner will is required if one wants to succeed in life. So, he knew that he could do it.

                Pop

                “Master Draco?” Dobby asked when Draco said nothing. “Dinner is prepared.”

                Draco held his breath, knowing that the Dobby would hear him if he breathed. If he could hide from Dobby, then he could definitely hide from his father.

                When the comforter was lifted up and Draco looked up into giant curious eyes, he let out his breath in disappointment.

                “Is Master Draco… alright?”

                Draco shook his head rapidly. “No, Dobby. Father wants to marry me off because he thinks I won’t ever get a soulmate!”

                A tiny sigh escaped Dobby as he crawled underneath the bed and peered at Draco intently. “Soulmates can’t be rushed or hurried. Yours will come in due time.”

                That had Draco looking down at his palms. “I know.” He sniffled. It was true, he did know that. Something in his gut told him that he would get his mark one day. He just wished that it was sooner rather than later.

                “Do you have a soulmate, Dobby?” Draco asked curiously, wiping his eyes.

                “Dobby does!” Large ears wiggled drastically and it had Draco smiling softly.

                “Can I see?” He bit his lip a little worriedly, he knew that soulmates were touchy subjects sometimes and he didn’t want to make Dobby mad at him. Dobby was the only nice thing about the Manor.

                Dobby gently placed his hand in Draco’s and showed him his palm. In soft cursive writing was clearly another house elf’s name. “Winky?”

                When Dobby nodded his head so rapidly that his ears flopped forward, Draco let out a little laugh that he hoped didn’t sound like a giggle.

                “What are they like?”

                “Winky…” Dobby paused to smile lightly. “Winky is kind and hard-working.”

                Draco looked around when Dobby didn’t elaborate. He wanted to ask what else Winky was like, but it seemed that Dobby and he had different ideas on compliments.

                When Draco’s stomach rumbled again, Dobby’s ears fell flat and he looked horrified. “Master Draco, dinner is late.”

                “Can I eat here?” Draco begged, not allowing Dobby’s hand to retreat, he liked the comfort of someone else. “I don’t want to go down there.” Especially not after hearing his parents talk.

                Dobby sighed before gently pulling his hand away. Draco would have said something but then Dobby pulled him into a hug. His eyes stung at the contact, he had never had a hug before.

                Before Draco could really enjoy the hug, Dobby had apparated away. Draco hadn’t decided if he was going to actually go down to dinner or not. His stomach was making this very hard for him but his stubborn will still stood a chance.

                Another Pop had Draco peeking his head out from under the bed in surprise. His brows arched at the sight of Dobby holding a plate of food.

                “Dobby has brought dinner to Draco. Master Malfoy and Mistress Narcissa have already retired for the night.

                “Of course they have.” Draco didn’t let it bother him. They had always been like that.

                When Draco reached his hands out, he caught the surprise in Dobby’s eyes at the fact that he wanted to eat under the bed.

                “I feel safe down here.” He whispered, not meeting the Dobby's eyes as he gently placed the plate next to him and slid back underneath.

                The sound of Dobby crawling down with him, had Draco wondering if this is what a friend was like. Would a friend do this? Was Dobby his friend?

                Draco took his roll and snapped it in two before reaching out his hand.

                “No, Master Draco,” Dobby shook his head, ears moving. “It’s not proper.” As if the hug they shared earlier hadn’t been improper too.

                “I don’t care,” Draco whispered. “I don’t want to be proper.”

                When Dobby still wouldn’t take it, Draco refused to move his hand. “Dobby, please. It’s the only thing I have to repay you. I have nothing else to offer.”

                Dobby tentatively took the bread with slightly shaking fingers. “Master Draco is…wrong.” There was a pause as Dobby slapped himself on the leg hard for speaking out against him. “Young Master has a lot to offer.”

                Draco looked down as he felt his face heat up. He may be little, but even he knew that no one deserved to be treated the way a house-elf was.

               “Maybe, I can free you one day.” Dobby had always been the only one to treat him with kindness.

                His statement didn’t warrant any response but Draco didn’t expect a reply. He spent the rest of his meal trying to convince Dobby to eat half his food.

                When Draco was six, he felt his left palm begin to burn. The shock of it had him worried before his heart stopped at the realization of what that meant.

                Draco ran to his room and didn’t bother trying to muffle his steps nor did he care that he wasn’t behaving with proper decorum. He slammed the door shut and went straight underneath the bed.

                The pain wasn’t as bad as when it first began but it was still the most excruciating thing he had ever felt. He bit his lip hard to stop a whimper from escaping. His eyes clenched tightly to keep his tears at bay.

                Only when the scorching agony had dissipated, did Draco open his eyes and peer down at his palm.

                Harry Potter.

                Draco’s palm was stinging but that didn’t stop him from tracing the name reverently. “Harry.” He choked out with a small smile.

                Vindicated. He had always known that he had a soulmate.

                “Dobby!”

                Dobby apparated underneath the bed, no surprise at the destination.

                “Is Master Draco alright?” Dobby’s voice was full of concern and must have noticed his tear tracks.

                Draco decided to show him instead of voicing it. He thrusted his hand outward, proudly displaying his mark. The skin surrounding the name was red and puffy but Draco thought it was beautiful. Because this was the mark of his soulmate. Nothing could ever be more beautiful to him.

                “Oh.” The tone of Dobby’s voice was of surprise but mainly delight. His ears were wiggling and he clapped his hands together. “Master Draco should tell Master Malfoy.”

                That had Draco biting his lip. “Tomorrow.” He decided hastily. “I’ll tell him tomorrow.” Duty and responsibilities could be handled then. Right now… right now, he just wanted to imagine the possibilities and picture his soulmate.

                Draco reached out his hand and tried to reach his pillow on top of the bed but his arm was just out of reach. A small *snap* could be heard and suddenly the pillow was in his hands.

                “Thank you,” Draco whispered shyly as he settled on the ground. Dobby liked to pretend that he didn’t use his magic to help but Draco knew better. He knew that hadn’t been him.

                “If you don’t have work to do, can you stay?” Draco whispered, patting the other half of the pillow. He knew that he was once again being improper but he just didn’t care.

                A heavy sigh was all he could hear and Draco had to bite his lip to stop from smiling. He knew that sigh. That was the one Dobby made before Draco got his way.

                He didn’t look to the right when he felt the weight of another head on the pillow, he kept his eyes on the bottom of his bedframe.

                “Do you think he will love me?” Draco asked as he ran his fingers against the name.

                “Yes, Master Draco.”

                Draco closed his eyes and tried to imagine what Harry would look like. “What if he doesn’t want to love a boy?”

                “Then he wouldn’t have been made your soulmate.”

                He knew that Dobby was saying that to make him feel better but they both knew that sometimes people didn’t want someone of the same gender.

                “He’s beautiful,” Draco whispered, picturing every possibility his mind could come up with. It didn’t matter what Harry looked like. He would love him no matter what.

                A breathy sound that might have been a chuckle was released and it had Draco peering curiously at Dobby. Dobby was staring at the bedframe with a small smile on his face.

                “I can’t wait to meet him,” Draco continued, looking back at the frame. “I wish he could save me.” He paused for a moment. “He could save you too.”

                “Perhaps,” Dobby conceded in a tone that Draco knew meant he was just humouring him.

                Draco stood rigidly as his father inspected his hand closely. He wished that Dobby could be in the room, but he didn’t want to make it obvious that he was friends with him. His father wouldn’t appreciate that.

                “Harry Potter.” The tone was of confusion and Draco wondered what could be the problem.

                “Narcissa, what was the name of the Potter child?”

                The question had Draco sucking in a breath as he tried to keep his face passive. He glanced towards his mother, who was reading the Daily Prophet, clearly not interested in who her son’s soulmate was in the slightest.

                “Don’t know,” she drawled, flipping a page. “The name was never released to the public after all three of them were found dead.” Narcissa gave Lucius a pointed look, one that Draco didn’t understand at all.

                Dead. Draco clenched his fist tightly, not caring that his nails were digging into his skin. There was no way that Harry was dead. That couldn’t be true. He couldn’t have waited for his soulmate just to find out that he had died. That wasn’t fair.

                Lucius made a thoughtful noise. “I suppose I could look around and figure out if there are any Harry Potters around. It might be a distant relative of the Potter line.”

                Hope was beginning to sprout inside of Draco and he clung to it harder than he had ever dreamed possible. A reality with Harry dead was one that he refused to accept.

                Each year that passed was getting harder and harder for Draco to bear. His father would sporadically call him into the study to announce another dead end. His heart broke a little every time.

                It was hard to maintain a straight face and deny the pain inside of him. His father may be a lot of things but he did have the best resources money could buy. He knew that if anyone could find Harry, that his father’s contacts would.

                It was a bad sign. If Harry wasn’t found soon, then Draco was going to have to consider the possibility that Harry might actually be dead. Which would kill his spirit in the process.

                “Draco, I have searched all possible connections in all countries for a Harry Potter.”

                Draco had his hands behind his back but they were wringing together in a show of nerves. At least no one would see them.              

                “There is no wizard born of that name.”

                His father didn’t hold any sympathy and his tone was bored.

                “What about non-wizards?” Draco knew he had made a mistake the moment his father snapped his head up and glared at him.

                “Say that again.”

                Draco knew better than to repeat it. But he also knew that saying nothing was going to result in a punishment.

                Only a few seconds of indecision had passed but it was enough for Lucius to come to his own conclusion. A whoosh of air could be heard as his father slashed his wand.

                Draco screamed as his body hit the floor and white-hot pain seared his entire being. His muscles seized up in a way that he had never experienced before and his throat was already beginning to hurt from screaming. The pain was agony, it was unlike anything he had ever felt and he would do anything to stop it.

                It took several moments before he realized that his father had stopped the spell. Draco tried to sit up but his quaking arms couldn’t hold him up and it caused him to just fall back down.

                “No heir of the Malfoy line will be involved with a Muggle.” It was spat out so harshly that Draco would have flinched if he could move.

                “If there is no Harry Potter in the next few years, you will marry someone of my choosing.”

                Draco knew better than to disagree with his father but he couldn’t bring himself to agree. Because under no circumstances was he going to marry someone that wasn’t his soulmate.

                The sound of his father’s footsteps retreating had him breathing a sigh of relief. The pain in his body was still preventing him from moving, so he kept still. His palm was already facing upwards, making it easy to just tilt a little until he could see the mark.

                “Harry,” Draco whispered, closing his eyes tightly. It would all be worth it one day. He could handle his father as long as Harry would be at the end.

                “I heard Malfoy’s soulmate is a Muggle.”

                Draco sighed as he pushed his way through a group of Ravenclaws. Whoever said that only Slytherins could be dicks, must surely have been delusional.

                “Going to throw them to the side because of blood purity?” Someone behind him taunted. As if they know anything about him.

                “Unless of course your soulmate is just as much as a pretentious prick as you are.”

                Draco spun around angrily, noticing that they had attracted a rather large crowd. He withdrew his wand and ignored the observers. “Say what you will about me but don’t say a word against my soulmate. You know nothing.”

                “Neither do you.” The boy continued with a smirk that lowered his appearance aesthetically. “You think your soulmate will actually like who you are?” There was a pause as the boy looked around at the listeners.

                “Who could ever want you?”

                That had Draco’s fists clenching and he breathed through his nose, calming himself down. “I don’t care if my soulmate is a muggle.” He knew that most people wouldn’t believe him but that didn’t matter. None of their opinions held any weight.

                “I’ll love him anyways.” He watched the older boy jerk backwards in surprise and it was enough of a distraction that Draco was able to shove his way past a few slack jawed onlookers and make his way towards his dormitory.

                It took two days before the news of what he said had reached his father’s ears. The sight of a howler had all eyes on him during breakfast.

                Draco feared for what would happen when the school year was over. Summer was not something he looked forward to in the slightest.

                He picked up the howler and threw it on the floor before he shot a bombarda right at it. Chaos ensued right after it exploded in a puff of shredded parchment.

                A week’s worth of detention and a trip with Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest was worth it. Not having to hear his father’s voice screaming at him for being a disappointment was worth it.

               “Did you mean it?”

                Draco looked up and sighed at the sight of Granger sitting next to him. Defense Against the Dark Arts hadn’t started yet and he had been hoping to have the table to himself.

                “You’ll have to be more specific than that. I say a lot of things.”

                Granger huffed impatiently. “Will you really love your soulmate if they turn out to be a muggle?”

                “Granger I wouldn’t care if my soulmate turned out to be a werewolf.” He paused when Professor Lupin let out a strangled noise. 

                Draco looked back to Granger and noticed her calculating look. He sighed again before gesturing towards her hand, where her soulmate’s name was gleaming. “You were lucky enough to have already found your soulmate.” He wondered if Weasley was around, they hardly went anywhere without each other.

                “You don’t know what it’s like not knowing who they are.” Draco’s hands were covered in dragonhide gloves because his father refused to allow anyone the chance of seeing a potential Muggle on his palm.

                “I wonder sometimes whether he is already dead or just not born yet. I wonder what he will be like and what kind of person he is. I don’t care if he is a Muggle because all I want from him is to be safe and whole.” He stopped when he realized that he had already said too much.

                “I just want him.” Draco stood up rapidly, grabbing his books. “Excuse me, this isn’t my seat.”

                He made his way towards the back of the room, ignoring the way Granger and Lupin were staring at him. Draco just wished people would leave him alone. Why did they care? It wasn’t as if they were the ones that were going to be with Harry.

                “Mister Malfoy, could I have a word with you?”

                Draco groaned before he stepped to the side and allowed the rest of the class to leave. He glanced towards Professor Lupin and wondered what he had done to warrant this. He hadn’t cheated this time.

                “Why did you refuse to go in front of the boggart?”

                The question had Draco looking away. He could lie and give an excuse but he had a feeling that Lupin would see past that.

                “Have you ever met my father, sir?”

                He could tell that the question had thrown the Professor some. Probably not understanding where the change of subject was coming from.

                “A few times.”

                Draco fixed the strap of his bag, clutching it closer to him. “Then you know exactly what he is like. I figured it would be better if I spared the rest of the students the pleasure of meeting him.”

                He looked down when a slightly distressed sound came from Lupin. He didn’t want to see pity in his eyes. Didn’t want to be looked at differently.

                “Thank you for telling me. As long as you can actively perform the spell, then I won’t make you do the exercise.”

                “Thank you.” Gratitude was hard sometimes but Draco knew that he had to express it. He needed Lupin to know that he really did appreciate it. When he peered up, he noticed that Lupin’s hand was held loosely for the first time all year and he was able to make out the writing on his palm.

                Draco cleared his throat a little hesitantly. “Sirius Black is innocent,” he whispered before turning around and heading towards the door. That was one thing his father found humorous about his cousin.

                “I know.” The whispered declaration was barely heard, but as Draco closed the door behind him, he realized that other people also had horrible situations with their soulmates as well. He couldn’t imagine what Lupin or Black was going through.

                Draco limped through his bedroom door and closed it lightly, not wanting to anger his father even further by making noise. He had barely made it to his bed before his good leg gave out.

                He knew what he was supposed to do. He knew what a proper pureblood heir would do but he didn’t care. Draco refused to marry anyone his father set up. He would sooner run away than marry Astoria. She seemed nice enough but she wasn’t Harry. She wasn’t who he wanted.

                Draco blinked at the ceiling, willing the tears not to fall. Why should he have to give up a piece of himself to find love? Why should he sacrifice his heart to find success? Why couldn’t they go hand in hand? If marrying Astoria meant being a Malfoy, then he didn’t want that. Didn’t want to be the heir his father wanted. He couldn’t.

                He traced Harry’s name and wished with everything that he had that he could see him. Even if Harry didn’t want him as a soulmate, just one look would satisfy him enough to move on. If his soulmate just wanted to be friends, he could do that. It would hurt but he would do anything to keep Harry. He just needed to find him first.

                … But he couldn’t help but hope that Harry would want him as more than a friend. He wanted to be loved. Because despite everything set against him, he loved Harry Potter.

                “Harry.” The whisper was a cry for help as much as it was to bring comfort. He wished that somehow his soulmate could save him.

                Draco knew that he was too old and far too big to fit underneath his bed but his heart and mind couldn’t take reality anymore. His hands were shaking and his body shivering.

                You will kill Dumbledore.

                The order from a madman. He had always known that his father had followed the Dark Lord, but he had never thought that the man would look like that. That was a walking nightmare.

                His mind was racing, trying to come up with any kind of way out of this. He didn’t want to kill Dumbledore. Nor did he have a reason to. How could the Dark Lord expect him to be able to kill a man as powerful as the Headmaster?

                The sound of a scream in the distance had Draco swearing as he crawled out from underneath the bed and ran towards his potion bag. He bit his lip in concentration as he added more ingredients. He knew that the difference in species would cause the potions to be less potent and he needed to act quickly if he was going to be of any help.

                When the screams stopped, he knew that it was now or never.

                “Dobby.” He whispered softly.

                The sound of the apparation was muffled and he knew that was Dobby's way of helping him.

                “What happened?” Draco cried at the sight of Dobby. He had known it would be bad but not this bad. Dobby was bleeding profusely, cuts and bruises marring his face. He began pulling out more potions and even a few dittany bottles.

                “Dobby was used as a test subject as punishment for not having the guest of Master Malfoy’s food warm enough.”

                As if the Dark Lord couldn’t have used a heating charm on his already hot soup. Draco cursed the existence of someone so cruel as he set out to heal Dobby the best he could.

                “Things are changing,” Draco whispered, not meeting Dobby’s eyes. “This house has never been a good place for either of us. I can’t change my fate.” He clenched his eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t cry. “But I can change yours.”

                “Master Draco what—” Dobby gasped as a sock was placed in his hands.

                The enraged scream of his father was enhanced. Draco knew that the bond between Master and elf had been severed.

                “I should have set you free a long time ago.” The tears were falling but Draco couldn’t stop them. “But I was too selfish. You were all I had and for that I am sorry. So sorry.” He hastily put away his potions and tried to mentally prepare himself for whatever his father could come up with.

                “Forgive me, Dobby.” Draco croaked. “I should’ve had your best interests at heart but I didn’t.”

                “Dobby would have wanted to stay to protect Master Draco,” Dobby cried out, throwing himself at Draco.

                “I know.” Draco’s breathing was shaky as he clung to the second hug he had ever had. “But you don’t have to anymore. I’ll find a way to protect myself. You are a free elf.”

                Dobby shook his head sadly as his ears drooped and tears began to fall. “Dobby doesn’t want to be free if Master Draco is left behind.”

                That was the point where Draco’s heart shattered. He knew what kind of life Dobby had here and to think that the elf would stay for him was the sweetest but most crushing thing he had ever experienced.

                The sound of footsteps coming closer had Draco panicking. He pushed Dobby away from him. “Go! Before he comes in here! Go on, you are free!”

                Dobby narrowed his eyes and clutched the sock to his heart. “Dobby is a free elf. He has no Master.”

                Draco nodded his head distractedly as he looked towards the door, where he knew his father was going to come in at any moment.

                “If Dobby wishes young Draco to be free too, then he will take Draco with him.”

                “Huh?” Draco snapped his head towards Dobby at the same moment his door was swung open.

                The last thing Draco saw was a determined gleam in Dobby’s eyes, a soft hand on his arm and then the crack of an apparation as they disappeared.

                “We have got to work on your landing.” Draco groaned as his back hit what seemed to be some kind of hard surface. He trusted Dobby enough to know that they weren’t somewhere dangerous, so he didn’t bother opening his eyes. “I can’t believe you did that. My father is going to kill me.”

                “He was going to kill young Draco if you stayed,” Dobby whispered back, which was unusual considering Dobby was always loud.

                “It would’ve been worth it.” Draco stretched out his hand until he was able to grab hold of Dobby’s much smaller one.

                “I was able to free you, Dobby. What he did with me didn’t matter. I would’ve died by the end of the year anyway.” Considering the order that had been demanded of him. He would have died by Dumbledore’s hand or the Dark Lord’s for failing.

                Draco opened his eyes and noticed that the ceiling of the room they were in was horrid. Cobwebs were everywhere and the ceiling was so aged that cracks could be seen and even broken pieces falling occasionally.

                “Where the hell are we?”

                “Dobby knew that only Albus Dumbledore could help Draco now.”

                Draco sat up quickly and groaned miserably at the fact that he was on a table in front of an entire meeting of people. They were on the receiving end of quite a few incredulous stares.

                “Oh, Merlin.”

                The sight of Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes was not as comforting as the man thought it should be.

                There wasn’t much choice now that Draco was here. If he really was going to leave his father, then he needed options. He would have preferred to not have joined the opposite side, or any side really. He wanted to be on the side that would guarantee his life.

                After telling the Headmaster and what he now realized was the Order of the Phoenix exactly what had happened, he was waiting somewhat impatiently for them to come to some sort of conclusion.

                “Would anyone be willing to vouch for Draco?” Dumbledore asked the room at large.

                “I will.” Two voices spoke up.

                Draco wasn’t really surprised that his godfather was here. He had always known that Severus was a spy, but he wasn’t sure what kind. A double agent? A triple? That would be decided at a later date. He peered at Lupin, the second person to speak up and wondered why he would bother.

                Lupin smiled softly at him with understanding in his eyes. Draco wasn’t sure what Lupin saw in him but he wasn’t going to turn it away. He noticed that Lupin's hand was entwined with someone else’s.

                Draco didn’t need to see Lupin’s name on the man’s palm to know that this was Sirius Black. He could see the features of his mother and Aunt in him.

                Black leaned forward with mischief in his eyes and a slight smirk. “Well, aren’t you just intriguing.”

                He wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not.

                Being on the side fighting for justice was not as glamorous as some would believe. Draco abhorred the violence and despised their living conditions. Sometimes, as he woke up on a lumpy cot in a tent that smelled like animal piss, he debated about whether death would have been preferable.

                “It’s really not.”

                Draco looked to the ceiling of the tent and tried to control his annoyance. He looked over at Lovegood, who was doing Merlin knows what near the middle of the tent on the floor.

                “Care to elaborate?” he drawled, one brow arched.

                “Whatever you were thinking, that’s the answer.”

                “I’m not even going to ask how you knew that.” He sat up and stretched his muscles. “It isn’t worth the roundabout reply nor the headache that I will get trying to figure you out.”

                Lovegood smiled brightly as her eyes were closed and she seemed to be doing some form of meditation. He could smell something foul coming from a candle and noticed several crystals surrounding her in a circle. “I’m easy to read as long as one knows what they are looking for.”

                “Nice try.” Draco shook his head, moving towards the table where Granger, Weasley, Longbottom, Lupin and Black were sitting. “But I’m not falling for that one.”

                When Longbottom opened his mouth, Draco picked up Black’s fork and held it threateningly. “If you start a long-winded spiel on how you see the beauty to Lovegood one more time, I am going to castrate you with this.”

                Longbottom made a horrified noise before he got up and moved closer to Lovegood. Nice to know which one was the protective one out of the two of them.

                Draco sat in the previously vacated seat and despised the fact that he shared a living space with paired soulmates. It was disheartening to see so many happy couples. He hated it.

                “Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Granger quipped somewhat fondly.

                “Don’t test me,” he told her with his cheek on his hands.

                “Dobby stopped by earlier.”

                Draco sat up, startling everyone else. “Why didn’t he wake me?” He ignored the odd looks they sent him every time Dobby was mentioned.

                “He said that you needed your sleep and he will be back tomorrow.”

                That had Draco grumbling a little but he nodded his head. “Did he give any messages?”

                Lupin hesitated and Draco already knew what he was going to say.

                “He said that the criteria you gave him ended up with no results.”

                Draco’s heart broke slightly but it was quickly becoming something he was used to.

                “Alright.” He pretended not to notice the way his voice cracked.

                “What… are you looking for?” Granger asked hesitantly, probably worried he would snap at her.

                “My soulmate.”

                There was an uncomfortable silence that surrounded the tent and he knew that they couldn’t relate. They all found love at Hogwarts.

                “Is he really a Muggle?” Longbottom asked behind the safety of Lovegood.

                “Don’t know, Draco said. “But I love him.” His tone was hard, daring any of them to disagree.

                “How can you—” Weasley was cut off by the very obvious stomping of Granger’s foot.

                Draco stood up and made his way towards the entrance of the tent. “Sometimes, when you grow up with no love, you have an abundance of it stored up to give away. He was made to be my soulmate and I will love him no matter who he is. Because that’s all I can do.”

                Everyone had learned pretty quickly that Draco wasn’t much of a talker. Oh, he would chime in with a sarcastic comment from time to time and definitely let everyone know when he was displeased, but he never volunteered information about himself or his childhood.

                The only thing anyone could get him to talk about was soulmates. So, when they felt that he should be included in on conversations, they would tease him.

                “What if he’s ugly?” Weasley asked curiously, sidestepping Granger’s slap of disagreement.

                Draco shook his head. “He won’t be.” He could tell that Weasley wasn’t getting what he was saying. “I’m not suggesting that he will look like the perfect specimen of good looks. I am saying that to me he will be beautiful no matter what he looks like.”

                “Even if he has no teeth and his hair is balding in splotches.”

                The description had Draco rolling his eyes. “Even then.”

                “That’s sweet.” Granger and Weaslette said in unison.

                “What if he’s a murderer? Like mass murderer?” Longbottom piped up, getting involved in the conversation.

                “Maybe he’ll give me tips for the next time you lot annoy me.”

                Black snorted from the kitchen area of the tent, clearly listening in.

                “Ooo, what if he’s mental?” Weaslette wondered.

                “Who isn’t these days?” Draco retorted stretching out on his cot. “Nothing you throw at me will make me doubt my feelings. I will be proud of whoever he is.”

                Draco shook his head when they all exchanged looks. He knew that they didn’t understand why he loved Harry already but they just wouldn’t get it unless they lived his experiences.

                “When the war is over, I am going to search the entire world until I find him.” He looked down at his covered hand and smiled softly. Wishing that Harry could be here with him. But also thankful that he was away from the fighting.

                “I’m not doing it,” Draco folded his arms across his chest and glared at Weasley.

                Weasley rolled his eyes and looked around the room for help.

                “Draco,” Lupin began in a tone that was meant to appease him. “Tomorrow we fight the fifth region. You know what we are up against. It’s the last resistance Voldemort has and he could be there.”

                “Your point?”

                “That you could die,” Black took over. “If that happens, do you want to leave nothing behind for your soulmate? He should get at least something. A letter, a note, anything. You don’t want him thinking that you are still out there if you die.”

                Draco bit his lip as he grabbed the parchment from Weasley. He knew that survival wasn’t guaranteed. He could very well die tomorrow or the following day. If he really did die, he didn’t want Harry wondering if he was still out there somewhere. If he was going to die, it would be with the knowledge that he had something to guarantee that Harry know how much he meant to him.

                It took him hours to be able to get the words to flow the way he wanted them to. Writing to Harry was cathartic in a way but he also ached to be able to say all of this in person. When he said as much as he could, he walked back to where the rest of them were eating dinner.

               “Here.” He handed Weasley the parchment he folded and sealed.

                “I’ll need a name,” Weasley told him with a teasing smile.

                Draco looked down at his hand. He hadn’t told anyone but his father and Dobby who his soulmate was. The knowledge was private and special. But… if he did die, he would need someone to pass that on.

                “Harry Potter.”

                Black and Lupin dropped their bowls, food splattered everywhere as everyone shouted in alarm.

                Draco peered at them in concern. “Are you alright?”

                The way they were staring at him in horror and pity had his throat closing. Did they know Harry? Had he been bunking with the very people who could have told him where his soulmate was?

                Before anyone else could say something, alarms went off and everyone jumped to their feet, grabbing their wands.

                The front of the tent opened and Granger already had her wand pointed out, ready for the intrusion.

                One of the Weasley twins came barging in. “Ambush to the west. It’s the fifth region.”

                Black swore loudly, already making his way towards the entrance.

                Weasley gazed past Black and caught Lupin’s eyes. “They brought werewolves.”       

                Lupin closed his eyes briefly before he nodded.

                Draco took one last look at his letter on the table and ran out after everyone else.

                Battle isn’t as glamorous as books romanticize. There isn’t any clarity or brilliant strategies that come to mind in the heat of the moment. Everything is rushed, chaotic and a disaster. Curses, hexes and jinxes jetting around all over the place. It’s just as easy to be hit by a stray curse as it is head-on against an opponent.

                Duels aren’t straightforward and anything goes. Multiple people against one or an even fight. The circumstances change drastically within seconds. The morale could be high one minute or horribly low the next. There really was no predicting which side would win during the battle, because the odds were constantly changing. There would be moments where it seemed as if they were losing and death would be inevitable and then a breath later, they would have the upper hand. It was a repeating circle that was more of a distraction than anything.

                Draco summoned a shield at the same time he nudged Lovegood out of the way of a curse that would have hit her in the back.

                “Get your head out of the clouds and focus on the battle!” He chastised. Draco moved on before she could respond with something that he knew wouldn’t make sense.

                There were stray body parts scattered on the ground and he didn’t have the stomach to see if they were friends or foes. He could see Black fighting Bellatrix in the distance and knew that would be a tough battle. Lupin was fighting Greyback but seemed to be holding his own. Dumbledore and Severus were fighting the Dark Lord, he chose to stay away from that.

                The battle itself was winding down. Despite it being an ambush, they had prepared for that. The eldest Weasley son had managed to get the Goblins to send in reinforcements that got in last night. So, the opposition wasn’t prepared for that.

                He didn’t want to get reckless in the assumption that they would win but the evidence was becoming clear that they definitely had more people alive.

                “Draco.”

                Draco froze at the sound of his father’s voice, which was a mistake. He was on the receiving end of the familiar pain of a crucio before he could even blink.

                “Looks like you are still as pathetic as you always have been.”

                The insult had nothing on the pain of the curse. Draco had been through this enough times to know that he was strong enough to withhold from making any noise. He had lost count over the years how many times he was in this same position in front of father, writhing on the ground as pain overtook him.

                When the spell paused, Draco made to get to his feet. Before he could, “Crucio!” A cruel laugh could be heard but the pain was more intense and harder the second time around to face.

                “Did you think I was going to go easy on you?” Lucius spat out angrily. “The only reason I ever stopped after one during your youth was because I couldn’t permanently damage my heir. You are nothing to me now. No point in keeping you sane.”

                Draco knew that his father wouldn’t kill him. Death was too easy. He was going to torture him into insanity. Merlin, ruthless must run in the family. His father was going to use Bellatrix’s speciality.

                By the third time he was under the spell, Draco could feel his mental awareness slipping. He wasn’t sure how much he could physically take. His body was so numb that he wouldn’t be able to move even if the spells were to cease.

                He tried to keep up an Occlumency shield, to keep most of his mind safe but it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain.

                “Crucio!”

                It was as if it was an endless cycle. Pain and agony. Over and over. A brief respite before he was once again underneath his father’s fury. When his body began jerking both in and out of the spell, he knew that he didn’t have much longer. His body was beginning to fail and he could feel his breath leaving him quicker and quicker.

                There wasn’t a way to tell time. Draco thought that perhaps it had been hours but in reality, it made more sense for it to only have been a few minutes.

                His body jerked so harsh that Draco bit his own tongue, the taste of blood was so powerful that he would have retched if his father had allowed for a pause. If there was even a chance that he could get his father to stop, he would have begged until his voice was hoarse. But he knew that would accomplish nothing.

                When it finally seemed like his father was going to stop, Draco opened his eyes to see if someone had come to his rescue.

                His heart dropped at the sight of his father’s triumphant stare, wand pointed at him and wide smirk adorning his face.

                Draco closed his eyes and prepared for the spell the best he could. When the excruciating pain once again started back up, he couldn’t hold back the tears. The sounds of the battle around them were becoming harder and harder to hear. He knew that his mind wouldn’t last much longer.

                He used what little strength he could and took off his glove. If he was going to lose himself, it would be with the last thought of Harry’s name on his palm.

                A crack sounded in the distance but it was barely on his radar as Draco became determined to only notice the cursive of Harry’s name. It was becoming harder and harder to make out the letters but he tried to keep the name in his mind.

                “You will not harm young Draco further!” There was a scream as Lucius was blasted backwards before a sickening crunch could be heard on the way down.

                “Draco.”

                Draco’s mind couldn’t tell that he was free of the curse. His body was still jerking and his muscles were trembling hard. He thought he might have recognized Dobby’s voice but it was distorted and distant.

                “H-Har—” He mourned the loss of not being able to make out Harry’s name before everything went black.

                There was awareness here and there but mainly Draco couldn’t tell whether he was sleeping or not. Sounds were too loud but then too quiet when it mattered. Things were fuzzy and his memory almost nonexistent. The harder he tried to break through it all, the harder it became to stay conscious.

                It was as if he was in a maze with his eyes and ears covered, trying to find his way out. The dead ends were his own mind trying to stop him while each correct turn ended in in three more dead ends. It was utterly frustrating.

                When he got too upset, his mind would scream at him for hours. Occasionally showing him memories or thoughts that he never wanted to relive.

                Despite it all, there was always one goal. He knew that he was supposed to make it out of the maze. He had someone to find, someone to get to.

                “Do you know who you are?”

                Draco rolled his eyes as he didn’t bother looking at his healer. The woman would be replaced by the end of the week. They always were. When they realized that he was broken and would never get better.

                “Draco Malfoy.”

                His tone was harsh and annoyed. He didn’t know why she was bothering to ask, they had already been through this yesterday.

                “Do you know how long you have been in here?”

                That one had him pausing. He didn’t know how long it had been since the final battle. Weasley and Granger had stopped by last week? Or was two weeks? Time past by quickly when your mind fails on you.

                “No.” The admission cost him and he knew his healer knew that.

                “Two years.”

                Draco snapped his head up in horror. It couldn’t have been that long. No way. “When was my last visitor?”

                “While you were aware?”

                The question had Draco wincing. He hated that people stopped by when he was in his episodes. He nodded once, hoping she wouldn’t make him speak.

                “A month.”

                Draco’s brows furrowed. He hated that awareness came and went so quickly. He had the will to get better but his mind didn’t want to cooperate. His eyes filled with tears as he angrily wiped them away. Screw his father to hell and back for doing this to him.

                “There are a few experimental treatments we would like to try.”

                Draco nodded his head, not caring what they did to him. It wasn’t like he had much of a say so anyways.

                “Should we tell Malfoy that I found him?”

                Draco wasn’t sure who was talking but it was most likely his healers. It was getting a little easier to concentrate but it still required a lot of mental focus.

                “Are you sure it’s him?” The new voice was familiar but not at the same time.

                “Unless there is someone else with the same name. I can keep looking to be sure.”

                “Better be safe than sorry. This is a big deal.”

                Draco tried to speak up but the pull of his chaotic mind was stronger.

                “I want to leave,” Draco demanded the moment he caught sight of his new healer.

                The man sighed heavily but he ignored this.

                “You aren’t well, Mister Malfoy.”

                Draco glared at the ceiling, clenching his fists tightly. “If you don’t allow me room to grow, then I will never get better.”

                “You are only aware of your surroundings three days out of the week. Occasionally four.”

                “Half is better than none.”

                The unimpressed stare he received was done well. Draco almost shifted uncomfortably.

                “St. Mungos cannot send you home on these results. If we can get that number up, then we can talk.”

                Draco spent most of his free time reading potion journals. They wouldn’t let him have anything sharp, in case he had an episode, so he wasn’t allowed to actually brew any potions. Which he thought was stupid. His episodes just had him retreating into his own mind, not becoming suicidal.

                He chucked the journal across the room after the fifth time of reading the bloody thing.

                “With that attitude, I might not give you these.”

                Draco looked over to see Lovegood skip into his room, her bright clothes and happy smile brightening up the room already.

                “More potion journals?”

                She shook her head slowly and placed a few books on his lap.

                Draco’s breath caught in his throat when he realized that they were romance novels revolving around soulmates.

                “I know they won’t let out yet, so that you can look for Harry but I thought that you might appreciate reading stories where they are allowed to look for theirs.”

                If it was from anyone else, he might have strangled them. But Draco knew that Lovegood wouldn’t give him anything that she didn’t think he couldn’t handle.

                “Thank you,” He whispered as his thumb caressed his palm subconsciously, running slowly across the raised letters.

                She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I would start with this one.”

                Lovegood was gone as quickly as she had come in.

                Draco peered down at the one she recommended. He arched his brows at the summary.

                Lillian spends her life in and out of hospitals, dreaming of a cure for her illness. The healers work around the clock but progress is slow. She looks out the window and watches the world pass by. Somewhere out there, her soulmate is looking for her. Well, at least she hopes they are.

                Ashton spent her days in a job she didn’t want but was necessary to have if she wanted to have food on the table. The assistant to the assistant of a healer was far from ideal. She was assigned to take notes and check in on patients. A spell could do that. How was she supposed to find her soulmate if she was stuck in St. Agnos every day?

                Both of their lives change forever when Ashton is assigned to check in on Lillian. Can they find love on the mind ward?

                Draco rolled his eyes at the cheesy summary. He knew that Harry wasn’t going to be one of his healers. If that was the case, he would’ve been able to find him during his searches. Was Lovegood suggesting that his soulmate would find him? Or was he reading too much into it and she was just suggesting that this was a good book?

                Either way, Draco flipped open the book and began to read.

                Draco opened his eyes and noticed that Weasley and Granger were in his doorway. Usually, they would be sitting by his bed when was forced to endure their company. He had been hoping it would be Lovegood. He had read her last round of books that she stopped by with and one of them ended terribly. This was not what he thought comfort would be like.

                “Weasel, what are you doing here?”

                A gasp near the foot of his bed had Draco moving his head till he could peer at the person. It was a man near his own age, staring at him in a wonder that he had never experienced before. He looked the guy over and noticed that he was wearing Muggle clothing. The person might be a Muggle but that didn’t make sense, considering the wards over the place. Perhaps they were a Muggleborn?

                “You don’t look like a healer. I would say muggle by your choice of clothing.” He paused to look pointedly at the man’s outfit. “Not that your fashion sense is any good. Are you here to help me or hurt me?”

                Draco took another moment to stare at the man’s appearance. He was beautiful in ways that he usually didn’t stop to notice about people. Perhaps boredom was affecting him? The guy had black hair ruffled in a mess that was just as chaotic as his own mind at times. Bright green eyes were shining behind glasses that surprisingly complimented his appearance. His skin was several shades darker than his own. Tanned in a way that he knew was natural.

                When the guy lifted his hands up in surrender, Draco found himself amused that the guy took him seriously. It wasn’t until he noticed the easy way the man showed off his soulmate mark that he looked towards it.

                Draco’s breath left him in a desperate gasp at his own name spelt out. No. Was this real? His mind had never conjured illusions before. Nor was he ever this lucid during an episode.

                When Harry took a step towards him, Draco wasn’t sure his heart could beat any faster. Happy endings had never happened to him before. He wanted this to be real. Needed it to be real.

                “I’m Harry.” Draco’s heart skipped a beat when Harry swallowed thickly. “I have waited my whole life to meet you.”

                That was it. That was all he could handle. Draco knew it wasn’t proper nor was it normal, but he couldn’t help himself as he lunged for Harry. Being proper was overrated anyways. He wrapped his arms around Harry's neck as his legs went around his waist.

                The actual touch of his soulmate was too much for Draco. He had been dreaming of this moment since he was a toddler. The thought of being stuck in St. Mungos for so long had killed him to know that he couldn’t look for Harry. To have him here, after everything was just too much. He buried his head in Harry’s neck as he croaked out the name that meant everything to him.

                When Harry said that he got his letter, Draco snapped his head up in confusion. “But…” He didn’t understand that. “Why would you have gotten…” His eyes narrowed when he remembered that only Weasley had been handed that letter.

                Draco almost snorted at the sight of Weasley hiding behind Granger when he glanced towards the door.

                “I want you to know that it’s not silly or insane. I have loved you too.”

                He almost wanted to hex himself to see if it was real. This was everything he had hoped for and more. Draco’s eyes searched Harry’s face, memorizing every little detail. All he had ever wanted was his soulmate to be alive and whole. Anything past that was a wish. But to have Harry tell him that he loved him, was everything.

                Draco would hate himself if he didn’t move in for a kiss. If this did end up being some insane hallucination, then he needed this.

                When Harry moved too, Draco almost whimpered at the press of another pair of lips against his own. He had always imagined what this would feel like but it was different than he thought it would be. Harry’s lips were firm but gentle. Oh, so gentle. He couldn’t help but lift one of his hands to entwine into the thick, messy locks. It was almost grounding in a way. At some point, he might have released a sigh but it was quickly covered up as the kiss deepened.

                One kiss wasn’t enough. He needed more. They kissed again and again. Draco could spend all day like this, in the arms of his soulmate and those sweet lips on his own.

                Draco pressed soft kisses against Harry’s face and neck. “I want to know who you are.” He hoped that Granger and Weasley were gone but he didn’t want to stop looking at Harry. “Everything. Tell me everything.”

                “That will take a while.”

                The warning didn’t bother Draco. He peered up into happy, sparkling eyes and couldn’t help but smile softly. “I have all the time in the world.”

                It wasn’t as if he could go anywhere.

Chapter Text

January 6^th, 1981

                It didn’t make sense. What would the Dark Lord need with a house elf?

                Regulus narrowed his eyes as the implications began forming in his mind. Being a Dark Wizard didn’t mean nefarious. There were many upsides to Dark Magic. But… the Dark Lord was tainting all of it. He should have known all along that Sirius was right. Merlin, didn’t that just burn?

                Things had become less clear over the years and now the war was getting out of hand. Innocent people were dying. Not just the ones that slighted the Dark Lord or besmirched the good name of pureblood wizards. Innocent children were dying. Innocent elders were dying. Innocent people who never harmed a single soul were dying. The conscience that Regulus swore never existed was beginning to nag at him.

                This couldn’t continue forever. Something had to give. The only question was when?

                It wasn’t until Kreacher apparated home wheezing, coughing, and nearly dead that Regulus knew this would be the beginning of the end for him. He looked down at his palm and wished that his soulmate would be okay with his decision. It shouldn’t have to end like this, but what he wanted didn’t matter. Not really.

                “Severus.” The whisper was clouded with emotion as Regulus couldn’t keep his eyes off the raised letters forever inked into his skin. “I’m sorry.”

                Regulus straightened up and began running diagnostic spells on his house elf. “Wherever the Dark Lord took you, take me there. Now.”

                The lovely thing about being raised a Black was the knowledge of rituals that should be best forgotten. As Regulus approached the center of the cave, he knew what lay beneath the waters. Danger, darkness, and death. How fitting of the Dark Lord, but yet utterly disappointing.

                Kreacher was shaking behind him, but Regulus couldn’t form the proper words to ease his worries. “Don’t enter the water and touch nothing.”

                When the boat docked, and Regulus made it to the basin, his breath left him in a whoosh. Such Dark Magic. The kind that shouldn’t be dredged up. A magic that twists the soul and separates the pieces that are needed to remain whole. What kind of depraved individual would create such a thing? Such a lack of empathy and sound reasoning. This was the mark of someone who can’t be redeemed. Not even in delusions of grandeur.

                Fighting for what is right was always something that never sat well with Regulus. Perhaps that was his mother speaking or the silence of his father. But as he looked down at what was obviously a Horcrux, he knew that doing what was right was the only path he could walk down. His own redemption lay forgotten; pushed to the side as a morality he didn’t know existed sprang forward.

                “Kreacher, don’t allow me to enter the water and should I pause at any time when drinking this, force it down my throat.”

                When the elf didn’t answer him immediately, he turned to reprimand Kreacher but paused at the concern in large eyes.

                “Master Regulus, Kreacher should drink the liquid.”

                Despite the mounting evidence of a lack of heart, Regulus felt emotions swell up. “Kreacher, you are a valuable member of the House of Black. My brother can carry on the family line. My mother needs you.”

                With the first drop of liquid that touched his tongue, Regulus knew that it would be harder than he originally thought. Figures the Dark Lord would use a combination of poison, crippling fear, and compulsions for bad memories in one potion.

                Regulus clenched the side of the basin tightly as he pulled on every ounce of Occlumency that he could muster. It wasn’t a long-term solution, but it would work for now.

                Three-quarters of the way in and he felt his resolve breaking. “Kreacher, prepare to force the issue at hand.”

                His hand started to shake, and his heart skipped unhealthy beats. The poison had not only entered his system but was also making itself known. It was a slow acting poison that was no doubt intended to keep the victim alive for questioning.

                It took several attempts at keeping his hand steady before he was able to swallow the next scoop of liquid. The vile taste had his throat closing and his gag reflex kicking in. Distraction was the only way to disassociate with the reality of what was happening. Regulus thought of his soulmate, imagining the way Severus would glare at him when he braided his hair. Thought of the way his lover could scare children with a simple sneer. Severus was the only one who understood him and the only one who knew him in ways that seemed impossible.

                He dropped the shell chalice in the basin when the pain became too intense. More cracks in his shields began splintering across his subconscious. A small touch to his lips had them parting. Belatedly, Regulus realized it was Kreacher forcing more liquid into his mouth. He wanted to knock the hand away and retreat into his own mind, but knew that the mission needed to be finished out. The Dark Lord could not continue down this path. The Horcrux needed to be destroyed. It had to.

                “Master Regulus can do this. Kreacher believes in Master Regulus.”

                The words surprisingly grounded Regulus. A few more swallows and he was able to grab the locket inside. A quick spell was enough to get a replacement version, no matter how fake it looked. That couldn’t be helped.

                The moment his fingers touched the gold, Regulus had to clench his eyes tightly and attempt to repair his shields enough to repel the Horcrux. The magic surrounding the locket was recent, which let Regulus know that the Dark Lord’s soul had just been splintered. Whether it was the first time or one of several, he did not know.

                “Take me to Severus.”

                Severus tried not to look at the clock, but it wasn’t like Regulus to be so late. Something had been worrying Regulus lately and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

                The crack of an apparation had him pulling out his wand and spinning around.

                “Regulus.” The sight of his lover being supported by a house elf was not a welcome one. He hurried over to help bring Regulus to the couch.

                “What happened?” He demanded harshly, not caring if the question went to Regulus or the elf. A quick summons of his potions kit had him prepared for any answer.

                Regulus lifted up the locket and watched Severus recoil in disgust. “I stole the Dark Lord’s Horcrux.”

                “Of course you did.” There was a pause as Regulus bit his lip, waiting for the inevitable. “Sometimes I wonder if you should have been a bloody Gryffindor like your moronic brother! How I am to be married to you, I will never understand. How am I—”

                Severus narrowed his eyes as he looked to the locket and the state of Regulus. With a heavy heart and stinging eyes, he ran a diagnostic spell. 

                “What did you do?” Severus hated the crack in his voice as he registered the irreversible damage.

                “He has to be stopped.” Regulus covered Severus’ hand with his own and pulled him into a hug. “It’s horribly selfish of me to leave this world without you, and I am sorry for that.” He fought the tears that wanted to come out. “But I will die fighting this. You know what kind of lack of mental stability it would take to create this kind of evil.” He shook the Horcrux in his hands, hating the Dark Lord with every fiber of his being.

                Severus wanted to despise Regulus for this. Wanted to hate the reckless and horrible morality that he had undertaken, but the incessant pulse of Dark Magic seeping into the room from the Horcrux was the only truth required.

                “I can’t repair the damage,” Severus whispered, speaking just for the sake of doing something. Coming to grips with the ultimate decision didn’t erase the ache in his heart that was beginning to crush him. “The poison has entered your stream and mutated the cells. You have months at max. Less than a year.”

                It felt like a death sentence for both of them. Regulus nodded, understanding, but not able to provide any comfort. He would spend every last moment of his life fighting the Dark Lord.

                “Are there more?” Wondered Severus as he clung tightly to Regulus’ robes, not wishing to continue the discussion but needing a distraction.

                Regulus would like to believe that one was enough, but the Dark Lord wasn’t one to do something lightly. The chances of there being more were high.

                “Probably. Most likely.”

                Severus braced himself for the inevitable recruitment that Regulus would no doubt beg of him.

                “You’ll help me, won’t you?”

                As if Severus could deny him anything. “If I must.”

                Despite the aura of wrong that permeated the space near the locket, Regulus pulled Severus closer and allowed his mind to wander.

                How does one take out a man so evil that splitting the soul was something done as a necessity? Is there any amount of good in the world to counteract such a thing?

March 16, 1981

               Severus apparated straight to Regulus, ignoring the shout of surprise. His mind was still processing everything that he had overheard. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that he realized they were in a ruined shack.

                “Lovely renovation. Plan on moving in?”

                Regulus grinned, shaking his head as he took down the wards surrounding the next Horcrux. “Found another one.”

                That had Severus straightening up, but he didn’t move an inch. There was no telling what kind of spells were still in place.

                “What are you doing here?” Regulus wondered, moving a few feet to the right to allow his magic to travel with the shift of air his movement caused. There was some kind of pull that was centred in the air around the Horcrux. “I thought you were sent to spy on Dumbledore.”

                “I was.” Severus watched Regulus work in interest. He was strikingly good at the Dark Arts. “But I overheard a prophecy.”

                Regulus almost jerked his wand enough to send the magic into overdrive. “What?”

                If the situation were different, Severus would have laughed. “At first, I discounted everything Trelawney spoke of. None of it made sense and I was positive she was a fraud. When it seemed as if Dumbledore was of the same opinion, she entered a trance.”

                Regulus shook his head, barely focusing on his magic as he tried to concentrate on what Severus was saying. “But prophecies never amount to much. So much can change with a simple decision.”

                “I know.” Severus arched a brow, not bothering to keep the censure out of his tone.

                “Did you tell the Dark Lord?”

                When Regulus looked up to see a harsh glare sent his way, he bit his lip to stop from smiling. “Alright, sorry I asked.”

                Severus pretended not to hear him. “He’ll summon me later tonight. I wanted to discuss it with you before I tell him anything.”

                Regulus paused, blinking rapidly. “Why? What was it about?”

                “The downfall of the Dark Lord,” Severus smirked at the way Regulus gaped inelegantly.

                Regulus paced around the room pointedly not looking at Severus healing himself. The Dark Lord hadn’t been forgiving when it was discovered that no information had been provided on the happenings of Dumbledore.

                “Let me get this straight. Trelawney’s prophecy suggests that a child will be the downfall of the Dark Lord? One born at the end of July?”

                Severus didn’t bother responding. They had been over this countless times.

                “But that doesn’t make sense. There are multiple children that this could fall to. That would imply that the child would be whoever the Dark Lord chooses to go after. That is specific, the choice alone would suggest that it’s about the Dark Lord and not the child.”

                “Mhm,” Severus added, swallowing the last of his muscle relaxant potion. “It raises the age-old question: if a prophecy is announced, but there is no one around to hear it, does it come to fruition?”

                Regulus shook his head. “That’s neither here nor there. You and Dumbledore were there to hear it.”

                “Yes,” Severus conceded. “But not the Dark Lord. He is blissfully unaware of any such prophecy.” Which was a good thing. If the man was aware of such a thing, he would stop at nothing to quash any such competition. Whether the prophecy was real or not.

                That had Regulus humming softly. “If he is unaware of the prophecy, he can’t force the hand by choosing a child intentionally.”

                “Doesn’t mean the prophecy still couldn’t come true,” Severus pointed out, ignoring the glare sent his way. “Although, the whole thing is moot. Putting stock into anything as frivolous as a prophecy is a waste of time. The Dark Lord alone could have changed the course of the prophecy by any small choice he has made since it was announced.”

                Logically, Regulus knew that. He understood everything that Severus was saying, but if they were really going to take out Voldemort, then he wanted to cover every angle possible.

                “We’re going to protect every child that could fit this prophecy.”

                Severus sighed heavily. “Of course we are. Of bloody course we are.” Love was stupid, idiotic, and never a good idea. It was also the only reason he was going along with this stupid, idiotic, and not good idea.

May 31^st, 1981

                “What makes you think I should trust you?”

                Regulus sighed as he peered at Lily Evans-Potter. “I honestly don’t care if you believe me. It’s up to you whether you want a dead child or not.” He knew there was a less crass way of responding, but he didn’t have time to deal with this. Either she was with him or not.

                “Does Voldemort know about the prophecy?” Lily asked, eyeing him with a touch of hatred.

                “If he did, do you think you would still be out in the open?” Honestly, it was becoming a waste of time.

                “I knew I should have listened to Severus.” Severus had suggested protecting from the shadows and never forming contact with the families.

                “Severus?” Regulus frowned when her eyes got a faraway look to them. “He sent you?”

                “In a manner of speaking.” There was an odd pause as she regarded him intently.

                Lily sighed. “Alright. I’ve got a sister that could watch him for a small amount of time when the moment comes.”

                Finally. They were getting somewhere. Now all he had to do was visit the Longbottom’s.          

July 21^st, 1981

                Regulus slammed open their bedroom door and scowled at his sleeping lover. “We’ve got a problem.”

                “Yeah,” Severus began, not bothering to open his eyes. “Mine is a pretentious prick who wakes people up in the middle of the night.”

                “It’s not like you need your beauty sleep.” Regulus barely dodged the wandless stinging hex sent his way.

                “How did the summoning go?” He hadn’t been required to attend since no potions were of need.

                Regulus worried his lip between his teeth. “The Dark Lord has decided the quickest way to demolish the Order is by taking out the strongest contenders.”

                Severus snorted loudly. “It’s taken him how many years to come up with that brilliant deduction?”

                “The Potters and the Longbottoms are on his list.”

                That had Severus sitting up and blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from his eyes. “Does it seem as if he is aware of our plan?”

                “No.” Regulus shook his head slowly. “There were several other names on the list as well. But those two were at the top.”

                Severus narrowed his eyes taking in the agitation to Regulus’ stance. “This isn’t proof of the prophecy.”

                “I know.” And he did. Regulus was aware that it could be a coincidence or just the normal succession of events. But he couldn’t help but worry.

                “When does he plan to attack?”

                “The moment his operative returns.”

                Severus huffed, not liking the secrecy. “Any ideas on who is the source?”

                Regulus shook his head, not sure who in the Order was selling primary intel. “Bellatrix seems to be aware, but you know her. She isn’t telling.” His dear old cousin was more of a nuisance than anything.

                “That’s just great,” mumbled Severus, not bothering to hide his disdain. This meant they were flying blind with little information. Of course they were.

                “We have to reach out to both families and relay what we know.”

                Severus wanted to point out that they hardly knew anything, but the determined glint in Regulus’ eyes let him know it would be pointless.

                It was clear that he was just along for the ride anyways.

August 1^st, 1981

                Regulus smirked as he flooed home. They were one step closer to accomplishing their goals. He leaned against the wall and watched Severus move around the kitchen. Despite being the youngest Potion’s Master in centuries, Severus couldn’t cook whatsoever. At this point, Regulus would take the week-old leftovers over whatever was burning on the stove.

                “If you are just going to stare at me, you might as well come help.”

                The snipe had Regulus smiling fondly as he entered the kitchen. “It would be a disservice to provide assistance. Surely, you don’t want us to salvage whatever it is you are ruining.”

                Severus turned around to smack Regulus on the hand with a wooden spoon. “Why am I with you? I truly have no idea why I put up with you.”

                Regulus took the spoon out of Severus’ hands and wrapped his arms around the surly man. He didn’t respond to the question; they both knew how much they meant to the other.

                “What has you in a good mood?”

                The question wasn’t a surprise anymore. Regulus wasn’t sure how Severus always managed to know his mood.

                “I found another Horcrux.”

                Severus closed his eyes, wishing that this wasn’t good news. When did his life become so messed up? Each day that he woke up with Regulus was just another reminder that his time with him  was running out. “Where was it?”

                “Inside the Black family vault.”

                Severus listened to Regulus regale a rather boring story of how he had stumbled across it when doing a favor for Bellatrix.

                The chime of the clock in the living room was just another reminder of the time that was slipping by.

September 13^th, 1981

                “Severus, love of my life and the best-looking man in this room-” Regulus was cut off by a suspicious look.

                “What do you want? Your flattery is atrocious and so off-putting I could fall asleep.”

                Regulus huffed before shoving Severus’ shoulder somewhat playfully. “I need you to seduce Malfoy.”

                When Severus choked on nothing, Regulus couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t every day he was able to get a reaction like that out of him.

                “I must have heard you incorrectly. If you ever want to touch me again, I better have heard you incorrectly,” threatened Severus, shuddering at the thought of seducing Lucius.

                “I just need you to distract him enough that I can get into his library.” Regulus looked around the ballroom, making sure the other guests in the Manor weren’t nearby.

                Severus crossed his arms and gestured for more information.

                “There’s another one here.” After all of the Horcruxes they have found, Regulus was beginning to be able to form a detection with his own magic for the Horcruxes. He could feel the twisted presence lingering in the Manor.

                Severus narrowed his eyes. “If he so much as looks at me the wrong way, I am going to make him impotent.”

                “Do make sure someone photographs it. I would like the photo on my gravestone as my best living memory,” Regulus teased before pressing a quick kiss to Severus’ cheek.

                Severus looked at Lucius and grimaced as the man moved around the room. He debated about even attempting to flirt with the aristocrat, but the thought of Regulus being caught had him surging forward.

                “Lucius, how charming it is to see you.” When Malfoy smirked at him widely, Severus had to force himself to remember that he was doing this for Regulus.

                 Which Regulus owed him for...heavily.

                The lie fell easily, and the long but creepy conversation afterwards was worth it to see Regulus slip back into the room with a smile on his face.

October 31, 1981

                The time for false pretences was over. Regulus knew the moment that they were to split up and attack multiple members of the Order that it was time.

                Regulus turned to Severus and spoke before he could. “Watch over the Longbottoms, will you? I’ll head to the Potters before the Dark Lord arrives.”

                Severus searched Regulus' eyes before pulling him in close by the collar of his robes. “Be safe,” he whispered against Regulus’ lips. “Return to me.”

                The kiss was far gentler than Regulus could ever remember them sharing. His heart twisted painfully, and his muscles jerked. The side effects of the poison were getting worse and he knew that he had to do this before his muscles atrophied in the coming weeks.

                “I love you, Severus.” Regulus cupped Severus’ jaw. “Even if you are a grumpy git.”

                Severus shook his head fondly. “I love you too, even if you are a reckless idiot that should have his Slytherin status revoked.”

                Regulus smiled into one last kiss before he apparated out of the room.

                The moment Regulus apparated to the designated area that he was to call for Lily, he was being pushed behind a tree.

                “Please take him to my sister,” Lily begged, handing over a small child bundled in a blanket. “Dumbledore thinks there is a traitor amongst the Order.”

                Regulus would have whistled slowly if he had the time. Merlin, was the old man just now aware of the leak? No wonder the Order was going to fall tonight.

                “Tell her I will come for him shortly. A few days tops.”

                He thought that was a little brazen to assume that she would survive an attack from the Dark Lord, but Regulus chose to say nothing.

                He nodded before securing the Potter child closer to his chest.

                “Thank you for doing this,” Lily whispered, eyes glued to her son. “I don’t know what I would do if Harry were in harm's way. Just, thank you.”

                Regulus looked down at the sleeping child. The life that represented not just the innocence of one child, but the innocence of all children. This was what the wizarding world should be fighting for. Maintaining innocence of the next generation.

                He watched Lily kiss her son on the head and wondered if life had been different if he could have had a child with Severus. With a crushed heart and a small child in his arms, Regulus apparated away.

                Regulus took a deep breath as he knocked on the door of the most appalling house he had ever seen. Sure, the outside was neatly trimmed, but the synchronized conformity was appalling. Did muggles not have free thought? Or did all houses look the same?

                A small gurgle had him peering down at the baby Potter. He sighed when the child grabbed hold of his finger. Regulus didn’t have the same optimism as Lily.

                As the door opened and a woman with a rather long neck glared at him, he wondered if this would end up being the child’s permanent residence.

                “Your sister left a letter for you,” Regulus offered kindly, hoping that Lily had explained everything to her.

                When the woman snatched the child from his hands and closed the door in his face, Regulus was reminded why he had signed up to be a death eater in the first place.

                “Fucking Muggles.”

                The magic in the air was the first thing that let Regulus know the Dark Lord was winning. He ran towards the coordinates that were provided by the traitor.

                The Potter house was in shambles. He let out a breath as he clenched his fists. A fire was breaking out among the pieces of the house that were still intact. Bodies of fallen death eaters littered the ground, but he could care less about them.

                As Regulus approached, he could make out the Dark Lord in the broken entrance to the home. There was a huge gash in his chest and he was barely breathing.

                “Regulus, assist your Master.”

                Regulus closed his eyes at the command. He wasn’t sure if all of the Horcruxes had been gotten rid of. It was always possible that there was more out there.

                He waited until the Dark Lord closed his eyes for a brief moment before sending a patronus message to Severus. If he was going to die, it would be with the conscious effort in letting his soulmate know how much he was treasured.

                “Yes, M’Lord.” The tone held enough fear that Regulus knew the Dark Lord wouldn’t be suspicious.

                The safest means of getting rid of the Dark Lord would be the same way he got rid of the Horcruxes.

                “Tonight was a win. The Potters are dead.”

                A pang went through Regulus at the thought of the Potter child being raised without his parents but he pushed that to the side. It would seem that without any knowledge of the prophecy, the Dark Lord held no thought for the missing child.

                The moment Regulus came within contact of the Dark Lord, he took a deep breath and slashed his wand.

                Fiendfyre exploded around them, causing red eyes to snap open. “What have you done?”

                Regulus ignored the burning of his feet as he clung to the Dark Lord. “Doing what is necessary.” He encased them in a shield and tackled the already weak man to the floor.

                Death was inevitable. His time had been limited the moment he drank the poison. At least this way, he was taking out an evil that should never have been unleashed onto the world.

                The sound of the Dark Lord’s screams and the smell of burning flesh was the last thing that Regulus could actively make out. As he closed his eyes, a last fleeting image of Severus was what drew a small smile forward before everything was blissfully blank.

                Severus handed the Longbottom child off to Augusta Longbottom gratefully. The annoying child had spit up on him twice. Regulus owed him.

                Before he could offer some kind of parting goodbye to the Longbottom matriarch, a wispy silver falcon landed on his shoulders.

                The sight of the patronus had Severus tensing. They weren’t ones to leave messages in such an open method.

                “I love you.”

                Three words that would normally fill him with warmth had his heart twisting painfully.

                “No.” Severus felt his knees buckle but he didn’t bother to hold onto anything. Not when the weight of the words sunk in. Regulus wouldn’t have sent it unless something dire was happening.

                Denial is a dangerous thing. Despite the knowledge of what the patronus stood for, Severus had to do something. Had to find a way to protect Regulus.

                “Don’t kill me,” Severus whispered, allowing his pain to manifest in a false show of fear. Death was nothing if Regulus was already gone to the world.

                “That was not my intention.” Dumbledore’s tone was harsh and far crueler than Severus could ever remember hearing, but it did not matter. Death Eaters weren’t someone to be taken into account when dealing in pleasantries.

                “What is it you seek? Do you come bearing any final demands?” There was an odd fluctuation in the Headmaster’s tone, but he didn’t have the time to figure it out.

                “No, I come on my own merits and not by the Dark Lord’s account.”

                When Dumbledore said nothing, Severus wondered if something else was going on. Something he was not quite aware of.

                “Severus, do you come to me now to protect Lily while you handed your Master the knowledge of the prophecy?”

                Severus was thankful his head was bowed. Lily? That would suggest that the Dark Lord had gone to the Potters himself. If so, it wasn’t with the knowledge of the prophecy. He could speak up and tell the truth, but they hadn’t worked this hard for it to end now. There were dozens of reasons why they hadn’t gone to Dumbledore when the truth of the Horcruxes came about. Trading one Dark Lord for its counterpart wasn’t smart. Desperation was the only thing keeping Severus still.

                “It’s too late. The Potters are dead, and their house obliterated.”

                The giant well of denial burst so suddenly that Severus sagged under the weight of mounting grief. “Were there any bodies found?”

                If Dumbledore thought this question odd, he didn’t voice it.  “Decimated remains of his followers.”

                Severus closed his eyes tightly as his nails dug into the palm of his hands. The truth was undeniable, and his heart had long ago shattered.

                “What of the Dark Lord?”

                There was a long pause, almost lengthy enough to have Severus peering up at the man, but he restrained himself. Now was not the time to give away his secrets.

                “He is gone.”

                Before he could take a shaky breath in relief, Dumbledore continued, fracturing his momentary pass at stability.

                “Voldemort will return.”

                No. No. Regulus can’t have died for nothing. His soulmate; his beautiful, generous and kind soulmate didn’t deserve such an ending. Not when they had worked so tirelessly for months. Not when they did more in the effort of bringing the Dark Lord down than the Order has in years.  

              Despite the vague tone, Severus couldn’t help but be annoyed at the lack of context. It was clear that Dumbledore was aware of the Horcruxes, but how deep did that knowledge go? Was he aware of everything they did to destroy them?

                “And when he does, I fear he will seek out other means of destruction. Far more dangerous than he has before.”

                Severus rolled his eyes. If Dumbledore thought he was going to buy into this, then he was mistaken.

                “I will overlook your lapse in handing over the prophecy if you offer something in return.”

                The instinct was to deny vehemently, but the odds were in the favor of Dumbledore. Should the Dark Lord return at a later date, he would need the support of someone as powerful as the Headmaster. Especially if he was to use this knowledge to find the last of the Horcruxes.

                “What is it you need?”

                “You know how and why Lily died; make sure it was not in vain. I require your service.”

                Severus nodded as he felt his will being carted from one Dark Lord to another that shrouds the light as a weapon.

                He was doing this for Regulus. All of it for Regulus.

                His soulmate owed him.

Present Day       

                Harry exhaled softly, watching the peaceful way Draco’s breathing mellowed. It had been hard calming him down after another episode, but he didn’t mind. He knew that Draco worried about being considered a burden but Harry could never see it like that. The year he had spent mourning Draco’s death was pure hell. The thought of losing his soulmate before ever getting the chance to meet them had been something that killed a piece of his spirit. Despite Draco being alive, that piece never came back. The part that mourned, cried and screamed its grief would never be quite what it used to be. Nothing about their current situation would deter Harry. Nothing would keep him away from Draco.

                “I love you,” Harry whispered, placing a gentle kiss to the top of blond hair. He knew that his boyfriend was asleep, which was honestly one of the only reasons he was able to get away with it. Draco wasn’t the best at handling affection. Although, that was something Harry could understand. Sometimes, never having something can create a disassociation. They were both touch-starved and loved each other, but Harry knew that Draco had a hard time expressing his wants. Not that it bothered Harry, he loved everything about Draco. Even things he couldn’t voice.

                Change wasn’t something that came easy to either of them, but Harry was faring well with his new life. Finding out that he had magic had come as a shock, but it paled in comparison to finding Draco. He could live without magic and be just fine. He could even live without Draco, but he didn’t want to. Not when he knew what it was like to have the snarky git in his life.

                Magic itself was rather confusing. He supposed if he had been brought up to learn it as others had, that it would make more sense, but Harry just found it to be more of a nuisance than anything. Magic tended to make things more difficult. Sure, there were plenty of times where magic was quicker and more efficient, but it was also lazier. Why summon something to him when he could get off his arse and go get it himself? Why use magic to heat up his water when he could just use a kettle on the stove? Wizards were beyond lazy, and Harry just didn’t get it.

                In some areas, he was completely fascinated with magic. The medical advances were astronomical. But he couldn’t help but wish that wizards would find a way to help Muggles in that aspect. It didn’t have to be flashy or break the statue of secrecy, but he just wished they would do something.

                His own magic was difficult. Different than most wizards but still difficult. Draco had asked the healers to run tests on him and they showed that his aptitude for magic wasn’t as high as a typical wizard, only slightly higher than that of a muggle or a squib. Which wasn’t something he really cared about. He had gone his whole life just fine without magic. The knowledge of its existence wasn’t going to change his viewpoint on life.

                After finding out more and more about the wizarding world, he had been worried that Draco would grow to dislike his lack of interest in this world, but his worries turned out to be fruitless. Draco didn’t care one iota if he never used magic at all. At the time, the healers in the room appeared to be quite startled by that. It wasn’t until he had learned more about Draco’s family that the statement really solidified it all for him. Draco loving him was a statement in its own right and Harry couldn’t help but melt at everything his boyfriend said on the subject. All of Draco’s pureblood ideals were crumpled into nothing every time they kissed or acknowledged their relationship.

                Being with Draco was easy. People tend to think that love is difficult, and it can be depending on the situation. But with Draco? It wasn’t something he had to actively think about. Being with his soulmate came subconsciously; everything inside him moved towards Draco instinctively. They argued at times, especially when Draco was being thick. It usually was always centred around Draco’s recovery. Tearing down walls to safeguard insecurity was difficult. Draco had spent his whole life sectioning himself off from everyone, never allowing anyone inside. It wasn’t as simple as scaling the walls, Harry had to blast through them before he could build them up with proper care and all the love he could possibly possess.

                It wasn’t as if it was one-sided. He believed that the only way to really showcase how they would become a unified front would be with the knowledge that they needed to heal together. Just as Draco allowed him inside his walls of internal fortitude, Harry allowed Draco inside. Allowed his soulmate to see the bits that no one else knew existed. There was a certain strength in allowing oneself to be vulnerable in a healthy atmosphere. They may not have started off knowing each other well, but as the months went by, Harry knew without a doubt that Draco was everything to him.

                Draco knew everything about him, knew what made him tick, knew what he detested and even knew his own desires. Which was something that went both ways. Harry could honestly say that he knew Draco better than anyone else.

                The sound of a chime let Harry know that the healers wouldn’t be around for Draco’s afternoon checkup for another few hours. He could go back to his flat—the one he was dangerously close to being kicked out of—but the thought of leaving Daco didn’t sound too appealing.

                He knew he wasn’t supposed to get in bed with Draco, but the healers wouldn’t be around for a bit and Harry really wanted to hold him.

                Harry had just settled down enough to fall asleep when he heard the door open. He wondered if it was Dobby, but the house-elf wasn’t supposed to visit for a few more days. He wasn’t sure what to think of Dobby. The house-elf was… odd. But he welcomed any friend of Draco’s with open arms. Anyone that had done as much for Draco as Dobby had, was alright in his books.

                Whoever they were, they were making a bunch of noise without saying anything. Harry furrowed his brows, trying to remember the spell to make it so that he could talk without Draco hearing him. Harry had been given Draco’s wand to take care of since the healers were still restricting his magic. But Harry couldn’t hold a wand without feeling utterly ridiculous. A stick of wood was supposed to be his conduit? A flimsy breakable stick? Every time Harry touched the wand he felt silly, like a child pretending to be a wizard. He had seen the healers perform magic and even Luna a few times when she stopped by, but it was just odd for him. While alone, in the privacy of his flat or with Draco, he had discovered that he liked to do magic without a wand. It was easier to pick up his own method than to learn the proper way. Magic wasn’t something he used often at all. But when he did, it was far easier to pull it from within than to expend it outwards with a stupid wand. 

                Harry pulled his magic to him as he cast a silencing charm. At least, he hoped he did. Magic was still a guessing game for him. Only when the newcomers began talking loudly, and Draco was still sleeping, did he relax.

                “Whoa,” one of the visitors whispered. “I don’t think healers are allowed to sleep with their patients.”

                “Doesn’t look like a healer to me,” a second voice argued. Both voices were male and somewhat grating as they argued.

                “If either of you wake up Draco I will personally disembowel you,” Harry threatened, not bothering to roll over and see who he was talking to. “I’ll do it without magic too.” They didn’t need to know that he had cast a silencing charm.

                “Fucking hell!”

                Harry snorted at the horror in the first visitor’s tone. He groaned before rolling over and standing up. He blinked at them, but they were a blurry blob without his glasses.

                As soon as he could see, he held out his hand politely. “Hello, I am—” Harry trailed off when he noticed the way they stared at him with a flabbergasted but also painfilled expression.

                Harry cocked his head to the side, looking at them closely. They seemed to be peering at him as if he should know them. They were both older, late thirties to early forties. One had long black hair that was a little unkempt, laugh lines and a kind face; but his eyes told a different story. His eyes were clouded with something else, something that was a little haunting.

                The man next to him had light brown hair but several scars adorning his body, including his face. He seemed kind, but also tired. Harry could tell they were soulmates without having to see their marks. It was the way they leaned into each other and mirrored the other’s stance. There was an understanding that screamed soulmate.

                “Harry?” They both whispered, voices cracking.

                There was an awkward silence as Harry nodded and took a step away from them. He had no idea who they were, and their stares were beginning to creep him out. Stranger danger.

                “How do you know me? I'm positive I have never seen you before.” He narrowed his eyes when they both seemed to deflate, as if he had somehow wounded them. It would seem they were creepy and emotional.

                “We knew your parents.”

                Harry felt the breath leave him in a painful choke. He had always wanted to know more about his parents, but the Dursleys refused to tell him anything but falsehoods. Their explanation of a car crash was a lie, he had always known that. Car crashes were generally reported and there was always a trail. Only, there wasn’t a single whisper anywhere when it came to his parents. He had known that they wouldn’t elaborate, but the mystery of his parents had always left a sizable hole inside of him.

                “We thought you died with them.”

                The more they spoke, the more Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know more. There was grief on their faces and in their tone. He wasn’t sure he could handle it. The thought of leaving entered his mind, but he couldn’t do that. Not with Draco still sleeping. That wouldn’t be fair. He took another step back until his knees hit the bed. He wished he wasn’t on the same side as them. Retreating was becoming difficult.

                Just when he was going to panic further, a hoarse whisper caught his attention.

                “Harry.”

                Harry spun around to look at Draco, who was sitting up with a worried expression on his face. All it took was for pale arms to spread in an invitation before he launched himself at his boyfriend.

                Draco tightened his hold on Harry and ran his fingers through messy locks. The sound of Harry’s quick intake of breath worried him.

                “It’s just—” Harry trailed off, hiding his face in Draco’s neck. He wasn’t sure how to voice it. No one knew about his parents. At least no one until now. The Dursleys treated his parents as a taboo topic and would become angry if they were brought up. He had gone so long keeping them as a secret that he wasn’t sure he could handle unearthing it all. Especially with people that knew them.

                “I know,” whispered Draco. Harry had told him the very little that was known about his parents and Draco knew that had been difficult. How could it not?

                The understanding in Draco’s voice had Harry relaxing into the hold. “You shouldn’t be comforting me. It should be the other way around.”

                Draco pressed a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. “Says who? We are here for each other, Harry.” Besides, he was getting sick of needing to be comforted. Draco couldn’t wait to get out of this bloody place.

                A smile pressed into his neck had Draco smiling softly. “Just let me hold you.” he whispered, hoping his voice wouldn’t carry.

                Harry nodded the best he could with his head where it was. A sudden thought had him pulling slightly away. “Did I wake you? I thought I placed the silencing charm correctly.” He ignored the guests in the room, not caring about them at the moment.

                “You did,” Draco told him in amusement. “Only, you put it around the room and not just around you. So I was included inside the charm.”

                The way Harry deflated had Draco shaking his head. “But it was still a good spell. You successfully pulled it off.”

                The praise was nice, but Harry was bummed that it hadn’t gone as he thought it would. “I just didn’t want to wake you.” He cupped Draco’s cheek as he ran his thumb along the purple marks underneath silver eyes. “You needed the sleep.”

                “I can sleep at any point in the day.”

                That wasn’t entirely true—something they both knew—but Draco didn’t feel like elaborating. Sometimes, his mind couldn’t help but relapse and sleep wasn’t up to him.

                There was guilt on Harry’s face and Draco wasn’t having any of it. Distraction was the only thing that would work on Harry.

                “I love you.”

                Harry felt a grin form on his face despite himself. “I love you too.” He wanted to tease Draco for being a sap, but now was not the time. He would wait until they were alone to do that.

                “What’s going on here?” An exasperated tone pulled their attention elsewhere.

                Draco gazed at Sirius as he lifted a brow. “I don’t know if you’ve ever had a hug before, but this is what it looks like.”

                Harry snorted when the man let out a heavy sigh. He ignored the question and moved until he could stare at the two visitors. “How is it you knew my parents? And why did you think I was dead?”

                The two men shared a long look before one of them cleared their throats. “My name is Remus Lupin, and this is Sirius Black. We were friends with your parents at school.”

                The statement had Draco jerking a little, tightening his hold on Harry. “Hogwarts? Harry’s parents were wizards?”

                As Remus nodded his head slowly Harry looked to Sirius, who hadn’t said anything. There was a certain longing in his eyes that felt weird to him. He wasn’t sure what their relationship with his parents was, but he was beginning to think it was a close friendship and not just acquaintances.

                “We were best friends since our first year,” Sirius whispered. “Your father was the best man I had ever known.”

                Harry turned his head back to Draco’s neck, not sure he could meet the Sirius' eyes.

                “He wasn’t one for rules and I can’t say we were either.” There was a slight chuckle from Remus, and Harry just knew there was a story there. Probably many. “Despite that, he valued morality and stood up for injustice. I won’t lie and say that he was perfect or there were never mistakes, but James Potter was a brave man and loved you so much.”

                Harry clenched his eyes tightly, wishing just once that his own father could tell him that. Wishing that it wasn’t secondhand knowledge. “What about my mother?”

                Draco watched Remus smile and he furrowed his brows. Why didn’t they tell him about any of this when they found out about Harry being his soulmate? Sure, the battle happened so suddenly afterward, but it’s been years since then. He had been stuck inside St. Mungos for over two years.

                “Lily,” Remus began, voice soft. “She was very opinionated about life in general. If something wasn’t up to her standards, then she changed it. Changed herself or the situation in general. Lily was a fierce protector of others and couldn’t stand bullying or any kind of injustice. She was brave, beyond daring, and held so much courage. Lily wasn’t one to sit back and let others pave her path. Which is why in the beginning, James and she didn’t see eye to eye.”

                That had Harry arching his brows. It wasn’t really surprising; some soulmates don’t get along.

                Sirius let out a barking laugh and Harry couldn’t help but smile at the sound. It was obvious that he was someone that saw the joys in life. “She always told James that it didn’t matter if they were soulmates or not. There were parts of his personality that she herself couldn’t agree with. Lily thought he was too brash, too much of a rule-breaker and just a git in general. It wasn’t until their seventh year that James mellowed out and she really took notice of who he was as a person.”

                “They loved each other?” It wasn’t something Harry needed an answer to, but it was something that he had always wondered.

                “Very much.” Both Sirius and Remus answered in unison. “You were their whole world. They lov—”

                “Please don’t,” Harry choked out, holding onto Draco tighter. He couldn’t hear it again.

                A slightly awkward silence settled around the room, but Harry wasn’t keen to change it. Part of him felt like he was hiding inside Draco’s embrace, but at the same time it was comforting.

                “How did they die?”

                “Voldemort.”

                Both Harry and Draco jerked. Harry had been told about Voldemort and the things that led to Draco choosing a side.

                Draco shook his head in confusion. “But wouldn’t that have been public? Wouldn’t that have been announced? How did Harry survive? Was he even there? What happened?”

                The concern and the rush of questions had Harry smiling softly as he ran his fingers along Draco’s nightshirt.

                “It was public,” argued Remus. “Just not in the way you are thinking.”

                Sirius looked at them both before running a hand over his face. “Voldemort had gotten wind of an impending battle that we were planning. He knew which of the Order were more powerful and aimed to knock them out first. When whispers got back to us that your parents would be some of the ones targeted first, plans were made. Not only did we have the house under protection, but there was back up.”

                Harry listened closely, getting the feeling that some details were unknown or even misleading.

                “Remus was away trying to recruit werewolves to our side.” Draco watched the way Remus looked down with curious brows. Did Lupin blame himself for not being there?

                “I had been assigned by Dumbledore to be at a false safehouse. It was supposed to lead Voldemort’s resources on a wild chase, but there was a traitor in our midst.”

                Harry snapped his head up angrily. There was a traitor? Someone had been on their side and sold out his parents? It wasn’t until Draco’s hand rubbed his back soothingly that his angry furrowing mellowed out.

                “What happened after that is a lot of hearsay. All witnesses to what happened that night are dead. A fire broke out at some point during the battle and everyone was decimated.”

                Draco hummed curiously. “A fire shouldn’t have gotten rid of magical signatures, there should have been a trail somewhere.”

                “It was a Fiendfyre,” whispered Remus, hands clenched, and eyes narrowed angrily.

                The name wasn’t familiar to Harry, so he lifted his head to Draco and silently asked for an explanation.

                “It’s a curse, powerful Dark Magic. Fiendfyre is hard to control once unleashed. Any idiot can cast the spell, but it takes someone with knowledge and experience in the Arts to manage it afterward. The countercurse is harder to learn than the original spell, which makes it very deadly in the hands of the uneducated. Due to this, it was outlawed by the Ministry.”

                Harry wasn't sure why anyone would want to cast the spell in a confined space to begin with. That could always lead to them getting caught in the aftermath.

                “Did Voldemort cast the spell?”

                Sirius shrugged as his hands lifted up into the air. “There is no saying. He would know how to control the fire, but it goes against his previous casting methods. If he did cast it, he was caught amongst the spell too.”

                The logic of the whole thing wasn’t sitting well with Draco. The Dark Lord wasn’t someone that would get caught in his own spells. Something else was going on here; there had to be.

                “What of the traitor? What happened to them?”

                The growl Sirius released had Harry peering up in concern. It wasn’t normal for people to growl, right?

                “Wormtail was one of our friends.” The words were barely audible as Sirius’ teeth were clenched. “He sold them out to Voldemort in the belief that we would have lost in the end.”

                A friend was the traitor? Harry shook his head in disappointment, not understanding that kind of logic. They clearly weren’t a good friend to begin with if this was the end result.

                “When I realized that Voldemort had found them despite the spells that were set up, I knew it was Wormtail. There was no one else that knew. I cornered him, and a duel broke out. He managed to fake his death and I was accused of the crime and carted off to Azkaban.”

                That explained the haunted aura to his eyes. Despite how spineless and despicable Wormtail was, Harry couldn’t write off the Wormtail's tactics. There was skill there, even if it was horrible.

                “Did he ever see any justice?”

                Remus made a distressed noise. “Legally? No. It wasn’t until just recently that I was able to have the Ministry take a look at Sirius’ lack of case and get them to reverse the ruling.” He breathed through his nose a few times before continuing. “Peter’s body after the battle is what allowed the possibility of Sirius’ acquittal.”

                Harry couldn’t imagine what that would be like. Innocent and not only charged with a false crime, but knowing that the traitor was free. It would burn and ache.

                The knowledge of Wormtail wasn’t exactly new for Draco, so he tuned some of it out as his mind began to wander. “If the fire took out everyone that was there, who do you think delivered Harry to his aunt and uncle?”

                The alarmed expression on Sirius’ face would have been comical if Harry wasn’t so focused on Draco’s question.

                “You grew up with the Dursleys?”

                Harry blinked rapidly as he nodded. He supposed it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities that Sirius would know who they are if he was friends with his parents.

                Sirius ran his fingers through his hair before scowling at the wall behind Harry and Draco. “I met them once at a Christmas celebration Lily wanted to throw. The Dursleys were vapid, dull, disturbing, and just plain ignorant in many ways. I am your godfather, I was supposed to be your guardian if anything ever happened to Lily and James.”

                The rush of emotions in Harry’s heart was almost too painful. He didn’t know Sirius, but his parents did. At least enough to choose him as a guardian. Harry wondered how different his life would have been like if he had been brought up with Sirius.

                “Were they at least nice to you?” Sirius’ tone had gone soft, but Harry could still make out the anger there.

                Harry shook his head, not willing to get into his childhood. He rested his head back on Draco’s shoulder, needing the support of his soulmate.

                “I’m sorry, Harry.”

                The whispered apology was enough to have Harry’s head snapping up. “What on earth are you apologizing for?” It was his family that was messed up and to be blamed, not something that could be tied to Sirius.

                “If I hadn’t gone after Wormtail, then I wouldn’t have been caught.”

                Remus furrowed his brows before pulling Sirius into his arms. “That wouldn’t have changed how Harry grew up. We have no idea how he came to be at the Dursleys. Don’t do this to yourself. Please.”

                When Sirius sagged into the embrace Harry couldn’t help but smile. Seeing their dynamics was nice. It was heartwarming to know that even after everything they have been through, they were still there for each other.

                Harry cleared his throat, watching the way they both looked to him immediately. “I don’t resent the way I grew up. It wasn’t fun or something that I ever look back at fondly.” When Sirius winced, he held up a hand. “But, I learned so much from them. Nothing they intended, mind you. I learned who I wanted to be as a person by seeing their examples and choosing the opposite. I learned how important even simple passing decency is. I learned that a closed mind is detrimental to not only myself but for society as a whole. Everything that I am came from my experiences. I wouldn’t ever wish to relive any of it, but I am grateful that I am who I am because of it.”

                Sirius still looked uneasy, but there was nothing Harry could do to erase that. “I don’t know why I was sent to the Dursleys or even by who, but they clearly saved me. And I am grateful for that. Don’t beat yourself up over any of it.”

                A curt nod was his only reply, but it was enough for Harry. A silence filled the room after that. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it also wasn’t exactly pleasant.

                Draco took a breath before asking what had been bothering him the most. “Why did you never tell me about Harry? I told you the name of my soulmate over two years ago.”

                Harry narrowed his eyes. He knew of the despair Draco went through while stuck in here and having no means of finding any information on him.

                Guilty looks were traded but neither Harry nor Draco were in a caring mood.

                “We believed that Harry had died. You were placed here and not aware of your surroundings for so long. We used to visit you in the beginning but you didn’t even know we were here. By the time you became coherent enough for conversations, Sirius’ legal issues began getting solved. The Wizengamot is slow and tedious. We only just recently were able to clear his name,” explained Remus, wringing his free hand as the other one was still wrapped around Sirius.

                Sirius shuffled his feet nervously. “We also didn’t know how to break the news to you. The thought of having to explain that Harry was dead wasn’t something either of us ever wanted to talk about. We knew how much faith you had in finding your soulmate, and we didn’t want to be the ones to crush that faith.”

                Draco held Harry tighter to him as he listened to them. If they had told him that Harry had died, it might have made his hospital experience that much harder. Finding things to believe in after the battle had been difficult. He wasn’t in agreement with their decision, but he could understand it to a certain degree.

                Harry cupped Draco’s cheek. He couldn’t erase the pain they went through when separate, nor would he want to, but he could ease any lingering sadness now.

                “I’m right here,” whispered Harry, keeping his voice quiet. “I may not have been here for you when you needed me, but I am here now. Always will be.”

                Draco smiled, laying his cheek on messy hair. He didn’t respond, knowing that Harry would know the sentiment was returned.

                “How did you find Draco?” Remus wondered, watching them closely.

                They both groaned in unison before Harry explained the letter and Ron’s lie.

                Sirius let out a low whistle. “We haven’t been in contact with the Weasley family much.” A shake of his head accompanied him worrying his lip. “Is it wrong that I am finding comfort in that? That means they messed up worse than us.”

                “Sirius!” Remus chided as Harry chuckled.

                Draco smiled as he laid further on the bed and closed his eyes to the sound of Remus scolding Sirius. It was different having them here, something he didn’t think he needed or wanted until now.

                When Draco’s grip went lax, Harry realized that Draco was asleep. Harry nestled into his arms and smiled when Draco made a noise of contentment.

                A suspicious lack of noise had him glancing at Sirius and Remus. “What?” His tone was neutral, but their soft expressions were making him squirm a little.

                Remus looked between them with a smile. “Draco has had a hard life. I’ve never seen him relaxed like this. He spent years trying to find you.” He paused before gesturing for Sirius to finish his line of thought.

                “Don’t hurt him,” Sirius explained, eyes narrowed for a moment.

                Harry grinned. It was nice that someone else besides him was looking out for Draco’s best interests.

                “I won’t.” He wasn’t talking about fights, misunderstandings, or normal relationship problems. Harry would never actively hurt Draco. Never.

                Appraising and calculating looks were sent his way, but Harry let them come without looking away.

                “Well, how about we discuss some happier things?”

                Harry lifted one hand in the air, gesturing for him to continue. “Tell me about the rules my father would break.”

                The delighted laugh Sirius released was the start of many hours of witty comebacks, stories that seemed to be fake, and an endless supply of horrible pranks. 

                As Harry listened to Remus and Sirius argue about whether people tend to retain characteristics from their animagus form, he wondered if this is what family felt like. He may not know either of them, but there was still something comforting about it all.

                Sirius may not have been able to be his guardian, but there was still time to get to know him.        

                The sounds alone let Harry know what he was walking into. Despite not being able to see Draco, he knew that Draco wasn’t aware of his surroundings. It happened less frequently than it used to, but still often enough for him to not be released from St. Mungos.

                The room was dark, and the candles blown out, but that didn’t matter. He knew that Draco was under the bed. For some reason, Draco felt comfortable down there. The healers said it was a good sign because it showed that there was some cognitive thought process that happened during an episode.

                Despite the way he knew Draco felt about the episodes, Harry didn’t mind being there for them. In fact, he wished he was around for more of them. If there was a single second of comfort that he could provide then Harry wanted to be there to give it. There would always be times when he wished Draco didn’t have to go through this, but he didn’t resent the episodes themselves. They were a part of Draco and Harry loved him, truly loved him, and would never belittle any aspect to him. If only Draco could see that.

                As Harry approached the bed, he placed the food he smuggled in from his part-time job on the bedside table. Draco complained that the food here was atrocious, something Harry had to agree with. Whoever was in charge of the food clearly never taste-tested it beforehand.

                A slight whimpering noise came from under the bed and it had Harry’s heart clenching as he pulled the duvet up.

                Draco was rocking back and forth, arms tightly wound around his knees and little breaths of mumbled words coming out. Silver eyes were open but vacant, not gazing at anything and not taking in any surroundings. As Harry crawled on his knees to get to him, he was rather thankful for the new healer. The bed itself had been charmed to allow the space underneath to be bigger than it appeared; something that had been done to make it more comfortable for Draco. 

                Harry had learned the hard way that touch wasn’t always welcome. The first time he had tried to hug Draco during an episode, he had been on the receiving of violent flailing that resulted in a hard punch to the face. Luckily, the healers had him healed before Draco had seen the damage.

                The words coming out of Draco’s mouth weren’t exactly audible. Harry wasn’t sure what Draco was saying or if they were words at all. 

                As he got closer to Draco, Harry began whispering to him. It was mostly just soft cooing and the gentle uttering of his name. There was no sign that Harry's words were being received at all, but it established a small rapport. That way it could potentially be heard by Draco whether there was an outward response or not.

                Harry reached out his hand and tentatively placed it on Draco’s shoulder. When it wasn’t shrugged off, he knew that it was okay to hold him. As he wrapped his arms around Draco and held on loosely, there still was no reaction. But that was alright; a reaction wasn’t needed.

                Time passed, but it was more of an afterthought. Harry couldn't care less how late it was or how tired he may be. Making sure Draco was okay would always be his priority.

                It wasn’t until a hand reached out and clung to Harry’s shirt that he knew Draco was back with him. He waited patiently for Draco to come to terms with it before he spoke. 

                Draco hated the way his mind tried working in overdrive. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t place where he had gone when his mind checked out. Sometimes, things would linger and give him a general idea, but not often.

                “How long was I out?” Draco whispered, laying his head on Harry’s shoulder. The last thing he could remember was complaining about the food and Harry assuring him he would help.

                The question had Harry looking at his watch. “I don’t know when it began, but since I have been here it’s been close to two hours.”

                Two hours were shorter than Draco had assumed. He had been worried it would be another day completely.

                “Thank you.”

                Harry closed his eyes at the gratitude, wishing Draco wouldn’t do that. Being here wasn’t something admirable nor was it necessary to be thanked. All he was doing was being a supportive boyfriend. 

                “You don’t need to thank me.” Harry tried to keep the chiding out of his tone, but he knew that Draco would pick up on it anyways—he always did.

                Draco smiled softly, burrowing into Harry more comfortably. He knew that he didn’t need to thank him, but that wasn’t the point. There weren’t many people that would be willing to stick with him during an episode. Hell, the healers didn’t even do that. They just monitored his vitals and made sure that there was nothing he could harm himself with. It meant a lot to Draco that Harry was there.

                “I know,” whispered Draco, closing his eyes and allowing himself to relax fully. He wasn’t tired, but he did need a few minutes to really come back to himself.

                “I’ll always be here with you.”

                “I know.” And he did. Draco knew that without a doubt.

                “I love you.” Harry paused, narrowing his eyes. “If you say I know, I will hurt you. I don’t have the right complexion to be the Leia of this relationship.”

                Draco lifted his head up, eyebrows furrowing so intently that it scrunched up his nose-something Harry had to try hard at not finding utterly adorable.

                “Leia? Is this another Muggle thing? Because I am still having a hard time deciphering the nonsense you spiel.”

                “Nonsense?” Harry arched his brows, grin turning to a smirk when he flipped them around, laying Draco on his back. “I have you at my mercy, consider this should you decide to insult me further.”

                Draco couldn’t help but grin widely, testing the strength of Harry’s grasp. “What if I want to insult you? That is my speciality.”

                By the sparkling shine in Harry’s eyes, Draco knew he was about to regret his words. It wasn’t until fingers began mercilessly tickling him that he knew Harry was secretly the devil.

                “Oi!” Draco cried out as he attempted to dodge quick fingers. “H-Harry,” he panted lightly, trying not to laugh as those fingers dug into the side of his ribs.

                Harry only paused to kiss Draco quickly before continuing with his tirade. He would have continued until Draco admitted defeat, but the door of the room opened with a clang.

                “You two aren’t having sex again, are you? Because I really don’t want to have to write that down later for Healer Hendrix.”

                Draco snorted loudly, loving that Emily, the Healer in training, was the one barging in. She tended to roll her eyes at them constantly, but he suspected she was warming up to them.

                “No, we aren’t having sex,” Harry called out, smirking when Draco made a disappointed noise. “We are duelling to the death.”

                “Oh, far less paperwork. Please continue,” Emily mumbled.

                Harry threw his head back and laughed loudly as she shut the door. He made a noise of surprise when Draco shook off his hold and wound slim arms around his neck.

                “We could be having sex,” Draco muttered, loving the red flush to Harry’s cheeks. “Who cares if we make more paperwork for Emily.” The woman liked to stay busy anyway.

                It took a slow roll of Draco’s hips before Harry conceded that maybe he had a point. What was a little extra paperwork? It wasn’t as if they had to do it.

                The laughter was soon replaced with moans and this time when Emily entered the room, they didn’t say anything. But her frustrated slam of the door was enough to let them know she understood what was happening anyway.

                As Harry entered St. Mungos, he smiled at the portraits that he liked to consider a magical security guard. They watched the visitors with keen eyes and heavy suspicion.

                “Hey, Henry.” He waved cheekily as the portrait of a healer from the early 1200s scowled. “How’s your day going? Catch any nefarious individuals?” He knew the portrait must be bored out of his mind; at least Harry would be if their roles were reversed. He didn’t begrudge him one bit for people watching.

                When the portrait next to Henry let out a little giggle, Harry smiled softly at the little girl. He had learned that she was the first casualty of Dragon Pox, but her death had led to the discovery of the ingredients that would cure generations to come.

                “Marletta, are you treating Mister Henry in kind today?” The portrait covered her face with her hands before letting out another giggle, peering up at him through parted fingers. She wasn’t much of a talker, but Harry could read her body language. He waved when he was sure she wasn’t going to answer and made his way toward the Welcome Witch.

                “Jeni; my favourite employee, the light of my day and wonderf—” He trailed off when she handed him a long chart. Wizards tend to not leave explicitly written details in patient files. Not that Harry would own up to reading any. It wasn’t until he established a friendship with Jeni that she was able to give him detailed information on each of Draco’s days in regard to his healing and medicine.

                “Flattery gets you nowhere, Harry.” Jeni was the first friendly face in St. Mungos that didn’t treat him with pity. As if having a soulmate who needed to be here for the long haul was something akin to a death sentence. Draco was the best thing in his life and he hated when people treated either of them like they had an incurable disease.

                “Obviously works on you,” He mumbled just loud enough that he knew she would hear him. The laugh he got in return held just a touch of fondness in it, and that was definitely a win.

                Harry’s eyes were still trained on the report and didn’t look up when he could hear footsteps. They didn’t sound too panicked, so it was probably just a visitor instead of an injured patient. That tidbit of knowledge alone spoke volumes of the amount of time he spent here. No wonder he was a few short breaths away from being fired from his actual job.

                “Welcome to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. How may I be of assistance to you today?”

                “We are here to see a patient, Draco Malfoy.”

                Harry snapped his head up, gaining the attention of the visitors. Right away he could tell they were of money. A young man and woman around his own age peered back at him in calculating manners. It was apparent the man didn’t like what he saw if his sneer was anything to go by.            

                “Mister Malfoy has a list of visitors that are allowed to be seen. Can you give me your names and I will check the list?” Jeni’s voice was calm and friendly, but she kept stealing glances between the three of them.

                “Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini.”

                Harry arched his brows, recognizing the names from a few stories where Draco mentioned them. His boyfriend had mentioned the pair in passing each time, as if they weren’t close despite being classmates.

                When Jeni tentatively cleared her throat, Harry knew these two weren’t on the list of preapproved visitors. The list had been made up by Draco not too long after Harry had arrived. Reporters from the stupid gossip trash that passed as a newspaper liked to try and find a story. Apparently, Draco switching sides before the final battle was seemed as heroic and charming. Nevermind that there were casualties and people died. All the papers wanted to talk about was his looks. Draco had barred entrance from his room except those he cared for.

                “I am afraid that Mister Malfoy would have to be notified before you are allowed entry.”

                “Excuse me?” Pansy asked, voice becoming sharper. “We have known Draco since we were children.”

                Harry arched a brow at the explanation. He thought it was very telling that she hadn’t said they were friends. He could say the same explanation about Dudley, but that didn’t mean he would want his cousin to come see him if he were in the hospital.

                When Jeni shook her head and started to explain that the rules were in place for a reason, Harry lifted up a hand. “It’s alright. I’ll take them to him.” He wasn’t sure why they were here, but Harry wasn’t going to find out unless he took them back.

                Jeni bit her lip and eyed Harry curiously. “Are you sure? He might be angry with you.”

                “Probably,” Harry admitted with a laugh. But Draco always did have a hard time staying mad at him. Something Harry used to his advantage.

                Harry turned to the two visitors and ignored their narrowed eyes. “Follow me.” He didn’t bother to wait to see if they had listened to him or not.

                “Do you work here?” Blaise asked, tone attempting to be polite but not quite hitting the mark.

                The question itself wasn’t surprising, but the fact that they were willing to initiate small talk was. 

                 “I wish. Getting paid to be here would be a nice change, especially considering I spend 90% of my time here anyway.”

                “I don’t understand,” Pansy began, voice coloured in confusion. “If you don’t work here, then why did the Welcome Witch listen to you?”

                Harry grinned, not bothering to turn around and face them. “Jeni adores me because I adore Draco.” The woman was a sucker for romance and couldn’t help but coo whenever she saw them interacting.

                When Pansy and Blaise made a startled noise, Harry couldn’t help but snort. Before they could say anything, he paused on the outside of Draco’s door. He pulled his magic to him and enacted a silencing charm. One he knew would work properly this time. Well, he hoped it would. His magic was still a little wonky.

                Harry turned around and folded his arms across his chest, eyeing them a little warily. “Listen, I know you went to school with Draco and were even in his house, Snakledor, or something like that.” He might not have bothered to remember much about Hogwarts. The intricacies and knowledge of the wizarding world was a bit much to only hear about in stories. He had no visuals or books on the subject.

                By the way Pansy mouthed, ‘Snakledor’, Harry figured he had butchered the name. Oh well.

                “You aren’t close to him or this wouldn’t be your first visit in over two years.” He watched the way they shared a guilty look. Well, at least that was an improvement.

                “I don’t care who you are, who your parents are, what your political influence is, or how much money you have. You will not impede on Draco’s progress by dredging up the past or infringing on any of his hospitality. If you are here to belittle or degrade him in any manner of speaking, I will make you wish you had never shown up.” He paused to glare at them, not liking the doubt he could see.

                “Draco is not the same person that you went to school with. Entering this room will grant you a side of him that he would rather you not see. Draco is one of the strongest people I have ever had the pleasure of coming across and if either of you has nefarious purposes in mind, then leave now.”

                The silence that filled the hallway held a touch of awkward unease, but that was something Harry preferred. If he could make them doubt their intentions, then all the better.

                “We just want to see him,” Pansy whispered at the same time Blaise exploded.

                “Who do you think you are? You can’t order us around.”

                Harry arched an unimpressed brow. Years of seeing Dudley and his temper tantrums left him impervious to most outbursts. He chose not to answer as he lowered the silencing charm and entered the room.

                Draco arched a brow when Harry walked in. “You defending me—unnecessarily by the way—is insanely sexy.” A warm feeling had settled in his chest at the overheard words. Harry caring about him so passionately was something he never thought he would have. Sure, he had hoped as a child to have his soulmate, but dreams are nothing compared to reality.

                When Harry’s shoulders drooped, he let out a loud laugh.

                “Not again,” Harry murmured, not understanding how the silencing charm could have failed. He could have sworn that he had done everything right.

                “Come here.” Draco held out his hand and waited patiently for him to approach the bed. He pulled Harry to his lap and held on tightly. “The halls can only be charmed by the staff. It’s to prevent families from trying to privately change the healer’s minds about treatments and experimental potions.”

                Harry rested his head on Draco’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He wasn’t embarrassed at being found out. Draco knew how much he cared, it was just that he hadn’t wanted Draco to hear him. In case Pansy and Blaise really were here for other purposes, he wanted to save Draco from the ache.

                “I’m sorry,” Harry began, knowing that he didn’t really need to apologize, but it was the thought that counted. “I just—”

                “I love you.”

                Harry lifted his head and smiled softly. “I love you too.”

                Surprisingly, Pansy and Blaise didn’t interrupt them at all. If it wasn’t for their presence in the room, he would have forgotten about them completely.

                Draco continued to hold Harry as he looked up. “Pansy. Blaise.” He wasn’t entirely sure why they were here. The social ramifications would suggest that something had happened. They hadn’t come to check on his well-being, otherwise, it would have been done already. No, they were here for other reasons. Ones he was beginning to suspect would either be trouble or a headache.

                “We heard about your mother.”

                That had Draco arching a brow. Sometimes he detested the vague subtext. Couldn’t people just say what was on their minds? The subtle language of the higher class was daunting, and he absolutely hated it.

               Draco hadn’t heard a single whisper from his mother. He highly doubted it was their way of rubbing it in that his own mother hadn’t come to visit him in two years. Last he had heard, his mother had attempted to transfer the Malfoy vaults to an offshore account, but the Goblins refused without Draco’s consent. It didn’t matter that his father had disowned him prior to the battle. Goblins consider heritage when dealing with ownership. Without there being another offspring that they could count as heir, the Goblins keep to the family. Which is why Sirius holds the Black family account regardless of being disowned. Draco’s mother was only entitled to her portion of the family fortune.

                “Heard about her high tolerance for alcohol, or heard about her lack of compassion for anything that didn’t cost hundreds of galleons?” He didn’t bring up his father at all, not caring one bit about the state of him. His father was in Azkaban, waiting for the Wizengamot to decide when he would receive the Dementor’s Kiss.           

               Harry furrowed his brows as he listened to the blunt tone. He knew that Draco was serious, but… that was just sad.

                “She has approached my father,” Pansy began, fingers twitching for just a moment. “He has some sway inside the Ministry now that it has been proven he wasn’t a Death Eater.” Supporter and Death Eater were splitting hairs, but Draco wasn’t going to begrudge her family for managing to stay out of the negative spotlight.

                A bad feeling was beginning to take root in the pit of Draco’s stomach.

                Blaise took over when Draco clenched his fist angrily.  “Your mother is planning to petition the Ministry to have you declared legally incompetent to be considered the Malfoy heir.”

                Draco closed his eyes briefly. It didn’t surprise him, but it did sting. “She has no standing. I am competent enough for my inheritance.” If he was released from the hospital in the condition that he is currently in, then his mother would have merit for her petition. While in recovery and safely inside St. Mungos, there was nothing that he was doing that could be a threat to his competency.

                “With the lack of knowledge on whether you will ever get out of here, the Ministry could take her petition seriously.”

                What burned Draco the most was that his mother didn’t need his inheritance. As her position of the head of the household now that his father was imprisoned, she had access to most of the family fortune. His inheritance was large, but nothing in comparison to what she already had access to. It was unnecessary and only showed a sign of greed.

                “What about a power of attorney?” When everyone looked at Harry curiously, he flushed before looking down. “Sorry, I don’t really know how wizards do it, it’s just that in the Muggle world, a power of attorney that had been assigned before your stay here, would have the power over your finances and your mother wouldn’t have a standing at all. Because the power of attorney would act on your behalf.”

                “Muggle world?” Blaise sneered before straightening when Draco glared at him.

                “There aren’t power of attorneys in the wizarding world.” At least Pansy’s tone only held a touch of arrogance and censure.

                “No,” Draco agreed, cocking his head to the side. “But unlike the Muggle world, we use soulmates as a stand-in for the rights of their other half. The soulmate can act as a guardian of sorts if the Wizengamot declares the ward incompetent, disabled or incapacitated.”

                That wasn’t exactly sitting well with Harry. Not that he wouldn’t stand in for Draco. It was the fact that it seemed archaic. A power of attorney had the best interest in mind when it came to their wards. A soulmate did not mean that they were automatically trustworthy. There was so much wrong with that belief. Having a soulmate diddn’t diminish free thought or will. He was with Draco because he wanted to be. Not because of the fact that they were soulmates. If he was to be a legal stand-in for Draco, then it would be with the intent of actually doing what was right.

                “That’s not exactly a quick solution,” came Blaise’s input. He looked at them curiously. “Unless you are his soulmate.”

                Harry arched his brows before showing them his right palm. The candlelight shrouded the letters in a way that it was gleaming.

                “Not Muggle then,” Pansy whispered, giving Harry a tight-lipped smile. As if her opinion of him had risen at the knowledge that he wasn’t a Muggle.

                “I’m whatever I want to be. I was raised as a Muggle all my life. I wasn’t aware of the magical world until recently. Most of the time I can’t stand magic and I would rather do things the Muggle way. Regardless of this, I am a wizard. But I am more than that too. I won’t degrade my upbringing just to satisfy those who could care less. I may be a wizard, but that doesn’t mean I am any less of the Muggle that I was raised to be.”

                Despite being proud of his own statement, Harry couldn’t help but be annoyed at their disapproval of him. It wasn’t even due to his personality or any legitimate reasons. They disliked him on the basis of a lack of worth. God, he hated this. Hated the discrimination and prejudice. Fuck pureblood society.

                Draco smirked when Pansy and Blaise looked at him expectantly. “I know this is a hard concept to grasp since neither of you entered the war or took a stance, but every aspect of society is dependent on all of its parts. The belief that purebloods can function without the rest is laughable and delusional. Muggles and Muggleborns are vital to the future of wizards. Without new blood and more chances for magic to spread, then we will die out. There is no point in the entitled belief that we are better than those who don’t have our advantages or privileges.”

                He knew his words wouldn’t immediately take effect, but that was alright. The doubt was planted and that was good enough.

                “I would have been perfectly content with Harry being a Muggle. Him being a wizard doesn’t make me approve of him any more than before. I don’t love him for his status or his magic. Whether he uses magic or not is not up to me. Nor would I care either way.”

                Harry swore that it wasn’t possible to love Draco any more than he already did, but he could see the truth of the statement, could see that Draco meant it. He looked back to Pansy and Blaise with a shrug of his shoulders.

                “I will go to the Wizengamot and stand-in for Draco. I don’t do this out of necessity. I am doing this because I love him. Regardless of his own status wealth-wise or blood-wise.”

                There was a silence as Harry felt himself being sized up. He wasn’t sure what would come out of it or not. Would Pansy and Blaise continue to be in Draco’s life, or was this a one-time instance? Either way, he was intrigued.

                Pansy and Blaise shared a look before extending their hands.

                “Pansy Parkinson.”

                “Blaise Zabini.”

                Harry smiled politely, not entirely forgiving them for their prejudiced nature just yet. “Harry Potter.”

                There was a slight furrowing of Pany’s brows as she looked to Draco. “As in the Potter line that died out? The Potter name that was around since the beginning of our history? The same Potter line that has seats in the Wizengamot and a mass of wealth in Gringotts? That Potter line?”

                “The one and the same.” Draco took immense pleasure in the way they both scrambled to change Harry’s opinion of them.

                “Wealth?” Harry blinked rapidly. “What wealth?” He was barely managing to keep his cramped, tiny and utterly awful flat as it was. Draco had offered many times to help, but Harry had morals. Mooching off his soulmate was not something he was going to do.

                “Sirius said he was getting it all squared away at Gringotts,” Draco explained sheepishly. “He didn’t want to say anything about it until the Goblins recognize you’re still alive.”

                “Why didn’t you say anything?” They didn’t tend to keep secrets from each other. Harry wasn’t exactly hurt, but more annoyed than anything.

                “Harry just yesterday you were complaining about the bad plumbing in your flat and how you wished it wasn’t so expensive to live in London. I didn’t want to bring it up for it to not happen quickly. Sometimes the Goblins take a long time in handling wizard affairs. They are petty like that.”

                Blaise cleared his throat before Harry could respond. “I can help with that.” It wasn’t until they looked at him suspiciously that he continued. “My mother’s new husband is a Gringotts liaison employee.”

                “He has my condolences,” Draco mumbled, ignoring the way Blaise glared. 

                Harry wasn’t sure if he would regret it or not.

                “Alright. I’ll take your help.”

                When Pansy smirked, he knew he would regret it.

Heir of the Potter Fortune Returns from the Grave?

      Harry James Potter was presumed dead until now. October 31, 1981 was the day James Potter, Lily Evans-Potter, and what the world assumed was their child, perished in their home. There is a lot of speculation as to the cause of such a horrendous tragedy. Many suspect that was the final push of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and that it was the cause of the lapse in attacks until 1995. The absence of evidence to support this claim is sadly lacking.

     Mystery surrounds Potter and his upbringing. Why has he not contributed to society? Why stay in the Muggle world? A lack of schooling in magical matters is insulting. What was the cause of the divide?

     Sources close to the Ministry admit that Potter has now reclaimed his wealth and has taken his representative chairs inside the Wizengamot. The latter raised several eyebrows. Can someone with no magical schooling whatsoever really know enough to be in a position of power?

     When approached about such issues, Potter had this to say: “Fuck off.”

     Charming.

     With little personality to be thankful for, the majority of the wizarding community wonder if it was better for the world when Harry Potter still was presumed dead.

-Rita Skeeter, head journalist and respected member of the Daily Prophet

                “This is my favourite article ever.” Sirius held the paper to his chest tightly, smiling at Remus’ scoff. “I was told that I had to be nice to the Prophet if I wanted to be seen in a positive light after my acquittal. Harry just says whatever he wants. Not fair.”

                “Harry wasn’t ever accused of mass murder.”

                Sirius waved that away with a scowl. “What does that have to do with anything?”

                “Sirius.” Remus’ tone was patient, but his eyes were anything but. “It has everything to do with it.”

                A knock at the front door had Sirius springing up, thankful for interrupting what would have been no doubt a lecture.

                When he opened the door, Sirius blinked rapidly at the sight of Harry.

                “Are you alright? You usually wait until we visit you and Draco at St. Mungo’s.”

                Harry bit his lip and sidestepped Sirius to enter the home. He nodded distractedly at Remus. “I needed to see you without Draco.” He pretended not to notice the worried looks they began sending each other.

                “This was sent to Draco.”

                He didn’t bother looking at it as Remus and Sirius took the letter and read it together. The Ministry had sent what they thought was a welcoming message. Lucius Malfoy had run out of appeals and would be sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss. While Draco put on an uncaring attitude and welcomed the thought of his father’s predicament, he couldn’t stop from being affected. The letter sent Draco into an episode. One that has lasted days. The healers were calling it a relapse, but Harry knew it was Draco’s way of compartmentalizing it all. He just hoped that once Draco came back to him, that he would go back to the progress they had been making.

                “This is good news, isn’t it?” The hesitance to Sirius’ voice had Harry sighing.

                He sat down in a nearby chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “I suppose, depending on how you look at it and the status you place on life. I’m not here to debate the ‘eye for an eye’ manner that the world revolves around when it comes to death sentences. I need to get some of the anger I have inside of me out. The things that I wish I could say, but never got the chance. I need to see Lucius Malfoy before the kiss happens.”

                Sirius let out a whistle as Remus hummed in thought.

                “It won’t be easy,” Remus informed him, as if Harry hadn’t already known this. “Lucius is in the highest security Azkaban can place him in. Visitors have been terminated and the clearance level to see a former Death Eater is high.”

                “Tell me what I need to do. Please.” Harry didn’t care that he was begging. Didn’t care that it might not make sense.

                “As much as I like you, I’m not going to visit Azkaban. Especially not to see old Lucy.” Sirius shook his head rapidly with an apologetic look.

                Remus held up a hand when Harry adopted a dejected expression. “I may know someone who can help.”

                Harry snapped his head up and looked at Remus, silently demanding more.

                When Remus didn’t immediately continue, Sirius folded his arms across his chest in suspicion. “Who do you have in mind?”

                The question had Remus wincing. “He’s a bit… difficult, but he was awarded several awards for his actions in the war.”

                “No,” Sirius whispered, frown forming. “I’m sure there are other people that can help.”

                Remus placed his hands on his hip and turned to Sirius in exasperation. “He shot the final curse that killed Voldemort. He has sway whether you want to believe it or not.”

                “Who are you talking about?” Harry interrupted before it could turn into some kind of squabble.

                “Severus Snape,” they answered in unison.

                Righteous indignation was the first thing that Severus registered as he stood next to a guard when Potter walked in.

                Seeing the reports in the Prophet on the Potter heir had been surprising. Part of him had always wanted to check on the results of Regulus’ last day, but he hadn’t ever been able to make himself do it. The ramifications for allowing Dumbledore the knowledge that the child existed had been too high. The headmaster had talked for years about the disappointment in the wake of the unfulfilled prophecy. There hadn’t been a doubt in his mind that if Dumbledore had known about Potter he would have had the child under his thumb in no time.

                The benefits that Potter could’ve had by being brought up a wizard were overshadowed in danger. If the Dark Lord had come back and seen that the Potter line hadn’t been eradicated as once believed, the child would have been targeted regardless. Safety is what had determined his lack of attention when it came to Potter.

                Severus had been worried that the boy would receive a letter to Hogwarts when the time came, but with the belief that the boy was dead, Potter was taken off the list and no one looked at it twice. There was beauty in small miracles.

                A clang of the door shutting shattered the silence of the hall as Potter looked around the cells near the door. Severus raised his hand towards the guards in a silent command to stay still.

                “Lucius is this way, Mister Potter.”

                He could have introduced himself, but Severus wanted to see how the unorthodox meeting would play out. The family resemblance to James was obvious, but Severus wanted to know more about the child Regulus went through the trouble of saving. Not to mention, he wanted to know what kind of connection Potter would have with a Death Eater.

                Harry took a deep breath, not really paying attention to the guard as he trekked the path to the room where the kiss would take place.

                His nerves were out of control and Harry wished he had Draco's support, but he hadn’t decided if it was something he would ever mention to Draco.

                When the guard stepped into the room and gestured for Harry to follow, he took a deep breath before doing just that.

                The sight of Lucius Malfoy had Harry’s fists clenching tightly. Lucius wasn’t regal or pristine, not in the way he had seen glimpses in photos. If it wasn’t for the knowledge that this was indeed Lucius, Harry wouldn’t have been able to make the connection.

                “Come to gloat?” The question was directed towards the guard, something Harry found odd, but he ignored it completely in favor of stepping forward.

                Cold calculating silver eyes narrowed on Harry. The colour might have been the same as Draco’s, but the hue wasn’t. There wasn’t the same kindness and love in them that Draco’s held. This was a pale comparison.

                “And who might you be?” The tone itself was of boredom, but Harry could see the way reluctant curiosity shone in Lucius’ eyes.

                “It’s funny that you don’t know me,” Harry began in a whisper that carried around the room. “I have spent quite a bit of time despising everything you stand for. Not just your political beliefs, but the way you handle those you are meant to love.”

                Lucius made a noise of understanding. “You are here on Draco’s behalf.” A sneer accompanied a smug expression, and it took everything Harry had not to punch the pretentious prick in the mouth.

                “You don’t know me because I was someone you thought would be unworthy of Draco. You don’t know me because your moronic viewpoints on life caused several years of doubt inside of him. I was raised as a Muggle and because of that, you chose to believe that I can’t be his soulmate. Well, fuck you.”

                A slight cough in the background had Harry wondering if the guard was covering up a laugh. At least he was enjoying himself.

                “Fuck your pureblood entitlement. Fuck your beliefs. Fuck your horrible existence and fuck your shite parenting skills.” He paused to breathe once, centering himself.

                The way Lucius had reared his head back, as if he had been slapped, was so far the highlight of the trip.

                “Despite the lack of empathy, compassion, love, and respect you haven’t given Draco, he has turned out to be one of the best people I have ever known. He cares about others. Sure it’s more subtle and internal, but he does care.” Harry lifted one shoulder wondering how far that statement could go. Draco wasn’t a people person, but still held compassion for others. Just not so readily as some.

                “He loves fiercely and completely. Despite never seeing or experiencing love, he has so much of it to give. Draco has a hard time seeing his worth because of you. He doubts himself and hates part of who he is.” Harry closed his eyes tightly, blocking out the sight of the Malfoy patriarch.

                “I hate that you took so much from him. So much of his personal growth and his youth. You wanted to shape him into what you saw he should be and not who he truly is. It’s not your job to mould him into what you want. All you had to do was be there for him and love him. Fuck, if that is too much to ask, then you are a completely hopeless case. What kind of parent are you?”

                “One that did what I had to.” It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to have Harry snapping his eyes open and slamming his hands on the table the man was chained to.

                “Is that what you tell yourself alone in Azkaban? You keep this delusion to allow you to have a false sense of warmth as you shiver on the bloody ground? I begin to wonder what kind of mental stability you truly have if this is the pathetic excuse you offer.”

                When silver eyes narrowed, Harry barreled forward, not allowing himself to be interrupted.

                “The moment you raised your wand to harm your son, is the moment you truly became unredeemable. No parent harms their child. You disgust me.” He narrowed his eyes when the man smirked at him. Being here was nearly pointless.

                “I debated about coming here. It’s not my place to speak for Draco, but you robbed him the chance of doing this himself. If he could leave St. Mungo’s and tell you all of this, he would. I hate that he won’t get the closure he deserves, but I hate you more.”

                Harry shook his head, unsure if any of this even mattered in the end. Lucius wouldn’t reconsider his lot in life, nor would he be repentant.

                “The only solace that I have is that you will rot without your soul. The moment the Dementor kisses you, you will be nothing but an empty vessel that will slowly slip away. It’s fitting that this would be your justice, because without a soul you won’t be cognitive, no sense of who you are or where you are. Your mental awareness is gone, and your eyes will never perceive a single thing again. Do you see the correlation I am making?”

                The way Lucius sat up straighter had Harry smirking. “The symptoms of what you did to Draco are strikingly similar to the fate that awaits you. Every time Draco enters an episode, I know that he will come back to me. But unlike Draco, you never will. You are doomed to never be the same again. They say it’s a fate worse than death. Which is something that you deserve. You deserve to not only experience what he has to go through but every karma imaginable.”

                Hatred was something that Harry was used to seeing. Only this time, he relished in it. Loved the bitter anger marring Lucius’ face.

                “Wishing the worst for someone never works out well,” Harry whispered angrily. “But I could care less. I won’t miss a single ounce of sleep over your fate.”

                Harry stood up and made his way to the exit. He said what he wanted to, and that was enough. It wasn’t until he reached the door that Lucius spoke up.

                “Mister Potter, look out for him.”

                Harry wasn’t sure what to make of that. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that Lucius actually cared about Draco.

                “That was never something to question.” He stormed out of the room, wishing Draco could have seen his level of theatrics. It was something to admire. 

                When Harry made it into Draco’s room, he paused at the sight of Draco awake and waiting for him.

                “Sirius told me where you were.”

                Harry scowled, wishing Sirius could have kept his trap shut.

                “I’m not mad,” Draco promised, peering up at Harry softly. Perhaps at first, he hadn’t understood why Harry would bother but the longer he thought about it, the more he realized how amazing it was to have someone care like Harry did.

                “Just tell me one thing,” Draco patted the bed, waiting until Harry laid down next to him. “Tell me you were dramatic and feisty.”

                Harry grinned, rubbing his nose along Draco’s jaw. “I channelled you all the way.”

                “Good,” Draco sighed, by now the kiss would have been administered. It was freeing in a way. The man was his father, but only in the sense of a title and not by actual means of the word. He wouldn’t miss Lucius, but he would miss the what-ifs. The thoughts that he used to treasure as a child. The wonder if his father would ever come around. The blind faith that everything would be alright.

                “Tell me about it.”

                Harry told him everything he could remember and even the things he wished he would have said.

                “Thank you, Harry.” The gratitude was more than just for what was said. There were undercurrents of a lot of things in Draco’s tone.

                “You would do the same for me,” retorted Harry, using his own way of replying to the thanks.

                Draco shook his head fondly. “When I get out of here, I will return the favour. The Dursleys deserve a piece of my mind.”

                Harry held onto Draco tighter. “Yeah? I look forward to that.”

                Neither one of them knew just when Draco would make it out of St. Mungo’s. It was entirely possible that he would be here for the rest of his life. The chances were in their favour, but it was still up in the air.

                “What else do you plan on doing?”

                Draco closed his eyes as he pictured everything. “We’ll buy our own house; one with a yard for a dog.” He paused to smile at the thought. “We can get married down the line and maybe adopt a child. I would be able to explore my own desires for once. I can become a Potion’s Master or a bloody Muggle astronaut if I wanted. We could travel the world, exploring everything we can. We can just exist together. Side by side.”

                The sheer want that filled Harry was almost debilitating. He wanted that desperately. Any life with Draco was a good one. He didn’t hate this one or resent what they didn’t have. But he couldn’t help the twitch in his heart at the thought of sharing a life outside of St. Mungo’s with Draco.

                Hope. It was all they could do. Hope had led Harry to Draco. It was hope that saved him during the dark times and it was hope that comforted him during the rest.

                Draco would make it out of here one day. They both knew it. In the meantime, they would continue to hope. Together.

The End

Bonus Scenes

                “Mister Potter! Is it true that you just declared yourself as Mister Malfoy’s legal guardian? Is he a ward of the Potter line?”

                Harry breathed through his nose a few times as he fought the urge to shove the Quick-Quote Quills down all of the reporters’ throats.

                “What exactly is your relationship to Mister Malfoy?”

                “Is it true that you saw Lucius Malfoy on the day he was Kissed? What was the conversation about?”

                The thought that they were following him was too much. What was wrong with people?

                “Any thoughts on why Narcissa Malfoy recanted her petition?”  

                Harry pushed past the reporters and made his way towards the fireplaces near the atrium of the Ministry.

                “Do you have any words for us? Something to explain your behaviour as of late?”

                The sound of Rita Skeeter’s voice was grating and could ruin Harry’s mood quicker than Sirius chewing on his shoes in his animagus form.

                “You want a statement?” Harry asked, putting on a fake smile. One that he knew they were eating up. The rush of quills and parchment being brought forward was annoying

                “The only thing I have to say is: fuck off.”

                The outraged expressions on their faces was honestly freeing. It would be the image he used the next time he tried to practice the patronus charm.               

                When Harry walked by Emily going over another patient’s charts, he groaned at her smirk.

                “A reporter came by poking their nose into both Draco’s and your private life.”

                Agnus, an older woman who was a genuine sweetheart that was bedridden by an experimental potion gone wrong, waved at him as Emily began running routine spells over the room.

                “If you said anything about us, I will make you regret it.” The threat wasn’t exactly Harry’s best, but he was distracted by whatever Emily seemed to have over him.

                Emily threw a wink over her shoulder before going right back to looking over Agnus.

                “I mean it,” Harry continued. “The next time Draco and I have sex, I’ll make sure the whole bloody floor can hear us.”

                “Oh good,” breathed Agnus in delight.

                That had both Harry and Emily pausing to look at her in different forms of shock. Well, horror for Harry.

                Agnus grinned unrepentantly. “I’m stuck here with no means of entertainment. I have to live vicariously through you.”

                The thought alone was almost enough to make him celibate.

                “I didn’t tell them anything,” Emily assured. “But if I have to catch you two having sex again, then my mouth might just slip up next time someone asks questions.”

                Harry narrowed his eyes before heading towards Draco’s room. “This isn’t over, Emily. I declare war.”

                “One I plan to win.” Emily’s eyes were sparkling and that was enough to have Harry relaxing. He had known all along that they would one day soften her.

                He would have said something witty, but she slammed the door behind him. Rude.

                Before Harry could open Draco’s door, it slid open. Harry walked in with suspicion, but paused when he caught sight of the guard from Azkaban.

                Draco smiled at Harry, glad that he seemed to be in a better mood today than after the last Wizengamot meeting.

                “Harry, this is Severus Snape.”

                “Oh,” Harry trailed off, wishing he had made that connection while at Azkaban. Now things were beginning to make sense. “Nice to meet you.” He offered his hand easily.

                There was a moment when Harry wasn’t sure if Severus was going to return the offering. Right when he went to withdraw, a strong hand covered his in a firm grip. “I have waited a long time to meet you.”

                Harry looked at Draco but when Draco shrugged, he glanced back to Severus curiously. It wasn’t until Severus gestured for him to sit down that he went over to sit next to Draco, curling himself around his boyfriend.

                “I would like to tell you a story.” Severus looked between them and couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for his own soulmate. “One about Dark Magic, unusual bravery, love, death, and the importance of never giving up.”

                Severus took a deep breath, not really believing that he was finally speaking of the truth that led to everything.

                “I am going to tell you the tale of someone you'll never meet. The hero without a title and the recognition that they won’t ever receive.”

                Whatever Severus was about to tell them, Harry just knew that it was going to change his perspective on everything. He settled himself further onto Draco’s body and listened intently about a man who chose the harder path despite the easier one being safer.

                He listened to the tale of Regulus Black.