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Chapter Text

Draco sat with his head in his hands, focusing on his breathing. In and out. Slow and steady. Fuck if he was going to have a breakdown in this shabby Ministry hallway. His lungs rattled in his chest on the inhale. His throat burned like fire on the exhale. Slow and steady. In and out.

He was free.

Harry Potter’s testimony reduced Narcissa’s sentence to eight years, and Lucius got the standard ten years. But Draco…

Draco got off for time served.

In and out. Slow and steady. What the fuck was he going to do now?

“Malfoy?”

Draco’s head shot up, jolting every painful joint of his body. Hazy vision focused on the figure in front of him. “Potter,” he croaked, his voice still raw from his brief stint in prison.

He heaved himself from the bench, trying to smooth the lank, oily strands of his hair and the fall of his school robes. His school robes. His solicitor’s brilliant idea—to wear the robes he was arrested in instead of prison clothes. It worked. Draco looked utterly pathetic, unwashed and in robes that called to mind his youthfulness. Even if they hung off his wasted frame. How did a person lose so much weight in so short a time?

What should he say to this fucking arse that set Draco free from a potential ten years in that hellhole? Thank you burned in his raw throat. And in his broken heart, when he thought of his mother’s fate.

“I—I have your wand,” Potter said softly, pulling a familiar length of hawthorn from his pocket.

Draco snatched it away and grimaced at it. Nothing. It felt dead. Empty. Just like Draco. After six weeks surrounded by Dementors, his magic no longer sparked a warmth in him. What was he supposed to do with this wand now?

“Draco!”

Potter and Draco turned towards the shrill call. Pansy. Draco sighed in relief and shoved the useless piece of kindling at Potter before hurrying to meet her.

She slammed him hard enough to make them stumble, but her hug kept them both upright. “Draco! They both got ten,” she cried, burying her face in his neck.

“It’s okay, love, we’ll be all right.” He could hardly stand her arms around him, pressing against the filthy, reeking mass of him. But she didn’t seem to care. He ran a hand down her back and held her as tightly as his weak arms would allow.

“What am I going to do?”

“Survive,” he whispered.

She pulled away, wiping at her eyes and sniffing. “Theo’s in there now.”

Draco nodded and took her hand. “Let’s go.”

They sat on either side of Theo, each holding a hand when the verdict came down on his father. And then again when it was Greg’s turn to listen to judgement on his parents. Ten years in Azkaban. The Ministry seemed to have no plan in place for dealing with the aftermath of war and decided to put it off for a decade. Ten years for all serious offenders.

And Draco went free.

He turned eighteen years old in prison, screaming his nightmares out to the harsh, cold sea. But now he was free. Broken, tired, dirty, practically orphaned.

And free.

--------

“I’ll get us another bottle,” Draco laughed, stumbling over his own feet as he crossed the Manor’s lushest sitting room.

“No,” Pansy whined. “We can’t drink anymore. We’re out of hangover potions.”

Fucking hell. How did they burn through them so fast? Didn’t Draco just come back with some? He supposed four teenagers spending all their time drinking bottle after bottle of wine would indeed need more and more hangover potions. Anything to dull the reality surrounding them.

“Damn it, fine! I’ll get us more tomorrow.”

“We’re out of crisps,” Greg said from his spot splayed out on the floor.

“And sweets,” Theo added. He had a sweet tooth to rival Draco’s and they never seemed to ration the chocolate frogs well enough.

“Tomorrow, you idiots. Tomorrow!” Draco waved absently and crawled up the stairs to his lavish bedroom. He sprawled across his bed, not bothering to change out of the robes he wore.

Changing his clothes meant generating laundry and if there was anything Draco learned in the two weeks of living with his friends in Malfoy Manor it was that laundry fucking sucked. More than anything. He had regret for every House Elf he’d ever harangued about laundry because they were all angels sent from heaven for doing that one very important task.

That, and cooking.

Four spoiled teens that grew up with House Elves knew fuck-all about preparing food. Although Theo and Draco could brew potion after potion, following a recipe for chicken alfredo ended up in a clotted mess of cream and burned chicken. How hard was it to boil pasta? Damn near impossible, as it turned out. They subsisted on cheese toasties, crisps, and the odd apple or banana.

It was making them all ill, but no one would admit it.

Draco’s intent to wake early and get to the shops before they filled with judgmental witches and wizards was blown all to hell by the usual array of nightmares. Green light, a landslide of junk and flames, his mother’s pale face streaked with tears and blood. It was almost noon before he finally woke up enough to splash some water on his face and prepare for a trip to the magical world.

The stares of other people made his skin crawl. He didn’t know whether their hate was real or imagined, but it prickled enough to be real to him. And he fucking hated it. But it was Draco playing host to this little drinking spree, and so it was Draco that had to go.

Out in public.

He crept to his mother’s sitting room, listening all the while for Pansy. Carefully, lest it squeak, he lifted the lid of a decorative box carved with dragons. Inside sat several pictures of Narcissa with Draco. Both younger and smiling. Happy and healthy. The sentimentality of it no longer tugged at Draco. Very much, anyway. He lifted the pictures to reveal a small bottle of Calming Draught. Pansy had a general fear of this sitting room and avoided it. It remained the last safe hiding place.

He only needed a sip. Maybe two sips. So he didn’t lose his shit as soon as he landed in Diagon Alley. Yes, fuck that felt good. Warmth eased through him, giving him a calm he could no longer call up on his own. It would last a short while—long enough for him to get food and potions.

He giggled to himself and smoothed down his wrinkled robes. Perfect. He took a pinch of floo powder—hmm… better purchase that as well—and rolled through to Diagon Alley. The Calming Draught immediately served its purpose when it made Draco nod politely at a young witch that came through the floo before him. No panic today!

Humming tunelessly, he clutched his basket and basked in the warmth of the potion to keep him walking at an easy, normal pace to the grocers. He threw in three loaves of bread and two large blocks of cheddar cheese. Apples. They should have more fruit in their diets. Rounding a corner to the produce, he thought he spied a familiar shape surreptitiously tucking an apple into her pocket.

“Going to pay for that?” he whispered playfully.

Daphne Greengrass smothered a shriek and turned to Draco with wild eyes. “Draco? Fucking Merlin! You scared the shit out of me.” She huffed a sigh and pressed a hand to her heart. “What a surprise to see you.” Her other hand clenched at her side, trying to hide the bulge of the apple in her pocket.

Draco’s smile fell as he looked more closely at her worn robes and the bags under her eyes. “Daphne, are you all right?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

He plucked a few apples from the pile and tossed them in his basket. “No reason, I suppose.” Had her parents been arrested too? The Greengrasses were notoriously neutral. “Erm… if you’re free this afternoon… Some of us are having an ongoing party at mine. If you want to come.”

She also picked up an apple to examine. “Oh? Food, wine. That sort of thing?”

“Eh, it’s mostly cheese toasties and chocolate frogs. But there’s loads of wine.” He ducked his head down to peer into her face. “You can stay as long as you like.” His rattled brain struggled to call to mind something important. He shouldn’t have drank so much of the potion. Oh! “Astoria too. If she’s around.”

“Yes,” Daphne sighed shakily. “She’s around too.”

“Beautiful. It’ll be a proper Slytherin House reunion.” He smiled and threw three more apples in his basket. “You know how to floo there, yes?”

“There are others.”

Draco froze. “Others?”

“Others with us.” Daphne swallowed heavily, then reached into her pocket for the apple. She held it out to Draco. “Can the others come too?”

Smiling, Draco took the apple. “The more the merrier. I’ll get more bread.”

Daphne’s eyes looked suspiciously wet, but she nodded and pointed vaguely behind her. “I’ll meet you there?”

“I shouldn’t be too long.”

More food, more food. How much more food? Draco should have asked how many more people there were before Daphne ran off. He grabbed a bag of grapes, a bunch of bananas, and a bag of baby carrots (even if carrots were tastelessly revolting), then searched out sweets.

He swept an armful of chocolate frogs into his basket, laughing giddily when several boxes bounced off the rim to the floor. “Frogs on the floor,” he sang to himself, then knelt to pick them up.

“Malfoy?”

Draco’s head shot up. “Potter. What a surprise.” He threw the last two frogs into the basket and stood. Fuck, what was he supposed to say? “How are you?” No! He didn’t fucking care how Potter was!

“I’m—I’m good? Malfoy—your mouth is purple. Are you all right?”

Fuck, Pansy was going to kill him! Draco wiped his mouth automatically. “It’s fine. Just a little—” his eyes swept the shelf of sweets, “leftover acid pop. Blue raspberry. Tasted like shit and I spat it out.” His words came too quickly to be normal. The potion couldn’t be wearing off already, could it?

“Right, sure,” Potter said. But he still eyed Draco like a dark curse about to go off. His eyes darted down to the chocolate frogs in Draco’s basket. “Erm… that’s a lot of frogs?”

“Yes? So?” Draco barked, his hackles raised.

“No, it’s just… There’s a collection going around. For some of the kids left—you know—since May. And… you seem to have taken all the chocolate frogs.”

Draco clutched the basket tighter. “I’m allowed all the chocolate frogs I can pay for.”

“Yeah but… It’s for children in need? Do you think you could spare a few?” He lifted his own empty basket.

“Sod off, Potter. These are for children in need. I’m fucking starving!” Draco turned to run, but bravely because he was a Malfoy. “They sell them in Fortescue’s too,” he called as he rounded the corner. Let Potter search Diagon for chocolates. Draco only had a short time before the potion wore off and he’d better be home when that happened.

And he still had more supplies to purchase.

--------

The ragtag group of teens were still in the receiving parlour when Draco came home. Daphne and Astoria he knew.

He did not know Alex, Jason, Leila, or Marrin.

Memories swam to the surface of Alex and Jason in the year below him at school. Leila and Marrin were complete strangers, although he soon learned Marrin was in the same year as Astoria, and Leila a year below that. He’d missed the initial introductions and got the scoop from Theo while Pansy sorted everyone into bathrooms for showers.

“They’ve been on the streets for about a month. In one kind of trouble or another, with their parents in prison.”

Draco lined up the loaves of bread on the kitchen counter. “All of them? Leila’s what—thirteen or fourteen?”

“Fourteen.” Theo set the blocks of cheese in the cooling cupboard. “Her dad made the Death Eater masks,” he said, pulling a face. “Can you imagine that order coming through? But what do you do when—he—asks for masks?”

“Bloody fuck,” Draco groaned. “Wasn’t there someone they could go to for help?”

No, there wasn’t, with their parents in prison.

Over the next few weeks, Daphne disappeared for hours at a time and returned with more and more children. Their stories blended into one common theme.

The Ministry didn’t want them.

No matter how tangentially their families existed in the Dark Lord’s service, their families were made to pay. Stints in Azkaban ranged from one to five years for minor crimes. Apparently Draco lucked out with the Saviour as an advocate to secure his home and bank accounts. The rest of them were left without money, or left to the mercy of unsavoury relatives. Nowhere to go for these children that didn’t fit in a Ministry orphanage, especially if they weren’t really orphans.

Daphne’s story became a common refrain. “The Ministry has seized our accounts until the trials are over. And there’s paperwork to be done. They said I was of age and could just get a job to tide us over. But no one’s hiring and the ones that are don’t want possible Death Eater sympathizers.”

“Your parents didn’t support the Dark Lord, I thought,” Draco said with a frown.

“Eh, close enough for this world,” she replied with a bitter laugh. “Anyway, Astoria couldn’t get help either because she had a sister that was of age to support her. It’s been a right mess. We’ve been begging for food and money but that’s—well it’s kind of risky, as you can imagine. Especially for someone like Astoria.”

Young, beautiful, helpless. Draco didn’t want to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t found them.

Leila thought she had a grandmother living in Ireland, but didn’t know her well, or how to find her. Marrin’s older brother could take her in but she hinted that might be more dangerous than living on the streets with Astoria and Daphne.

Their number quickly swelled from ten to eighteen by the end of June. The dizzying changes kept them from the alcoholic bliss Draco had come to depend on. He ran out of Calming Draught and didn’t know how to get more without alerting Pansy. Her mother’s addiction made her hyper aware of Draco’s dosing habits.

He hated to admit it, but abstinence helped. Draco still didn’t sleep at night, but he had a clearer head in the mornings for dealing with the day’s problems. Food was a near constant need. He arranged for a regular delivery from a shop in the village near the Manor of fruits, vegetables, bread, and cheese, but how long could they live off that?

Clothing quickly became another pressing issue. Almost none of their new guests had clothes to wear when they arrived. They’d gone through the Manor to find robes of all sorts, but for the younger children, they didn’t fit well enough. Pansy and Theo managed to alter them a little, but they still tripped over hems or dragged their sagging cuffs too near the fire to be safe.

“I’m going to get more robes,” Draco announced. “A variety of sizes. Something for everyone. Anyone need anything while I’m out?”

And of course he would run into Harry Potter while he shopped. Did Potter have a tracker on him? How did he always appear when Draco ventured out? The wizarding world was small, but surely not this small!

Draco huffed to himself, but quietly in the hopes that Potter wouldn’t see him searching through the rack of secondhand robes.

“Malfoy! What are you doing here?” Potter pushed his glasses up his nose and eyed the child-sized robe in Draco’s arms.

Draco gave him an incredulous look. “I’m hunting erumpants. What do you think I’m doing in a robe shop?” He continued flicking robes along the rack, looking for some in a suitable size. But the pickings were slim.

“Oh, is that for the clothing drive?”

“What clothing drive?” Perhaps he should try another shop. His grip tightened on the hanger. Fuck shopping around. No one stocked as many childrens’ robes as Madam Malkins, and he had already almost reached his limit on exposure to strangers.

“For the war orphans. They’re doing a clothing drive for the kids that lost their homes and stuff.”

Draco closed his eyes briefly, trying to calm the sudden racing of his heart and the rage that burned in his lungs. “Yes, for war orphans,” he said flatly. “Excuse me.” He threw the robe over the rack and left the shop.

“Hey!” Potter called. Of course Potter had to follow him. “Malfoy, wait!” Huffing slightly, Potter grabbed Draco’s arm to pull him to a halt. “You—you didn’t buy the robe.”

Draco yanked his arm away. “Well, it wasn’t quite what I was looking for. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

He wished he had a wand that worked for him so he could Apparate away. Instead he had to settle for the floo. But where to go? He didn’t want to return home empty-handed and he couldn’t bear to be in Diagon Alley any longer.

Wasn’t there a secondhand shop in the village?

--------

“Muggle clothes?” Alex asked with a sneer.

“Yes. Muggle clothes.” Draco handed out jeans and t-shirts, trousers and button-down shirts. “It’s easier to acquire.” He wrinkled his nose at a bright orange buttoned shirt. Pansy flicked her wand and transfigured it to a deep green. “I’m sure we’ll all adjust.”

Although Draco had plenty of robes of his own, he also wore the muggle clothing occasionally in support of the other children. He would never admit it, but he loved the way the denim felt against his legs. Nor would he ever admit that tracksuit bottoms weren’t terribly different from his Quidditch practice gear and made chasing small children easier.

Daphne returned with fewer and fewer children, but word started to spread on its own about the safe haven at Malfoy Manor. One afternoon, they heard the chime of the Manor gates. With a confused shrug to Pansy, Draco hopped on a broom to fly to the end of the drive. He returned minutes later with a large wicker basket.

“What’s that?” Pansy asked.

Draco shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Opening the basket he revealed—

“A baby?!”

“Yes. With a note,” he said, plucking a scroll from the blankets. He read aloud, “‘I can’t do this anymore. They wouldn’t take a McNair. Please take care of him for me.’ That’s it. No name or anything.”

Pansy stared in horror. “What are we going to do with a baby?”

Astoria peeked inside and stroked the tiny fist resting on the blanket. “Who is ‘they’? The Ministry, I suppose.” She gathered the baby in her arms and nuzzled his cheek. “Oh sweet baby! What will we call you?”

“Nothing!” Pansy shrieked. “Stop getting attached to him, Astoria! We can’t take care of a baby!”

Draco shrugged, “Not much different from the others we’re caring for, right?” The Gibbon girls ran by at that moment. At six years old, the twins treated the seemingly endless halls and rooms in the Manor as a wondrous play place.

Pansy whirled on him, panic in her eyes, “Are you serious right now? How are we going to take care of an infant? What are we going to feed him?”

“I’ll go shopping. I’ve seen a powder there the muggles give their babies. Must be like a baby kind of nutrient potion, right? Nappies. What else?”

“Some itty, bitty baby clothes,” Astoria said in a sing-song voice, making a silly face at the smiling baby. His wide eyes tracked her movements and his arms flailed wildly. “How old do we think he is?”

Draco snorted, “I know fuck-all about babies. I’ll see what they have at the shop and buy a variety of things.”

That evening, the baby was named Orion and happily passed around to all the waiting arms. He seemed more interested in the new faces than he did with the bottle of formula he was offered. Draco had bought a variety of outfits for him to wear, and the six to nine month size fitted him best.

Draco laughed at Lizzie shrieking when Orion poked her in the eye. He shook his head and passed the plate of sandwiches to Pansy. She frowned heavily at him.

“This is ridiculous!” Pansy growled. “We cannot live off cheese toasties and crisps anymore!”

Draco choked down another bite with a large gulp of tea. “I never thought I’d be sick of cheese toasties. I love cheese.”

“And yet…”

“What we need,” Draco said, “is a House Elf.” The Manor’s two remaining elves had been seized by the Ministry for ‘testimony’ and then never returned. They didn’t come when Draco called so he could only assume they were dead or their enchantment had somehow been lifted. Maybe his father had freed them as an act of goodwill?

“Or three,” Pansy agreed.

Draco picked up a useless fork and tapped his glass to gain everyone’s attention. Twenty-one pairs of eyes turned to him curiously. “Is there anyone here that can summon a House Elf?”

Shocked whispers broke out, nearly making Draco laugh out loud. Why hadn’t it occurred to any of them to try earlier? Four tentative hands raised in the air.

“Excellent come over here.” The four of them crowded around, looking at each other nervously. Draco smiled gently, well aware that many of the kids were still a little wary of the free food, clothing, and housing he’d provided. Kneeling down so he wasn’t looming over them, he said, “Can you call your Elves? I just want to talk to them and see if anyone wants to come work here. For us.” He pointed to the oldest boy. “David, would you go first, please?”

David, a boy of eleven years, called out, “Pickles!”

A wrinkled little Elf appeared with grey tufts of hair growing from his ears and a wrinkled blue tea towel wrapped around his waist. He immediately squeaked, pulling his ears down to hide behind. “Master Davie! What is you doing here? Mistress is being upset with you!”

“I know, but I had to leave! She wasn’t being nice to me, Pickles.”

“Oh Master Davie… you is getting Pickles in trouble!” The Elf twisted his hands in his tea towel.

Draco smiled, “Pickles, I’m Draco Malfoy and this is—“

“Don’t!” David yelled. “Don’t tell him where we are! If he knows, he has to say. Right now he can still sort of lie about it.”

“Right, of course. Pickles,” Draco began again, “we were wondering if you’d like to come work for us.”

The large head tilted in confusion. “Work… for you? But Pickles is a bound Elf, sir.”

“Yes, but David, here, can free you, right?”

The Elf’s eyes widened almost comically. “Oh no, sir! Pickles can’t be a free Elf! No, no, no!” His eyes darted around the room, and Draco wondered if he might be looking to punish himself.

“Pickles,” David said, sitting next to the Elf and taking his hand. “I can free you and you can stay here. You’ll be safe here and you’ll still have work. Plenty of work.” He bit his lip, then said hesitantly, “There’s a baby here.”

The Elf froze. One eye peeked out from behind his hands and his ears twitched, “A baby?” Large eyes scanned the room with more purpose, finally landing on Orion, gumming a spoon in Astoria’s lap. “Pickles hasn’t had a baby to look after since… since…”

David smiled sadly. “I know. So, Pickles… you want to be free? Want to stay here and help us?” He held out a sock he’d pulled from his own foot.

Pickles watched avidly as Astoria came over with the baby. Orion squealed and batted his hands at the large Elf ears. Biting his lip, Pickles turned bulging eyes on Draco. Slowly he nodded and reached a trembling hand for the sock. His long fingers gripped it tight as he shivered and blinked rapidly.

“Pickles is a free Elf,” he squeaked. His eyes darted erratically again and he looked ready to flee. Gently, Astoria passed Orion over to him. The Elf sighed happily and hugged the baby close. “Pickles will take the baby for a little bath.”

“I’ll show you the way, Pickles,” Astoria said with a wide smile. She winked at Draco and led the Elf away.

One other Elf, Dowdy, agreed to be freed, but the other two politely declined. Still, two House Elves was enough to improve their lives drastically. They had a large feast days later to celebrate the end of cheese toasties at every meal.

Two weeks later, they were a hefty group of twenty-eight children ranging from baby Orion and toddler Annie all the way up to Draco and his friends. They set up a schedule of chores to help Pickles and Dowdy get the Manor cleaned up and catch up on laundry. Several children were eager to learn to cook literally anything other than cold sandwiches and cheese toasties.

One afternoon in mid-July, Theo and Draco supervised a game of tag outside in the garden. Draco pulled out four brooms from a shed, and distributed them to the older children. They had to set a timer on taking turns because everyone wanted a ride.

“I think we need more brooms,” Draco said with a sigh as Jemma and Bryce began fighting over whose turn was next. Theo summoned the broom and had them flip a knut to see who went next. As Jemma sailed happily away, Draco arranged for Greg to take his place so he could head to Quality Quidditch Supplies.

“You’re going now?” Theo asked.

Draco shrugged, “No time like the present. Plus, I don’t want to watch the kids anymore.” He laughed as Theo conjured and kicked a football at him. Draco deflected it with his shin and stuck his tongue out. “I’m funding this project, I don’t need to babysit as well!” Theo shook his head as Draco went inside to floo to Diagon once again.

It wasn’t until he landed in Diagon Alley that he realised he still wore his muggle jeans and t-shirt. People gave him odd stares but he ignored it as best he could on his way to Quality Quidditch Supplies.

“Malfoy?”

Draco tensed at the sound of his name. Potter. Of course fucking Potter was shopping here too. The girl Weasley was with him, both apparently shopping for new gloves. Right, he’d need to buy protective gear too. Probably a few extra quaffles and snitches as well. Draco frowned at Potter and ignored him in favour of the sales wizard and witch.

“Who can I speak to about placing a large order?” Draco watched the two people behind the counter eyeing each other, neither willing to help him. “You work on commission? Because I can promise you it’ll be worth your while.”

It took a little elbowing but finally the witch came forward with a forced smile. Draco tried pulling her aside, out of Potter’s eavesdropping range, but that proved impossible when the spectacled git continued to follow him. Draco was forced to explain his desire to buy sixteen brooms, while at the same time refusing to explain who the brooms were for or why. It was no one’s business who lived at his house.

The saleswitch found him a nice mid-range broom for experienced flyers, as well as some training brooms for smaller children. She also helped him size equipment for a variety of ages. As the hour wore on and Draco’s purchases towered higher and higher, her demeanor relaxed considerably. She even threw in a competition grade snitch for free.

While the saleswizard packaged it up for transport home, Draco arranged for payment from his Gringotts account. Potter hovered at the edges of his vision, his pair of gloves twisting in his hands.

“That’s a lot of brooms,” he said to Draco.

“Astute as ever, I see.”

“What’re you doing with all that?”

“Whatever I want,” Draco said with a smirk as he signed the payment slip with a flourish. He smiled at the saleswitch. “I’ll take this with me now,” he said, picking up the bag of small training brooms. “The rest will be delivered this afternoon?”

“By four o’clock!” she replied with a cheery smile.

“Thank you.” Draco nodded at Potter and the sour-faced Weasley beside him. “Lovely as ever, Potter.”

Draco left the store but, of course, was followed out by Potter. “Hey! Malfoy! Wait!”

Draco sighed and turned slowly. “What do you want?”

“I just—I noticed you’ve got a lot of kids sized equipment and I—is it for the W-O-F?”

“What?”

“The War Orphans Foundation. They’re collecting things for the children that lost, you know, everything in the war. Like the clothes from before. This month is toys and Quidditch gear. Next month it’s—“

“It’s not for your charity,” Draco said shortly and began walking away again.

Potter followed, “No, it’s not my charity. I just help a lot because, er…” he blushed and Draco was silently thankful Potter didn’t go on about his ‘Saviour’ status and how helpful he was to an organization like that. As if Draco didn’t know the Golden Boy shone like the sun.

“Are you done? Because I have things to do and, last I heard, I did not have to report my every movement and action to you.”

Potter reeled back, stunned, and began stammering, “Of course not—I wasn’t—you can do whatever you want, Malfoy. I mean, within reason, of course,” he finished with a nervous laugh.

Draco shook his head with an eyeroll and hurried away before Potter thought to ask about the muggle clothing Draco wore. At home, the flying gear was welcomed with great enthusiasm and they immediately set up flying lessons and an impromptu Quidditch match for the little kids.

They were worn out in time for delivery of the older kids’ equipment. Pansy and Draco took the little ones inside for a snack and a story to let the older kids play without interruption.

Storytime with toddlers. What was his life becoming?

Chapter Text

“That’s bullshit!”

Draco rolled his eyes at the tiny voice. “Elyon, you can’t say bullshit. It’s not a proper little boy word.”

“You say it!”

“Am I a little boy?” Draco jiggled the bag of gobstones. “As I said, you can have these back when you’ve apologised to Daria.” He pocketed the bag. “And you have to mean it!” he added as he walked away.

What a fucking circus. He kicked a stuffed narwhal and a wooden horse out of the centre of the corridor. “Someone needs to pick their shit up before it gets stepped on!” he yelled to the house at large.

“Draco, don’t say ‘shit’ in front of the children.”

“This is my house and if I want to say ‘fuck all this shit’ twice over, no one can stop me.”

Damn it, there were kids crawling out of everywhere! Who would ever believe that a few short months ago the echoing shrieks were terror and not laughter? The shrieking got louder as Jemma chased Annie past Draco and Daphne and into the smaller ballroom.

“I heard a chime at the gates,” Daphne said.

Draco sighed. “If it’s another baby I’m going to scream louder than Annie.”

“You love it,” Daphne giggled as he opened the door.

Although he would never admit it, Draco knew she was right. He’d dreaded returning to his childhood home, when memories of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord overshadowed everything. He’d brought Pansy, Theo, and Greg along, because they faced the same horrible memories in their own homes. It all seemed manageable when faced together.

Everyone pitched in to help as the children started arriving, giving them a sense of purpose and direction. Now, he couldn’t imagine running things without their help and no one wanted to leave.

At the Manor gates, two children huddled together looking grimier than any new arrival had thus far. Both had ratty, shorn hair and stained, ill fitting clothing. How long had they been out in the world alone?

Draco swung the gate open and said, “Welcome to Malfoy Manor. Are you looking for a place to stay?”

The older one glared at Draco. “We don’t want to stay here.” A little girl perhaps, judging by the pitch of her voice.

Draco hoped his smile looked gentle enough. “All right. A meal perhaps? A bath?”

The girl shook her companions hand. His glazed eyes refused to focus on anything and he wavered, almost falling into her. “He’s hurt his arm. If you could just heal it for us and then we’ll go.”

“Perhaps. Let me see.” He knelt down and let them approach him.

She pulled the boy forward, but he stumbled and fell. Draco caught him before he hit the ground and gently laid him on the drive. “What happened to him?”

“He hurt his arm,” she said again.

“What’s his name?”

The girl glared suspiciously but then sighed. “Robbie.”

“Okay Robbie,” Draco said, even though he didn’t think the boy could hear him. “I’m going to take a look at your arm.” He eased the muddy cloak off the boy’s shoulder and found a shredded robe underneath soaked in blood. And three large slashes crossed his upper arm and chest. “Huh,” Draco said in surprise. “That almost looks like…”

“It’s not!” the little girl blurted out. “We were attacked a few nights ago. But it wasn’t anything dangerous. Just a wild dog.”

“Right,” Draco said softly, hoping to set her at ease. “I’m sure it’s fine. Why don’t we go back to the house and get you two cleaned up. We’ll see if we can heal Robbie.”

“You won’t—you won’t be calling the Ministry?”

“No, I promise. No Ministry.”

The girl wiped a grimy hand across her face. “It’s just to get his arm fixed up. We won’t be staying.”

“We’ll get you cleaned up. Get a meal. And then we’ll see, all right?”

Reluctantly she nodded. Draco gingerly scooped up the boy and led them back to the house. “What did you say your name was?”

“I don’t have one anymore.”

“Everyone has a name.”

She kicked a rock with a shoe missing part of its sole but didn’t respond.

“Shall I call you Jane?” he persisted.

“Why not.”

Pansy, Daphne, and Astoria met them at the door, gasping when they saw Robbie lying limp in Draco’s arms. “Oh Merlin, what happened to him?”

Draco kicked the door closed behind him. “He’s injured his arm. A few scratches. This is Jane. She’s going to sit with us while we get him cleaned up.”

Pansy forced a smile to her face. “Wouldn’t you rather get a bath?”

Jane crowded close behind Draco instead of answering. Draco shook his head. “Why don’t you bring some food to the conservatory? Astoria, can you get Theo for me? And the big med kit? Come along, Jane, it’s this way.” Astoria’s eyes widened when they met Pansy’s but both of them hurried to their tasks.

The steamy air of the conservatory hit Draco and he wished he had a wand to spell the windows open. Carefully he laid Robbie on a bench and eased his cloak off. The robe had stiff spots where blood had already dried, but it was still pliant enough that Draco could remove it as well. Robbie’s frail body shivered, even in the warm air.

Theo arrived with a box of potions and bandages. He froze when he saw the boy’s injuries. “Draco. That looks like—”

“Theo,” Draco interrupted before he said anything to spook Jane. “Good timing. I need an aguamenti.”

Theo glanced at Jane, nodded, and got to work with Draco. Theo applied protective charms to their hands, and together they cleaned the wound and applied disinfectant alongside a silver wash that would seal the scratches.

Werewolf scratches.

Carefully dressed in a long nightshirt, Robbie slept on a cushioned chaise in a corner of the conservatory wrapped in a warm blanket. Jane sat at his side, steadily downing sandwiches and watching them all suspiciously as they whispered in a tight group on the other side of the conservatory.

“They can’t stay here,” Pansy hissed.

“They have to,” Draco said. “They’ll be eaten alive out there!”

“At least while he heals,” Theo added. “After that… I don’t know.”

“And what if he’s still here in a month for the next full moon?” Pansy shot back. “What if the girl is one too?”

Draco’s mind filled with images of Greyback and Scabior and their disgusting pack of followers. All looking just as ragged and worn, filthy and ravenous as Jane. “We can’t just leave them to fend for themselves.”

“And what do you propose to do about it?” Pansy huffed, crossing her arms angrily.

“We make Wolfsbane—”

She scoffed loudly.

“We can. We’ll make Wolfsbane Potion and… prepare a room in the dungeon.” He winced at the thought of locking up two children. “No windows, enchanted doors. They’ll be safe to—to transition there. We’ll be safe from them too.”

“You are out of your fucking mind! There are twenty-seven of us, Draco! Twenty-seven people and two House Elves and you’re going to put all of us at risk for two mangy little—”

“Don’t.” Draco’s words sliced through Pansy’s tirade. “Don’t even say it. Pansy, we have this one chance to prove we are better than our parents. And it starts here with some compassion for two children who didn’t ask for this.”

Her face reddened and her body trembled. She shook her head. “No. We can’t.”

“If you don’t like it,” Draco whispered, taking her hand. “You don’t have to stay.”

Pansy’s face crumpled and he pulled her into a hug. “You great fucking arsehole. You know I’m not leaving!” She sniffed against his t-shirt. “We can’t do this!”

“We can. Together we can.”

Jane stiffened when the group approached her so Pansy and Theo hung back to let Draco talk with her alone. He knelt down a foot away from her, hoping that by sitting on the floor he appeared less threatening. “Jane, Robbie’s going to need a few days to heal properly. You’re welcome to stay here with us while he does. So we can keep an eye on him.”

“No,” Jane said flatly. “We’ll be leaving as soon as he’s awake. It’s not safe here. Not really.” She tipped her chin at the others gathered behind Draco.

“They won’t call the Ministry on you. I promise it. This—Malfoy Manor—is my home, and I get to make the decisions. And I promise you, you’ll be safe here.”

Jane crossed her arms and glared at Draco with far more rage than any child her size should hold.

“Theo and I are quite talented potioneers. It’s possible we could brew Wolfsbane for—”

“We’re not werewolves!” Jane burst out, her face reddening.

“Okay. Shh… it’s all right. Did you know that werewolves lived here before?”

Jane sniffed and wiped a hand across her eyes, streaking the dirt on her face. “He—he told us they did.”

“Okay. So then you know… I know a lot about werewolves. And I can help you.”

“It’s just… Robbie got hurt. And they said…” Her body began to tremble and gingerly Draco enveloped her in a hug. She started to whimper on his shoulder. “They said weak pups like us drag the pack down. And we didn’t have nowhere else to go…”

“I know, it’s all right.” He rubbed her back, while he pondered his next move. If they were kicked out of their pack, that didn’t bode well for their survival. “We can keep you safe here, Jane. We’re all taking care of each other, like you take care of Robbie. Food. A bed to sleep in. And—and Wolfsbane Potion, if you’ll take it. We can help you with all of it.” He stroked her matted hair. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

When she quieted enough to rest, Theo and Draco made a small pallet bed next to Robbie’s bench. Pickles brought a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of water for the two children to share when they woke.

“This is unreal,” Pansy croaked. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going to brew Wolfsbane Potion before the next full moon.”

--------

The first batch was an utter failure they didn’t even get to finish. The second batch was much improved, but still not good enough to drink. The third batch turned out perfectly.

And alerted the Aurors to suspicious activity at Malfoy Manor.

No one expected the chime at the gates. But judging from their faces, the others felt the same sense of foreboding that ran down Draco’s spine. He flew to the gates and surveyed their ‘guests’—two full-fledged Aurors in scarlet and gold, and two Trainees in scarlet and silver.

Potter and Weasley.

He scoffed as he approached. It figured these two would find a way to make Draco’s life miserable. He crossed his arms and spoke through the bars. “Can I help you?”

The older Auror stepped closer. “I’m Auror Blakely, and this is Auror Reed.” He held a scroll through the bars. “We’ve a warrant to check Malfoy Manor and the surrounding grounds for evidence of suspicious werewolf behaviour.”

Draco took the scroll, scanning through the mind-numbing legal jargon. Thankfully the important parts were written in a large script. “There seems to be a mistake here.” He handed the scroll back. “It says Draco Malfoy purchased thirty grams of aconite, a ten gram excess of the legal limit. But I believe you gentlemen will find I in fact purchased twenty grams, as any magical person is allowed.”

The two Aurors looked at each other, then Auror Blakely said, “It is our understanding Theodore Nott purchased another ten grams, and then was heard flooing directly here to Malfoy Manor. That would make Malfoy Manor in possession of thirty grams. Which is ten grams above the legal limit.”

Draco laughed. “Shall I call my solicitor? See what he thinks about the Ministry harassing me because a friend happened to make a legal purchase of a controlled substance and then came to my house for a visit?”

The Aurors squirmed, while Weasley narrowed his eyes. Potter tilted his head, examining Draco.

Auror Blakely tucked the scroll into a pocket of his robes. “That won’t be necessary.” He straightened, locking eyes with Draco. “But we’re keeping an eye on you, Malfoy.”

Behind him, Potter opened his mouth to speak but Auror Reed glared at him and he stayed silent. They probably blamed Potter for Draco’s freedom in the first place. He’d seen enough ugly stares to know there were many that shared his sentiments. But Draco was free, and didn’t have to cower when he’d done nothing wrong.

“This has been lovely. Please owl ahead next time.” Draco held his hand out and called his broom up to fly back to the house.

He reassured the others that it was fine, even if he couldn’t be sure that was true.

--------

A week later, Auror Blakely returned with Potter dogging his heels once again.

“Auror Blakely. Potter. To what do I owe the pleasure this time?” Draco crossed his arms as he stared through the gates, determined to send them off once again.

The Auror pulled a pile of envelopes from his pocket. “We were notified by the Hogwarts staff that several of this year's letters are meant to be delivered to Malfoy Manor. Do you know anything about that?”

Draco smiled. “How wonderful. I’ll take those.” He reached through the bars for the pile, but Auror Blakely pulled them back.

He flicked through reading names aloud. “Rowle, Rookwood, Wilkes, Snyde, Avery… This is quite a collection of names. Care to explain?”

“An extended house party for my birthday. Our post, if you please,” Draco said, holding his hand out for the letters.

Potter, the utter git, said, “Your birthday was in June.”

“Yes, well, we all recall where I was for my birthday. I chose to celebrate now. My letters.” He waved his hand impatiently.

“Mr Malfoy, the Ministry isn’t asking for much here. We’re just interested in why the children of so many Death Eaters are gathering in one place. This place particularly.”

Draco’s jaw clenched. “An extended house party,” he bit out. “Relinquish our letters at once and expect to hear from my solicitor in the morning.”

“We’re watching you, Mr Malfoy,” Auror Blakely said ominously before finally passing the letters through the gate. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the annoying, repeated refrain. The Auror nodded at Potter, then stepped back to Disapparate.

Likely he meant for Potter to follow him, but instead Potter wrapped his hands around the iron poles and pressed in as close as he could to the gate. “What’s going on in there, Malfoy?”

“I don’t have to answer any of your questions, Trainee Potter.” Draco held out his hand and called the broom up, already walking away.

“At least—” He paused and Draco let curiosity override his good judgement by turning around to see what he wanted. Potter gave him a quick once over. “At least tell me why you’re in muggle clothes.”

Draco stared down at the blue jeans and red t-shirt from the secondhand shop, both altered by Pansy’s wand to be comfortably form-fitting. “Because I can. Now fuck off my property.” He hopped on the broom and flew back to the house before Potter could badger him with more annoying questions.

All the children gathered in the large ballroom for the distribution of letters. Theo duplicated all of them before handing them out. But not everyone welcomed the start of the school year.

“They don’t really want us back!”

“I’m seventeen now! I shouldn’t have to go back!”

“My sister will find me there!”

Draco shouted above the din, “Enough!” As the room fell quiet, he surveyed all the children. “Okay. Alex and Jason—you both are seventeen and you get to decide if you go back or not.” The two boys looked at each other, Jason excited, but Alex contemplative. “But that’s not a decision I’m letting you make alone. We’ll talk about it later.”

He waited until they both nodded an agreement before addressing the rest of the kids. “As for the rest of you, I’m afraid we don’t really have a choice. If you lot are truant from school and are found here, it puts all of us at risk. This is a good time to remind you I don’t actually have custody of any of you, except maybe Orion. Our best bet for the little ones is to turn attention away from here as much as possible.”

David raised his hand. “Erm, Draco… where am I supposed to get a wand?”

“Me too,” Leila said hesitantly. “Mine was lost after the trial.”

Draco’s eyes met Pansy’s as three other children mentioned lost or snapped wands. She gave him a sad smile and shrugged. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “All right, I’ll make a list of everything we need from Diagon Alley. I’ll see what’s happening with Ollivander’s and let you know. But don’t worry, we’ll get wands somehow. Any other questions?” The kids mumbled to each other, but no one spoke up. “Okay then, everyone is dismissed.”

The murmuring picked up as the children dispersed. Draco’s friends gathered around, passing copies of the Hogwarts letters between them.

Pansy shook her head at the list in her hands. “Where are we getting gold for all this? Cauldrons, potions ingredients. So many fucking textbooks!”

“Not to mention,” Daphne added, “these kids don’t have trunks or school robes.”

“Money isn’t a problem,” Draco said, thinking of the vast Malfoy vaults the Ministry miraculously let him keep. Perhaps it helped that he gave them nearly all of the Lestrange vault. “It’s our reception in Diagon, and what the kids might face at school that worries me.”

“What about the Littles? Should we look into tutors?”

Draco saw his own frozen shock mirrored on their faces. Tutoring was common for the children in their set, but that seemed an impossibility now. The high demand for good tutors made them more selective in where they chose to work, and right now Malfoy Manor didn’t hold much clout. Did they have the resources to school the little children themselves? He shook himself out of that train of thought to focus on the task at hand.

Draco clapped his hands decisively, “Okay, one problem at a time. Let’s worry about Hogwarts first. We need lists. Pansy, if you could compile all the Hogwarts supplies from the letters. Books, cauldrons, that sort of thing. Daphne, you handle personal items. Toothbrushes and parchments. Greg, why don’t you talk to the kids and see if there’s anything specific they want or need. Whatever we can’t owl order, I’ll pick up myself.”

“Maybe you can see if someone is willing to come to the house to measure for school robes.”

“Excellent idea, Theo. Okay lists, everyone. I’ll go to Diagon Alley when it’s ready.” He searched the room for two specific boys. “Right now, I’m going to talk to Alex and Jason, see if I can convince them they’re better off at school.”

“Are they?”

Draco sighed. “The Aurors are circling closer every day. I’d hate to think what’ll happen if they find a spot to land. Which reminds me, I need to send an owl to my solicitor.”

“Alex and Jason first,” Pansy said. She took Daphne’s hand. “Let’s get started, I suppose.”

Damn, what Draco wouldn’t give for a drink, but Annie slammed into his legs and held her chubby arms out to him. “Hold me.”

“Come on, Little Bit, perhaps you can help me convince two whiny babies they have to go to school.”

--------

The itching on the back of his neck began almost as soon as Draco locked the Manor gates behind him. The main road and surrounding forest appeared empty, so Draco got on his bicycle and headed into the village. But the itchy feeling of being watched remained.

He loved this ride into the village. Learning to ride the bike had been a challenge, but well worth it for trips into town. Moments alone and away from the cheerful chaos of his home were rare enough. And he suffered less anxiety in the muggle village than he did the wizarding areas.

What would his father think about that one?

It didn’t matter because he wasn’t here to ask. Draco had been thrust into the decision-making role, and he had a whole houseful of people depending on him. How did this happen? How were they going to survive this? Everything seemed more dangerous now that Aurors appeared more and more often. How did he manage to escape Azkaban for being a Death Eater, only to be thrown back in for some form of kidnapping? And harbouring two underage werewolves.

Memories assaulted him, filled with blood and sweat and fear and hexes and hate. He jumped off his bike, not caring that it crashed to the ground. Pacing tight circles around it, Draco gripped his head, mumbling, “No, no, no.” The world tilted under his feet and he hit his knees, his stomach roiling. Breathing became difficult and his face prickled as he struggled to inhale.

Rolling to his back, he stared at the blue sky. Blue sky. A deep breath filled his burning lungs. Open and free. Flying. Theo and Greg. The tingling in his face and hands faded. Pansy and Daphne. Annie. Her favourite doll’s head broke off (thank you, Chester) and she needed a new one. A mad giggle escaped him as he sat up.

A doll. He needed to go into town and find a new doll. Still feeling shaky he stood and took a few more deep breaths. The anxiety subsided somewhat, but the itchy feeling remained. With careful, deliberate movements, he mounted his bike and followed the road into town.

The secondhand shop, Another Man’s Treasure, was blissfully empty when Draco arrived. They closed on Thursdays to put out new items, making Friday their busiest day and Wednesday their lightest. Draco only went on Wednesdays.

“Draco!” Sherri, the owner, greeted him with a smile. “How are things? Your guests?”

“They’re well enough. With summer coming to an end, we’re sending half of them off to school.” His eyes scanned the shelves. “I’m looking for backpacks, satchels, whatever you’ve got.”

“Of course. Why don’t you start over here.” She led him to a corner near the clothing and pointed to a long shelf full of all types of bags. “I’ll see if we’ve got anything to put out tomorrow.” She gave him a wink and went through the ‘Employees Only’ door.

What would his father think of him getting special treatment at a secondhand shop? And why the fuck did he keep thinking about his father? It was the anxiety he couldn’t shake. That itching on the back of his neck. He rubbed his neck, twisting his head side to side to ease the tension.

He found four backpacks and two messenger bags, and Sherri found him three other backpacks. Muggle children were also preparing for school, donating their old things in favour of new ones. With so many children to buy for, Draco preferred a discount wherever it could be applied. Although the Malfoy coffers were extensive, he worried the Ministry would swoop in at any time to steal it. And who knew how long he would be caring for the group? Just keeping them all fed was a large drain every week.

But now was not the time to worry about the long-term future or money. He had tasks to complete. He checked backpacks off his list, then found a doll Annie might like. On a whim he also added several stuffed animals—a tiger, a fish, and two monkeys—because the last two months had taught him that small children never had enough stuffed animals. And that if he showed up with something for Annie, he’d better have something for the other little ones too.

“Can I come back for all this later? I have some other shopping to do in town.”

“Of course. I’ll put it in the basket in the back.”

“Thank you, Sherri! You’re a lifesaver!”

She gave him a cheerful wave as he left, heading to the pharmacy. Although he knew Mr Preston enough to nod a polite hello, they did not make small talk like he did with Sherri. He did get an odd look when he purchased thirteen tubes of toothpaste, thirteen bottles each of shampoo and conditioner, and twenty-six bars of soap. Hmm, perhaps he should have spread these purchases out over the coming weeks, but too late now. On a whim, he added several bottles of nail polish, knowing the girls would miss Pansy’s supply when they left.

Unfortunately, everything else on his lists needed to be purchased in the magical world. Inkpots and quill cases. Magical books and parchments. Dragonhide gloves and cauldrons.

Magical wands.

That was the one that stumped Draco the most. He’d heard enough gossip just walking through Diagon, about Ollivander’s illness and his niece running the shop. The Muggleborn registration had done a number on the wands in the magical world, snapping them left and right. Although the shop had boxes and boxes stacked to the rafters, the supply struggled to meet demand. Matching a wand to an owner required delicate care and knowledge. How would a bunch of Death Eater children get that? Could he risk bringing the children to Diagon with him to make that match?

He shook away his depressing thoughts as he opened the door to Another Man’s Treasure and almost collided with Auror Blakely.

Auror Blakely dressed as a muggle policeman.

And of fucking course Potter trailed right along behind him. Suddenly the prickly feeling on the back of his neck made sense if he’d been followed here by the interfering git.

“Malfoy,” Auror Blakely said flatly. “What a surprise to see you here. Doing some early morning shopping?”

“Am I not allowed in the village for some reason?” Draco forced his limbs to keep still, in the hopes he could avoid questions about the bulging bag in his hand.

“Of course not. But we did have an enlightening conversation about your shopping habits.” He tipped his hat with a malicious grin. “Have a nice day, Mr Malfoy. Perhaps we’ll be seeing you later.”

He didn’t wait to watch them walk away. Bursting into the shop, he called for Sherri and the box she’d set aside for him. He had to get home quickly, before the Aurors appeared. It broke his heart that Sherri had a hard time meeting his eye as he dumped the pharmacy bag inside and carried it to his bike.

Just before leaving he asked, “What did they say to you?” He looked over his shoulder, relieved to see she looked pitying and not horrified.

“They asked about your guests. How long they’d been there. Was it only children? Was I—was I ever worried for their safety or my own?”

“Oh.” A phantom pain burned in his left forearm.

“I didn’t—” she said quickly, halting his footsteps. “I told them you were a good boy. Always kind. And…” She came around the counter and rested a hand on his forearm, right over his brand. It made him shiver, even if the touch was accidental and she didn’t know what it meant. “Draco, I told them that judging by the sheer amount of clothing, shoes, and toys you’ve purchased over the last few months… those children didn’t have anything at all. I—I don’t know what you’re caught up in, but I know you have good intentions.”

“Thank you, Sherri. I—that means a lot to me. Really.” Draco laughed sadly. “I just hope they feel the same.”

“Good luck, Draco.” She held the door open for him and patted him on the back as he passed.

He lashed the box to his bicycle’s small cargo rack and pedalled as fast as he could for home.

--------

When Aurors didn’t storm the Manor that day, or the next, Draco began to relax. Mad as it seemed, they had other, more pressing matters to worry about.

The full moon was Sunday.

Dosing charts didn’t exist for Wolfsbane Potion, so far as they knew. Theo and Draco had done their best to guess how much Robbie and Jane should take each day. Getting them to drink it had been another struggle altogether. Draco could hardly blame them, foul as the brew smelled. But each day he witnessed them drinking it, hoping all the while he wasn’t slowly killing them.

Pansy and Daphne spelled two of the cellar storage rooms clean, and Draco and Greg furnished them with soft bedding that would likely be shredded by two werewolf pups. But on the off chance the potion worked, he wanted them to have somewhere comfortable to rest through the night.

And what a long night it ended up being. Pansy, Theo, Daphne, and Greg each took a shift keeping watch over the dungeon stairs. Draco stayed with each of them, refusing to go to sleep or leave his post, despite having no wand to defend himself. They waited one hour after sunrise before going to check.

Draco could have cried to find them both intact. Jane’s dose had been just right, and she happily chirped about sleeping peacefully in the blankets Draco left for her. Robbie had no injuries, but had a hard time staying awake. He, perhaps, needed a smaller dose for next month. Draco and Jane stayed with him until he was alert enough to eat breakfast.

Relieved and exhausted, Draco managed to nap for two hours before Annie snuck away from her minders and poked him in the eye to wake him up for a morning walk.

--------

Pansy surveyed the piles of school things they’d collected so far. “We need trunks for each of them. They can’t pack everything in their backpacks.”

“Could be some in the attic.”

Draco, Theo, Greg, Alex, and Jason went to the vast Manor attic, looking for trunks that could be put to better use than storing old junk.

“This one’s got linens. Who wants hundred year old sheets?” Alex lifted the top sheet out and grimaced at the holes and stains in it.

“I’d vanish it if I had a wand,” Draco said. “Probably all of this shit is worthless but if my mum comes home and finds I got rid of it all without at least looking, she’d have my head. Let’s make a few piles. Put anything moth-eaten or not protected by magic over here. Anything with benign magic can go there. Anything with dark magic, just leave it and move on.”

The boys got to work sorting, and within an hour had four trunks emptied. Theo ignored Draco’s warning and levitated anything that looked dangerous to a small wardrobe with a broken door. “What?” he shrugged. “It’s better to get it out of the way.”

The fifth trunk yielded a treasure of immeasurable value. A wooden box full of wands.

“Unbelievable,” Draco whispered. The boys crowded around, helping Draco to line them up on the attic floor.

Each wand had a small tag. Magnolia Malfoy, alder and dragon heartstring. Imogene Malfoy, elm and kelpie. Aloysius Malfoy, cypress and coral. Twenty-two wands in all, from ancestors Draco had never even heard of.

“What was your dad hiding these up here for?”

“Likely so You-Know-Who wouldn’t find them.” Draco ran a tentative hand over each wand. He heaved a broken sigh when one sparked warmth from his fingertips, straight to his very core. “Oh Merlin,” he said on a shallow breath.

“Draco…” Theo whispered, watching with wide eyes.

Draco wrapped his hand firmly around the wand as magic coursed through him, bursting out in a lumos maxima that drowned out the small lamps.

“Merlin, fuck, I can’t—fuck, I can’t believe it worked.” Draco’s eyes burned with tears that fell as soon as Theo pulled him into a hug. He drew a shuddering breath, hoping he didn’t dissolve into sobbing tears. “I didn’t think I had magic left in me.”

All these weeks, trying to use his friends’ wands… trying to feel the magic that used to rise to the surface so easily… He thought Azkaban had burned it all away.

But here it was, welling up in him once again. He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “Willoughby Malfoy, fir and unicorn hair,” he read aloud. “Thank you Willoughby, whoever you are.” Draco laughed and hugged Theo again, then Alex and Jason. Even Greg gave him a hug, despite hating hugs.

Because Draco had a wand and nothing was going to ruin his day.

Chapter Text

“I drew this for you!” Annie said happily, thrusting a piece of paper in Draco’s face.

“Thank you!” He scanned the colourful art, searching for anything recognisable. “It’s so green. Did you know green is my favourite colour? I like this part best.” He pointed to a set of green slashes topped with red circles.

Annie beamed at him as she wriggled into his lap, forcing his chair back from his desk. “Those are flowers. The red ones in the garden. Can we go to the garden now?”

Draco tickled her until she shrieked with laughter. “Little Bit, you are one conniving witch. But very convincing!” He kissed the top of her head and set her on the floor. “I’ll look at these boring accounts later. Let’s hang up your garden, then go see the real thing.”

As he cast a sticking charm on the paper, Draco wondered what his father would say about the current state of his study. Annie plastered the drawing to the wall, amidst a host of other similar scribbles done by herself and several other children. Crayons, both magical and muggle, littered the floor right over the stain where Chester spilled grape juice on the rug. The House Elves hadn’t got to it in time to truly get the stain out.

Daria visited Draco here once. It reminded her so much of her father’s study, that it triggered a panicked, accidental wave of magic that set every single book tumbling to the floor. Rather than waste time reorganising books, Draco piled them haphazardly on the shelves. He’d spent that afternoon baking a special cake with Daria (and Dowdy), so she could remember her first magic with happiness instead of fear.

Stuffed animals, bouncy balls, and little lorries and cars tumbled out of a basket barely large enough to contain them. Growing up, he never imagined a day might come when toys of any kind were welcome in this space. But Draco would do anything that made the children feel safe and loved. Including, he couldn’t help his wince, the dirty handprints on the wall. Good thing he had a decade to clean it up before his father found out.

He set Annie on his hip with a grin and a kiss to her plump cheek. This was his life now, and he loved it.

--------

“Annie! Run! Go, go, go!” Draco yelled, watching Annie try and kick her football towards the goal. Her tiny legs couldn’t quite manage running and kicking at the same time. When Draco saw Chester coming in to steal the ball from her, he scooped a shrieking Annie up and kicked the ball ahead of him.

Annie giggled, wrapping her arms tight around his neck. “Run, Draco!”

He kicked the ball into the makeshift goal—a space between two large, ceramic planters—and cheered. He tossed Annie into the air and caught her. “You did it, Little Bit!”

“We won!” she laughed, grasping Draco so tightly he didn’t even need hands to hold her.

Jemma pulled her foot back to kick the ball back into play, then froze in horror just as Pansy called out in a tight voice, “Draco! We have a visitor.”

Everyone in the yard froze when they saw Trainee Harry Potter standing awkwardly behind Pansy, looking at Draco as though he’d never seen him before. Annie buried her face in Draco’s neck. “Is he gonna take me?”

“No, Little Bit, it’s fine.” And fuck he hoped that wasn’t a lie. Draco ran a soothing hand down her back and nodded to Jemma. “Can you take Chester and Elyon inside? Annie, why don’t you go with Pansy?”

Theo was already leading Gretchen and Lizzie away. Greg waved to him from the house and gave him a thumbs up—hopefully that meant Robbie and Jane were out of sight. It was fine. Calm, cool, collected. Because everything was fine. Extended house party was the line and he’d follow it to the bitter end.

When Draco tried to peel Annie off him, she started crying and grasping his t-shirt in her tiny fists. “Don’t let him take me! I wanna stay with you!”

“I’m not—” Potter looked at the panicked scene, at the children giving him a wide berth and terrified eyes. Draco could have kicked him for his tone of utter disbelief. “I’m not going to take you. I’m a good guy. Aurors keep people safe.”

“Shut the fuck up, Potter,” Draco growled at him. He set Annie down, kneeling in front of her. “Hey, Annie. Listen, shh… Annie, it’s okay.” He smoothed her baby fine hair away from her tear-stained face. “Go with Pansy for a few minutes while I talk with Potter, here. I promise we’re just going to talk and then he’s going to leave. Alone. No one’s going anywhere, okay?”

Her tiny face crumpled and more tears started to flow. Draco kissed each of her cheeks and picked her up, passing her to Pansy. Her crying escalated, but Pansy didn’t hesitate as she hurried to the house, leaving Draco and Potter in the empty garden.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Draco asked with as much steel as he could muster. “How did you get in? Should I make way for a team of Aurors too?”

“No—shit—no, I’m not here on official business.” Potter seemed to only now realise he still wore his Auror trainee robes. He took the tunic off, revealing a dingy t-shirt underneath, and draped it over his arm. “I just came by floo. The visitors’ floo. Straight from Diagon after my classes today.”

“You really are a son of a bitch, you complete arsehole. That’s for invited guests! Not for any fucking idiot with floo powder!”

“I—I guess my trainee robes got me through the system?” Potter asked, not sounding nearly apologetic enough. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions. Casually. Off the record.”

Draco crossed his arms. “My solicitor says I don’t have to talk to you. And I’m sure he’d love to hear about this new level of harassment by the Ministry.”

“It’s not—I said I’m not with the Ministry.”

“Oh? Just catching up like old friends?”

“Can you please just calm down—”

“Calm down? Calm down? You burst into my home, scare everyone half to death, demand answers that are none of your fucking business, and you think I should calm down? Fuck off with you! And expect a restraining order to be filed tomorrow. Or will it? Probably can’t count on the Aurors enforcing that, now can I?”

“It’s not like that,” Potter said huffily. He shrunk the tunic and shoved it into a pocket. Sighing, he held up a hand. “Look, the Ministry is concerned about what might be happening over here, but after the last few—encounters—and a few angry visits from your solicitors… they’re trying to proceed with caution.”

“And I see it’s working so well if they’re just going to send you here to spy on me.”

“I’m not here to spy on you. I just want to know what’s going on here.”

Draco pulled out his wand and summoned two brooms from the far end of the lawn where, not ten minutes ago, Evelyn, Bryce, and David had been laughing and racing. Now they were all inside, terrified of being taken away by Aurors.

“Where did you get a wand?” Potter asked, eyeing the length of fir in Draco’s hand. “I didn’t know you’d got a new wand.”

“As we’ve already established, I don’t need to report my every move to you.” He threw a broom at Potter and mounted the other one. Knowing the nosy git would follow, Draco flew off towards the Manor gates. He landed gracefully with Potter a beat behind. “I can’t close the floo for reasons that are my own. But I swear if you, or any other Ministry officials, come through uninvited again, you will be met with hexes.” He opened the gate and gestured to the road. “Get the fuck out.”

“Malfoy wait, please. Just… who are they really? Why are you gathering the children of Death Eaters? Is this some kind of plot against the Ministry? They’re doing their best...” His words trailed off at the boiling rage on Draco’s face.

“Plotting? Do you think this is some childish form of revenge?” Draco slammed the gate wide open, just to hear the clanging of metal on metal. “Their fucking best? You absolute prick! You want to know why Annie’s terrified of you? Because one day Aurors showed up and took her away ‘for her own safety’ while her father was questioned about his brother’s Death Eater activities. He hasn’t been heard from since. How’s that for a brave and helpful Ministry?”

“That’s not—that can’t be true.”

“Thrilled to be the one to burst your bubble, but it absolutely is. All those kids in there have one story or another about their parents imprisoned or disappearing, and the Ministry casting them out. They’re safe here and the Ministry will have them back over my dead body. Now get the fuck out and don’t come back.”

“Malfoy, wait! I can help.”

Draco shoved him hard through the open gate and slammed it shut. “You help best by staying out of my way.”

Over the sounds of Potter’s protests, Draco flew back to the house, eager to reassure the children that everything would be all right.

But no one believed it. Annie clung to Draco like a grindylow all evening, jumping at every odd sound. No games or laughter after dinner—only tense, suspicious glances at the fireplaces and a silent vigil near the visitor’s floo. Draco didn’t want to seal it off because several children had found the Manor by taking a chance on floo powder, and he couldn’t risk someone in need not finding their way. He could only hope Potter wouldn’t share his little trick with the others.

They set up makeshift beds in the small ballroom for anyone that needed company that night. Once Annie had fallen asleep and Draco could finally slip away, he had a short conference with Theo, Daphne, and Pansy. They included Alex and Jason, if only to calm them against any thoughts of revenge.

“If we act out violently against the Ministry,” Draco insisted, “they’ll just lock us up with our parents, and where would the Littles be then?”

Jason scoffed, “You think the Ministry is just going to let this merry gathering happen? They’re going to bust in here any day now and ruin everything. We’ll be back on the streets in no time.”

“No,” Draco said firmly. He peeked through the door at Annie, curled into a tight all on her pallet next to Draco’s spot. “That isn’t going to happen.”

“Yeah, you think Saint Potter is going to keep secret what he’s seen?

“I don’t know, all right?” Draco scrubbed his hair in frustration. “Is that what you want to hear? I don’t know what’s going to happen. But we have to go on, day by day, hoping for the best.”

“Hoping for the best never got us anywhere.”

Theo laid a hand on Jason’s arm to calm him. “If Potter didn’t return right away with Aurors on his heels, that means he hasn’t told anyone yet. Perhaps he’s thinking it over.”

“Or it was too late in the day—”

“Too late for Aurors to capture Death Eaters?” Pansy deadpanned. “Didn’t know we were on the clock. Theo’s right. Potter kept the secret.”

“We’ll be vigilant for a few days,” Draco said, “although I don’t know how that’ll help if the Ministry’s decided to invade. We just need to hold on for two more weeks, then half of you will be safe at Hogwarts.”

“You think we’ll be safe at Hogwarts?”

Draco’s heart clenched, knowing nowhere would be safe for them for a very long time. “At least there’s no risk of being thrown out on the streets. Even if the other Houses are suspicious or angry, at least you’ll have food, clothing, and shelter.”

“And what about the Littles?”

“I’m working on it,” Draco said decisively.

--------

Tension nearly ate them all alive over the next few days. All the progress they’d made melted away as if it had never been. Annie and Libby reverted to wetting the bed at night. Yelling and fistfights broke out over stuffed animals and quaffles. The worst might have been Bryce having a panic attack that set the tablecloth on fire when little Libby innocently mentioned a camping trip with her parents. How would these kids manage if they found themselves on the streets again?

What the fuck did Draco think he was doing here? How could he possibly help these children that had nothing and no one? Would they live the next few years in fear of Aurors taking them away? Of their parents dying in prison?

And what would happen to them when their parents did return? Would they even be in a fit state to take their children back? Did they have homes or incomes to return to?

Draco did his best to hide his own insecurities and anxiety. Some mornings he woke up frozen in his bed, his lungs seizing painfully. But he learned to box up those thoughts and seal them away, much as he had during the war. Today, they needed him to be strong.

Miss Greta Buttons, an enterprising young witch with an eye towards her own fashion line, gratefully took on the commission of thirty-nine school robes for the thirteen children attending Hogwarts. Their delivery to Malfoy Manor officially marked the end of collecting all their school supplies. Thirteen trunks lined the main hall, fully stocked for Hogwarts.

A celebration was in order.

Instead of sending Pickles and Dowdy off for food, Draco rode into town to purchase an assortment of goodies to lift everyone’s spirits. Down the sweets aisle he went, tossing in chocolates and biscuits at random. He bought crisps and muffins, ice cream and chocolate syrup, and enough fizzy drinks to drown an erumpent.

As he lashed his purchases to his bike’s cargo rack, his heart leapt into his throat. “Potter,” he groaned in greeting. “I thought your spying had come to an end.”

“Malfoy.” Potter nodded at the bags. “Having a celebration?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Draco rolled his eyes and swung a leg over, determined to ride off without losing his temper.

Potter grabbed hold of the handlebars. “I know. About the paperwork you filed.”

“You mean my latest complaint of harassment? Impossible—that letter’s still sitting on my desk.” Draco gave him a tight smile and tried wrenching the bicycle free of Potter’s grip.

“I mean about the care home.”

For three seconds, Draco’s throat completely closed up. A prickling cascaded over his cheekbones and he drew in a deep breath to stave off his anxiety while he raced through his options. If Potter knew… Did that mean his paperwork was actually moving through the system? “I see you’ve done your research,” Draco said carefully.

“I looked into some of the kids staying with you. At least the school aged ones I have names for. Several of them were rejected from Ministry-approved orphanages for one reason or other.”

“Well they’re not really orphans, are they?” Draco said bitterly. He wrenched the bicycle away. “If you’ll excuse me, I have ice cream melting.”

“I can help you.”

“Sod off, we don’t need your help.” Draco pushed off, pedalling slowly away.

“You might have it anyway!” Potter yelled at his retreating form.

Draco ignored whatever Potter might be implying and shook off his unease. If Potter hadn’t set the Aurors on them yet, perhaps he meant what he said. Maybe his influence could get the paperwork filed properly. But just in case, Draco wasn’t going to worry anyone at home about it.

They spread the sweets and snacks out over two tables and enjoyed a massive picnic on the lawn. In one week, their numbers would be reduced by almost half, and Draco didn’t want to think too hard about that.

He would miss Astoria and Marrin weaving flower crowns for Libby and Annie. And the way Alex took Chester for a ride on his broom. Elyon tried not to show it, but he would be inconsolable when his brother Bryce left for school. But at least he wouldn’t be alone, Draco thought with a smile as Daria chased Elyon around, nearly colliding with Jason and Alex, who were blowing bubbles for Orion and Roger.

Malfoy Manor would always be home for them all.

--------

Potter’s interfering attention became known when the gates chimed just after lunch two days later. Draco Apparated to the gate, walking the last few feet cautiously, his eyes immediately drawn to Auror Blakely’s glare. On one side of him was a stern witch with frizzy hair and wiry eyeglasses. The young wizard at her side had a clipboard and quill poised to take notes. On Blakely’s other side was Harry Potter, and beyond him, surprisingly, Hermione Granger.

Taking a deep breath, Draco pasted a cautious smile on his face. “Isn’t this a merry gathering. How can I help you?”

The witch lifted her chin and said in clipped tones, “I’m Matilda Coddle from the Ministry of Magic’s Charity Commissions. It is our understanding you wish to register Malfoy Manor as a home for disadvantaged youth. Is that correct?” Next to her, the young man scribbled furiously on his clipboard.

Draco’s eyes darted to Potter’s. When he nodded in encouragement, Draco said, “Yes, but when I applied, I was told it could be a year or more. That new applications weren’t being considered just yet.”

“Yes well,” the witch nervously brushed her robes, “we’ve had many contributions and outreach programmes in the works, and they all take time to approve. As it happens, we’re here now to move forward with your application. With an inspection.”

“I see.” Draco said, crossing his arms. This whole process reeked of ulterior motives. “We weren’t expecting an inspection.”

“Of course not. The element of surprise reveals many truths.” Ms Coddle adjusted her glasses and glared at Draco. “Are you refusing us entry?” A brief smile on the face of her assistant made Draco bristle with unease.

“The Aurors as well?” He looked at Auror Blakely and Potter once again. The children would already have fits with so many strangers about, but it would be ten times worse if two of them wore Auror robes.

It didn’t help that Auror Blakely gave him an eager, ugly quirk of the lips. “As you are well aware, the Ministry is suspicious about the activities beyond your gates, Mr Malfoy. We’re here strictly as a precaution for Ms Coddle and her assistant.”

“And Granger?” Draco asked, maintaining eye contact with the Auror.

“I’m here at the Minister’s request.”

Draco nearly choked on his shock. “The Minister?” Granger’s face revealed nothing, but Potter blushed a light pink. Interesting. “Very well,” Draco said slowly. He paused with his hand on the gate. “Auror Blakely, Potter. If you wouldn't mind removing your Auror robes. Some of the younger children find it… unsettling.”

Auror Blakely sneered, “We’re here on behalf of the Ministry, Malfoy. We won’t be removing our uniforms.”

Fuck, what a nightmare. Did he have any other options? He’d have to open the gates and hope they could recover from the fall-out. But still… he hesitated.

Potter unbuttoned his robe. “I’ll take mine off.”

Granger rolled her eyes, while Auror Blakely fairly growled, “You’re on Ministry business, Trainee Potter, and meant to stay in uniform.”

“And the Minister said—” Potter began, but Granger laid a hand on his arm to quiet him when that only made Blakely’s face a darker red.

“Have any of the children had negative experiences with Aurors?” Granger asked firmly and calmly.

Draco didn’t let his eyes stray to the nosy Ministry official or the angry Auror. “Actually yes.” He didn’t elaborate, and he noticed Mr Note-taker didn’t write down her question or his answer. “Most of them,” he added after an awkward pause.

Granger pursed her lips and nodded at Potter, who stuck his shrunken robes in his pocket. She turned to the note-taker. “Mr Talpin, if you could please take note of Malfoy’s request, Harry’s compliance, and Auror Blakely’s protests. We’ll record the children’s reactions for the final report to the Minister.”

Muttering viciously under his breath, Auror Blakely tore his Auror robes off to shove into a pocket. Draco wondered if Granger’s interference was helpful or not. But at least now everyone wore plain, unremarkable clothes, and so he chose to be grateful. Opening the gate wide, he stood back to let them all in.

“Apologies for the long walk to the front door,” Malfoy said, leading them down the drive.

Ms Coddle held her hand out and Mr Talpin gave her a slim folder. “How many children have taken up residence here?”

“There are twenty-three children. Plus two that are seventeen, but still attending Hogwarts, and need somewhere to stay—”

“Two of them are of age?”

Draco’s steps slowed. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re able to live on their own. They needed a safe place to sleep. Food to eat, clothing. Both of them were removed from their homes with no warning and had nothing when Daphne found them.”

“Daphne Greengrass?” She looked at her folder again. “You have her listed as one of your board members.”

“Yes. Daphne, her sister Astoria, Alex, Jason—both of age, Marrin, and Leila were our first. But Daphne knew of others. We started keeping track shortly after, when Bryce and Elyon Rosier and Jemma Rookwood found us on their own and we thought it could grow.”

Auror Blakely grunted. “Poor little Death Eater children…” he mumbled under his breath.

“Just children,” Granger responded. Ignoring Blakely entirely, she focused on Draco. “Why were they on the streets? Why weren’t they placed in homes when their parents were arrested?”

Thankful for her unexpected support, Draco answered honestly. “For many of them, various group homes claimed they were full. They were also given to family members that didn’t want them. Or that were unsavoury in various ways.” He tried not to roll his eyes when Blakely scoffed at that as well.

Draco didn’t have to respond at all. Granger stopped walking and said sternly, “Auror Blakely! We have all logged your discontent. If you can’t keep it to yourself from now on, you will be asked to leave.”

He visibly struggled to hold in his rage at this tiny slip of a witch with calculating eyes. The young witch sent by the Minister himself. At last Blakely gave a curt nod and pressed his lips together. Satisfied for the time being, Granger started walking again.

Ms Coddle scanned the grounds. “The wards that are set—they were put in place by your father?”

“Some of them,” Draco replied. “Some have been in place for hundreds of years, and are updated periodically. It’s been quite a while since the wards were last seen to. We’re researching some updated options now; removing others that are no longer of use.”

“I see. About your… staff.” She hesitated a hair too long, but Draco refused to be cowed by her obvious dismissal of their youthfulness. “What sort of training have they received in childcare?”

“We’ve had a muggle first aid class, and Daphne Greengrass is taking a short course in early child care in Salisbury. Pansy Parkinson is looking into a correspondence course in business and accounting, to help with the financial aspects.”

“I’m not aware of any correspondence classes led by the Ministry,” Ms Coddle said with a frown.

“No, they’re muggle classes.” Draco’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “The Ministry informed us their regular classes were full.” From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Granger and Potter exchanging glances. Good, let them ponder the Ministry’s unfair treatment. “Would you like to tour the inside of the house first?” Draco asked as they came to the split in the drive. “Or we can follow this around to the carriage house and back garden if you prefer.”

“We’ll see inside first.”

They followed the drive to the front door, and Draco sent up a mental plea that no one cried when the unexpected guests walked through it. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door with a calm smile. As expected, Pansy and Daphne were waiting to hear about the visitor or to welcome new guests. Nearby, a few of the littles sat on the school trunks, hoping to greet new friends.

Everyone stiffened when Ms Coddle and her assistant came in after Draco. Annie jumped off her trunk and ran at Draco full tilt. He picked her up, hugging her tight to reassure her silently as best he could.

But of course, that wouldn’t be enough. “Are they taking me away?” she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Of course not,” he said, rubbing her back soothingly. “This is Ms Coddle. And actually, she wants to make sure you’re happy here so you can stay. Do you want to say hello?” Annie shook her head, burying her face in Draco’s neck. “It’ll be okay, Little Bit, you’ll see. Pansy, Daphne, this is Matilda Coddle from Charity Commissions. Her assistant—I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Apologies. We never did make proper introductions. This is Arthur Talpin, my assistant. And we have two gentlemen accompanying us—Mr Blakely and Mr Potter. Ms Granger, here, is acting as an extra pair of eyes. To be certain everything is reported accurately.”

As Ms Coddle made her introductions, Pansy and Daphne smiled politely, but Draco could see the terror in their eyes. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter? Either they would be a tremendous help, or they would set the Manor on fire. Granger looked around with a calm facade, hiding whatever memories surfaced.

Seeing it through new eyes, Draco saw the changes to his home that would make his mother faint. They’d packed away everything even remotely breakable, leaving very few purely decorative items out. Portraits had been relocated, particularly the ones that could frighten the Littles. Greg had a surprising knack for transfiguring furniture, and had thickened up the spindly legs on delicate settees so they could withstand the flop of heavy, whining teenage bodies. He couldn’t help but think the rooms looked lived in, instead of ‘for display only.’

“How old is she?” Ms Coddle asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Almost four.”

“I see.” She nodded at her assistant and he made a note on his clipboard. “Are there many young children here?”

Draco cleared his throat nervously. Were the younger ones likely to be taken away? Five eighteen year olds were hardly ideal guardians. “Erm… Of the twenty-five we have with us, twelve are below Hogwarts age.”

Ms Coddle pointed to the line of trunks. “What is all this?”

“These are the school things, for the older children.” Draco shifted Annie in his arms. “We’ve been collecting everything they need since the letters arrived.” Ms Coddle nodded once again at her assistant and he scribbled away on his clipboard. What the fuck did that mean? “If you’ll follow me, we can look over the paperwork we’ve gathered…”

“I’d like to see their bedrooms now,” Ms Coddle interrupted. She smiled at Annie. “Would you like to show me your room?”

Annie gripped Draco all the harder, almost whimpering into his neck. Unfazed, Ms Coddle turned to Daria, holding tightly to Daphne’s hand. “How about you?” She knelt down with a gentle smile. “Do you like staying here?”

Daria nodded, pressing her face into Daphne’s hip.

“That’s very good news. I’m here to see everything is ship-shape so you can stay. Is your room tidy?”

Daria’s brows drew down as she reluctantly shook her head.

Ms Coddle leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, “Mine isn’t very tidy either. My mummy despairs of me ever learning to make my bed.”

Draco let out a shaky exhale when Daria made a nervous giggle. Ms Coddle stood and held a hand out to Daria. “Come, show me your room and your favourite toy. Do you have toys to share here? When I was your age, my auntie gave me a stuffed unicorn I always kept with me.”

Looking up at Daphne, who nodded reassuringly, Daria took Ms Coddle’s hand. “Draco gave me a black bear that he said could be my very own, but sometimes I let Libby play with it.”

The awkward group trailed up the main staircase, silent but for Daria’s slow but steady chatter. The bedrooms underwent the same decluttering as the rest of the house when they filled with children. They housed two to a room, boys to the right of the main stairs, girls to the left. Ms Coddle oohed and aahed over the toys and books Daria and Libby showed off. She met with stern resistance from some of the others, particularly Bryce and Elyon, who had been literally dumped on the street by a Ministry official just like her.

She took the children’s rejections and acceptances in stride, asking subtle questions of the willing that revealed their level of care. What was their favourite thing to eat? Did they have a special spot at the table? What was their favourite bedtime book? And did they get in trouble for not going to bed on time? What sort of games did they play? Did they ever leave the house?

And over and over again, how did they come to live here?

As the questions were answered, Auror Blakely’s scowl deepened, while Potter and Granger took on contemplative looks. Draco took that as a very good sign. As Daria showed off the upstairs playroom, Draco summoned his baby wrap from the hook on the back of the door and tied Annie securely to his hip. She burrowed into his chest with a soft sigh, revelling in the contentment and security of being bound to Draco.

The tour continued down the back staircase near the kitchens. Draco glanced at Potter a few times, and always found him staring. Fucking git. Draco didn’t care how ridiculous he looked wearing a small child in a navy and cream floral print baby wrap. Annie’s comfort meant more to Draco than Potter’s useless opinion.

In the kitchen, Greg, Jason, and Alex were taken by surprise amidst a snack with Roger, Chester and Orion. How the fuck had they not heard about their unexpected visitors? They all jumped to their feet when the group came in. Chester, much like Annie, panicked and tried to climb Greg like a tree. Greg handed Orion to Jason and picked up Chester.

“What’re they doing here?” Greg asked. Roger climbed into Greg’s abandoned chair to hide, peeking between Greg and Jason to get a look at the group.

“You have a baby living here?!” Granger exclaimed.

Ms Coddle frowned. “Children under the age of two require special licensing, Mr Malfoy.”

“Yes, we are aware of that. I included the supplementary form for it.”

Mr Talpin opened the file and flipped through it with Ms Coddle. She pulled out a parchment from the stack. “I see… You didn’t mention you already had an infant living here.”

“Well there wasn’t really anywhere to take him while the approval process went on, which is how we ended up with him in the first place.” Draco met her gaze steadily. He had nothing to fear—he knew no one wanted the baby. No one but this ragtag family. “I have the letter he arrived with in his file.”

“He—he was just left here? With a note?” Potter asked softly. Granger took his hand.

“Yes. At the gates. Someone chimed, then disappeared, leaving a warded basket behind.”

“Mr Malfoy,” Ms Coddle said sternly, “this is highly irregular. We can’t leave a baby—”

“No,” Draco said firmly, stepping between their visitors and Jason. “You are not taking anyone with you. He was left, quite clearly, in my care. And we’re not letting him leave.” Discussion of leaving had Annie whimpering and hugging him tightly again. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. “No one is leaving today. You said this was just an inspection.”

“Yes, well… circumstances and…” Ms Coddle adjusted her glasses, glancing over Draco’s shoulder at Greg, Jason, and Alex.

A rustling from behind him had him suspecting that one of the boys had pulled their wand out. That was all they needed, hot-headed teens thinking they could save the day.

“He’s right,” Potter said, stepping into the fray next to Draco. “We don’t have permission to remove anyone yet.”

“But the baby…”

“They’ve managed this long,” Potter insisted. “Surely another few weeks while the paperwork is filed won’t make a difference.”

Ms Coddle’s back stiffened and her brows drew down. “I want to see where he’s sleeping. What sort of supplies you have for him. What is he eating?” She held out her hands with a smile for the baby, “Hello, little lovely. Will you let me hold you?”

And Orion, bless his innocent heart, smiled his drooly smile and leaned into her hands. Ms Coddle plucked him from Jason’s hands and bounced him lightly. “You are such a big boy, aren’t you?”

Thankfully Orion was accustomed to being passed around. He made a grab for her eyeglasses, but Ms Coddle was no novice and held his hands away from her face. After several minutes of peering into his eyes and mouth, of testing the strength of his arms and legs, and cooing playfully with him, she passed Orion back to Jason.

“Let’s finish the tour so I can take a look at his file.”

They hurried through the two ballrooms (with brooms, cones, and footballs for indoor play when it rained), the conservatory (with ornamental plants warded so they couldn’t be plucked and eaten by small children), the two large sitting rooms (with toys, books, and games not on the shelves where they belonged), the music room (with the delicate instruments stored away to make room for drums and cymbals, oh the noise...), and the library (with questionable books weeded out, leaving room for muggle and magical novels and picture books).

The long walk through the house lulled Annie to sleep. “You’ll excuse me for a moment?” Draco asked the group as they exited the last sitting room. He pulled Marrin aside. “Can you watch Annie for me?” At her nod, Draco transfigured one of the sofa’s cushions into a shallow pallet on the floor. He knelt down next to it, and leaned forward to lay Annie on it. A gentle spell untied his wrap so he could slip out, leaving her sleeping peacefully, and covered by the warm fabric.

He leaned into a deep stretch and ruffled his hair. “Damn, I forget how heavy she is.” He fluffed the t-shirt that clung to his damp skin. “Hot, too. As soon as she wakes up, bring her to my study. I don’t want her panicking, all right?” Marrin nodded and sat with her book next to Annie’s pallet.

Draco turned for the door and found Potter watching him once again. “Oh,” he said dumbly. “I thought you left with the others.”

“That was a clever trick, keeping her asleep like that.”

Shrugging, Draco said, “Practice, I guess.” Potter nodded, blushing down at his shoes, then turned to leave. Draco grabbed his arm to halt him. “Why did Shacklebolt send Granger?”

“I asked him to. I was afraid you wouldn’t get a fair shake otherwise. He knew I was right within minutes, the way Blakely and Coddle pissed vinegar during the meeting. But you seem to have won her over.”

“Good. It—it was bad for them. Before they came here.”

“Yeah, I think we all get that now.”

Auror Blakely didn’t seem to think so, but Draco stayed silent on the subject. The others were waiting on them and now wasn’t the time to belabour the point.

Pansy accompanied their visitors to Draco’s study to look over the paperwork. He kicked the toys into the corner, and banished the loose crayons to their storage box while Granger conjured some simple chairs for everyone. Potter helped tidy up with a few spells of his own. “It’s not hard,” he admonished with a grin as a line of soldiers marched into a box.

“Yeah, you try casting that spell eighty times a day and then we’ll talk.” Draco opened the file drawer of his desk and pulled out a stack of slender files. “These are for the children. What we know of their past, their family connections, any physical or mental health concerns.” He handed Granger a larger file. “This one is financial. What we’ve spent so far on food, clothes, and so on. Pansy put together some projections on the coming years. An eight year plan.”

“Eight years? That’s oddly specific,” Granger said, flipping through the pages.

Pansy’s eyes met Draco’s and he nodded. “Many of the parents will be out of Azkaban within five years,” she said shakily. Auror Blakely sneered, but she kept on. “We’ve included estimated expenses if anyone needs to stay here for a time. To get back on their feet.”

“You plan on housing families?”

“We have the space and the resources—”

“Funded from your own vaults?” Ms Coddle interrupted. “How long do you think you can survive such expenses?”

“As long as we need to.”

Ms Coddle refrained from rolling her eyes at his naiveté, but Draco could tell it was a near thing. He didn’t want to elaborate on the state of the vaults he inherited, knowing Death Eater galleons paying for Death Eater children to eat would be met with sneers. Or fear.

Granger handed the folder to Ms Coddle, but she set it on the desk without reading through it. “Let’s take a tour of the back garden, and then we’ll be on our way.” As Auror Blakely reached for the financial file, Ms Coddle barked, “Leave it. Financial concerns of a potential charity are not your concern, Auror Blakely.”

“But investigating Malfoy’s motives definitely is.”

“Then you’ll need to acquire a warrant,” Malfoy said, hiding his joy at the Auror’s discomfort while banishing the folder to his desk drawer once again.

Of course the back garden had to be as messy as everywhere else. Couldn’t anyone have tidied while Draco showed their ‘guests’ around? Quaffles, gloves, and flying goggles littered the grass, next to abandoned trays of bubble wands and soapy water. Croquet mallets were strewn about with (worryingly) not a single ball in sight. Did children ever actually play croquet, or did they just chase each other with mallets?

Ms Coddle glanced around, and declined a trip to the carriage house, greenhouses, empty stables, and summerhouses around the property. A tour of all the outbuildings could take an entire day. Auror Blakely seemed disappointed, and Draco wondered if he meant to use the unseen buildings as his next line of attack.

“Thank you, Mr Malfoy, for your time and the tour. It was very… informative.” Ms Coddle held her hand out to shake, considerably more cordial than when she arrived. “We’ll review our notes with the board and let you know when your application is ready to progress to the next stage.”

“Thank, Ms Coddle. We look forward to hearing from you.” Draco opened the gates and stood back to let everyone out.

Ms Coddle and her assistant Dispparated immediately. Auror Blakely made a great show of putting his Auror robes back on. If he hoped Granger and Potter would Disapparate without him, he was sadly mistaken. They didn’t even attempt an excuse, just stood off to the side watching him button his uniform. Unable to delay any longer, he Disapparated with a crack. Granger smirked at Potter and followed.

For a long minute, Draco and Potter stared at one another through the gates. Should Draco thank him for helping? Did he want to acknowledge that he owed Potter once again? Why couldn’t the spectacled git leave Draco to muddle through alone?

“You did really well, Malfoy. I’m impressed.” Potter put his Trainee robes on but didn’t button them.

“Blakely isn’t going to let this go,” Draco said, indicating the slovenly uniform. “You’re probably going to get kicked out now.”

“Might be for the best.”

Draco blinked, and Potter was gone.

Chapter Text

A single floo call to the Ministry Department of Transportation was all it took to learn the Hogwarts Express would arrive at the station promptly at ten in the morning.

Draco intended to be there with his group at that time, so they could secure a compartment together as soon as the train arrived. He didn’t want them spread all over, at risk because they didn’t have friends nearby. Safety in numbers he repeated frequently. He also wanted to avoid the bustling crowds of parents, so the Littles wouldn’t be frightened.

They ended up with four portkeys to take the entire group directly to Platform Nine and Three-quarters. Pansy, Daphne, Theo, and Greg kept the little ones as far from the muggle barrier as possible, while Draco took care of directing the students.

From his messenger bag he pulled out the first pair of shrunken trunks. “Alex and David,” he called out, looking at the nervous group. The two boys came forward as Draco enlarged the trunks. “Prepare for everyone to treat you with suspicion and remember it takes a special sort of bravery to stand strong against their hatred. But I swear if that bravery sorts you into Gryffindor, David, I will write a special song to mock you and teach it to all the children to sing in a Howler.” He gave the shaky boy a hug and nodded to Alex. “Stick close to Alex on the train ride. He’ll look out for you.”

He sent the two boys to claim the first compartment behind the Prefects’ carriage, assuming it would be the safest spot on the train. Then he pulled another two trunks out. “Astoria and Evelyn.”

Astoria took the younger girl’s hand and gently led her forward. “It’s all right,” Astoria said. “Better than last year.” Their textbook lists indicated the second years would be repeating a lot of their coursework from the previous year, and Draco hoped Evelyn managed with her new, borrowed wand. It hadn’t sent up as many sparks as David’s had, but it would serve until they could find something more permanent.

When Draco called Jason and Bryce, he heard a whimpering from the Littles. Elyon whispered to Daphne, then ran over to give Bryce one more hug. He didn’t know which brother would take the parting hardest, Bryce or Elyon.

Greg came over and picked Elyon up, then slapped Bryce on the back. “We’ll take good care of him. Don’t you worry.” Elyon buried his face in Greg’s neck as he returned to the group, with Greg whispering words of reassurance in his ear.

Pair by pair, Draco sent the children to the train. He could only hope this wasn’t a vast and horrid mistake. McGonagall wouldn’t have asked them back if she didn’t think she could keep them safe. Their forced immersion into the muggle world had changed them all. Perhaps the other students would see that, given enough time.

“Malfoy,” he heard just as the last pair boarded. Turning, Draco saw Harry Potter approaching him with a smile.

“Potter,” he said, restraining an eye roll. “I’d say it’s a surprise to see you, but it’s really not.”

Potter pointed to the train. “Seeing Hermione off. She and Neville wanted to get here early to help monitor the children.”

Draco made a non-committal sound, then turned towards his waiting children.

And of course Potter had to follow him. “You’re seeing the kids off? Hermione will look after them, you know. Neville too.”

“They can look after themselves,” Draco said, forcing a patience he did not feel. The sooner they could get off the platform, the happier he would be. He wanted the Littles as far from the wizarding world as he could get them.

He pulled a long rope from his messenger bag and held one end out to Daphne and the other to Greg. They stretched it between them and Theo, Pansy, and Draco got started spelling the children’s hands to the evenly spaced loops.

“What are you doing?” Potter asked, scanning the group with innocent curiosity.

Draco sighed heavily and left the rest of the children to Pansy and Theo as he stood. He rubbed his face wearily. “As usual, it’s none of your business. But as we are in public and I can’t stop you following us… We’re going out for ice cream to cheer everyone up. We’re attaching the children to the rope so they don’t accidentally let go and wander into traffic. All right? Interrogation over?”

“It wasn’t—I’m not interrogating you! I’m trying to make friendly conversation.”

“Seeing as we are not friends, you can see why that might be worrisome.” Draco looked at the group of children. “Are we ready? To the ice cream shop!” Several of the children jumped and a few tried to clap their hands, making the rope jiggle and nearly unbalancing everyone. Draco grinned and nodded at Daphne. “Let’s go!”

As he moved through the barrier, Draco cast a Notice-Me-Not charm so no one would notice the string of eleven children passing through. Daphne, wearing Orion in the sling, led them all, with Pansy and Theo walking on either side to help guide them. Greg brought up the rear, trying to keep Annie from getting distracted as she walked.

He scowled when Potter followed right along, as though he were part of the group as well. But what could he say to keep Potter from coming with them? The train station, the city streets, the ice cream shop were all public places he had no business barring Potter from. Why must he be a scourge on Draco’s patience?

A six minute walk turned into a thirteen minute walk with the pace the children set, but they all had a wonderful time gawking at the city buildings and the streams of muggles that they passed. Draco heard several happy oohs and aahs over their “adorable holiday club outing”. So much better than the hisses and glares they might expect from magical onlookers that would recognise them.

As they entered the ice cream shop, Draco tapped each child with his concealed wand to unstick them from the rope. Then he went straight to the counter while the others moved tables and settled the children. Potter, the great git, followed Draco.

“Hello, we’ve got a large group here today,” Draco said with a smile, gesturing at the boisterous children. “They’ll eat literally anything so could we have a variety of ice cream cones? Any flavours at all will do.”

“Certainly,” the woman said with confidence, despite the worried glances at their tables. “How many do you need?”

“We’ll need eleven, please.”

“Oi! Draco!” Greg hollered from his seat.

Draco rolled his eyes and yelled over his shoulder, “You can finish Annie’s!” Greg scrunched up his face and Draco sighed. He shook his head at the woman behind the counter. “Better make that twelve or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

She smiled and tapped at her register. Draco paid, then added an extra ten pound note. “For the poor person who has to clean up after us,” he said with a wink. The woman smiled at him gratefully as she took the money.

Turning, Draco stuck his tongue out at Potter, then joined the others. Annie climbed into his lap with her face alight. “Did you get sprinkles on mine?”

Several heads turned at the mention of sprinkles, but Draco cut them off with, “Just plain cones for everyone.”

Whining groans became excited chatter as the older kids speculated where David might sort, and what adventures awaited their makeshift siblings. Elyon chewed his lip nervously, but Greg soon distracted him. Unfortunately that involved straws and spitballs made from napkins. Pansy hissed threats at them, and Greg made Chester giggle by landing one right on the top of her bun when she turned towards Libby.

Draco had almost forgotten Potter entirely until he showed up at their table holding a tray of cones, with the woman from behind the counter holding a second tray. Pansy and Daphne helped pass out the cones. Several were swapped as new flavours were discovered. Draco counted it a win when only one dropped to the ground. Gretchen followed the woman back to the counter to pick a new flavour.

Potter pulled up a chair, licking at his own mint chocolate chip cone.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Draco asked, turning Annie’s cone so she could catch the drips.

“Catching up. I’m free today, and can’t you use the extra help?”

“Potter, how many times do I have to tell you we’re not friends?”

“Well not yet. But I’m interested in the work you’re doing. The way you’re helping these kids.”

They both looked down the table where Greg had the boys around him giggling into their ice cream cones, and Pansy shrieked as sticky hands reached for her. “Ugh, muggle places are the worst, Draco!” she grumbled as her napkin shredded against Daria’s damp palm.

“Still want to hang out with us?” Draco asked.

“I know she doesn’t mean it like she would have a year ago. Didn’t you say she’s taking muggle classes?”

Draco’s jaw clenched. “Yes. She is.”

Potter flashed his irritating smile in triumph and licked at his ice cream cone. “I think it’s admirable you lot are giving up your NEWT year to help them.”

“Want a bite?” Annie asked, waving her cone dangerously in front of Draco.

He reared back, managing to smile anyway. “Thank you, Little Bit, but that’s all yours.” He reached for a napkin to wipe at her face and dripping hands. “What NEWT year?” he asked Potter.

“Hogwarts this year. Hermione and Neville are going back. Hannah Abbott and I think Ernie MacMillan too. Probably several Ravenclaws. Hermione almost cried when she got her letter. Ron was already refusing before he even opened it.” He grinned at the last, looking at Draco as if they had a joke to share.

Draco didn’t see anything worth laughing at. “We didn’t get letters,” he said simply.

“You—you didn’t? I thought everyone in our year did.”

“We got a stack of them for the children. And even Jason and Alex—both of age, but both seventh years this year—but nothing for the rest of us.”

“Oh,” Potter said quietly, licking his ice cream and eyeing the group once more.

Pansy’s grimace had deepened as more and more ice cream melted and dripped and smeared over everything. Greg bounced Chester in his lap, making the little boy giggle as he tried to eat his ice cream through the jiggling. Daphne gave Orion a small lick of Lizzie’s vanilla cone, then blushed and shrugged when Draco glared at her over it. Draco had to roll his eyes—he wasn’t naive enough to think that was Orion’s first little treat.

Most important to him, all the children looked happy. Even Jane and Robbie had lost their hunted looks. Despite children’s natural resilience, he worried their trauma and fear would leave lasting damage. Hopefully this respite in his home would give the children something positive to hold onto until their parents returned.

He didn’t know what else he could say to Potter, so he settled for unsticking a lock of Annie’s hair from her cheek and smoothing it over her ear. Perhaps some Aguamenti games in the garden would be a fun way to clean up.

“Annie, are you enjoying your ice cream?” Potter asked politely.

Annie leaned back against Draco and the ice cream melting over her hand dripped onto his lap. She nodded, then turned her back on Potter to snuggle in deeper against Draco, smearing his shirt with ice cream.

“You’re making her nervous, Potter. Go bother someone else.”

Orion shrieked then and made a grab for the Lizzie’s cone. He missed and tugged on her hair instead. While Daphne untangled them, Chester started whining about needing a toilet. That sparked three other requests for the loo, as well as two for glasses of water. Draco could sense the approach to the chaos tipping point, and declared they would finish their ice cream on the walk back to the railway station.

They neatened the table somewhat—binning napkins and melted cones that no one wanted to finish—and Draco left another ten pound note by the napkin dispenser. He ignored Potter’s knowing look and pulled the rope out of his bag. It was trickier to attach the children while inside the shop with muggles watching, but they managed. Theo led this time, and Draco took a turn wearing Orion.

“Do you do this often?” Potter asked, following him out of the ice cream shop.

“What? Take the kids out for ice cream? No, never. And it was a huge enough hassle we probably won’t do it again. We much prefer ice cream parties at home where we can make messes and clean them up with magic. Where the kids can run and make noise and be themselves. Hiding ourselves is cumbersome.”

“Surely you know by now that muggles aren’t all bad.”

Draco stopped walking. When Greg paused as well, Draco waved him on with the group. He turned to Potter. “This isn’t about whether muggles are good or bad. Or whether wizards are better or the same. It’s about the Statute of Secrecy keeping us from muggles, and war trauma keeping us from wizards. It’s about belonging nowhere except the place we make for ourselves. Now if you’ll excuse us… I can’t keep you from following us in public, but I can bar you from Malfoy Manor.”

“Malfoy… please, I want to help.”

“You can do that from afar.”

It gave Draco great satisfaction to leave Potter standing alone.

-------

Draco breathed a sigh of relief as their portkeys landed them in the back gardens. He whistled at Greg, then grinned as he pulled his wand and began spraying everyone in sight with an Aguamenti. Greg caught on fast and also began spraying the crowd, as Daphne and Pansy pulled their wands to retaliate. The children shrieked and ran wild, jumping and rolling through the grass and dragging the wand-wielders down.

An hour later, everyone was soaked to the skin. Although somewhat less sticky from ice cream, they were covered in grass and leaves. They applied light drying charms as the line of children passed on their way inside. While Daphne and Theo supervised changes into dry clothes, Draco and Pansy arranged for tea and biscuits in the small ballroom.

Pansy offered to take Orion upstairs for an afternoon nap. “Did I hear Potter say the others were invited back to Hogwarts?”

“Yes.”

She bounced the baby, smoothing a hand over his fuzzy head. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or offended that we weren’t as well.”

“Me too. Would you go back?’

She surveyed the room, the small groups of children talking or setting up board games. “No. Even if these monsters are annoying and dirty and loud and so much fucking work… I’m glad we’re here for them.”

“Me too.”

Pansy pulled him down to kiss his cheek, then left with Orion. Draco joined Annie and Chester for a game of Snakes and Ladders.

--------

Draco didn’t know if it was good news or bad news that they were all being called, one at a time, to Matilda Coddle’s office in Charity Commissions.

“It must mean our application is moving through, right?” Pansy asked, scanning the letter one more time.

Daphne read over her shoulder. “It says a series of evaluations. That sounds like they’re taking our request seriously.”

“We’re eighteen years old,” Theo protested, rolling his eyes. “I can assure you they’re looking for reasons to shut us down.”

Greg scrunched up his face. “Evaluations? Like exams? Are we going to be quizzed on shit? That sounds awful.”

“If we can prove we’re fit to care for the kids, I’m sure they’ll let them stay,” Draco said, although his brain screamed this was in no way true.

“Did you miss the part where we’re eighteen?” Theo scoffed. “The only reason they haven’t booted all those kids is they have nowhere else to go.”

“Exactly. Nowhere else to go. So perhaps they’re looking for a way to let us keep them, seeing as no one else wants them.”

“This is going to be a nightmare,” Pansy groaned, throwing the letter on Draco’s desk.

Daphne offered a soothing rub down Pansy’s back. “Of course it won’t. Draco’s going first and he can help the rest of us prepare.”

The timing couldn’t be worse. Draco stayed up all night Sunday with Jane and Robbie for the full moon. He spent the wee hour of the morning patching Robbie up. This month’s dose had been reduced too much and the wolf had far too much control. The few mild injuries healed well enough, but Draco didn’t want either of them to suffer any more than they had to. They made note of his injuries and would try a higher dosage for next month.

Theo handed him a vial of Wide-Eye potion, jolting him awake for his meeting with the Charity Commision. Hopefully none of their ‘examinations’ involved a close look at his heart rate.

Matilda Coddle didn’t have her sour assistant with her this time. Instead, a middle-aged wizard followed her to the conference room where Draco waited. He had the same absent-minded air of Professor Trelawney. Perhaps it was the pair of scarves trailing from his neck that gave Draco that impression. Or the way he peered at Draco as though he were a specimen to be examined for mysterious truths.

Because that was what Draco was here for. Mr Whitehead went through question after question for over an hour, ranging from Draco’s cherished childhood memories to his thoughts on ethical harvesting of potions ingredients. He asked about anger management and Draco’s favourite book. Where did he get that smart muggle suit, and why didn’t muggles have flying cars yet? Perhaps wizards could help with that, yes?

On and on it went, until Draco wanted to tear his hair out. What did any of this have to do with his application? After a short break, Draco had to evaluate inkblots and then solve a series of wooden brain teaser puzzles.

As he gathered his materials back into his battered briefcase, Mr Whitehead casually asked, “What will you do if your application for fostering is rejected, Mr Malfoy?”

Draco straightened his tie, and buttoned his suit jacket. He stared at the older wizard with the cold stare he’d learned at his father’s side. “Simple enough. We’ll make the rounds, much as we did when this all began, and pick them all back up, one by one, as they are kicked out once again. Those kids will always have a home with me, guardianships be damned.”

Mr Whitehead nodded slowly. He extended a hand to shake. “Very well. I’ll send Ms Coddle my report. And I look forward to meeting the others.”

With a pounding headache, Draco headed towards the Ministry floos. Each stepped dragged longer and longer as the Wide-Eye potion wore off. He couldn’t wait to put on pyjamas and nap the rest of the day away. His usual coordination abandoned him and he smacked both elbows as he rolled through the floo.

Pansy yanked him out of the fireplace. “Thank fuck you’re here. They took Orion!”

Draco shook his head, trying to clear his fuzzy brain. “What? Orion? Who took him? Where’d they go?”

She shoved a roll of parchment into his hands, babbling frantically. “About an hour after you left. Aurors came—Blakely and—and—I can’t remember the other one. They said we didn’t have proper paperwork for an infant and… Draco, what are we going to do?”

“Fuck! Okay, it’s fine.” He scanned the parchment, but the words blurred. “We can get him back. Do you know where they took him?”

Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head. “Back to the Ministry, I suppose? Another foster home? I don’t know.”

Draco scrubbed at his face. “I’ll get him back, I promise. All right? I need another Wide-Eye potion.” The ground seemed to pitch under his feet and he latched onto Pansy to keep himself upright.

“Are you sure that’s safe?”

“It’s just a few more hours. I’ll rest when Orion is home.”

The extra potion knocked him back into focus, and he rolled through the floo to the Ministry. He stopped first in Charity Commissions.

“They took Orion from us,” Draco growled at Ms Coddle, his words coming out more aggressively than he wanted. “Did you know? Did you know what they were planning when you invited me here today?”

“Mr Malfoy,” Ms Coddle sighed, “I admire what you’re doing. I really do. But a baby… This is best for everyone.”

“Where is he?”

“The Aurors have placed him in custody with another family. I assure you he’s safe—”

“Did you forget he was left on my doorstep because no one wanted him? You’re a fool if you think he’s safe.”

He spun on his heel and stormed back to the lift. He needed to contact his solicitors. Perhaps they could spin the letter left with Orion into some sort of guardianship rights with Draco. He smacked the button over and over, willing the lift doors to open.

“Mr Malfoy!” Ms Coddle called, chasing after him. “Mr Malfoy, I really am sorry. These evaluations are necessary, I promise. It wasn’t a ruse to distract you. But you have to admit we’re in a difficult place, given the ages of your board members. If you had an adult—”

“We’re all of age, all technically adults.”

“Yes, technically. But it would lend credence to your application if you had a more mature adult on your board.”

The lift doors dinged. Draco braced them open with his foot. “If we find an adult to support our cause, you’ll let us have Orion back?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be back in two hours. Have Orion ready.”

As he stepped inside the lift, Draco’s potion-drenched mind raced. An adult. An adultier adult than him. He punched the wall of the lift in frustration. Think, damn it!

Who could he even find that the Ministry would trust? Everyone he knew was in Azkaban or muggle. Why did this whole fucking world have to knock him back over and over again? Where could he find any help at all when he hadn’t found any help thus far?

Potter.

Harry Potter would help.

He’d offered a thousand times, each time rebuffed by Draco. But now was Potter’s moment. If he really wanted to help, he’d get one of his band of do-gooders to lend their name to Draco’s foster home. And it would be their name only—Draco didn’t need Gryffindor sentiment mucking up his life.

Smashing the button for level two, Draco straightened his tie and his jacket. He ran a hand through his hair, and checked his wand was easily accessible. Fuck only knew what he’d find in the Auror department.

As the lift doors opened, Draco quickly scanned the room, but didn’t see the familiar head of black hair. At the welcome desk sat a sour young wizard, already glaring at Draco.

“I’m looking for Trainee Potter. Is he here?” Draco asked with as much meekness as he could muster.

It wasn’t enough, given the darkening of the welcome wizard’s frown. “No, he isn’t. But you can leave him a message and I’ll be sure he gets it.” The tight, bitter smile didn’t give Draco much hope of that happening.

Without bothering to respond, Draco returned to the lift. Fuck. Where could he find Potter? He’d seen him patrolling Diagon Alley several times. Perhaps that would be the place to start.

It only took Draco a few minutes to see the futility of his plan. Wandering the streets would get him nowhere, and he had no guarantee Potter was even around. He needed direct contact. Someone that could get a hold of him easily.

The garish purple and orange of Weasley Wizard Wheezes caught his eye.

“Welcome to Weasley—Malfoy. What are you doing here?” The ginger twin glared at Draco, crossing his arms over his chest.

Swallowing his nervousness and his pride, Draco gritted out, “I need help. I need to find Potter. As soon as possible.”

“Is that so? And why would Harry be helping the likes of you?”

Fucking hell. It figured Potter and Granger hadn’t spread tales of Draco’s good deeds. “Potter offered me help with a project I’m working on. Now is his chance to shine. Ask him yourself.”

Weasley snorted and pulled his wand. For a second Draco tensed, wondering if he should respond in kind, but no, it was only a Patronus he cast. A silvery magpie flew off and seconds later a terrier appeared saying, “I’m alone, go ahead.”

Another magpie flew off. What felt like an eternity later, a shimmery stag appeared. “I’m on my way. Stay right there.”

Draco choked back a sob of relief. It would be all right. Somehow, Harry fucking Potter would fix everything. Little bastard. Draco didn’t know which he hated more in that moment—Harry Potter or the desperation with which he needed his help.

Weasley’s scowl morphed into confusion as the Patronus dissolved. “I’ll be damned. He’s actually coming to help you?” He eyed Draco with a new sort of suspicion.

“As I said,” Draco said shakily, smoothing his hair once more, “he’s helping me with a project.” Draco turned his back on Weasley, pretending to survey the shop as if he didn’t almost start crying a moment ago.

He took a step forward, to wander the shop, but Weasley stopped him with a harsh, “Stay where I can see you.”

With a heavy sigh, Draco loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top button. Every minute Orion spent elsewhere made his anxiety worse. And the potion thrumming through him didn’t help. Sweat beaded at his temples and he angrily wiped his brow. Should he ask for a seat? How much longer would Potter be?

Seconds later, the crack of Apparition sounded. “Malfoy,” Potter said, his scanning eyes quickly settling on Draco.

“Harry, we have a back room for Apparating, and you know it,” Weasley chided. “You’re really helping this slimy git?”

He barely nodded in Weasley’s direction before frowning at Draco. “You look like shit. What’s happened?”

“I—I was at the Ministry this morning and while I was gone, they took Orion. The baby.”

Potter’s eyes widened in recognition. Good, he understood the severity of the situation. “They? Who? And where is he?”

“I don’t know. Pansy said Aurors came and had a warrant and Ms Coddle in Charity Commissions says he’s in a safe home. But he isn’t, I know he isn’t.” His words came fast now, pleading and desperate. “I need—I need a-an adult.” Draco wiped at his brow again, and felt a tremor in his hands. Fucking bad sign. “Ms Coddle said if we have someone older on our board, we can keep the baby. Please, you have to help us. Surely you know someone that is willing to sign on with us.”

“Yeah… erm… let me think.” Potter glanced at Weasley, who was watching in morbid fascination.

“They won’t have to do a thing,” Draco went on. “Just lend us their name. I promise we’ll take care of everything. Everything.” His breath came shorter and harsher, and his heart thudded in his ears.

“Malfoy are you all right? You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I didn’t sleep last night. I—I’m a little…” He turned to Weasley. “Do you happen to have—I need something to wake me up. Do you have any Wide-eye or just—something like it?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out wizarding coins and a few muggle notes. “I can pay.”

“This isn’t an apothecary,” Weasley said plainly.

“George,” Potter admonished. “You’ve got the sleepover kits. Get him the espresso mix from that.”

Pursing his lips, Weasley disappeared into the back. He returned quickly with a packet of powder. “It’s three galleons.”

Potter’s eyes bugged out but before he could protest the cost, Draco dropped the coins on the counter. He opened the packet and choked down the coffee powder, then shot a small Aguamenti at his mouth to rinse out the grit.

Through his grimace, Weasley said, “That’s supposed to be mixed in a cup, you absolute loon.”

Draco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and ignored Weasley entirely. “Any ideas? Time is of the essence.”

“I think I know of someone.” Potter sent his Patronus off once again.

Less than a minute later a falcon patronus swooped in and a woman’s voice said, “I’ll open the wards.”

--------

The hooded eyes and dark, wavy hair of Andromeda Tonks instantly put Draco on edge. She indicated they should sit, then went to tend to a baby crying in another room. When she returned, her hair was pulled into a loose bun and an infant with turquoise hair gurgled happily in her arms, and the resemblance to Bellatrix was effectively gone.

“Dromeda, this is Draco. Er, Malfoy.”

“I figured as much,” she said with a tight smile. “It’s the hair, you know. What can I help you with?” She sat stiffly in the chair, only smiling at the baby cooing and squirming in her lap.

“Draco is running an orphanage. Or foster home. In Malfoy Manor.”

“Is that so?” Andromeda said, eyeing Draco more carefully. “And what would your parents say about that?”

“It doesn’t matter what they’d say because it’s mine for the next decade.” Draco’s back pinched from the tension, but he didn’t know how to relax in this unfamiliar home under the judgemental glare of a witch his mother purposefully never mentioned.

“I see.”

“I’ve submitted the paperwork to turn it into a proper care home. But we need an adult on the board of directors. Not just of age, but someone with years on them.”

“I thought you might be interested,” Potter said, flashing her a winning smile.

“You thought I’d be eager to help the family that turned their backs on me?”

“I thought you would help a bunch of kids with nowhere else to go.” Potter met her eyes and something passed between them. “Draco’s drawn in loads of kids that were kicked out or escaped unsavoury homes. They have nowhere else to go and he welcomed them.”

“Unsavoury homes… you mean Death Eater homes?” She laughed mirthlessly. “Oh Harry, you do know how to stretch the bonds of friendship.”

“It’s just a name, Dromeda,” Potter went on. “You just need to sign a few papers and they’ll take care of the rest.”

“I’m not getting involved with Malfoy and a passel of Death Eater children.” She took the baby to a table in the corner and began changing his nappy. She tsked fondly when the baby tried rolling away from her.

Potter followed her, still pleading. “That’s the problem! No one else will either. Please, Dromeda, there aren’t a lot of people we can ask.”

“Because it’s a dangerous, stupid idea. A concentration of children like that is just begging for attack. No one is going to be safe there. They’d be better off elsewhere. In other homes. Spread out so they aren’t such a target.”

“Spread out over the streets of Diagon and Knockturn?” Draco interjected. “That’s where we found several of them. Or perhaps with distant relatives they’ve never met that don’t want them? Because we’ve had that too.”

Andromeda sighed and picked the baby up, patting him on the back. His hair changed to a soft blue as he cooed.

“We have—” his eyes darted to Potter, but they were past the point of questioning trust now. “There are two werewolf children, and if the Ministry found out—”

Both Potter and Andromeda froze. “Werewolves?”

Draco got to his feet, weaving only slightly. “If the Ministry finds out, they’ll be institutionalised. Or—or put down,” he said, his stomach lurching at the thought. The Ministry didn’t have a good track record with werewolves in general, and even worse for minors. “And right now, they’ve taken the baby left in our custody. I need a name and I need it today so we can get him back.”

“A baby?”

“A McNair. We named him Orion when he arrived. He was left on our doorstep in a basket.”

“Oh Merlin,” Andromeda sighed. Her eyes met Potter’s once again and her face softened.

“You see?” Potter said quietly. “It’s just a name, Dromeda. I promise. You won’t regret it.” He bit his lip, his eyes dropping to the baby with a sad smile.

Andromeda squeezed his arm. “I could never regret helping you, Harry. And Dora would never forgive me if I failed those children.” She smoothed a hand down her robe. She shot a charm to freshen the fabric and vanish a drool spot on her shoulder. “If we’re short on time, we’d best hurry.”

--------

The squeeze of Side-Along Apparition nearly made Draco vomit. He swayed dangerously into Potter.

“Are you all right?” Potter asked as he dragged him from the Apparition alcove.

“No,” Draco groaned, shaking his head roughly. Andromeda Apparated into the spot they’d just vacated, a squirming Teddy in her arms. “I mean yes, I’m fine.” He loosened his tie even more and smoothed his damp hair. “Last night was the full moon,” he whispered. “I was up all night, and then all this with Orion. I’ll be fine. I just need to collect him and get back home.”

Ms Coddle took Andromeda to her office and questioned her for nearly an hour. Each passing minute made Draco more and more anxious. He checked his pocket watch again, growling when the minute hand hadn’t moved at all. “Why is this taking so long?”

“I wonder what they’re asking her,” Potter said, making a silly face at the baby in his lap. “We didn’t exactly have time to explain everything properly.”

“No…” Draco ran his hands down his thighs, smoothing his trousers and picking off imaginary lint. “Thank you. For your help.”

Potter smiled and bumped their shoulders together. “I’m glad you asked.” After a brief pause, he settled Teddy in the crook of his arm and pulled out his wand. “May I? You look like shit.”

Draco nodded and closed his eyes against the light brush of magic.

“It’s something to dry your hair, neaten it a bit. Glamour your eyes. You look like you’re high on something.”

“I may have overdone it on the stimulants today,” Draco admitted reluctantly.

“Is that… something you do often?” Potter stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle, in a pose of nonchalance. But there was careful intent in his tone.

Draco bristled under the subtle accusation. “No! Of course not! I have a houseful of people under my care and the Ministry ever nipping at our heels. I don’t have time for those kinds of games.”

“All right, all right. No need to get so defensive. I just… remember you were… that day I saw you at the grocer’s. You seemed out of it then too.”

Draco searched his memory, barely remembering the interaction at all. “The chocolate frogs, right? I used to take a Calming Draught before shopping because the crowds made me nervous. That was actually the day I met Daphne. The day that started it all.” Draco fidgeted in his seat. “It’s better now. I ran out of the potion and couldn’t get any more. Not without Pansy knowing and freaking out. I learned to cope.” He picked at his trousers again and said softly, “If it hadn’t been for them—how much they all needed me—I’d probably still be lost in it. Or on to worse things.”

The door opened, saving Draco from further confessions. He and Potter jumped to their feet to greet Ms Coddle and Andromeda as they exited, both smiling and laughing. Andromeda reached for Teddy, kissing his cheek as she rested him on her hip.

Ms Coddle turned her smile on Draco. “Well, Mr Malfoy, with Mrs Tonks on your board of directors, I believe we can add the modifications to your application for the baby.”

“You mean we can have Orion back?”

“We’ll still be carrying on with the interviews of your staff, and there are other evaluations that need to be made before approval is met. But yes, for today, you can have Orion back.”

Draco sighed, and then almost choked on it when Potter pulled him into a hug. He slapped Draco on the back then stepped back, a light flush on his cheeks.

“Where is he?” Draco asked. “I can pick him up on my way home.”

“I’ll come with you,” Potter said. Draco nearly protested, but given the roiling in his stomach, perhaps supervision for safe travel wouldn’t go amiss.

Ms Coddle handed Draco a small square of parchment, and an official form. “Here’s the address for the foster home, as well as the paperwork returning him to your care. Mr Talpin will accompany you, in case there are any problems.”

Draco wasn’t terribly reassured by the addition of Mr Talpin, but Potter gave him a confident smile as he led them to the lifts. The address was right there in London, easy enough for them all to Apparate too. They took the stairs to the first floor, and Draco knocked loudly on the door. After waiting several moments, he knocked again, but there was no response.

“Where could they have gone?” Potter asked, reaching around Draco to knock a third time.

Draco knocked on the door across the hall. When it opened to a white-haired old woman, he smiled. “Good afternoon. We’re looking for the Wilsons that live across the hall there. Do you know where they might be or when they’ll be back?”

“I believe they went to the hospital? They had a baby with them, crying something awful! And a red rash all over. It was oh… an hour ago?”

He barely had time for a thank you before darting down the stairs, Potter nearly stepping on his heels in his haste to follow. “Over here,” he said, dragging Draco to the side of the building hidden from the street. Draco braced himself with a grimace as Potter pulled him into a tight Apparition.

“Third floor, probably. Poisonings and potions mishaps,” Potter said, elbowing his way to the lifts.

A mediwitch, eyes wide in recognition at Harry Potter on her floor, directed them to a curtained off room. Draco’s hand flew to his mouth. “Oh my sweet boy, what happened to you?”

Orion slept under a colourful array of lights, with a tube running down his throat and another in his arm. Draco approached the bed, but didn’t want to risk breaking the spells by reaching through them.

Potter dragged a Healer along behind him. “Tell us what happened.”

“He’s going to be all right. He had some sort of allergic reaction, and we sedated him to make it easier to dispense a general antidote. We’ve got a blood sample in the lab, to isolate the allergen.”

Draco’s face darkened. “This wasn’t an accident. What did he take?”

“A Wiggenweld Potion. It’s not unusual for fostered children—”

“Damn it!” Draco cursed, scrubbing his hair and turning once more to the baby. “He’s a McNair. Both his father and his aunt were allergic to mandrakes. I’d bet he is too.” His fingers landed on the sheets, just outside the boundary of spells. “It’s okay, baby, we’ll take you home soon.”

“Mandrakes. I’ll let the lab know, so they can verify before we treat him.” The healer indicated the bed. "Try not to jostle him too much, but you can hold his hand if you like. It won’t damage the stasis spells.” He nodded to Potter and Draco, then pulled the curtain closed behind him.

Potter reached through and squeezed Orion’s tiny foot gently. Draco carefully took hold of his hand. “My poor baby. This never should have happened.”

“What does Wiggenweld Potion do?”

“It’s a healing potion. Broad spectrum kind of thing, but strong enough to counteract Draught of Living Death. They probably give it to kids coming from shady situations, as a general cure.”

“I wonder why they’d do that. He looked healthy before.”

Draco’s throat thickened and his eyes watered. “This is all my fault.”

“Draco,” Potter said plainly, “how is this in any way your fault?”

“They wouldn’t have been so suspicious if he hadn’t come from Malfoy Manor. They wouldn’t have taken him from any other home.”

“Are you forgetting yours was the only home that welcomed him?”

Heat rose up in Draco, flushing his cheeks and dampening his brow with sweat once again. And he hated it. All of it. Staying awake all night in fear that Robbie and Jane would die or escape. The psych evaluation he’d taken only a few hours ago, and the potion he drank to stay awake for it. His sweet, innocent baby in the hospital. The extra caffeine and adrenaline churned in his stomach, and all of it was just too much.

He didn’t even realise he was crying until Potter drew him into a hug. “It’s going to be all right,” Potter whispered in his ear.

“This is so fucking hard,” Draco sobbed, grasping at Potter’s shirt and soaking his shoulder with tears. “All the damn time.”

“But you’re not alone, Draco. Pansy, Daphne, Theo, Greg. They’re all there to help you. And now you have me and Andromeda too.”

Draco pulled away, avoiding eye contact and wiping at his nose and mouth with his sleeve. What a disgusting fucking mess he’d become in the last twenty-four hours. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice raw in his own ears. “I don’t think we’d have found him without you.”

“You’re never getting rid of me now.”

And damn if Potter’s grin didn’t tug at something deep within Draco.

Chapter Text

A drowsy fog rolled through his head once again as Draco tried to force his eyes open. He yelped when a sharp sting hit his side. “Ow, that fucking hurt, you son of a bitch!”

Potter shrugged unapologetically, “You didn’t answer when I called your name so… stinging hex. You told me not to let you fall asleep here.”

“Perfect, cheers,” Draco said sarcastically. “All your dreams come true—me asking to be hexed.”

“Not quite,” Potter said, his face flushing pink and his eyes sliding away from Draco.

Draco stuck his tongue out childishly and rubbed his sore side. And admitted to himself that the sting helped him stay awake. He couldn’t wait to greet his bed. To slide between fresh, cool cotton. Rest his head on the plump feather pillow. Melt into a weighted duvet that cuddled him in a cosy cocoon. Bliss.

“Draco!” he heard and jolted once again.

“Sorry. I’m so fucking tired…”

Mr Talpin got rid of the Wilsons—with no admonishments for their treatment of Orion—and now Draco and Potter were waiting for the allergy potion to finish taking effect.

Potter smiled. “It shows. I think Healer Stan is coming back.”

Sure enough, the healer pulled the curtain back and smiled down at Orion. “Excellent. His colour is good, and he’s breathing well on his own.” He nodded at the mediwitch behind him as he signed the parchment on his clipboard. “He’s free to go as soon as Mediwitch Mallory finishes up.”

When the spells dropped, Draco dressed Orion in a clean pair of pyjamas from his changing bag while the mediwitch filled out the paperwork. His poor baby moaned in his sleep.

“Mr Malfoy, we didn’t have a birthdate listed. Do you know his birthday?”

“We don’t,” Draco said, gathering the sleepy baby in his arms. Orion whined and burrowed into Draco’s shoulder. “Based on the clothes he fits into and the milestones the baby books mention, we guess he’s turning one soon. We’ve given him the fourth of October, because it’s the same as my friend Greg and he liked the idea of sharing.” He pressed his lips together, knowing sleep-deprived babble might get him in trouble.

“All right, that’s about what we guessed as well.” She handed him a scroll. “This has some aftercare instructions. Some things to look out for. Mainly the return of the rash, and any difficulty breathing. He’ll probably eat lightly over the next twenty-four hours, but his normal appetite will come back after that.”

“Thank you,” Draco said politely. “Really, thank you. We appreciate all your help. He might have died if the Wilsons had been slower about bringing him.”

Her eyes darted to Potter and she blushed, “It’s our job to help. Have a good day, Mr Malfoy. Mr Potter.” The red of her cheeks deepened as she made brief eye contact with Potter, then she hurried away.

“Here, you carry this.” Draco shoved the changing bag at Potter. “He weighs a tonne while he’s asleep. I wish Pansy had packed my sling.”

Potter slung the bag over his shoulder and held his hands out. “Want me to carry him?”

“No.” Draco kissed Orion’s head and rubbed his back. “Thank you, but no. I’d rather carry him.” After almost losing the baby today, Draco couldn’t bear to be parted, no matter the heavy weight on his tired arms. “Press the button for the lift.”

They gathered stares during their entire walk through the hospital. Potter waved cheerily at two witches deep in a gossipy stance. He whispered to Draco, “Bet you ten galleons tomorrow’s Daily Prophet runs something about us as a couple and Orion as our love child.”

“Please… The Prophet wouldn’t run something like that. Weekly Wizarding Report though…”

“I’m not familiar with that one.”

“It’s Pansy’s favourite guilty pleasure. They report on social standings—who is dating who, what marriages are on the rocks, and who gets the galleons in the split. And they don’t care one whit about honesty and accuracy. It’s just the worst. Be glad you haven’t seen it.” He stumbled over nothing and leaned into Potter’s steadying hand. “You’re going to have to Apparate me home.”

“Will the wards let me in?”

“You’re with me. It’ll be fine.”

Their landing certainly could have gone smoother, but Draco couldn’t really blame Potter for that. His shaky legs collapsed from under him and it was only Potter’s quick reflexes that kept him from shattering his knees on the marble entryway.

“Draco?” he heard Pansy call. She came running around the corner. “Draco! Orion. Oh my sweet baby, are you all right?” She cooed at the baby, taking him from Draco’s arms. “We’ve been so worried!”

Daphne, Elyon, and the twins joined the welcome home. “Is ‘Rion all right?” Lizzie asked.

“Yes he’s fine now.” Draco pulled the scroll from his pocket as he stood. The floor pitched underneath him but he managed to stay upright. “And he’s ours to keep.”

Daphne snatched the scroll from him before he even finished speaking. She and Pansy read it together—Daphne with joy, and Pansy with confusion.

“Your Aunt Andromeda is signing on with us?” Pansy’s eyes darted from Draco to Potter and back. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Potter will explain. If I don’t get upstairs, I’m going to fall asleep here in the foyer.” He kissed Orion’s head and Pansy’s temple on his way to the wide staircase. “Don’t wake me for any reason. Even if the Manor is on fire.”

Three steps up, he tripped hard enough that crawling seemed the safer option. “Malfoy, you idiot,” he heard just before a shoulder bolstered him up.

“Potter… you fucking hero, do you have to be everywhere, saving everyone?”

“Yes. Which room is yours?”

“I think it’s blue?”

From a great distance, he heard more talking but he couldn’t make out the words anymore. He’d reached his limit and his body refused to cooperate.

Between one breath and the next, a heavy sleep claimed him.

--------

For a few heart-stopping moments, Draco didn’t know where he was. The weight of his duvet hit him first, familiar and warm as he burrowed deeper into the covers. The soft lemony scent of Dowdy’s cleaning charms came next, and then the distant sound of shrieking laughter.

Home.

Even in the dark he recognised the curves and lines of his four poster bed, the largely useless desk in one corner, and the sitting area in the other. He vaguely remembered Potter asking where his room was, and it looked like he found it.

Draco stretched and sighed, then moved gingerly to his bathroom. The lingering soreness indicated too long spent in bed, and he couldn’t regret it. For too long he’d been running on less and less sleep, and the whole night awake with the full moon didn’t do him any favours.

He brushed his teeth and splashed water on his face, then sought out Pansy to fill him in on what he’d missed.

“At last, he has risen!” she yelled, making the children around whoop and clap. She checked her watch. “That’s… nineteen hours!”

Annie came barrelling at him. He scooped her into a twirling hug before she could knock them both over. “You were sleeping forever!” she said too loudly, right in his ear.

“I slept for nineteen hours? That can’t be right.”

Pansy gave him an unimpressed look. “We’re having lunch in a bit, but I’m sure Pickles can bring you something now if you’re hungry.”

Draco kissed Annie’s cheek and set her down. “I’ll wait. Where’s Orion? Is he doing all right?”

“He’s fine. Harry Potter helped us to get him settled, and explained about your Aunt Andromeda. And that they want to come to dinner after you’ve had a chance to recuperate. Or maybe just him by himself? He wasn’t very clear on that point.”

“No,” Draco moaned. “He can’t! He said it would just be in name only.”

“If you think Harry Potter does anything in name only, you’re deluding yourself.”

“Is Harry going to be here all the time too?” Gretchen asked.

Next to her, Chester bounced excitedly, “Can his room be next to mine?”

Draco clapped his hands loudly to dampen the budding momentum of sound. “I think it’s time for lunch!”

“Not quite yet,” Pansy tried to say, but Draco interrupted with, “Off to the dining room, everyone!”

The children skipped and ran from the room, taking their shrieking elsewhere. Except for Jane.

“Draco?” she asked hesitantly. “Is Harry really going to be spending more time here? Is he—he’s not going to tell? Is he? About me and Robbie?”

He knelt down to more easily meet her eyes. “Harry was very good friends with a werewolf once. Did you know that?” Jane shook her head. “He died in the war. But he was such a good friend of Harry’s that when he had a baby—” He paused when Jane inhaled sharply. “He named Harry Potter as godfather. Do you know why? Because he knew Harry would always take care of those that needed taking care of. And you,” he bopped her playfully on the nose, smiling when it made her giggle, “definitely need taking care of.”

Draco stood and nudged her towards the door. “Don’t you worry about anything, Jane. I promised we’d keep you safe and it’s a promise I’ll keep.”

She ran after the rest of the group, and Draco sighed. Pansy took hold of his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. “I hope that’s the truth.”

“Me too.” He patted her hand and kissed the top of her head. “Me too.

--------

No one really expected Harry Potter to show up. And at the same time, Draco lamented, how could he have expected anything different?

Potter was nothing if not persistent.

He had the courtesy, at least, of a patronus message that gave them approximately one hour to prepare, and was still a little vague on whether he would bring Andromeda with him or not. Draco had no way of contacting him to tell him it was a terrible idea or they didn’t have time or he still wasn’t recovered or any of the other hundred excuses he could have used to put Potter off, and perhaps that was Potter’s intention. How clever of him, unfortunately for Draco.

The children waited eagerly in the visitor’s parlour, and attacked in a wave when Potter rolled through. Good-natured as ever, Potter endured hugs and excited babble. By the time he made it to Draco and Pansy, his face had flushed a bright red and his glasses were knocked askew.

“Welcome, Potter. The dining room is right this way…” Draco intoned coolly, inwardly wincing. The children would worry if he couldn’t relax.

Potter quirked an uncertain smile that became genuine when Lizzie took his hand, dragging him off in a sea of boisterous children. Pansy took Draco by the arm with a harsh laugh. “This is going to be brilliant.”

The children dispersed to their seats at the dining room table. After the older kids left for Hogwarts, Draco shrunk the table to better accommodate their smaller number, but there should still be room enough for one more. He took his place at the head of the table, and Potter moved directly to his right.

“Erm,” Draco said hesitantly. “You can’t sit there. That’s Annie’s seat, and she’s particular...” As he spoke, the wily little girl climbed into the chair with an angelic grin.

“This is mine, next to Draco. You sit there.” She pointed across the table, but that made Libby start whining about losing her seat.

“Why don’t you all sit wherever you usually sit and I’ll find somewhere to fit.”

With a little shifting, Potter managed to squeeze in between Jane and Gretchen. Jane didn’t look too happy with the arrangement, but stayed quiet so as not to draw attention to herself. Robbie didn’t have the same caution. He leaned around Jane and asked, “Are you going to be living here too?”

“Erm, no,” Potter said with a smile, “I just wanted to visit. Get to know all of you better.”

“Are you spying for the Ministry?” Chester asked. Beside him, Pansy stiffened and darted a panicked look at Draco. “Draco says we should—”

“Okay, thanks Chester, that’s enough!” Draco said quickly, scared of what this little boy might say. They didn’t want to give Potter reason to return with a warrant.

Thankfully Potter laughed, “I’m just here as a friend.” He looked down at Jane. “What do you normally do after dinner?”

Jane didn’t answer, nibbling on her bread and focusing on her plate. Potter didn’t seem offended and turned to Gretchen instead. She bounced in her seat and begged Potter to take her flying again. Daria and Libby whined about a promise Potter had made to play gobstones with them, and Elyon said they did that last time and should play football instead, while there was still enough daylight.

Potter suggested that, as it was supposed to rain for the next two days, they should play outside so they gathered in the garden after eating. “Want to be on my team?” he asked Draco, grinning widely as he tossed the football from hand to hand.

Draco stiffened, wondering why he needed to be singled out, and bounced Annie in his arms. “I think Annie and I are going to sit this one out.”

“Maybe next time,” Potter shrugged, dropping the ball and kicking it away. He glanced back with a look Draco didn’t understand.

As the children ran around the yard in a typical disorganised game of football, Pansy sat with Daria, Annie, and Draco. She helped Daria plait flowers into Annie’s hair. “Do you think he’ll report back to the Aurors?” Pansy whispered.

“I think he genuinely wants to play?” Draco answered. “Does that sound right?”

“I don’t know, but I’m so tense I’m about to crack in two.” She held her hand out to Daria for one last flower. “And done! What do we think?”

“Let’s do Draco next!” Daria laughed. Annie clapped her hands and Draco groaned good-naturedly.

“I’m going to get a haircut so this doesn’t happen anymore.”

“One more time won’t kill you,” Pansy laughed, moving her fingers quickly through his hair. It had grown out considerably since May, and nearly reached his shoulders. Daria and Annie giggled as they crammed little white flowers into each tiny plait. Pansy helped by attaching a few with sticking charms. “There we go! All finished!”

Draco tilted his head one way and the other, pursing his lips. “How do I look?”

Annie giggled, covering her mouth and doubled over. “Draco looks like a princess!”

“Your father would be so proud,” Pansy whispered before dissolving into her own giggles. Draco tickled her and gave her cheek a loud, smacking kiss.

Gretchen and Lilly came over, demanding flowers for their hair too. Daphne offered to help so Draco took Orion from her and went to supervise the switch from football to flying. Theo and Potter cast lumos on a few rocks and set them floating around the garden, now that the sun was on its way down.

Potter’s double take at Draco made every single flower worth it. “There are flowers in your hair.”

“I know, because I’m the one that sat through the whole process.”

Theo turned a panicked look on the gathering of little girls. “I’m shaving my head like Greg tomorrow. Those girls are tiny terrors with those flowers! I don’t know what sort of sticking charm Pansy uses, but last time it took me three days to get all the petals out.”

Draco shook his head vigorously and all the flowers stayed in place. “I don’t mind.” He called a broom up. “It means I can fly and look prettier than any of you. Who wants to take Orion so I can have first run?”

The baby squealed happily and reached for Greg so he offered to sit out the first round. Draco pulled Chester up in front of him and kicked off, circling the garden in one long, lazy loop. Elyon was old enough to ride his own broom, but Theo shadowed him just in case. Potter pulled Roger up with him and almost made Draco’s heart stop when he immediately went into a swooping dive. Roger squealed in delight and urged him on faster.

An hour later, the children were winding down and the chill in the air drove them all inside. Potter started to make his goodbyes.

“But we didn’t even play gobstones!” Libby said, tugging on his hand.

Potter squatted down to give her a hug. “Well we have to save something for next time, right?”

“When are you coming back? Can you come back tomorrow?”

“Erm, I don’t know.” Potter looked at Draco, then Pansy and Theo. “I guess I’ll owl you? Andromeda wants to come by and see everything.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Draco insisted quickly. “We’re taking care of everything well enough.”

“All the same… I think she’s… She misses her family. She doesn’t have much of it left.”

The tiny reminder of the war, the families they’d lost, and their reason for gathering in the first place made the happy glow evaporate. Everyone shuffled awkwardly in place and goodbye began in earnest. Potter promised to return soon, and then let Draco lead him to the floo.

“This was fun. I’m sorry if I made things awkward at the end.”

“It’s fine. It’s a reality we’re all living with. We can’t avoid it forever.” Draco tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “The children enjoyed having you here.”

“Thanks for having me.” He reached out and pulled a flower from Draco’s hair. “This one came loose.” He twirled the flower in his fingers and then tucked it behind his own ear.

Was the floor tilting? Was Draco slipping into an alternate universe where Harry Potter flirted with him? Desperate to find solid ground again, Draco reached for the bowl of floo powder. “Well, erm… safe travels.”

“Until next time,” Potter said with a wink.

A fucking wink.

And then he disappeared in a whirl of green flames.

--------

The next morning, Draco dropped Greg off at the Ministry for his evaluation. “I’ll be back in two hours, all right. Wait right here for me. Don’t go anywhere else.”

Greg flipped him two fingers and followed the secretary to the conference room. Draco groaned, hoping that Greg had better manners for Mr Whitehead. And that he didn’t do anything stupid to jeopordise their position. He shouldn’t have listed Greg as a board member, but he felt guilty leaving him off for being a little thick. Greg meant well, so long as someone could point him in the right direction.

Draco went on to Diagon Alley and did a little shopping for the school room they were setting up at home. Actually, he may have gone overboard on the shopping. ‘My First Potions’ kits brought up fond memories of his childhood, so he snapped up four of them for the older children. And with the summer gardens fading, a flutterby sprouting kit seemed like a fun way to add colour and cheer. The smaller children would enjoy watering and trimming the young plant as it grew.

Flourish and Blotts had a sale on calligraphy and maths primers so he bought a collection of those as well. And even though the Manor library overflowed already, the large coffee-table books of fairy tales and full colour art would make reading aloud more fun. Pretty books with gold binding were just too hard to resist. He bought ink in a variety of colours and quills for the older children, but knew the younger ones would prefer their crayons and muggle felt tip pens.

He already owned two telescopes so he didn’t bother looking at those. But he spent some time debating between a large chart of constellations to hang on the wall, or resin stars that could be charmed into various constellations on the ceiling. Might as well get both. No one had expressed an interest in runes, but he bought three different sets anyway, just in case.

He worried he’d be late to pick up Greg but it looked like they were just finishing as Draco arrived. Greg’s eyes bugged out when he saw the bags Draco carried, but Draco didn’t give him time to comment. He shoved half of them at Greg and smiled at Mr Whitehead. “Everything go all right, then?”

“Well enough, Mr Malfoy,” Mr White head responded. “We’ll have to see how the other interviews go.”

That didn’t sound like good news to Draco, but he didn’t want Greg to worry. He nodded his understanding and ushered Greg back to the lifts for the trip home.

Pansy gave him a horrified look when she saw all that he’d purchased. “You said a few odds and ends!”

“This is just a few. Trust me, I could have spent twice that.” He handed her a pile of receipts. “It’s fine. There’s gold to cover it, right?”

She sighed and flipped through the receipts. “Yes, I suppose. You’re impossible.”

“But you love me anyway. Want to help us set it up?”

Pansy declined but Theo and Daphne shared his start-of-the-school-year excitement. They ended up using two rooms for schooling—a large one everyone could gather in for group activities, and a smaller one just for the four older children and their more focused studies.

Jane whined on behalf of herself and Robbie. “We’re not going to school! I’d sooner live in the forest again!”

Draco rolled his eyes at her dramatics. “Jane, my darling, I think we both know that isn’t true. If nothing else, everyone in this house is going to learn to read.” He handed her one of the early reading books from the Manor library. “I began learning from this when I was about Annie’s age.” He handed her a second one of muggle fairy tales. “Once you can read me one of these, we’ll talk.”

She flipped through the book with a sullen eye roll, but agreed to his terms. A warm bed and a full belly had tamed the little wolf considerably. Especially with winter right around the corner.

Daria was another matter entirely. She refused to set foot in either of the school rooms and cried so hard that it set off her accidental magic—melding the door with the wall so that no one could get in. Pansy and Theo freed the room while Daphne took her off for a soothing glass of warm milk and some biscuits.

They didn’t want to question her too hard on whatever memories the school room dredged up, and decided on a different approach all together. Daphne talked to Daria about her favourite places in Malfoy Manor, and together they created a special reading corner just for her. A nest of blankets, fluffy pillows, and cushions by large windows streaming with early morning light gave Daria a quiet, safe place to read, write, draw, and learn with Daphne while Theo, Pansy, and Draco supervised the others.

That Friday Daphne went in for her evaluation, and Draco heaved a sigh of relief when she beamed that all had gone well. Draco’s good mood only lasted a minute and a half, because Harry Potter rolled through the floo as well, nearly knocking Draco and Daphne over.

“Also,” she said sheepishly, “I ran into Harry and invited him for lunch.”

Draco couldn’t help his glare, and tried to mould it into a smile. “How lovely.”

She shrugged and leaned in to whisper to Draco, “He basically invited himself and I didn’t know how to say no.”

“I can still hear you,” Potter said cheerfully. He stuck his hands in his pockets and bounced lightly on his toes. “If I didn’t invite myself, I’d never be invited at all.”

“Well,” Draco sighed, defeated, “I suppose the children will be happy to see you.”

Gretchen and Lizzie eagerly dragged Harry to the newly furnished school rooms. Libby and Chester joined them at a tiny table with tiny chairs, and all four spoke over one another to tell Harry the plans to start school after the weekend.

Six months ago Draco thought he’d be dead by now. Instead, he had Harry Potter asking him if he had a pencil sharpener for his coloured pencils. Draco spelled all the pencils sharp and wondered if they should get an actual pencil sharpener the kids could use themselves.

And then he had Potter showing off his phoenix colouring sheet and asking if he could hang it on the bulletin board with the other colouring sheets and watercolour paintings the children had done.

And then Potter asking him, with an open smile, to pass the vinegar for his chips at lunch.

And then Potter pulling Draco down next to him so their knees bumped for a game of gobstones with Daria and Libby.

And then Potter dancing with Annie in the music room while Chester and Roger banged drums, and Lizzie and Gretchen took turns with a xylophone and maracas.

And then Potter promising to come back again to play tomorrow.

And all of it was too much for Draco. He already had enough with the Charity Commissions, and all their interviews, surprise inspections, and paperwork. He had temperamental children and all their needs and worries, both at home and at Hogwarts. He had people to feed and entertain and educate and care for.

He didn’t need Harry Potter joking as though they were friends. He didn’t need Potter smiling from across the room, or winking in goodbye. He didn’t need Potter ruffling his stupid hair or swanning around in tight fitting jeans. He didn’t need Potter upsetting the careful balance he’d crafted at home.

“You’re here again?” Draco spluttered as Potter rolled through the floo mere seconds after Theo left for his interview with the Charity Commissions. “It’s bright and early on a Monday morning—shouldn’t you be in auror training?”

“Yeah, well…” Potter ruffled his stupid hair. “That’s not going so well?”

Draco threw his hands up, “Well there’s a huge fucking surprise! So what, you’re just going to be here all the time?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Well we have school right now and I don’t have time for this!” Draco stomped off, hoping Potter would take the hint and roll right back through the floo.

But of course he didn’t. He followed Draco to the school room, riling up all the children and eagerly sitting cross-legged between Lizzie and Libby in the story time circle. Potter sorted chunky wooden shapes by colour with the little children, and then helped Robbie with his first attempts at using a quill and ink. Draco tried to object when Potter pulled a bag of sherbet lemons from his pocket to share after lessons were through.

“We’re about to eat lunch! They can’t go having sweets before lunch.”

Potter rolled his eyes at Draco and asked Pansy, “Is he always such a stick in the mud?”

And Pansy, the traitorous cow, grinned. “Lately, yes.”

Draco seemed to be the only one that objected to Potter’s continued visits. By Friday, Pansy had enough and begged him to please shut the fuck up about it. “Potter saved our arses and Orion—he can visit if he wants to!” She extended the invitation to Andromeda as well, without even asking Draco first.

They celebrated the end of the Charity Commission evaluations on Friday with a large dinner that included Potter, Andromeda, and nearly six month old Teddy. Pickles and Dowdy kept the babies entertained in a play space in the corner of the dining room, while everyone else chatted noisily at the table.

Andromeda eyed it all with an incredulous shake of her head. “I was long gone from the family by the time your mother met your father,” she said to Draco. “But I well remember the sort of parties and events that were hosted in those circles. And I never would have imagined it would lead to this sort of thing in Malfoy Manor.”

She followed Draco on a small tour of the rooms, marvelling at the toys and childish artwork everywhere. “Your mother placed great stock in all the trappings of wealth,” Andromeda said, her eyes scanning the parlour’s shelves, now empty of priceless heirlooms and breakable knick-knacks. “I wonder what she would think about this.”

“It doesn’t matter, because she isn’t here,” Draco said curtly.

Andromeda inclined her head politely and followed Draco to the next room and the next. When it came time for Andromeda and Teddy to take their leave, she gave Draco a long hug and whispered, “Your mother would be proud of you.”

Draco no longer knew what to believe about his parents and what they may or may not believe about him. But he clung to those words as he helped tuck each of the children into bed. And something had definitely shifted during the last week, because he didn’t even blink an eye when Potter joined him and Pansy for a late night hot chocolate in the back garden.

“When do you think they’ll send word about your paperwork?” Potter asked, taking the chair closest to Draco. His legs splayed out in front of him so that his boot rested against Draco’s.

“They didn’t say,” Pansy said, handing each of them a mug. “I suppose it’ll take some time to review the evaluations. Probably another inspection or two… I don’t know what else.”

“Hopefully before the Aurors come after us again.”

“Or at least Blakely.”

“That arse.” Draco shrugged unapologetically at Potter. “Sorry.”

Potter flashed his lopsided grin. “No, you’re right, he’s an arse.” He absently ran his thumb along the rim of his mug. “Makes it easier to leave the Aurors behind.”

“Is it definite then?” Pansy asked softly.

Potter nodded. “Yeah. I think so.” He sipped his hot chocolate and sighed up at the sky. “This is much more peaceful. More my speed these days.”

Draco tapped Potter’s boot with his own. “Are you trying to wrangle a spot on our Board of Directors? Ha! As if we’d ever hire the likes of you!” Draco scoffed and mumbled, “Gryffindors!” under his breath.

Pansy giggled into her mug and Draco wondered if she’d snuck a little rum into hers. “You say that as if any of us are getting paid. I’m planning on running off to Mallorca any day now. Harry can have my spot.”

“I can’t trust Potter to do the paperwork!”

“Oh Draco, he’s a smart boy. He can figure it out.” She stood and stretched. “Or at least get someone competent to do it for him.” She yawned loudly. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m knackered and need to find my bed. Have fun you two.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her retreating form, wondering if she’d set up this little late night chat on purpose. Oh well, too late now. Draco sipped his hot chocolate and resigned himself to another hour of Potter’s company.

“When are you going to start calling me Harry?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’d like it if you did. If we could be friends.”

“I know.”

But Draco didn’t know how to get on in a world where he and Potter were friends. So much had been dumped on him since the Ministry let him walk away all those months ago. He knew that he owed his freedom, his money, his home, his everything to Harry Potter. But right now, while he struggled to find solid footing in an ever-shifting landscape, he couldn’t imagine the shape their friendship would take. It seemed like a selfish luxury when Draco was still trying to get the basics of living settled down for all the dependents in his life.

Potter dragged his chair right next to Draco’s. Their arms bumped together on the arm rests, and his fingers brushed against the backs of Draco’s.

“I’d like it if we were more,” Potter whispered into the night air. “More than friends.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I think I do. Well enough.” His head turned and Draco wished they had more light so he could appreciate the green of Potter’s eyes. “I could if you’d let me.”

It would be so easy to give in to the temptation. He could lace their fingers together. Tug Potter in for a kiss. Invite Potter for a moonlight stroll through the garden. Or to stay overnight.

But instead, he set his mug on the tray and stood. “Too many people depend on me. I can’t afford any distractions.” As he started to walk away, Potter grabbed his wrist. Draco stared down at it, bewildered.

“But you—you would if there wasn’t—if you didn’t have so many other things on your plate?” He rubbed Draco’s wrist, then let him go. “Could there be something for us?”

Draco sighed up at the sky, wondering how he got so lucky as to be the one that walked Harry Potter through his first forays into exploring his sexuality. Draco really didn’t have the fucking time for this shit. “I’m going to bed,” he said, turning back towards the house. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Draco wait! Please!” Potter called softly. Against his better judgement, Draco halted on the path but didn’t turn around. Silence held between them for long enough that Draco almost started walking again. But then, Potter said, “I’m sorry. For adding another burden on your shoulders. I didn’t mean to and if we could… if we could just be friends. If you could just call me Harry… That would be enough.”

He let himself imagine it for a moment, what friendship with Harry Potter might be like. If he didn’t have to worry about the little children, and the circling Aurors. If he didn’t owe Potter a life debt. Two life debts, if one counted the freedom he gained at his trial. What if they were any two blokes that met in a pub or a coffee shop or a nightclub.

Imagining such things got him nowhere. Because he was Draco Malfoy, acquitted Death Eater and keeper of twenty-four children. He couldn’t afford any distractions.

“Goodnight, Potter,” he said softly and Disapparated straight to his room.

Chapter Text

Draco spent the afternoon in the makeshift lab with Theo, working on the Wolfsbane potion for the upcoming October moon. One day, when there weren’t so many people watching his every last move, he’d like to tweak the recipe and see if he could make something more shelf-stable. They’d come up with a few possibilities to test, but couldn’t risk ruining a batch, with aconite in such short supply. Better to go with the recipe they knew worked.

Both Robbie and Jane whined at the taste, but obediently drank under Draco’s watchful eye. Hopefully they’d dosed Robbie correctly this time and wouldn’t run into any problems for the full moon.

Theo took the two goblets to the lab to clean just as the wards alerted Draco that someone had arrived in the visitor’s parlour.

Harry Potter once again.

“It’s Sunday, Potter. Don’t you have some sort of Weasley gathering to be attending?”

“Nice try, but that’s every other week so no, actually, I don’t.” Potter brushed soot off his jumper and smiled. “What’s for dinner here? Kreacher has Sundays off so it’s just leftovers at mine.”

Draco rolled his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. “I think there’s a pork roast. Chester and Libby will be looking for you. Something about gobstones again.”

“Yeah, great. And… you? Will you be joining us?”

“Not tonight.” Draco almost relented when Potter’s shoulders dropped a fraction in disappointment. Almost. “I have letters to write.”

“To who? Is it serious? Something you need help with?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. I just like to check in with the kids at school. Respond to their letters and give them updates about here.”

“Oh.” He twisted his hands in the hem of his jumper and then pointed vaguely down the hall. “I guess I’ll… go find the kids then.”

Ugh, as if everything wasn’t so fucking awkward between them before, Potter had to go throwing feelings at it! Draco stomped off in the opposite direction, even if that meant taking the roundabout route to his office. Because he had letters to write! Real work to do! He couldn’t waste his afternoon with a pretty boy that wanted to play gobstones with him. They weren’t thirteen anymore!

He wrote letter after letter, as he did every Sunday evening, so that all of his charges at Hogwarts would get a delivery on Monday morning. He tied the bundle to Horatio’s leg and sent the eagle owl flying off. Just in time for dinner.

This was the fourth dinner Potter had attended since dumping his feelings all over Draco’s lap last week. Unlike the previous three, he didn’t try to get the seat right next to Draco. Instead, Potter sat further down the table and carried on a lively conversation with Roger and Chester about quidditch. Draco heaved a small sigh of relief and asked Annie about her day.

Later, when Potter left to find the twins for a game of ‘Go Fish,’ he dragged Draco along with him. Draco did this sort of thing all the time. But somehow, with Potter’s knee bumping against his as they sat cross-legged on the floor, everything seemed different. Charged somehow. Annie sat in Draco’s lap and proudly pointed out the numbers she could recognise on his cards, which Gretchen took full advantage of.

He woke up extra early the next day so that he could finish his paperwork before lunch, while the kids were in lessons. That left him free after lunch for games. When talk turned to the ugly patterning on the walls of the small ballroom, Draco spelled the whole thing white and joined the children in decorating with every colour of paint they had on hand.

Potter found them there, all covered in paint. He bundled up his Auror Trainee robe and threw it angrily into a corner. Draco frowned at him, “I thought you were quitting that piece of shit job.”

“Don’t swear in front of the kids,” Potter responded automatically. “And I am. I just haven’t yet.” He scrubbed at his hair and sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it. Where’s my paintbrush?”

Chester gave Potter a brush and a cup of green paint and asked for help with the flowers he was painting on his section of wall. Potter smiled at the young boy and did his best to smooth out the lines Chester had already laid out.

“This was fun,” Potter said when they’d finished for the day and the kids followed Pansy and Daphne to the dining room for dinner.

Theo went along the long wall, touching up little bits of paint here and there. “Definitely more fun than the hideous design that was there before. What was your mother thinking?”

“More like what was Hildred Malfoy thinking, as it was my great-grandmother that decorated this room in the first place. My mother was too afraid of offending her mother-in-law to ever change it.”

“Well this is an improvement. I really like those quaffles there,” Theo said, pointing at a collection of reddish blobs.

“I think those are birds.”

“Whatever, it’s cute.” Theo gathered the brushes in a bucket. “I’ll take these to rinse clean. Why don’t you two store the leftover paint?” He winked at Draco behind Potter’s back, so Draco flipped him two fingers when Potter wasn’t looking.

“It’s nice to see you having fun,” Potter said when the two of them were finally alone.

“Keeping this many children entertained is relentless. I played football this afternoon too.”

“Good.” Potter fell silent after that, spelling lids clean before closing up little pots of paint.

“Want to talk about the Aurors?”

“Not really.” But then seconds later, Potter said, “Training is not going well.”

“I gathered that much on my own.”

“Yeah.” Potter stacked his pots of paint in their storage box and sat next to it, apparently content to let Draco finish storing the rest. “It’s as if the Aurors don’t know what to do with us. Those of us that fought in the war. Kingsley wants us ushered in quickly based on experience. But Robards wants us going through the traditional three year training. And so we’re in some kind of limbo where we’re doing both—working as Aurors with an experienced partner, but also taking classes on the side. It’s… just really not working.”

“Why not? Seems like the best of both worlds.”

“It’s not. The instructors speak to us as though we’ve never fought for our lives and the Aurors act like we’ve never bothered to learn anything. And mixed in with all of that…” Potter sighed at the ceiling. “On top of it all, I’m the ‘Boy Who Lived.’ And I fucking hate it.”

Draco set his pots of paint in the storage box and sat next to Potter. “You’re probably never going to leave that behind.”

“I know. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this job with everyone in such awe of me. Blakely probably hates it more than I do. Every time someone asks for an autograph, he has to swallow the urge to hex them. And there’s… there’s never an end to the calls. Draco… you wouldn’t believe the awful, horrible shit one person can inflict on another.”

“I think you’ll find that I do.”

“Yeah,” Potter whispered, head hanging in contrition. “I suppose you do.”

“So why haven’t you quit yet? You already know you want to.”

“Because I go home, or I play around here, and I rest and somehow manage to convince myself that it wasn’t so bad. That I can do some good. Fix things so they’re better.”

“It’s never going to be fixed. There will always be terrible people doing terrible things.”

“I know.” Potter met his eyes, looking so lost and painfully open. “I don’t know what I am if I’m not vanquishing evil.”

“You’re only eighteen, Potter. It’s okay to take some time to figure that out. Loads of kids our age take a gap year. You can do the same.”

A grin hovered on the edges of luscious pink lips. “Take a gap year? From fighting the evils of the world. That’s your advice?”

“Go ahead and laugh. But you know it’s a good idea.” Draco bumped their shoulders together. “They’ll let you in the Aurors anytime you want. It doesn’t have to be now.”

Potter shrugged that off. “I heard your final inspection is this week.”

“Thursday.”

“I’ll stay until then. To keep Auror Blakely in line. But then… I’m taking a gap year.”

“Excellent. I can’t wait to see how the Daily Prophet spins it.” He grinned at Harry’s long-suffering face and bumped his shoulder again. “Come on. Dinner’s on and they’ll start to wonder what’s taking us so long.”

As he started to walk away, Potter grabbed his wrist. “Thank you. For listening. And for letting me… just be whatever.”

Something about the phrasing had Draco frowning. “Hasn’t anyone told you that you’ve done enough?”

Potter dropped Draco’s wrist and crossed his arms defensively. “Not really, no.”

“Well you have. You’ve done plenty for the wizarding world and it’s time for them all to stand on their own two feet. You don’t have to keep holding it all up yourself.”

“And you?”

“What about me?” Draco tilted his chin up. This wasn’t about him at all.

“You’re doing the same, trying to hold all this together by yourself. Aren’t you supposed to be leaning on the others more?”

Ugh, fine. Draco through his hands up in the air and sighed in frustration. “I’m learning, all right? Just like you.”

Potter smiled at that. “Good. We can learn together.”

That wasn’t what Draco meant, but it brought a smile to Potter’s face so he didn’t protest on their way to the dining room.

————

Temper tantrums and fearful crying wouldn’t reflect well on them so they did their best to prepare the children for the arrival of Charity Commissions on Thursday. According to the Commission’s letter, a team of Ministry employees would evaluate the well-being of the children, the paperwork they’d collected thus far, the suitability of the house and surrounding grounds, and the wards they had in place. The part that worried Draco was the Aurors that would be accompanying them.

They had one last pep talk, reminding everyone that absolutely no one would be taken away and that after today, no one would be investigating them anymore. Safe at last.

Draco met the large group at the Manor gates. Matilda Coddle handed out introductions of her coworkers, but the blood rushing in Draco’s ears made it difficult to focus. Potter winked at him, which did absolutely nothing to calm his racing heart.

“Do we need the Aurors to remove their outer robes?” Ms Coddle asked.

Aurors Blakely and Reed scowled at that. Behind them, Weasley and Potter began unbuttoning their robes without waiting for Draco to respond. It was a third Auror that Draco didn’t recognise that stopped them. “We’re required to be in uniform when on Ministry business.”

Matilda Coddle, Draco’s new hero, said unapologetically, “Some of the children have had a trauma response when met with Auror uniforms and we would like to avoid any such reactions.”

The unknown Auror turned to Auror Blakely, “You took off your uniforms?”

“Granger was with us.”

That gained a smirk from Weasley and Potter that Draco both appreciated and feared. If those two made things difficult for him…

“The uniforms stay,” the Auror said curtly to Ms Coddle.

“It’s all right,” Draco said, before she could kick up a fuss. “We’ve explained the inspection to the children.”

“Still…” She pursed her lips and looked over the group. “I understand Auror Trainee Potter has been visiting?” At Draco’s nod she said, “It might be best for them to see a familiar face. Trainee Potter, why don’t you go with Mr Preston to interview the children.”

“Greg, Dowdy, and Pickles are with them now. In the larger ballroom.”

Ms Coddle consulted her folder. “Mrs Wolpers will be looking at your records. Auror Reed will accompany you.”

Draco shook hands with the witch that came forward. “Pansy Parkinson has been tending to our records and she’ll be assisting you.”

“Next we have Mr Evergreen. He is an independent contractor that does work for the Ministry regularly. He’ll be reviewing the wards and the changes you’ve made since our last inspection. Auror Sterling will be helping him.”

He didn’t like the idea of an unknown Auror poking around in his wards, but couldn’t object without sounding guilty. “Theo Nott is available to answer any questions you have.”

“Junior?” Auror Sterling asked.

Draco gave him a tight smile. “Of course, seeing as his father is still in Azkaban.”

“Right,” Sterling said absently, as if the fucker didn’t know that already. At least Potter and Weasley caught the odd interaction and would report it if anything happened.

“That leaves the house and the grounds. I’ll take the house with Auror Blakely, and Mr Buckthorn, you take the grounds with Trainee Weasley. Is that all right with you, Mr Malfoy?”

“Yes, of course. Right this way…”

Draco directed Mr Evergreen and Mr Buckthorn to the side yard where Daphne and Theo waited. The rest of them split up inside the house. Draco sent up one last mental plea to whatever gods were listening and began to walk Ms Coddle through the house once again. Auror Blakely wasn’t the least bit subtle about casting detection spells in every room they passed through. Ms Coddle did her best to ignore him and praised Draco for the welcoming, cheery home he’d created for the children.

Although it only lasted a few hours, it took several years off Draco’s life. He hardly knew what to say when Ms Coddle shook his hand and said they’d be in touch within ten business days to share the results of the inspection. She specified twice that he shouldn’t worry too much about it.

As if Draco knew how to live a life without worry any longer. Still, they celebrated the way they usually did, with ice cream and too many fizzy drinks for so late in the day. Theo’s study of wards over the last few weeks taught him how to shield a room from magic entirely. They managed to set up a telly and VCR Draco bought at Another Man’s Treasure that Sherri insisted worked just fine. She’d also dug up a bag of animated films from the back of the shop that the children might find of interest.

Even Dowdy and Pickles joined them that night, nestling in piles of pillows and blankets with the children to watch The Fox and the Hound. And if he’d known the damn fox was going to become friends with the fucking hunting dog, he’d have saved it for a night when Potter wasn’t around. At least the fox and hound separated at the end of the film. Although that clearly wasn’t what Potter took away from it. Draco deserved a medal for the brave way he endured Potter’s shy smile and soft goodbye that evening.

Potter returned a few days later with a large basket overflowing with sweets from Honeydukes. They didn’t know the birthdays for most of the children and so decided to celebrate everyone’s birthday at once on the fourth of October. Greg loved the idea of sharing his birthday with everyone, and it kept things simpler for all the caretakers.

Orion looked at his slice of cake with entirely too much gleeful recognition, but Draco didn’t scold his friends for it. Their little boy deserved sweet treats. Idly he wondered how far off they were from Orion’s real birthday. Somewhere, was his mother thinking of him? Would they ever meet her? And what would she think of how they’d raised him? Would she ever want to take him back? Draco shook off morose thoughts of losing his sweet baby and accepted a piece of cake from Daphne.

The next day, Potter returned again to keep watch with Draco over Jane and Robbie for the full moon. They sat in two armchairs Draco pulled from a nearby sitting room, staring down the cellar stairs into the inky dark of the basement.

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” Draco said quietly. “The others take turns keeping watch with me.”

“I want to. And anyway, I don’t have anything to do tomorrow so I can sleep all day. The others have the kids to look after. They deserve a full night’s rest.” He nudged Draco’s shoe with his own. “You do too, but I know you wouldn’t let me stay here alone.”

“It’s easier to stay awake with someone else. And anyway, don’t you have training?”

Potter scrubbed at his hair. “Eh, well… Sort of. It’ll be fine. I’m quitting soon anyway.”

“Any day now?” Draco asked with a laugh. How many times had he heard Potter say that?

With a grin he agreed, “Any day now.”

They played a few rounds of gin rummy, which Potter was terrible at. And then two rounds of chess, but Potter was even worse at that and Draco didn’t think a third round would do anything for their budding friendship.

They sat in silence for a while until Potter said, “You’re doing a really good thing here, you know?”

Draco shrugged one shoulder, embarrassed at the praise. “I know. We’re all exhausted all the time but the kids are happy so it’s worth it. It’s good to see this place put to good use after…” He trailed off, knowing Potter could fill in his own details there. Thoughts of the war had Draco sinking his head into his hands. “They’re just so… innocent. All of them. I don’t think I was ever so innocent.”

“Of course you were. We all were at some point.”

“No… I wasn’t. My parents worked hard to conceive a child. It took years to have me and they treated me like a little prince right from the beginning. It made me spoiled and rotten. Ungrateful. I didn’t understand family or love or anything like it at all.”

Draco pulled his knees to his chest, thinking fondly of his new, makeshift family. “But these kids… They’ve bonded like siblings and become so happy here in a carefree way I never could have managed as a child. And I wonder how they could have ended up like they did. How did their families take them in and see their smiles and laughter and just throw it all away like worthless rubbish?

“These kids look to us for everything—food, clothing, shelter. I would have said anyone can give them that, but apparently some people begrudge them even the basics. As for love and attention… all of them missed out during these last few months and for some of them… It’s a critical age, you know? Without that love and support, they’ll only ever learn to hate and mistrust the world."

The words kept flowing, almost embarrassing Draco. But in the dark of night, he could no longer hold back all that the children made him feel. “These kids made me realise what it means to truly care for another person. My parents... they loved me, but not in the way I needed. Not in a way that would have made me better. It only made me selfish and hateful just like them. And if we can learn a better way—”

He cut off when a soft sob reached his ears. “Harry,” he said softly, finally noticing Harry Potter curled up tight in his armchair, head buried in his arms and trying to smother his tears. Draco hurried to sit in front of him, awkwardly pulling him into a hug. “Harry, I’m so sorry…”

Potter’s voice, thick with tears, sliced through Draco’s heart. “I-I-I would… h-have given… anything.” He gripped Draco’s shirt tighter. “Anything to find a home like—like this one.”

Draco didn’t know what to say to that, so he stroked Potter’s back and hair in as soothing a manner as he could manage. “Harry, it’s all right…”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he said, trying to pull away. Reluctantly, Draco let him go. Potter wiped his face clean, even though his breath hitched a few times and it looked like tears might start again.

With a flick of his wand, Draco conjured a handkerchief. “I’m sorry too. It must have been bad, to make you wish for foster care.” He smiled sadly as he resumed his seat. “No one wishes for foster care.”

“I did.” Potter blew his nose loudly and vanished the handkerchief. Conjuring a new one of his own, he wiped his eyes clean. “I made up all sorts of stories about my parents coming to find me. That they hadn’t died in the car crash and it was all a misunderstanding.”

“A car crash?”

“Yeah it’s…” Potter waved his hand absently. “It’s a whole stupid thing. Never mind. The point is… These kids… they’re lucky to have you. Lucky to have this place to call home.”

“Well… thank you. We’re floundering half the time, but we’re doing the best we can.”

Slowly Potter rose from his chair and pointed at Draco’s seat. “Do you mind if I…? Can I sit with you?”

At Draco’s nod, Potter widened the chair with a spell, enough so that he could sit next to Draco. He wriggled in close, encouraging Draco to drape an arm around his shoulder.

“I feel like a kid when I’m here,” Potter said softly, staring down at the cellar stairs. “A happy kid playing happy games. I feel like… I can pretend for a while that all that shit didn’t happen to me.”

“You’re always welcome here.” And for once, Draco extended the invitation without rancor or irony.

“Thank you.” Potter turned to Draco with a wry smile. “I didn’t want to be one of your charges.”

“You’re not,” Draco said, confused at the turn the conversation suddenly took.

“No I… I wanted… I didn’t want to be another person you had to care for. I want to be the person you come to when you need care.”

“Oh. Well… I don’t really need—”

“You will never convince me that having the weight of the world on your shoulders doesn’t need relieving sometimes,” Potter said firmly.

Draco shifted so he could take Potter by the hand. “No,” he said softly, “I don’t suppose I will. But that doesn’t mean I… I can still take care of you. While you take care of me.”

“You think we can take care of each other?” Potter’s hopeful smile lit a spark in Draco’s chest.

“I don’t know… the children, my responsibilities. There’s so much going on right now.”

“There’s always going to be loads of responsibilities heaped on you. Don’t you have some sort of eight year plan? I can wait eight years. We can be friends in the meantime.” He gave Draco’s fingers a squeeze. “Or, we can work around our obstacles, just like other couples do.”

“I’m not ready.”

“Yeah, okay. I understand.” Potter settled back in the chair, but kept their hands joined. “We’ll re-evaluate in eight years.”

Draco couldn’t help but laugh at Potter’s teasing. “Maybe we can… Let’s re-evaluate in two weeks, when the results of the inspection come in.”

Potter—or maybe he could just be Harry now—kissed the back of Draco’s hand and rested their joined hands on his thigh. “I like that plan.”

————

Draco couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such a hot spark of anticipation. Each day Harry arrived after Auror training (or earlier, if he randomly decided to cut his training short—why hadn’t they kicked him out? Oh right, he was Harry Potter) with a bright and hopeful smile for Draco.

Almost shyly he would tweak Draco’s fingers in passing or bump their knees together at the dinner table. At the next film night (Matilda, which their magical children greatly enjoyed), Harry shared a blanket and a bowl of popcorn with Draco.

Pansy eyed them openly with a smirk on her face. She and Daphne missed most of the film, whispering together and glancing over at Draco and Harry frequently. She pulled Draco to his study as soon as Harry disappeared through the floo that night.

“You and Harry? When did this happen?”

“It’s nothing.” At her stern look, he held up his hands. “Nothing yet, anyway. We’re waiting for the results of the inspection.”

“The inspection? What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Why aren’t you getting in that pretty boy’s pants?”

“Ew, please don’t phrase it like that ever again.” Draco shook his head. “I’m worried about it and I don’t think I can pay attention to him that way right now. But after… Well I’ll still be busy, but at least I’ll be on firm ground for once.”

Pansy crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Fine. I guess I understand. It’s only another day or two.”

Ms Coddle had said no more than two weeks, so when they hadn’t heard anything by the fifteenth, Draco went to the office in person. It only inflamed his anger that she seemed to anticipate his arrival.

“The Aurors are holding up the approval,” she said without preamble.

Why she couldn’t have owled that information to him, Draco didn’t bother asking. “Do I need to owl my solicitor?”

“I believe the situation is under control. The Aurors insisted on special paperwork being filed—which I’ve already taken care of—and special approval by the Wizengamot. There’s no reason to expect a rejection. It’s just all taking a bit longer than I anticipated.”

“Oh I’m sure it’s going to take as long as the Aurors want it to take. You know they have it in for me!”

“They’re just doing their job—”

“No, they’re harassing a citizen in good standing. I’m contacting my solicitor.”

An hour later, his brilliant solicitor earned his high retainer by arranging a meeting of all interested parties. Ms Coddle, Auror Blakely, and Draco met with Brunhilde Stokke from the Wizengamot for arbitration and a final decision on his care home. Despite her playful lavender hair, Mrs Stokke didn’t appear to have a single light-hearted bone in her body. Draco had read enough of Wizengamot politics to know she wasn’t a witch to cross. Auror Blakely certainly seemed glad to see her and that didn’t bode well for Draco.

It didn’t surprise Draco that Harry Potter also showed up. He didn’t hesitate to sit right next to Draco in a clear sign of support. Draco winked at Auror Blakely before whispering to Harry, “How did you even find out about this meeting?”

“I have my ways. Andromeda will be here any minute.”

“Trainee Potter,” Blakely said sharply, “what are you doing here? I told you to stay in the bullpen.”

“No, you said you had a meeting and as I’ve been following you to meetings for the last two months, I assumed you wanted me to follow.”

Mrs Stokke spoke before Blakely could send Harry away. “It’s not unusual for Auror Trainees to observe these sorts of proceedings. But take note, Mr Potter, you are to remain silent.”

This pleased Blakely, but Draco didn’t mind. Just having Harry at his side encouraged him.

Moments later, Andromeda Tonks came in looking every inch the well-bred, elegant witch in her expensive and flowing robes. She sat on Draco’s other side and rested her hand atop his while greeting Mrs Stokke. “Oh Hilde, it’s been ages, darling. How have you been? How is your Selma? Still causing mischief with her Oxford students, no doubt?”

Mrs Stokke’s eyes, a slightly darker purple than her hair, widened in surprise. “Dromeda, I didn’t expect to see you here. I understood you were somewhat estranged from,” she paused briefly, her eyes darting to Draco, “this branch of your family.”

“My sisters, yes. But I learned not to condemn the entire tree for a few twisted branches. And I am listed on the board of directors. It seemed only right that I should be here as well.”

Raising one lavender eyebrow, Mrs Stokke examined the paperwork in front of her. “I wondered if that was a mistake. I suppose that’s one question answered.” She crossed something off on her notes.

“I think you’ll find that Draco is entirely above board, and providing a welcoming home for the children at Malfoy Manor.”

Mrs Stokke harrumphed and made another note. Auror Blakely glared at Draco and Harry for the point in their favour.

“Let’s begin, shall we?” Mrs Stokke said, setting her quill to dictate. “As I understand it, Draco Malfoy has submitted the standard forms for opening a foster care home at Malfoy Manor and is pending approval. The DMLE, specifically the Auror department, has blocked his application for suspected Death Eater activity. Is this correct?” At several nods around the table, she turned to Ms Coddle. “We’ll begin with you, Commissioner Coddle.”

“Thank you, Madam Stokke.” Matilda Coddle went over Draco’s application and the results of the inspection, finding everything in proper order with no suspicious activity or motives noted. “He genuinely wants the best for these children.”

Andromeda seconded her words, stressing the way all the children were collected in the first place, off the streets or running away from dangerous care. At the mention of Orion, left in a basket at the Manor gates, Mrs Stokke’s lavender brows drew down in concern.

"Interesting,” Mrs Stokke said, evenly and without judgement. “Auror Blakely. If you could outline for me the objections the DMLE has concerning the application.”

With every word out of his mouth, Auror Blakely sounded more and more ridiculous to Draco. He tried to paint the Manor as some den of evil Death Eater plotting, but he had no evidence to back up his claims. Five eighteen year olds, two House Elves and twelve children under the age of eleven hardly seemed threatening.

But Madam Stokke pondered his words with the same care she did Ms Coddle’s. “I understand your concerns, Auror Blakely.” She flipped through the parchments until she found the list of names. “Some of these families do bear watching. Many of their parents are in Azkaban, yes?”

“Yes,” Draco was forced to admit, “but we’re trying to look past that to the innocent children they’ve left behind. We’ve seen to it the older ones have returned to Hogwarts to finish their education, and given them a safe place to return during the holiday. Afterwards, we can help them find jobs and a new place to live. A future. What can the Ministry offer them?”

“They should be in Ministry approved homes where they can be watched!” Auror Blakely said loudly.

“That’s what we’re looking for—Ministry approval,” Draco said. He hoped he appeared calm, knowing that would only make Auror Blakely look more irrational.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. And when their parents get out of prison? Are you going to welcome them all as well?”

“No, of course not! But even you have to admit that not everyone in Azkaban deserves to be there.”

That was the last straw for Auror Blakely. He shot to his feet, pulling his wand with a stunning spell on his lips.

Harry wordlessly disarmed Auror Blakely at the same time Mrs Stokke yelled, “Gentlemen! That is enough!”

A sweep of Mrs Stokke’s wand had all of them immobilised in place. “Why does it always come to this?” she sighed. “One day they’ll pass the wand ban for arbitration but until then…” She shook her head. “I’ll let you free, but if there’s another violent outburst from anyone, they will be banned from the room. Understood?” She allowed three seconds of silence before releasing them.

Auror Blakely and Harry glared at each other, then Harry set Blakely’s wand in the centre of the table. Blakely snatched it up and holstered it with a huff.

“Now then…” Mrs Stokke neatened her stack of parchments. “I see two sides to this story. We have children that need a home, and we have families of a questionable nature that might need extra surveillance. I have come to a decision.”

She moved her dictation quill to a fresh scroll. “A final decision has been made in the case of Draco Malfoy versus the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Effective immediately, Malfoy Manor is granted full status as a foster care home in line with the Charity Commission guidelines. In addition to the annual inspection required by Charity Commissions, the Wizengamot is granting the Aurors two additional inspections per year, with a required twenty-four hour notice given to two members of the care home’s Board of Directors. Any new residents in the home, either children or adults, must be reported to the DMLE within twenty-four hours. A warrant for search or inspection of Malfoy Manor may be granted at that time.”

Mrs Stokke ended the enchantment on her quill and gathered all her things. “Appeals to the Wizengamot’s decision may be made within sixty days.” And without further word she swept out of the room.

They all crammed into the lift for the most awkward ride of Draco’s life. He sighed in relief as he followed Andromeda and Ms Coddle to Charity Commissions to sign the necessary paperwork, leaving Harry and Auror Blakely to continue on to the Auror Department.

Staring at the official scroll in his hand, Draco almost began crying. It hardly seemed real that they’d won and it was all over.

“Congratulations,” Andromeda said, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “Your mother would be proud of you.”

“My mother would be horrified that there are crayon marks on the walls and random scratches and dents in the hardwood floors, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

Andromeda smiled and turned to go, but Draco stopped her. “Would you like to join us for dinner this evening? We’re having a feast to celebrate our success.”

“I would love to,” she said warmly. “I’ll bring butterbeers for the children.”

They spent the entire afternoon decorating the large ballroom with streamers and balloons. Dashing confetti that dissolved and reformed made the room look like a snow globe. Harry showed up in the middle of it, brimming with excitement. And a box of fireworks from Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

“You’re here early,” Draco laughed, rifling through the box.

“It’s over,” Harry said. He tugged Draco into a rough hug and laughed loudly. “It’s over and I’m free.” Louder, to the room at large, he yelled, “I’m free! No more training or stupid uniforms!”

Libby clapped her hands and asked, “Does that mean you’re going to live here now too?”

“Not quite,” Harry said, amidst a flurry of hugs from Annie and Chester, “but I will be over more often.”

When congratulations died down and everyone returned to decorating, Draco asked him quietly, “I suppose Auror Blakely didn’t take too kindly to that disarming stunt?”

“Hell no,” Harry said, grinning widely. “We had it out with Robards and I quit. Said I wasn’t going to watch an innocent man doing a public good get stunned. Blakely said something about ‘not that innocent’ — the bastard — and I lost it. Threw down my badge and tore off the robe and said this wasn’t a Ministry I wanted to be a part of. And now it’s over.”

“There’s going to be repercussions,” Draco couldn’t help but caution.

“Good. It looked like Ron might join me on my way out, but he’s not acting as rashly as he used to. Still, I think he’s as disenchanted as I am with the whole thing and might decide to leave too. Let the Ministry chew on that for a while.”

They watched as Daphne and Theo hung a massive banner along the longest wall—Malfoy Home for Lost Children.

“The future’s looking bright,” Draco said softly. “Finally.”

“You know, I’m free now,” Harry said, taking Draco by the hand.

“I heard.”

“And your life seems to have settled somewhat.”

“Well, I mean, not really when you think about—”

He cut off when Harry’s lips met his in a kiss far softer than he wanted, but much more appropriate for their audience. Greg wolf whistled and a scattering of applause could be heard somewhere in the distance.

“Take me to your room,” Harry said. “So we can celebrate properly.”

“Annie and Libby made me change it to a hideous shade of yellow.” Draco accidentally squeezed Harry’s fingers. Was this really happening?

“That’s adorable but I don’t care. You know I don’t. You want this, don’t you?”

Draco looked into wide, hopeful green eyes. He could say no. He could say that his worries and responsibilities weighed heavily on him. That too much waited on the horizon.

Or he could say yes. He could attempt to be young and carefree as neither of them had been before. He could try to enjoy something wholesome and good in his difficult life.

He laced his fingers together more tightly with Harry’s and yelled to the others, “Harry and I are taking a break from decorating! You lot carry on.”

And with matching grins on their faces, they raced up the stairs to Draco’s hideous yellow room.

Chapter Text

————
June 1999
————

“Hey!” Draco yelled at David, Elyon, and Samantha as they came coasting down the hallway. “Roller skates are to be kept on the second floor portrait gallery!”

“Can’t,” David yelled back as he whizzed by Draco. “Lavinia’s being a crabby pants again.”

Draco groaned and decided he didn’t care about preserving the hardwood floors of the Manor if it meant he never had to talk to Lavinia Malfoy’s portrait ever again. She had to be the most sour of all his ancestors and why anyone wanted a talking portrait of her would forever be a mystery. Let the house be lived in. He had other, more important things to think about now.

Pansy turned the corner, and smiled when she saw Draco. “Just the man I’m looking for. We got another two applicants—”

He held up a hand to stop her. “You know we’re at capacity. They’re going to have to go on some sort of wait list. We’re only approved for thirty-one kids with the five carers and two elves we have now.”

“Yes, I’m aware but you know Harry said Winky’s shown interest in leaving Hogwarts and officially joining our ranks. She wants to serve a house and family again. And then we can take in three more.”

“Hmm… There’s the boarded up rooms at the end of the second floor west wing. They could become another set of bedrooms. Okay. Let’s talk it over with Andromeda—her opinion is always valuable—and see what we can manage. But tomorrow. Today is already full.”

He pushed past Pansy, trying not to let the thought of new applicants distract him. They’d had one or two new kids per month since they got their official paperwork last October until they finally reached capacity. How they would manage an extra three, even with Winky full time and Harry for most of the time… But that was a thought for tomorrow. He had other, more important things to think about now.

Finally he found Andromeda and Theo on the third floor east wing, putting the finishing touches on a small suite of rooms. “How are we doing?”

“Theo’s spells worked on the windows and we’re confident they can’t be broken. And Harry just took the last box of breakables out,” Andromeda said, tugging the corner of the duvet once more. “I think we’re ready.”

Draco looked around the rooms once occupied by a Death Eater. All of its formal trappings had been removed and the colour scheme muted to a soft blue. They were aiming for a quiet, soothing space with nothing to agitate or harm its new occupants. The en suite led to a second, smaller room they had turned into another bedroom.

Leila Snyde’s parents were being released from Azkaban today.

Hopefully the suite would be suitable for the family until Leila’s parents felt healed and settled enough to find employment and a place of their own. Pansy had feelers out for potential jobs, depending on their mental health after a year of Azkaban. The dementors had fled but that didn’t mean the prison had improved in any way.

This was their first time welcoming family from one of the children in their care and Draco had no idea how things would go. They’d tried to think of every possibility but that only increased the likelihood that they’d forgotten something vitally important.

“It’s going to be fine, Draco,” Andromeda said kindly, resting a hand on his arm. “The room is soundproof and calming. We have medications and first aid training. There’s fresh air and good food. They couldn’t ask for better.”

“But what if… what if there’s nightmares and the kids are so loud and…” He choked back the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

What would he have done if he hadn’t had his friends to comfort him when he left Azkaban a year ago? Where would he be if he didn’t have the kids to look after? Would he even have survived the year?

“It’s going to be fine. Let’s go find Harry, all right?”

“Yes, good idea.”

Andromeda linked her arm in his and walked him down the hall. Harry met them, coming from the attic.

“It didn’t look like much was sorted up there so I chucked that box in some random pile.”

“That’s all right, Harry. Why don’t you two walk to the gates? The Aurors should be here at any moment. I’ll supervise the children in the garden.” Andromeda gave Draco’s arm a squeeze and winked at Harry before continuing down the hall towards the back stairs.

“How’re you holding up?” Harry asked, resting his arm around Draco’s waist. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“Well, I’m nervous.” Draco twisted his hands in his sleeves before giving up and pulling Harry even closer for a hug. “I didn’t get through my first week or so without a heavy amount of alcohol.”

Harry stroked Draco’s hair, and rubbed circles down his back. “Admittedly, you came back to a dreary situation. It’s not like that anymore. Now it’s a place you would have been happy to return to. It’s going to be fine. You’ll see. Come on, let’s go wait by the gates. The sun will perk you up.”

In the entrance hall, they found Leila and Marrin pacing. “Oh Draco,” Leila said, latching on to Marrin’s hand. “What if this is awful? What if they aren’t—like my parents anymore?”

Draco’s anxiety melted away as he switched to carer mode. He hugged Leila and then dragged Harry and Marrin into it too. “We’re going to be here for you. And for them. And we’re going to get through this together. I promise.”

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Okay. Right, of course.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m going to wait here. You think that’s okay?”

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

“I’ll wait with her,” Marrin said, taking Leila by the hand.

Draco gave them what he hoped was an encouraging nod, and then followed Harry out the door to welcome their newest guests.

Their next great adventure.