Chapter Text
Harry leaned casually against the car outside the courthouse, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers as the doors finally swung open. People spilled out into the early evening light, voices bright and animated, but Harry only had eyes for one.
Draco stepped out last, head bowed slightly as he looked at his phone. The tailored lines of his robe moved with him like a second skin.
Draco walked right past Harry, distracted, lifting his phone to his ear. Before Harry could call out to him, his own phone buzzed in his pocket. Draco paused mid-step, did a visible double take, and turned slowly. A confused noise left his lips as he spotted Harry leaning against the car. Draco stuffed his phone away, his expression shifting rapidly from surprise to warmth as he made his way back.
Harry pushed off the car, grinning. “Did you win?”
Draco’s mouth curled into a soft, almost bashful smile. “Yes,” he said.
Harry reached for him immediately, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing a brief kiss to his temple. “Knew you would.”
Draco sighed into him, warm and worn out and still buzzing underneath his skin. “What are you doing here?” he murmured.
“A surprise,” Harry said, and then stepped back, eyes glinting. “Come on. We’re not going home.”
Draco blinked, thrown. “What? Why?”
“Because I’m stealing you,” Harry said, opening the car door with a flourish. “I packed a bag for you.”
“You what?”
Harry looked unrepentant. “I remembered your toothbrush this time! And I picked your best jumpers. The soft cable-knit grey one. And the pale blue cashmere one you keep stealing from me.”
“You mean my blue jumper.”
“Whatever. I brought it. Along with your cologne, moisturizer, a tie in case we go anywhere fancy, and your lucky socks. Don’t ask me how I know which ones. Oh, and—” Harry’s voice turned sly, “I left room in the bag.”
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Room for what?”
Harry leaned in close, his lips brushing Draco’s ear. “Your robes. Just in case you want to strut through our hotel room in nothing else.”
Draco made a choked sound, half-scandalized and half-thrilled.
“You didn’t,” he whispered.
“Oh, I did,” Harry said. “The garment bag is in the boot.”
Draco stared at him for a long moment, then said, “I love you in ways that defy law and logic.”
“I’ll take that as a yes to the hotel strutting,” Harry grinned. “Let’s go. Train leaves in an hour.”
Draco got in the car still half laughing, shaking his head. As Harry pulled away from the courthouse, Draco’s hand found his thigh.
“Where’s Eltan?”
“With your mum,” Harry replied.
Draco pulled out his phone, brow raised. Harry glanced over as he brought it to his ear, listening in on Draco’s half of the call with quiet amusement.
“Hello, Mother... yes, we’re leaving now… No idea where we’re going. Do you? Fine then… keep his secrets. Can I speak to him?” A pause. “Hi, sweetheart. I know. I miss you already, too. You’re going to be good for Nana, right? We’ll call you every day…We’ll bring you something back...of course, I’ll do my best to procure those…I love you.”
Harry listened to the way Draco’s voice softened, the way he smiled down at his lap as he listened to their son. He didn’t need to hear Eltanin’s side to picture the eager questions, the sweetness in his voice. Harry’s chest ached with affection.
Draco ended the call and turned to him, brow arched. “He wants a miniature Eiffel Tower and macarons. So… we’re going to Paris.”
Harry chuckled. “He’ll get both. So will you.”
Draco shook his head in wonder and settled back in his seat, finally relaxing as the city rolled by outside the window. One hand still held his phone; the other reached across the console and found Harry’s.
“You really planned a kidnapping,” he murmured.
Harry squeezed his fingers. “And you really needed a break.”
Draco didn’t argue. He just leaned his head against the glass and said softly, “I love you.”
Harry grinned as he turned onto the road toward the train station. “Still taking that as a yes to the robes.”
Draco’s laughter followed them all the way down the street.
Harry woke first, which was rare, and used the opportunity to press soft kisses to the back of Draco’s shoulder. The barrister robe lay tangled on the floor, forgotten in the night’s sleep and slow-limbed affection. Outside, the sounds of clinking cups and cars filtered up through the open windows, gentle and unhurried.
They dressed slowly, Harry in a soft navy jumper and cuffed trousers, Draco in something deceptively simple and painfully well-tailored, and wandered into the morning sun like it had been waiting for them.
The café was tiny, with round marble tables set close together and woven chairs that wobbled just a bit. Their table had a view of the street: artists setting up easels, a delivery cyclist dodging a pigeon, two older women laughing over cigarettes.
Harry tore his pastry in half and slid the flakier piece toward Draco.
“Still think I packed too much?” he teased.
Draco sipped his café crème. “You packed 8 pairs of socks for a four-day trip and forgot my knickers, Potter. I’m completely bare here.”
“But I packed your robe.”
Draco smirked, and Harry felt it everywhere.
"I really wanted to plan something romantic for you," Harry confessed, a slight flush still dusting his cheeks.
You're always romantic without even trying," Draco said, lifting Harry's hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of Harry's palm. "But I love this trip anyway. It's very sweet of you to kidnap me, love, but what exactly do you have in store for us?"
"Well, lots of these,"Harry grinned, taking a bite of his pain au chocolat. "Lazy mornings, and plenty of sex, of course. Sunset dinners, and maybe, just maybe, if you behave yourself, I'll let you feel me up in the backroom of one of Paris’ many gay nightclubs."
Draco's pupils blew out, a visible darkening in his eyes. "Oh, I can behave... can you though?"
Harry's grin turned wolfish, his eyes glinting mischievously as Draco's thumb brushed across his lip, wiping away a tiny spot of chocolate. Harry playfully bit Draco's thumb, a silent conversation passing between them. Just Draco leaned in towards him, a polite cough startled Harry. A waiter, impeccably dressed, stood by their table.
"Désirez-vous plus de café?"
Draco, recovering instantly, replied with an easy flow of French. As he spoke, a knowing smirk played on his lips as he watched Harry discreetly place a napkin over his lap.
Their days in Paris unfolded like a dream. They had their requisite picnic beneath the Eiffel Tower, sprawled on a checkered blanket, a baguette and an assortment of cheeses between them. They took a million pictures of them kissing with the iconic landmark towering behind them, each one more ridiculously adorable than the last. They ambled through the Louvre, more interested in each other's whispered comments than the masterpieces, and spent an entire afternoon getting delightfully lost in the winding, charming streets of Montmartre, Draco occasionally pointing out a particularly chic boutique he insisted Harry had to see.
On their second evening, Draco, with an air of secrecy, led Harry to a waiting car. "Where are we going?" Harry asked, intrigued.
"My surprise for you, Potter," Draco replied, a soft smile playing on his lips.
The surprise turned out to be the Paris Observatory. Harry's eyes lit up as they stepped inside, a genuine, childlike wonder transforming his features. They found a cozy spot in the darkened dome, cuddled close as they watched a breathtaking light show projected onto the ceiling, depicting distant galaxies and nebulae as they munched on astronaut ice cream.
"Alright, challenge," Draco whispered, pointing a finger. "First one to name five constellations wins bragging rights for the rest of the trip."
Harry instantly took the bait, but as Draco rattled off "Orion," "Ursa Major," and "Cassiopeia," Harry, to Draco's mock annoyance, began rattling off their scientific designations. "Ah, yes, but that's actually Betelgeuse in the Orion constellation, cariad, and that bright star there is Alpha Canis Majoris."
Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. "You're such a nerd."
Suddenly, a voice cut through their playful banter. "Dr. Potter?"
A man in a staff uniform, looking thoroughly excited, approached them. "Ah it is! I recognized you from your lectures! It is an honor, Dr. Potter, a true honor to meet you."
Harry, caught off guard, flushed a deep red, looking incredibly bashful and embarrassed. He stammered out a "Hello," trying to downplay the attention.
Draco, however, beamed at the man. "He's brilliant, isn't he? Absolutely groundbreaking work." He subtly nudged Harry forward, not letting him shy away from the praise.
"Would it be too much trouble for a quick photo?" the man asked, pulling out his phone.
"Not at all," Draco interjected smoothly, taking the phone from the man. "I'll get it." He winked at Harry as he expertly framed the shot.
As they walked out of the observatory, Draco looped his arm through Harry's. "So, 'Dr. Potter,' having fans now, are we?" he teased, a wide, amused grin on his face. Harry just groaned, but the playful squeeze Draco gave his arm told him he didn't really mind at all.
As they wandered through a vibrant, lesser-known district of Paris, the thumping bass of house music suddenly pulsed through the cobblestone streets. Draco's eyes landed on a discreet but undeniably inviting entrance bathed in a soft, pulsating rainbow light. He turned to Harry and began to walk backward, pulling Harry along by the hand toward the club's entrance. He raised a suggestive eyebrow. "Was I good?"
Harry laughed, a genuine, delighted sound, and playfully shoved Draco's shoulder. "Yes, I'm all yours."
Draco wasted no time, pulling Harry into a fervent kiss right there on the street, the music vibrations humming beneath their feet. Then, practically skipping with excitement, he dragged an amused and thoroughly captivated Harry into the thrumming heart of the club.
Inside, the air was thick with energy and the intoxicating beat of the music. They found a spot on the crowded dance floor, immediately losing themselves in the rhythm. Their bodies moved together, hot and uninhibited, a seamless, intimate dance. Other men occasionally tried to get close, their hands reaching out, but Draco was a protective force. His arms were securely wrapped around Harry, and he expertly tugged Harry around when needed, a subtle shift of their bodies to avoid any wandering hands. Harry felt utterly safe, completely enveloped in Draco's possessive embrace.
A man, persistent despite Draco's clear signals, approached Harry directly, saying something in French. Harry didn't quite catch it, but Draco did. He immediately tugged Harry even closer to his side, a possessive glint in his eyes, and replied smoothly in French, "Il en a déjà un." (He already has one.) The man, recognizing the dismissal, quickly moved away.
Harry, feeling a surge of affection and desire, looped his arms around Draco's shoulders, deepening their kiss as they continued to dance. The grinding of their bodies became more insistent, the movements less about the music and more about each other. Draco had a thigh provocatively placed between Harry's legs, and they were snogging with unrestrained passion. Harry's eyes, hazy with lust, scanned the periphery of the club, looking for something specific until he found it. With a grin he tugged Draco's hand, pulling him towards a dimly lit corridor that promised a backroom.
They practically stumbled into the room, a wave of giddy, illicit excitement washing over them. Two responsible, professional adults, parents even, about to get off in the delightfully sleazy, throbbing backroom. The air was thick and humid, heavy with the scent of sweat, musk, and desire, all bathed in a pulsating, deep red light that cast long, shifting shadows among the other barely visible, moving bodies.
They found a small, relatively private spot tucked around a corner. Draco's hands were everywhere, urgent and knowing, sliding beneath Harry's shirt, his fingers tracing the hot skin of Harry's stomach as Harry pulled Draco impossibly closer, their hips grinding together. Draco buried his face in the sensitive crook of Harry's neck, his teeth gently nipping at Harry's skin, sending shivers through him. Harry's head fell back against the wall, a moan tearing from his throat, completely uninhibited. Draco's expert hand found him, hot and firm, stroking, teasing, bringing Harry closer and closer to the precipice. The muffled, pounding beat of the house music from the main club throbbed around them, a perfect, chaotic soundtrack.
Harry's fingers tangled in Draco's hair, pulling him closer as their mouths reconnected, a desperate, open-mouthed kiss. Draco's strokes grew faster, more demanding, mirroring the frantic rhythm of Harry's hips pressing against him. Harry's body tensed, a delicious shiver running through him as the release built, a white-hot wave. He cried out, a sound swallowed by the music, as his climax shuddered through him, his legs trembling.
Seconds later, Draco's own breathing hitched, his body arching into Harry's as he let out a choked gasp, his climax just as powerful, just as intense. They leaned against each other, chests heaving, the red light painting their flushed skin. They laughed breathlessly against each other's grinning mouths, trying to kiss but too overcome with mirth.
Draco playfully tugged Harry's hair. "Come on... I want to enjoy you in a proper bed." Harry swallowed, letting Draco re-button his jeans before being tugged out the door and out of the club.
They burst into their hotel room, Draco giving Harry a piggyback ride before unceremoniously dumping Harry onto the bed. Harry lay there, splayed out, watching as Draco began shedding his clothes. With a soft sigh, Harry made lazy, grabby hands at him, a silent invitation for Draco to come closer.
"I have to do all the work, don't I?" Draco teased, a smirk playing on his lips.
Harry just laughed, kicking off his shoes and wiggling out of his jeans. Draco helped him with his shirt, pulling it over Harry's head as they giggled together. "My pillow princess," Draco murmured.
Harry, with a surge of renewed energy, shoved Draco over onto his back, swinging a leg over him to straddle him. He tossed the lube bottle onto Draco's chest with a thud. "That's right. And your princess needs his prep."
Draco shook his head fondly, a smile playing on his lips as he coated his fingers. He expertly felt around for Harry's entrance, then tugged Harry down, pulling him into a deep kiss while he began to finger him open. Harry eventually broke the kiss, sitting up and immediately riding Draco's fingers impatiently.
"Do you want it like this?"
"Yeah," Harry moaned, the single word a desperate, breathless incantation. Draco's hand moved to Harry's hip, hot and possessive, steadying him while his other hand guided his hard dick, allowing Harry to slowly, agonizingly slide onto it. Harry braced himself, one thumb circling Draco's nipple, his other hand gripping Draco's wrist on his hip to steady himself as he began to undulate atop Draco, a low, tortured whimper escaping his lips. Draco watched Harry move, his gaze fixed, caressing Harry's skin as they both moaned, lost to the building, carnal rhythm.
Harry's rhythm grew more frantic, his breath catching in his throat with each downward press, a desperate gasp for air. His face was pinched in pure, exquisite pleasure, eyes squeezed shut against the intensity. "Oh, fuck , Draco, you're so good!" he choked out, his voice raw, bordering on a desperate sob. "Your cock, it's perfect ! You fuck me so good! So good!" Draco met his thrusts, bucking up from below, his hips rising with powerful, demanding force to meet Harry's desperate descent. The sounds filling the room were a symphony of pleasure: the rhythmic thud of their bodies meeting, wet smacks of skin, and their escalating moans and desperate cries. Harry's head tipped back, neck arched, eyes half-closed, a groan ripping from his chest. "I want it all the time! Always! So pretty... you're so pretty!" he praised, one hand still gripping Draco's wrist, the other now a frantic clench onto Draco's chest, fingernails digging in slightly as he chased the impossible edge. "I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna! Oh, please , make me cum!"
That's right, you are," Draco replied in a tone that made Harry's entire body shudder, fire spreading through his veins. His hips hammered up, meeting Harry's frantic, needy descent. "My little slag. You like this, don't you? All of it, deep inside you... inside your greedy little hole, taking every inch." Harry's only reply was a choked-off moan, his head tossing violently from side to side, as Draco continued, "Such a good boy for me. My filthy, dirty boy. Taking it all. Come for me, Harry. Come for me now."
As Harry cried out, a raw, unrestrained sound of pure ecstasy, his body clenching and convulsing around Draco, Draco's palm slid down Harry's thigh, curling around his folded leg to press his fingers into Harry's skin, tracing where he knew by heart where the tattoo of his name dotted and dashed across the back of Harry's knee.
Harry felt the hot, pulsing rush of Draco's own climax deep inside him, a delicious, searing pressure that sent shivers of pure euphoria through his core. Almost simultaneously, Harry's own release flooded over Draco's chest, a warm, sticky gush mingling with the sweat and the musk of their entwined bodies.
With a soft groan, Harry's muscles gave out, and he sleepily collapsed onto Draco's chest, the fresh cum smearing warmly between them. He burrowed his face into the warm skin, refusing to budge.
"Shhhh," Harry mumbled, his voice thick with post-orgasmic haze, burrowing deeper into Draco's chest. "'Mmm sleeping."
Draco chuckled against Harry's ear. His fingers, still slick, found Harry's delicious, leaking hole, gently tracing the sensitive rim. Harry let out a soft groan, lightly swatting in the general direction of Draco's hand, a delightful shiver running through him at the teasing touch. Draco just smiled, pressing a soft, adoring kiss to Harry's messy hair.
"Come on, love," Draco cooed, his voice brimming with indulgence, rubbing Harry's back with lazy circles. "As much as I'd love to just lie here and worship you, you're going to get sticky, then itchy, and then very, very bitchy if we let that dry, my darling."
Harry groaned in protest, a pathetic, sleepy sound, but the horrifying thought of being covered in dried cum was just enough to spur him into reluctant, slow motion. He didn't so much get up as simply flop over onto the bed with a sigh, a heavy, boneless weight.
"Up, up, my pretty," Draco sang, gently untangling their limbs. Harry was utterly dead weight, a pliant, warm lump of contentedness, but Draco didn't seem to mind in the slightest. Instead, he half-dragged, half-carried him off the bed and towards the bathroom, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "My little pillow princess," he murmured, his voice laced with pure amusement and overflowing affection, as Harry's head lolled sweetly onto his shoulder.
The sky was painted with the hush of dusk, watercolor pinks and amber melting into violet. The rooftop garden was mostly empty, but Harry had mad sure to book a little table for their last night, tucked beneath a flowering trellis.
Draco sat across from him, a glass of wine in hand, his hair still damp from their late-afternoon bath together, Harry's cardigan looped loosely over his shoulders. His cheeks were a little pink from the wind, and he looked so content, so soft around the eyes, it made Harry’s chest ache.
Harry reached across the table, curling his fingers around Draco’s wrist, fingers gently knocking the delicate silver bracelet Draco had worn for over a decade now. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”
Draco looked up, blinking, and made a faint scoffing sound. “You’ve only said it a hundred times.”
“I’ll say it a hundred more.” Harry tilted his head. “You are brilliant.”
Draco flushed and looked down into his wine glass like it might offer an escape route.
Harry kept going, voice quiet but unwavering. “I love our life. Waking up next to you. Our little boy with his wild questions. All of it. I love you yesterday, I love you today, and I love you tomorrow.”
Draco glanced up again, his gaze finding Harry’s, his eyes glistening, a tenderness that made them well up behind his lashes.
Harry’s smile gentled. “I don’t care where we are. Every day I get with you is the best day of my life.”
Draco swallowed. He looked down, shy. "You're being absurd."
“Probably,” Harry agreed, standing. “But it’s the truth.”
He walked around the table and tugged Draco up by the hand. The rooftop was still and quiet, wind rustling the vines overhead.
Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and rested their foreheads together. “Dance with me?”
Draco let out a small, embarrassed laugh, hiding his face against Harry's neck. "I love you the day after tomorrow, and the one after that too," he whispered. Harry smiled, pressing his cheek to Draco's hair, where Draco was comfortably slouched over, his head resting on Harry's shoulder.
They danced like that as night fell around them, slow, aimless, and wrapped in the kind of love that doesn’t need to be declared in grand gestures, but is anyway.
Because Harry would always say it. Again and again.
Until Draco finally, bashfully whispered back, “I love our life, too.”
And Harry held him even closer.
The front door swung open with a soft creak, Harry balancing his bag on one shoulder, the handle of Draco’s suit carrier hooked in his free hand. The house smelled like home; lavender from the diffuser, fresh laundry folded into tidy stacks by the stairs, and a lingering warmth from whatever dinner Narcissa had just pulled from the oven.
Before either of them could call out, there was a thud-thud-thud of socked feet pounding down the hallway, and then—
“Papa! ”
Eltanin shot out of the lounge at full speed, curls bouncing, wearing one of Draco’s old jumpers like a dress and a crown made of twist ties and glittery pipe cleaners.
Draco barely had time to drop his bag before Eltanin launched himself into the air.
“Ooof— ” Draco caught him mid-leap, stumbling back a step as small arms wrapped tightly around his neck and little legs clung to his waist.
Harry laughed, setting the bags down gently. “Well. Someone missed you.”
Eltanin clung harder. “I had so many things to tell you and Nanna made pie and I found a rock shaped like a shoe and I missed you the mostest of anyone ever.”
Draco’s face crumpled just a bit and he pressed a kiss to the top of Eltanin’s head. “I missed you the mostest, too.”
Harry stepped closer, curling an arm around both of them, resting his chin briefly on Draco’s shoulder.
Eltanin squirmed slightly so he could peek over Draco’s other shoulder at Harry. “You too, Daddy.”
Harry grinned. “Good save.”
"Oh, my dears, you made it back safely!" Narcissa's elegant voice swept over them as she gracefully glided forward, her arms opening. She embraced Harry warmly, a soft smile gracing her lips, before turning to Draco with a touch more familiarity, a gentle hand on his cheek. "And you, my dragon, I hope you two had a nice time."
Her eyes, sharp and knowing, lingered for a moment on the flushed skin of Harry's neck, where a blossoming bruise of purple and red peeked out from beneath his collar. Then, with an almost imperceptible flick, she glanced at their hands, noting the faint nightclub entry stamp emblazoned on the backs of their palms. A slow, amused smile spread across her face as she took in their slightly rumpled clothes, the relaxed slump of their shoulders, and the faint, indulgent haze in their eyes that spoke of too little sleep and too much fun. They looked, in short, thoroughly satisfied and just a bit hungover.
"A nice time , indeed," she purred, her gaze dancing between them. "It certainly seems you made the most of your trip. Do tell me, which Parisian establishment leaves such… distinctive souvenirs?" She gestured airily towards Harry's neck. "I do hope you remembered to try some of the local patisseries, darling. Though, by the looks of it, you found other ways to indulge." She gave a soft, knowing chuckle, her eyes twinkling. "Come, come, don't just stand there looking so disheveled. I've made supper. You both look as though you could use it."
Harry's face flamed a brilliant scarlet. He opened his mouth, a series of inarticulate sounds escaping before he could even begin to stammer out a coherent explanation. Draco, however, merely shook his head, a faint, lingering smile on his lips.
"Come, darling, a moment in the garden with me before we eat," Narcissa murmured, her voice soft but with an undeniable edge of command, her gaze holding Draco's.
Draco's smile faded slightly as he met his mother's eyes. With a gentle sigh, he set Eltanin down on the polished marble floor. Eltanin, momentarily bewildered, looked from his father to his grandmother, then back to Harry. Draco gave his son a reassuring pat on the head before turning and following Narcissa out of the drawing-room and into the blooming garden beyond.
As they stepped outside, Harry turned to Eltanin, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Alright, starling," he said, clapping his hands together with a decisive thud, "time to help me plate out that amazing pie your Nanna made us, eh?" Eltanin, his eyes widening with excitement at the mention of pie, immediately bounced on the balls of his feet, a happy hum escaping him.
"Did you ride a really fast train?" Eltanin asked, meticulously lining up the forks on the table, though not quite in the right order.
Harry chuckled, setting glasses down onto the table. "Yes, the train was very fast, star, all the way under the sea!" He reached over, gently correcting the fork's position. "Did you know Paris only has one skyscraper?"
Eltanin's eyes widened as he grabbed the water carafe to fill the glasses. "Really? Is it taller than the Shard?"
"Not even close," Harry said, but his gaze drifted towards windows that looked out into the garden. Narcissa stood facing Draco, her posture open, one hand resting on his folded arms. She seemed to be pleading, her head tilted slightly, her expression earnest. Draco, however, looked tense, his jaw tight, and he was shaking his head slowly, adamantly. A knot of concern tightened in Harry's stomach. What could they be talking about that had Draco looking so grim and Narcissa so desperate? He strained to hear, to catch even a murmur of their conversation.
"Oh!"
Harry snapped back to attention as Eltanin's exclamation cut through his thoughts. He looked down to see a small, but rapidly expanding, puddle of water on the floor beside the table, originating from Eltanin's now-tilted jug.
Harry knelt, his eyes softening as he met Eltanin's apologetic gaze. "Hey, hey, no big deal," he said, tapping Eltanin's nose playfully. He watched, delighted, as Eltanin's frown instantly flipped into a grin, the little nose scrunching up in response with a sudden giggle. "Just a splash of water. We'll clean it up together, no fuss." Harry grabbed a cloth, and with Eltanin's enthusiastic but somewhat clumsy help, they swiftly mopped up the spill.
The delicious aroma of shepherd's pie filled the elegant dining room as the four of them settled around the table. Eltanin chattered animatedly about Paris, peppering Harry and Draco with questions about everything they'd seen and done.
"Did you really eat snails?" he asked, eyes wide.
Harry grinned, "Only a little bit! They were actually quite good."
Draco rolled his eyes playfully. "He's just saying that. He looked like he was going to gag."
Narcissa chuckled, a soft, pleasant sound. She listened intently as Harry and Draco recounted tales of wandering through museums, stumbling upon hidden cafes, and, with a subtle glance from Draco to Harry, finding a rather lively club. Harry, meanwhile, was subtly analyzing Narcissa and Draco, trying to decipher the lingering tension he'd witnessed in the garden.
Narcissa was her usual poised self, effortlessly guiding the conversation, asking insightful questions about their trip. Harry noticed a slight hesitancy in her demeanor when she addressed Draco directly, almost as if she were choosing her words carefully, not wanting to upset him. Draco, while relaxed and engaged in the conversation, occasionally offered a curt, one-word answer to a question from his mother, a fleeting flash of something unreadable in his eyes. Yet, aside from these minor tells, there seemed to be nothing overtly amiss.
Harry tried all evening to catch Draco alone, but between Eltanin's relentless energy and their usual bedtime routine, a private moment never materialized.
"Another story, Papa?" Eltanin pleaded, clutching his stuffed dragon, already half-asleep.
"Just one more," Draco murmured, his voice soft with sleepiness as he gently tucked Eltanin in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. Harry watched them from the doorway, warmth spreading through him at the tender sight, waiting for his chance to talk, but then Eltanin's insistent request for "one last cuddle" with both his parents. Draco, with a fond sigh, pulled Harry down onto the bed next to him, and they both enveloped their son in a sleepy embrace.
Finally, Eltanin was asleep, and the house fell silent. Harry followed Draco out of the room, intending to finally ask about the garden conversation. But Draco just stretched, let out a massive yawn, and headed straight for their bedroom, shrugging out of his shirt.
"Home sweet home," he breathed, turning to Harry with a smile, pulling him close for a quick, comforting kiss.
Harry showered quickly, the lukewarm water doing little to soothe his unease about the earlier conversation. He dried off and walked back into the bedroom to find Draco already fast asleep. Harry smiled softly, running a gentle hand through Draco's hair, feeling the soft strands between his fingers. The questions about Narcissa and the tense exchange in the garden would have to wait. Harry sighed, turned off the lamp, and slipped into bed beside him, spooning against Draco's back and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
Draco arrived at the astrophysics department twenty minutes early, his stride clipped and precise, his mouth pressed into a tight line. His phone buzzed again: Narcissa. A second message, just like the first: We don’t have to stay long. He slipped the phone into his pocket without replying.
The door to Harry’s lab was propped open with a battered physics textbook, the spine bowed as if exhausted. Inside, the lab hummed with soft mechanical whirs and the sharp scent of solder and warm plastic. Screens glowed with simulations of galaxy clusters and data visualizations in motion. And there, animated as ever, stood Harry.
Draco stopped just inside the doorway and watched for a moment.
Harry had his sleeves shoved up, gesturing wildly at a system rotating in real-time on one of the giant curved monitors and he was so deep in conversation with Jules, his postgraduate researcher, that he hadn’t noticed Draco’s arrival.
“So if we could beam the energy down,” Harry was saying, “it wouldn’t have to be stored on the satellite itself. Think about it! A constant stream of solar power, no night interruptions, no weather interference.”
Jules raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Beamed how? You’re not suggesting a literal space laser.”
“Not a laser,” Harry said, a bit defensive. “A focused microwave beam. High-frequency, tight dispersion. Like a satellite-sized microwave oven, but aimed at a ground-based receiver.”
Jules blinked. “You want to cook the planet for power.”
Harry groaned. “That’s not—no, it wouldn’t cook anything. The energy would be collected by a rectenna array, and—”
“I’m just saying,” Jules interrupted, “if I see a story that starts with ‘astrophysicist accidentally turns field of sheep into popcorn,’ I’m naming you directly.”
Harry was mid-protest when Draco cleared his throat. They both turned toward the door.
Harry’s face lit up. “You’re early.”
“I was starving,” Draco said.
Jules gave a two-fingered salute. “I’ll leave you two to lunch. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear about the sheep-murdering microwave plan.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s not—”
“Keep the lab afloat in his absence, Jules,” Draco said grandly as he dragged Harry out of the lab by his sleeve.
“Easy work when the mad scientist isn't around.” Jules quipped without looking back.
As the door shut behind them, Draco chuckled softly, the tightness in his shoulders loosening by a degree. “Do they always talk to you like that?”
“Only when I’ve earned it,” Harry said with a shrug. “Which is daily.”
They found a quiet table under the canopy of climbing ivy in the courtyard. Draco sat down, loosening his tie, and unwrapped his sandwich.
Harry watched him for a moment, then said gently, “Alright. Out with it.”
Draco didn't look up. He ran a thumb along the crease of the paper wrapper. "I just... I want to be back in Paris. With you."
Harry's brow furrowed, his voice laced with worry and anxiety. "Draco, what's going on?"
Draco immediately looked up, meeting Harry's gaze, his own eyes filled with a quick regret. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, love. Didn't mean to worry you. It's nothing wrong , not with us, anyway. I'm just... upset, I guess. Stuck in my head." He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "My mother asked me to visit my father."
Harry blinked. "Lucius?"
"No, the other father I have locked in prison," Draco replied, his tone bone-dry. He immediately sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face. "Sorry, that was… unnecessary."
Harry reached across the table, rubbing his thumb gently on Draco's wrist before pulling Draco's hands away from his face. "It's alright. Just tell me."
"She asked if I would go with her this weekend."
“Ah.” Harry breathed out.
“Exactly.”
“Do you want to go?”
“No,” Draco said immediately. “No, I don’t. Not even a little.” He hesitated. “But she asked. And she’s… if I say no, I feel like I’m letting her down somehow.”
Harry stayed quiet, letting him speak.
“She’s not forcing me,” Draco said after a moment. “She even said I didn’t have to speak to him. Just to come. But…she’s been trying. For years now. And I know it matters to her. That she still sees him as…well…I don’t know. A person worth salvaging, maybe.”
“And you don’t?” Harry asked softly.
Draco hesitated. “I don’t know if I care enough to wonder.”
“You can say no,” Harry said. “You’re allowed to say no, even if she’s been trying to be a good mother. You’re not responsible for her healing by way of your suffering. You know that, right?”
Draco looked at him. Harry was rumpled and bright-eyed and a little smudged with marker ink from gesturing too close to a whiteboard, but entirely steady.
Draco breathed out slowly, some of the pressure in his chest loosening.
“You make it sound so simple,” he murmured.
Harry smiled, thumb brushing lightly over Draco’s knuckles. “It’s not. But it’s your decision.”
For a moment, the buzzing thoughts in Draco's head calmed, like static filtering out. They ate in silence for a while after that. Draco methodically pulled his sandwich apart into neat halves; Harry chewed absentmindedly, more focused on watching Draco than his food.
Eventually, it was Harry who spoke.
“Can I ask something?”
Draco glanced at him. “You’re going to anyway.”
Harry offered a faint smile, then said, “Do you think seeing him would help you? Not her. Not what she wants. You .”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “That’s the problem. I don’t know what would help. I can’t even tell if not seeing him is about protecting myself or just avoiding something I think I’m supposed to face. But also…I don’t really care. I don’t care how he’s doing. I don’t care if he has regrets. I don’t care about asking him any questions. His answers don’t matter to me. Is that bad?”
Harry hummed, folding the paper from his sandwich into a careful square. “I think it’s okay not to care.”
Draco looked up at him, waiting.
“I can’t visit Viktor,” Harry said. “Not while part of me still wonders why he did it. Why me.” He was staring somewhere else now, out past the garden wall, into memory. “I know if I went now, I’d still be hoping for an answer. But nothing he says could make it feel any less cruel.”
Draco reached out and tangled his fingers with Harry’s.
Harry met his gaze. “But I think, one day, I’ll go. When I don’t need to ask why anymore. When the wondering’s gone. That’s when it would help, not hurt.”
Draco swallowed. “You're sure you wouldn’t ask him why?”
“No.” Harry’s voice was soft but sure.
Draco was quiet for a long beat. “Because you’ll already know?”
Harry shook his head. “Because his answer won’t matter to me.”
The air stilled. Draco looked at him, realization dawning in his eyes. Harry was telling him, in the quietest, most honest way possible, that Draco was ready. Harry was telling him that a future where Lucius Malfoy's thoughts and regrets were utterly meaningless was not just possible, it was already here.