A tall but lanky blond in Crimson Auror robes paced the emergency room of St Mungo’s, casting worried looks at his senior partner, who sat looking unphased, clutching a rather filthy looking cloth to his bleeding arm.
“I’m going to ask what’s taking so long,” he said, and started for the front desk.
Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back in his plastic white chair. “Sit down, Smithly,” he replied. “I’m not going to let you badger that poor welcomewitch to distraction.”
For a second, it seemed Carlo Smithly was going to stamp his foot, but then he thought better of it and huffed down next to Harry.
“I honestly don’t understand why you are letting those idiots cut people in front of you while you’re just sitting there bleeding out.”
The sound from Harry’s mouth almost sounded like a snort. Almost, because Aurors didn’t snort.
“It’s hardly more than a scratch,” Harry said. He peeled the cloth from his arm and tried not to wince. He managed. Almost.
A shadow fell over him and he looked up into the smiling face of a pretty brunette. “That’s going to scar, that is. Looks like a nasty burn.”
Harry puffed up a bit and shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
“I bet you have,” the woman said, and looked down on the chart in her hands. “Harry Potter?”
“We’ll have you fixed in the flick of a wand,” she continued, and pointed down the corridor. “Around the corner, second curtain on the right. If you would take off that sweater and wait right there, the Healer will be with you soon.”
Smithly picked up Harry’s overrobe and waited for him to precede him.
“Uhm, I’ll be fine.”
Smithly looked up and smiled. “I have no doubt.”
Harry shifted on his feet uncomfortably and gestured to his standing partner. “No, I mean, you don’t have to come with me. I’m fine to go in alone.”
“Oh!” Smithly flushed prettily and sat back down. “Sure! I, uhm- I’ll wait out here then.”
Scratching the back of his neck, Harry took a step into the corridor the nurse had indicated. “Yeah, alright. It shouldn’t take long, I don’t think.”
Smithly smiled. Actually, it looked more like a goofy grin, and it made Harry feel even more uncomfortable. Having a starstruck partner was bad, but having a lovestruck partner was a whole new level of hell he didn’t even want to put a name to. He’d have to ask Gawain Robards for yet another partner soon, as this partnership was really not working out as intended. Part of the reason he got hurt at all was because Smithly had been more busy watching Harry’s arse, than watching his back.
Harry quickly made his way down the corridor, pulling his sweater down at the back, because he was sure he could feel Smithly’s eyes on his arse again. It was only one of the reasons he was happy to round the corner and leave the waiting area behind him.
After pulling the curtain closed, Harry took off his sweater, wincing as the rough wool scraped over his damaged skin. It hurt a lot more than he’d let on, but he really wasn’t going to let Smithly fret over him like a worried spouse. He tried to touch the wound, but whatever curse had struck him, it not only made his skin blister badly, it made him bleed thick, gooey blood. Touching it really was not an option if one wasn’t a masochist.
“Right,” a voice called from behind the curtain just before it opened with a swish. “Mr-”
Grey eyes snapped up from the chart and widened a fraction in shock. “Potter!”
Harry’s heart felt like is was skipping a beat, or two. Bloody hell, it felt like it was refusing to beat altogether in the short time before he managed to open his mouth in an undignified gasp. “Draco.”
Four years. Four bleeding long years since he’d seen Draco; since the man had walked out of Harry’s life with the cowardly excuse that the Healer training program in France was that much better than the one in England. And an excuse it had been, for Harry was sure it had nothing to do with the quality of the different medical programs, and everything to do with the fact Draco had been too spineless to dump him back then.
Still, four years later, Harry was acutely aware of every single cell in his body when Draco was close. His heart still ached for the little piece he lost when the man he loved fled.
The Malfoy scion had been expected to wed and produce a perfect little pure-blooded heir. There had been no room for Harry in Draco’s future.
And now he was back.
Harry felt cold. Of course, he was half naked, but he didn’t think his sweater would make much of a difference in this case. He picked it up anyway and clutched it against his chest, as if the sweater could stop him from reaching out and touching that which was no longer his. He didn’t think to be careful with his injured arm though, and it scratched roughly against the wool.
Draco inhaled deeply and narrowed his eyes. “You’re injured.”
Harry took a step back when Draco advanced on him and muttered under his breath. “No shit, Sherlock.”
“I’m sorry?” Draco asked, and reached out to grab Harry’s wrist. As he pulled him closer, Harry tried to pull back his arm, but Draco had become surprisingly strong, and his resistance was rather pointless.
“Nothing,” he replied, and tried not to become overwhelmed by the warmth of Draco’s hand as the man carefully examined the wound on Harry’s arm. If Draco noticed him squirming a bit to get his jeans to stretch more comfortably around his crotch, he didn’t let on.
Harry winced when Draco cleaned away the oozing blood and pulled and pushed a bit at the skin on his arm. “These blisters are filled with poison, Potter,” Draco said, and pulled back to write something in his chart. “I will ask a mediwitch to come and apply a Ribwort and Mandrake wrap to the wound. I cannot heal it until the blisters are gone.” He conjured a memo, much like the ones always flying around the Ministry, and sent it off around the curtain.
When Draco let go of his arm, Harry blinked. And blinked again. “What?”
Draco didn’t respond. Instead, he scribbled something on a piece of parchment and handed it over. “Apply this salve three times a day for the next four days, and come back when the blisters have dissolved. You may cover the wound with gauze if needed, but keep it dry.”
Harry reached out and grabbed Draco’s arm when he tried to slip past the half-open curtain. “That’s it?”
He tried to pull Draco back, but the man wouldn’t budge, and even managed to open the curtain a little further, ruining the little bit of privacy they had.
“After all that time you’re just going to walk out of here and pretend like I’m any other patient?”
Draco closed his eyes and breathed in deeply as a slight frown hardened his features. “Potter, don’t-”
He never got the chance to finish what he wanted to say, because a small child hurled himself at Draco’s legs, clutching the lime green Healer robes between his little fingers.
“Papa, Aslan est parti!” he said between loud sobs.
An old looking house-elf nearly bowed herself in half when she popped up beside the child. “Dora is sorry, Master Malfoy,” she said, before turning to the child. “Allez, petit bonhomme, laisse papa travailler.”
“Non!” The child shook his little raven-haired head and clenched his small hands into fists. “Je veux Aslan!”
“Scorpius,” Draco chided the child softly. “What have I told you about speaking French in front of other people?”
Scorpius pouted and looked up curiously at Harry. His black locks were all over the place-nothing like his father’s coiffed hair. However, that Scorpius was Draco’s son was blatantly obvious: Steel grey eyes, though more oval shaped. A pointy chin that stuck up the way Draco’s used to back at Hogwarts complimented the high cheekbones that must have been his mother’s. And, of course, the flawless, pale complexion Harry used to revere in his ex-lover.
It hurt to see that Draco had obviously found his beautiful, pure-blood wife in France. Harry had always hoped for Draco to come back and tell him he’d been wrong to leave.
“It’s rude,” Scorpius said, and moved to hide partially behind Draco’s legs.
“Everything is fine, Dora,” Draco told the elf. “Mr Potter is my last patient, Scorpius can stay with me.”
He picked up his young son and sat him down on the bed as the elf disappeared with a crack. “We will look for your Aslan in a little while, alright? Here.” He handed the boy a few rolls of gauze and bandages.
Scorpius nodded and looked sideways at Harry, who smiled brightly. The little boy shied away a little, but hesitantly smiled back at the strange man talking to his papa, before unrolling the bandages and to wrapping them haphazardly around his clothed legs..
“You’ve got a son.”
Draco refused to look at Harry, and breathed a sigh of relief when a mediwizard opened the curtain. The man was holding a tray with plants and salves, and looked confused to see Draco still with his patient.
“I will take that,” Draco snapped, taking the tray and almost shoving the mediwizard away from the small healing station.
Without saying another word, he grabbed Harry’s arm again and started applying crushed Ribwort and a Mandrake salve to the wound before wrapping it loosely in gauze.
Harry carefully slid his injured arm back into his sweater and pulled it over his head. “Scorpius seems like a precious child. How old is he?”
Draco bit his bottom lip for a second before he turned to face the boy. “He is three and a half years old.”
Three and a half. Math was admittedly not Harry’s best subject, but he could count. That meant Draco had been sleeping with Scorpius’s mother before he fled to France. Before he’d left Harry to pick up the pieces of his shattered world.
The curtained space was suddenly way too small, and the air too thick to breathe. Harry needed to get out of there fast, before he did something stupid, like punch Draco in his cheating face in front of his three year old son.
He couldn’t help but sneer at Draco as he rushed past him and left the curtain flying behind him.
When Harry stormed through the waiting room, Smithly looked up with a confused frown and rushed to his feet.
He didn’t respond, and kept walking until he got to the Apparition point and Disapparated.
“I hear Draco is back.”
Harry looked up from his plate and glared at Ginny from across the table. Of course, she would’ve heard about Draco’s return in that shop of hers. But why she would bring it up during Sunday dinner at the Burrow, Harry could only guess.
“Is he really?” Arthur Weasley asked as he held his plate to the large pan Molly was scooping blobs of mashed potatoes out of.
“Hmm,” Ginny replied. “He’s a fully certified Healer now, working at St Mungo’s.”
Molly nodded. “Oh, yes. I spoke with Andromeda the other day and she’s very pleased to have her nephew back in the country. They’d only just gotten to know each other when Draco left, you realise.”
Hermione eyed Harry from across the table with a knowing look.
“Have you talked to your boss about Smithly yet?” She tried to smile encouragingly, but failed.
“Don’t change the topic on my account,” Harry replied. “It’s not like I’m upset he’s back or anything. With a three and a half year old son. I’m over him.”
“Of course, you are,” Ron piped in. “It’s been five years.”
Underneath the table, Hermione kicked him against his shin, earning her a confused frown.
“Four, actually.” Harry's reply was barely audible. He really didn’t want to talk about it. Three days wasn’t long enough to come to any sort of peace over a thing like this. He felt betrayed, and furious and- Oh, alright, it hurt like hell. Draco clearly hadn’t felt the kind of love for him that was still wreaking havoc in Harry’s heart.
Molly’s eyes widened and shifted between Harry’s tensed jaw and Hermione’s pitying smile, before she cleared her throat and reached out her arm to take Harry’s plate. “More mash, dear?”
“No, thank you. I’m not very hungry.”
Ginny held up her plate eagerly. “I’ll have some more, please.”
She was becoming huge as the months went by. Everyone was rather surprised when she left the Holyhead Harpies and announced she was going to become a mother. Maybe surprised wasn’t the right word. The fact that her only daughter decided on getting pregnant without the love and support of a partner left Molly rather devastated at first. Ginny held strong, and Molly finally came to accept and look forward to the arrival of another grandson.
Everyone around Harry was getting married and having babies. Even Hermione and Ron were planning on a second child, and where did that leave him? Alone and lonely. He had Teddy, of course, but his godson couldn’t fill the emptiness that was Harry’s life.
He’d never gotten over Draco. He tried dating, but something always felt off. Something was always missing, and he quickly found out what that was. He’d been comparing all his dates to that one man who’d left him. None of them were Draco, so he’d given up. And now, even that last shred of hope that it would all be okay one day had died.
When he returned to have his arm healed the next day, he breathed a sigh in relief when another Healer helped him, though he looked around to try and catch a glimpse of pale blond hair. Draco was nowhere to be seen, and it ruined his day sufficiently to make him owl Robarts that he wouldn’t be in until Tuesday.
He Apparated to Andromeda’s house, and smiled as he saw Teddy running down the path as fast as his feet would take him.
“Harry! Harry!” Teddy’s pink hair turned wild and black when he jumped up onto his godfather’s arms. “Gran’s making us cookies!”
When Harry kissed the boy’s cheek, Teddy squirmed until he was let go and ran back up the path. “Come on! Hurry!”
Harry chuckled and followed Teddy, with a silly grin on his face. Maybe this was all the family he needed.
He was shocked to find two little boys in Andromeda’s kitchen though, both sitting at the table, their backs to him.
“Hey,” he said, only able to identify Teddy out of the two by his height.
“Sit here,” Teddy said, and slapped the chair next to him as he turned his head.
“Why don’t you let Harry take off his cloak first, Teddy,” Andromeda said. She turned to Harry and kissed his cheek. “Hello, dear. I wasn’t expecting you today. Is everything alright?”
Harry draped his cloak over the chair next to Teddy’s and stared at the boy who’d shyly turned around to face him. “Fine,” he snapped. “Everything’s just great.”
“Oh, my,” Andromeda replied. “Sit down, dear. I’ll get you a nice cup of tea. Have you met Scorpius yet?” She turned and pulled down Harry’s favourite mug from the cupboard.
“Hi,” Scorpius whispered, and looked down at his hands.
“What have you boys been doing?” Harry asked, sitting down and pulling one of the pieces of parchment scattered across the table towards himself.
Teddy picked up another one and held it up to Harry’s face. “We’re drawing pictures! Scorp’s not very good, but he’s only three.”
“They’re very nice, Teddy,” Harry said with a smile. He ruffled the boy’s hair and watched it flush red, before settling back to the raven colour he usually wore when Harry was around. When they went out in the Muggle world, people usually thought Teddy was his son, because his hair would stick up exactly the way Harry’s did. But seeing both Teddy and Scorpius together, it was clear they were family. Both had the same slightly pointy bone structure as Narcissa and Andromeda. And Draco. Harry never noticed before how very similar Teddy was to his cousin.
“Here you go, Harry,” Andromeda said, as she placed a steaming mug in front of him. “Now, what’s on your mind?”
He picked up the mug and let it warm his hands. “Honestly, it’s nothing,” he said softly, trying very hard not to look at Scorpius. He failed.
“I see,” Andromeda replied. “Teddy, why don’t you show Scorpius the television Harry installed last week. I’m sure he’s never seen anything like it.”
Teddy’s face brightened, and he quickly slid off his chair, pulling Scorpius along. “Come on!”
Harry watched as they left the kitchen together, wishing they would stay as a buffer against the upcoming conversation.
“I suppose Draco’s return has come as a bit of a shock,” Andromeda said, and sat down in the chair Teddy just vacated. Harry picked up a drawing that showed two stick figures. They were clearly Draco and Scorpius, even though it had been Teddy who’d drawn the picture. Scorpius’s drawings were mostly multi-coloured scratches.
“You could say that.” He sighed and touched the blond stick figure with his thumb. “I didn’t even know he was back until I saw him at St Mungo’s. And then seeing Scorpius. It was bad enough when he left, but nothing could’ve prepared me for how I feel now.”
Andromeda patted his arm with frown. “Did you talk?”
Harry shook his head and fiddled with the ear of his mug. “Not exactly. He treated my arm, and basically pretended I was no more than a vague acquaintance. He hardly looked at me the entire time.”
He slowly sipped from his tea, and put the mug back down on the table. “I don’t even know why he still affects me so much. I mean, we never used to talk about our feelings. We were together, but I always knew he would eventually leave me to get married. To him, I was no more than an interlude before he would do what a proper Malfoy heir is supposed to do. He used me.”
Andromeda frowned. “Isn’t that a bit harsh?”
“Is it?” Harry looked up and stared at her, anger clear in his face. “Scorpius is three and a half years old. His mother must’ve been pregnant before Draco left for France. Have you met her?”
Andromeda sighed as she pulled back her hand. “No, I haven’t. Draco didn’t bring her back with him though, and Scorpius doesn’t speak of his mother at all. I haven’t dared to ask Draco about her yet.”
“It’s not any of my business anyway. What Draco and I used to have, it’s ancient history. I’m over it.”
Andromeda’s silence made Harry look up and meet her eyes. “Are you sure about that? Because you certainly don’t sound like you’re over it,” she said finally.
“Does it really matter?” Harry replied. “He’s clearly moved on.”
Andromeda patted his arm again and stood up. “Drink your tea, dear. I’ll go check on the boys.”
When she came back, their conversation moved to steadier waters: whether Teddy should be homeschooled or not, and Harry’s troubles with Smithly. Harry made sure to head home before Draco would come to pick up his son, and spent the night brooding alone at home.
The following weeks were quite busy for Harry. A group of young vampires was causing trouble in Knockturn Alley, and he had to supervise an Auror guard to keep the streets in and around Diagon safe for both the customers and the shopkeepers.
The combination of long days and restless nights was breaking him up, and when they finally caught the culprits red-handed, Harry was tired and unfocused.
It was stupid, really. He’d known from witness statements that the group was made up of five vampires, so he also should’ve known they weren’t finished when they bound four of them. Still, it didn’t occur to him until a pair of sharp teeth dug into his neck.
The little bugger was petrified by one of the other Aurors, but not before he’d drained a good portion of Harry’s blood.
He was lightheaded and staggered a little. Smithly was next to him in a flash, and pulled Harry’s arm over his shoulder, yelling at their colleagues that he was going to take Harry to St Mungo’s.
“Fuck, no,” he moaned. “Stop fretting, I’m fine. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”
“But Harry,” Smithly whined, “you should see a Healer. I’ll take you, it’ll be alright.”
Harry pulled back his arm and pushed his partner away. “You’re not taking me anywhere. I’m going home. Tell Robards I’m taking a few personal days.”
He Apparated home and slumped on his couch. He would sit there for a little while, gathering the strength to drag himself upstairs to his bed.
The sound of the doorbell roughly pulled Harry from a most wonderful dream. He’d been in bed with Draco’s strong hands softly caressing his back, as a mouth traced light kisses over his shoulder and down his arm.
Harry blinked and looked around him, only to realise he’d fallen asleep on the couch, alone, in his Auror robes.
The doorbell rang again.
“Fuck,” Harry swore under his breath, but stood and made his way to the door anyway.
“Oh, thank God, you’re here,” Hermione said, as he opened the door and she rushed past him. “We need to talk.”
Harry slowly closed the front door and turned to face her. “Good evening, Hermione. How lovely to see you. Why don’t you come in,” he said dryly, and followed her to the living room.
“What on earth did you do to your neck?” Hermione asked, when he slumped back down on the couch.
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but she immediately cut him off.
“Never mind, it can wait. What do you know about Veela?”
She looked at him intently as he ran his hand through his hair. “Er, they’re beautiful and they have wings sometimes? Fleur is a Veela, isn’t she?”
“Fleur is only part Veela, but it doesn’t matter. A Veela is a being by the Classification Act of 1811. They are close to human physiology, but not completely the same. They mate for life. Once they do, they’re impotent to anyone else,” she said and kicked Harry’s leg. “Don’t you fall asleep, Harry! This is important!”
“Sorry, Hermione, but you burst into my house like there’s a bloody fire going on,” he replied, feeling rather irritated. “And then you go on about some useless trivia about Veela. Will you get to the point?”
“Draco’s a Veela.”
Harry cleared his head with a little shake and considered her words. “Er, no.”
“He is,” Hermione replied. “Hetty Ballard of the Being Division called in sick today, so I was filling in for her when the Aurors called for the registration papers for the vampires you caught this morning. It was when I was searching for Jenz Malfurion’s papers my eye caught the name Malfoy. Draco’s a Veela, Harry, and so was his father.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry to be crude, but Draco can’t be a Veela. He was most definitely not impotent when I fucked him, and he sure as hell fucked around on me enough to impregnate Scorpius’s mother. Unless you’re trying to tell me the boy is not his son.”
“No, what I’m trying to tell you is Draco is Scorpius’s mother, for all intents and purposes!”
Rubbing the palms of his hands over his eyes, Harry tried to process what Hermione was saying. Draco was a man, most definitely. Men didn’t get pregnant. Though, hadn’t she said something about near human physiology? Could male Veela get pregnant? Was that what she was telling him? But did that mean Draco hadn’t cheated on him? Though, someone would’ve had to get Draco up the duff. His Mate, most definitely. But then-
“Scorpius is my son?” Harry asked dazedly, once the clocks in his head clicked in place. He looked up into Hermione’s eyes and blinked.
She nodded with a hesitant smile.
“I have a son.” Bloody hell. The thought was surreal, to say the least. He had a son, a three and a half year old son. He’d seen Scorpius only twice. He’d already missed so much. If Draco hadn’t left, he-. Oh, God! Draco must’ve known when he’d left for France. He’d been keeping Harry’s son from him all this time, deliberately.
Harry’s jaw set, and his fists clenches as he tried to control the fury overtaking him.
“I have a son,” he stated through his teeth, and stood up from the couch.
Hermione reached out and grabbed his arm, the smile on her face turning into a worried frown. “Calm down, Harry. Think about this rationally,” she said, giving his arm a tug.
Harry pulled loose and rushed from the house without looking back or responding to Hermione’s frantic ‘Harry!’.
By the time he Apparated to the gates of Malfoy Manor, his entire body was trembling. Oh, he could throttle Draco right now, punch his pointy face bloody until there was nothing left to recognize. Harry’s heart beated rapidly in his chest, and heat rushed through his body, up his tightened throat.
He tried to barge through the gates, but was repelled by the wards. “Malfoy!”
“MALFOY! Let me in you bloody coward!”
A shiver ran down Harry’s back, and when he tried the gates again, they dissolved like wisps of smoke, only to solidify behind him.
Stamping down the path towards the Manor, he prepared to bust open the heavy wooden doors. He didn’t have to, as they opened just before he reached them, revealing a confused looking Draco.
“Potter? What a-”
Harry caught him by the throat and pushed him back inside and up against the wall of the entrance hall, wand pointing at the delicate pale throat. “Were you ever planning on telling me? You selfish fucking bastard!”
Draco’s eyes widened, and he let out a choked gasp, realising Harry knew. About Scorpius, about his heritage; everything. They both looked to the side when an elf popped into existence right next to them, only Draco could hardly move his head enough to look at the creature from the corner of his eyes.
“You is letting go of Master Malfoy, right now,” the little thing squeaked, spitting fire at Harry with her huge round eyes. Remembering Dobby’s violent and strong defense of his own person against Lucius Malfoy, Harry’s grip loosened on Draco and he staggered back a few paces.
Draco coughed and carefully touched his throat, holding up his other hand to stop the furious house-elf from attacking Harry.
“Thank you, Dora,” Draco said, his voice a little rough. “Everything is fine.”
Harry squared his shoulders. “Everything is most definitely not fine!”
Dora’s gaze alternately focussed on Harry and Draco. “Master Malfoy?”
“I can handle it, Dora,” Draco replied. “Please check on Scorpius.”
The soft voice coming from the bottom of the stairs pulled Harry’s attention like a siren. His entire stance changed in a split second, as he turned his head to look at the small boy clutching the handrail with one hand and a stuffed lion in the other.
Harry felt stupid for not realising sooner. That hair; his own was exactly the same when he was young, now only looking slightly more tamable because his head was bigger. The oval shape of the boy’s eyes was his, and even in those high cheekbones, he now recognised the face he looked at in the mirror every morning.
Scorpis tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Why are you yelling?” He carefully took a few steps down, but stopped when Harry started towards him, his eyes snapping to Draco.
“Dora, please take my son back to his room,” Draco said sharply and opened a door. “Potter, in here.”
Harry couldn’t take his eyes off his son, even when Draco’s house-elf rushed up the stairs and took Scorpius’s hand to lead him away, muttering soothing words to the boy.
“Potter!” Draco snapped, shaking Harry from his trance.
“What? Oh, yes,” Harry replied. He followed Draco into the room, that turned out to be a small sitting room in blue and lilac. Most of his anger had dissipated, but it wasn’t entirely gone. Seeing the man who betrayed him so deeply cross his arms in front of his chest and lift his chin haughtily, it lit another volatile fire in his heart.
“Why are you here?” Draco asked, and something snapped again inside Harry’s mind.
“Why am I- Are you fucking serious?” His voice was bordering on hysterical. “You kept him from me! You kept my son away from me all this time, and you ask why I’m here? I swear to God, Malfoy, if it weren’t for him, I would ki- Hmmpff!”
Draco was on him in a second and closed his hand over Harry’s mouth. “No!”
His eyes were wide and shining something fierce with what seemed to be onsetting tears. “Please, don’t! Just shut up! Do not say things like that!”
Harry pushed Draco away roughly. “I’ll say whatever the fuck I want! And you still haven’t answered my question. Were you ever planning on telling me I have a son?”
Draco looked down, his face unreadable. Only the whitened knuckles of his fisted hands betrayed the emotions running through him.
“I see,” Harry said. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, his locks catching between his fingers. “I don’t know why you hate me so much, but you’ve kept me from him long enough.”
Draco winced, but his jaw set immediately after, and he looked back up at Harry defiantly. “You are not taking my son from me, Potter,” he said, taking a step forward and squaring his shoulders. “You are not his father. The seed that helped create him might have been yours, but I was the one that took care of him. I was the one that held him as he cried!” By the time Draco stopped yelling, he was stabbing his pointy finger at Harry’s chest, his upper lip curled up to uncover his teeth.
He nearly fell tripping over his own feet with when Harry forcefully shoved him away with both hands. “Well, maybe that’s because you took that opportunity away from me when you fled the bloody country in the dead of night! I’m not trying to take him away from you, but I have a right to know him!”
“No, you don’t,” Draco growled. “We’re fine, the two of us. We don’t need you here. I don’t want you here.”
“Fine,” Harry spat. “Have it your way; I’ll have my solicitor contact you, because frankly, if I ever had to see you again it would be t-”
“Stop!” Draco screamed. His voice was filled with panic, and Harry’s eyes widened. “I know I wronged you, alright? Is that what you want me to say? Just stop it!”
“What is wrong with you?” Harry demanded. “Don’t be so completely melodramatic!”
“Melodramatic?” Draco looked at him like he was speaking Japanese. “You have no idea, do you? Potter, Veela don’t exactly take rejection very well!”
Harry shook his head, sighed, and threw up his hand. “So what? Is that supposed to scare me? Are you going to turn into a bloody bird now and rip me to pieces?”
Draco slumped down heavily in a wingback chair. He buried his fingers in his hair, mussing it up badly before he looked back up. Harry didn’t like what he saw in those grey eyes; defeat.
“No, I’m the one that’s scared. Terrified, really. I’m not a full-blooded Veela; I can exist without my Mate, but even I couldn’t survive your open rejection. That is why I left in the first place.”
“You rejected me, remember? I may not be a Veela, but that damn near destroyed me!”
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Now who’s being melodramatic? Any lingering feelings I left you with should have been evaporated within the first week.”
“Any lingering-, what?” Harry clenched his hands into fists and shoved them inside the pockets of his robes to keep himself from ripping out any of his hair. There was no one on this earth that could frustrate him as much as Draco could. Then again, no one brought out any of the passion and love in him Draco had, either. The man made him go through endless roller coasters of emotion.
Draco lowered his head, successfully hiding his face behind a curtain of hair. “I had you under my thrall, Harry. I was using my allure on you the entire time. Didn’t you ever wonder why you would so suddenly fall for a lifelong adversary?”
Harry was gobsmacked. “I didn’t fall suddenly, and most certainly not because of any sort of Veela power. Not unless you started using it during our fifth year,” he replied softly.
The sound from Draco’s throat when he snapped his chin back up and stared at Harry was inhuman. His eyes seemed lighter for a second, whiter. Then a shadow fell over his face, and he hung his head again.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “That was then. I knew when I chose you it would not last forever. I made that decision knowing the time I had with you would be all I had left of my life. But once I learned I was having a child, it was no longer about me. It was about Scorpius.”
“And you left.”
Draco crossed his arms around his middle and hunched in on himself. “I didn’t want to leave, but I had no choice.”
He started when Harry kneeled next to him and stroked Draco’s back softly. Goosebumps raised over his entire body, and a shiver ran down his spine like an electrical current. “Harry,” he pleaded. “Don’t.”
Harry didn’t back off. Instead, he laid his head on Draco’s shoulder and nuzzled his neck, breathing in the scent he’d missed so much. “Why not?” Even his whispered voice couldn’t hide the slight whine.
Draco pushed him away and stood up, facing away from Harry, who fell unceremoniously to his arse. “Because nothing has changed; I have a son to think of. I can no longer gamble my life over your teenaged crush.”
Harry gasped softly and struggled to his feet. “Crush?” He reached out his hand, but thought better of it.
“Draco, look at me,” he said, and waited for Draco to turn around. “Please?”
When the man did turn around, there were tears in his eyes. “It hurt like hell when you left me,” Harry said slowly. “I always expected you to run off to marry someone you thought worthy, but when you were gone, it felt like you’d ripped my heart out of my chest and took it with you. I pined for you. I ached, and I still do. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”
Draco didn’t respond. He stood there, staring back at Harry, looking completely lost. Then Harry did reach out his hand, running his thumb over Draco’s cheekbones and smiling sadly.
“I need you, Draco. Without you, I’m not really alive.”
Draco crooned softly and leaned into the touch, his eyes shuttering closed. When Harry leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth, Draco shifted enough for their lips to fully press together. Their kiss soon turned from chaste to sensual.
Harry slid his hand to the back of Draco’s neck and into the soft strands of hair, while resting the other on the man’s hip. Draco moaned, clutching to the cloth of Harry’s robes at the shoulders like he was afraid Harry would disappear.
Then Harry’s hand was on the clasp of his belt, tugging until it opened, and dragging it through the loops with one sharp pull. Draco pressed his hips flush against Harry’s, and tried to create enough friction to relieve some of the tension building between them.
When Harry’s lips dragged over his jaw and down his neck, Draco’s knees buckled. Harry’s magic danced over his skin, leaving every single inch of him aching for more touch, more Harry. He moved his hands to Harry’s chest, but couldn’t find a way to open the crimson robes. They fastened with tiny hidden hooks on the inside of the fabric, and his shaking hands would not do as he wanted them to. With a frustrated growl, he ripped them apart.
The shirt underneath immediately succumbed to the same fate, and finally, finally, he could lay his hand on that smooth expanse of heated skin.
Harry pulled back a little to tug Draco’s shirt over his head, and went back to kissing Draco’s neck and shoulder, leaving little lovebites in his wake. Draco loved it. He threw his head back, giving his lover a little more space, and crooned again.
“Draco,” Harry moaned against his shoulder. Both the sound and the feeling of Harry’s uneven breaths dampening his skin sent more shivers down Draco’s spine.
His trousers and pants were stripped down his legs and left in a puddle around his ankles, before knuckles brushed against his straining prick as Harry struggled with his own jeans to try and get them as close as humanly possible in the shortest amount of time.
Gods, Harry wanted to bury himself into every pore of Draco’s body. It had been so long, so bleeding long since he’d felt anything so strong as the exhilaration caused by having the man he loved back in his arms. He’d been on pause all these years, unconsciously waiting for him, not ever daring to go on with his life. And how lucky he was to have Draco with him again.
Once his own jeans and boxers were halfway to his knees, Harry pressed his erection into the hollow of Draco’s hip, and dug his fingers into the firm muscles of the man’s arse.
Draco clung to him desperately, nails cutting into the skin of Harry’s neck. “Please, Harry,” he murmured over and over, until Harry grabbed his wrists and turned him to lean over the back of a chair.
He took his wand from the pocket of his ruined robes and cast a quick preparation spell, before he grabbed Draco’s hip, pressing the length of his wand into the pale flesh, while the fingers of his other hand brushed through the cleft of Draco’s arse.
He pressed two fingers inside the tight opening, mostly to make sure Draco was sufficiently lubricated.
“Protection,” Draco groaned. Of course. It wasn’t like Harry didn’t want a house full of children, but they were not going to have that conversation now. Harry quickly pulled back his hand from Draco’s hip and cast Contraceptus. Another lubrication spell on his own prick, and he was pressing inside the man he loved. “Fucking hell,” he moaned under his breath.
Draco arched his back and pushed back his arse to meet Harry’s shallow thrusts. “More,” he whined, and got just as he asked for.
With his wand cast aside, one hand on Draco’s neck and the other on his hip, Harry pressed deeper and faster. They’d never been particularly verbal, but they weren’t silent either. Moans, grunts, sighs, and pants filled the small room.
A sheen of sweat covered Draco’s back, making his pale skin shine beautifully in the light of the chandelier above their heads. Harry bent down to lick and bite gently at Draco’s salty shoulder. Merlin, he loved this man.
Their movements became more frantic and less controlled, and when Draco shifted to reach down and tug on his throbbing prick, Harry batted his hand away and took a firm hold of it. He tried to tug in rhythm with his thrusts, but it was hard in their position; the chair constricting the movement of his hand. The sounds coming from Draco’s mouth, however, let Harry know his lover had no complaints.
When he leaned back down and bit Draco’s shoulder a little harder, the prick in his hand pulsed, and Draco cried out. As his seed spilled over Harry’s hand and the chair, his arse constricted around the cock still thrusting inside him. That was the final push for Harry. He came panting short stuttering breaths against Draco’s skin.
Once he caught his breath, Harry carefully pulled out and lifted Draco in his arms. He carried the man to the couch and sat down, tightening his arms around his silent lover. “Are you okay?” he tried hesitantly.
Draco opened his eyes and met Harry’s concerned gaze. “Oh, yes,” he replied with a smile, squirming on Harry’s lap until he was comfortable, and rested his head against the strong shoulder. “More than okay.”
Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s silky hair and sighed happily and relaxed.
“Gods, what a day,” Harry complained as he took off his Auror robes and draped them over the back of a chair.
“Daddy!” Scorpius cried out, and giggled when Harry lifted him and blew a raspberry against his neck.
Draco refused to even acknowledge him, or look up from his book. Not even when Harry leaned in for a kiss.
“Anything wrong?” Harry asked and reached out for a bag of nuts on the table and popping a few in his mouth.
Scorpius leaned to whisper in his ear. “Papa’s grumpy.” Of course, their son had no sense of stealth, and Draco could clearly hear the boys words. Still, he didn’t respond.
“Is he now?” Harry joked. “Maybe you should tickle him a little?” He chuckled at the mischievous grin that took over Scorpius’s face.
“You think this is a joke?” Draco’s voice sounded icy, causing their son to bury his face against Harry’s shoulder.
Harry brushed his hand over the boy’s hair and turned to look at his husband. “Maybe I wouldn’t if you told me what was going on.” He tried for a placating tone, but it obviously didn’t work, as Draco just got more angry.
“Exactly what contraception spell have you been using on me?”
Harry frowned. “I only know the one,” he replied. “Contraceptus.”
“You absolute moron,” Draco spat. “That doesn’t work on Veela, Potter.”
“Oh,” Harry said. “Well, how was I supposed to kn-” His eyes widened as something clicked.
“Wait, are you pregnant? But that’s wonderful!” He wanted to pick Draco up and swing him around, but not only was he still holding Scorpius, Draco’s glare froze him to the spot. “Isn’t it?”
“That isn’t the point!” Draco stood up from his chair and threw a hand up in frustration. “What if I did not want to have any more children?”
Harry frowned and let down Scorpius to his feet, who started squirming. “But you do, right?”
“You are not listening to me!”
Harry smiled. “I hear you. I’m the most idiotic, empty-headed person on the planet, and I’m sorry. You can teach me all the spells you want me to know,” he said, slowly approaching the angry man.
“But Draco,” he continued, “we’re having a baby.”
He watched as the anger left Draco’s expression and a small smile broke through. That was all he needed to see, and Harry closed the remaining space, pulling Draco into a deep and loving kiss.
When Draco pulled back, his eyes were shining. “We are having a baby.”