The sound of the front door slamming could be heard through half the house, and Harry jumped up from his bed, tossing his book aside. He knew Snape hadn't been at a Death Eater meeting, so he didn't feel like he was intruding to go and investigate; not like the nights when Snape came home and he and Remus went straight upstairs.
He bumped into Sirius and Charlie on the stairs, and then Remus; all four of them hurried down to greet Snape in the entrance hall. The Slytherin was cursing up a storm, pacing back and forth, and he only seemed to realise they were there when Remus stepped in to place hands on his shoulders. "Severus, what happened?"
"I'll tell you what bloody happened," the man growled. Looking closer, Harry could see the tight line of exhaustion in the corners of his eyes. "Albus fucking Dumbledore happened! The imbecile almost killed himself!"
Harry gaped. "He what?"
"He went out and found a ring that used to belong to the Dark Lord, and in his ultimate wisdom decided he had to put it on!" Snape explained, still furious. "It's a miracle I managed to stop the curse before it killed him, but even so his left arm will never be the same."
"Did he know it was cursed?" Charlie asked, wide eyed. Snape scoffed.
"Considering it was dripping with dark magic, I should sodding well hope so!" There was just the faintest hint of a northern accent creeping into his words, and Harry sucked in a sharp breath; Snape had to be really made to be letting that slip.
Remus clearly noticed it too, as he pressed his forehead to Snape's, running soothing hands over his shoulders. "It's alright, Severus," he assured. "You said you stopped the curse, right? Albus is okay?"
"For now," Snape affirmed. "He wouldn't tell me what was so special about the ring, but I could feel the magic on it. If I had to guess, I'd say it was a horcrux."
It was Harry's turn to curse. "Dumbledore's hunting them?" he asked, and Snape nodded. "Did you destroy it?"
"I believe so," Snape confirmed. "I had to use phoenix fire to get the ring off Albus' hand without cutting it off, and when Fawkes burned it, it screamed like it was dark magic dying. All that was left was the stone in the ring. Albus seemed quite insistent that the stone remain unharmed."
Harry's brow furrowed. "Why? What's so special about it?"
"I've no idea," Snape said, shaking his head. "He wouldn't tell me."
"Well, that's good news, isn't it?" Charlie piped up tentatively. "Another horcrux gone?"
"Yes, and no," Remus hummed. "It's good that it's gone, but it's a little worrying that Albus is hunting them. If he finds out we know about them, that we found and destroyed one ourselves… worse, that Harry knows about the one in his scar…"
Charlie paled behind his freckles. Yes, that was not what they wanted.
"There is some good news out of the whole mess," Snape added, drawing their gazes once more. "I did what I could to stop the curse, but I couldn't get rid of it entirely. The Dark magic is leeching off his own, slowly destroying it. Albus Dumbledore will be dead within a year." A cold smirk curled across his lips. "You'd better start defaming him, Harry, before he can die a martyr."
Harry stared, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. "I… really? You're sure?" Snape nodded. "Bloody hell." He'd never really thought too hard about the act of killing Albus Dumbledore. He'd resigned himself to likely having to do it, but always hoped it would sort of… take care of itself.
Now, apparently, it was doing just that.
"That changes things," Sirius murmured. Harry nodded.
He had to make some plans.
.-.-.-.
The news about Dumbledore was certainly unsettling, but there was little Harry could do about it so far. Amelia had already gotten the ball rolling, after her pointed questioning at Sirius' trial; Harry had some time to kill before he could make his next steps.
He had to admit, it was oddly… freeing, to know that Dumbledore was dying. To have the certainty that even if Harry failed to discredit the man, he would soon be gone; restructuring the Ministry would be doable, even if Dumbledore's legacy was still in tact. Harry really just had to focus on staying alive long enough to kill Voldemort.
With that in mind, he pestered Snape into training with him the next morning. He could tell the man was in need of a little stress relief, after spending half his evening thanklessly saving Dumbledore's life. So Harry finally got the adults to break on their little moratorium on training him, and soon he and Snape were back in the ballroom with spells flying.
It felt good, to be back at it. Considering his last fight had been with very real consequences, it was nice to train again with the security that he wasn't fighting for his own life. Sure, Snape was pushing him hard, but it wasn't any harder than Harry could handle. They hit a stalemate, Snape gesturing with one hand to end the duel, and Harry was grateful for the moment to catch his breath.
"You've been holding out on me, Potter."
Harry was smiling before he'd even turned around; Draco was leaning in the doorway, his grey eyes fixed on Harry. "Draco!" Harry sprinted towards him, barrelling into the blond with a soft 'oof'. "How long were you watching?"
"Only a few minutes." Draco's hands came to his shoulders, his smile softening as he leaned in for a kiss. "That's a bit more than you taught me and the HA."
Harry flushed. "I, uh, I've been at this a while."
Draco looked past him, at Snape. "I want to learn." Harry jolted in surprise, but when he looked at Snape the man was merely nodding, lips thin.
"Considering you're likely to spend any future battles at this fool's side, it would do well for you to be adequately prepared," he agreed. "I will speak to your mother." Then he smiled, infinitesimally small. "It is good to see you well, Draco."
"You too, Uncle Sev."
"Potter." Harry straightened up expectantly. "You're dismissed, for now." An amused smirk. "I know better than to expect you not to be distracted should I send Draco away."
Harry couldn't even deny it, and laughed softly. "Thank you, sir."
"Is Narcissa with you, Draco?" Snape asked, putting his wand away.
"Down in the conservatory with Sirius," came Draco's immediate response. Snape nodded, and Harry felt that was their cue to leave, so he grabbed Draco by the hand and tugged him towards the stairs.
They ended up in Harry's bedroom, and Harry shut the door by pressing Draco back against it, crowding him in a slow kiss. God, he'd missed this boy. "I'm so glad you're safe," he murmured, hands resting on Draco's hips. "When Snape told us about the Manor wards, I was worried."
"Mother had it handled," Draco assured. "I… I've never seen you duel like that before." There was awe in his eyes, and it made Harry blush. Of course, Draco hadn't been at the Department of Mysteries. He'd never seen Harry in a real fight.
"I'm not as good as Snape," he insisted. "I think he goes easy on me sometimes, even when he says he's not."
Draco snorted. "Uncle Severus doesn't lie to spare egos, Potter." He shook his head slightly, still looking amazed. "All my life, I've watched men who are obsessed with power. Men who are addicted to it, who will do anything they can to get more of it. Who will flaunt their power over others. And you… you have so much power and you don't even care about it."
"Power is only good if you can use it to protect those who don't have it," Harry retorted, watching Draco's smile widen a fraction.
"I've never known a powerful man like you, Harry Potter," he whispered, tilting his chin up for another kiss. Harry pressed into it eagerly, sliding a hand down to Draco's backside.
"If anyone has the power here, it's you," Harry pointed out breathlessly; if Draco said jump, he'd ask how high without a second of hesitation, and they both knew it.
The blond smirked, pushing back on Harry; all the way over to the bed.
"That's what's so incredible," he drawled, gently shoving Harry onto the bed and crawling up to straddle him. Harry's pupils were wide behind his glasses, his pulse racing frantically with lust. "You're arguably the most powerful wizard in the country, and you just… let me do this." Draco's hand pushed firmly on Harry's chest, pinning him to the mattress. Harry couldn't help the low, needy groan that escaped him. "A boy could get addicted to that sort of power."
"Good," Harry gasped, desperately wishing Draco would kiss him, touch him, do something other than sit there on his lap and look at him like Harry was the most beautiful thing on the planet. "If you're addicted, you won't leave me."
Draco's laugh was like warm honey over Harry's skin. "Oh, that ship sailed long ago," he breathed, and finally he leaned down to seal their lips together.
With a careless wave of Harry's hand, the door was locked and silenced. Draco's eyes darkened at the easy use of magic. "I use my power for the important things," Harry remarked cheekily, watching amusement flash across the blond's face.
"Clearly," he drawled, fingers playing at the hem of Harry's t-shirt. "One of these days, we'll have to experiment a little with that wandless magic of yours. I'm sure we'll find quite a few good uses for it."
Harry smirked at the challenge, want pulsing through him hot and urgent. "Well it sounds like you'll be moving in this summer after all, if you're training with me," he murmured. "So we'll have plenty of time on our hands for that." This summer, next summer, after graduation; they would have all the time in the world. Draco grinned at him, grinding down against Harry, both of them moaning at the blissful friction. "Fuck, I missed you," he sighed, palming himself, head thrown back. Harry was transfixed by the pale column of his throat, Adam's apple bobbing delicately. He wanted to bite it.
He surged up to do just that, holding Draco in place while he ravaged the blond's neck, drawing desperate little gasps from his mouth that were music to Harry's ears. "Missed you, too," he breathed, biting at Draco's jaw. "Glad you're home."
If Harry had his way, Draco would be staying with him until September 1st. He was so tired of only getting snippets of time with his boyfriend.
.-.-.
Both teenagers did a remarkable job of not blushing their way through dinner; even though they'd healed the impressive number of bite marks on Draco's fair skin, Harry could still just tell that the adults around the table knew what they'd been up to.
Or, at least, they were assuming, and they weren't entirely wrong.
"Severus tells me you want to move in here, darling," Narcissa remarked, neatly cutting her lamb shank into smaller pieces. "To work on your duelling with Harry."
"Uncle Sev is the best person to teach me," Draco pointed out. "Along with everyone else who helps out with Harry's training. It won't be easy to learn what I need to know at school; this summer is the best chance for that."
Narcissa frowned thoughtfully, and Harry silently prayed to any deity that might listen. "I suppose the Manor is getting rather crowded, as of late."
"So you have been sheltering people?" Harry blurted, then flushed sheepishly. "Sorry, I— Blaise mentioned he'd heard rumours. He, uh, has some names, if you're able to take any more."
Far from offended, Narcissa just looked amused. "That boy takes after his mother entirely too much," she said fondly. "Not a whisper that woman doesn't hear about. Yes, I've invited a few acquaintances to reside at the Manor, to get some space from their… difficult home life. I can certainly look into any names Mr Zabini has provided you." Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "And I suppose Draco and I can move our things over in the morning. If that suits you well, Lord Black?" There was just a hint of teasing to her voice, and Sirius laughed.
"I've been trying to get the pair of you to move in for months, Cissa; Ceri already has your rooms picked out," he assured brightly. Harry and Draco beamed at each other across the table.
This summer was looking better and better by the minute.
.-.-.-.-.
They were officially at war.
The announcement had come in the Prophet in the middle of July, which quite frankly Harry thought was about three weeks too late. But it seemed the wizarding world was very reluctant to admit such a thing; only now they had no choice. The Death Eaters were no longer worried about keeping a low profile, attacking light-sided and muggleborn families almost every night of the week. Harry could hardly sleep for the visions that plagued him; more than once he had woken up with his wand in hand, sending a Patronus straight to Kingsley to mobilise either the aurors or the Order.
"Should we be worried about how many meetings he's having that you're not invited to?" Harry asked Snape one morning over breakfast. The Potions Master looked up from the paper.
"Only if you hear him talk about keeping information away from me," he said, unconcerned. "It has always been this way; I am his Potions Master, and his informant on Dumbledore — my position is too valuable to be risked with meaningless raids. Similarly, he believes me to reside at the castle over the summer, and I cannot be seen walking back and forth to the gates every night. I am summoned when I am needed, and do not involve myself with the rest." A sneer tugged at his lips. "A fact that would have those such as Alastor Moody convinced that I am more of a burden than an asset."
Harry scowled. "You're more of an asset than he is; he's bloody retired."
The sneer turned into a smirk. "Quite." He turned the page, then gave up on the paper entirely; he rarely had the patience for the whole Prophet before his first cup of coffee. "If anything is said that sounds like the Dark Lord is doubting me, then we shall make preparations. But until then, I can assure you this is entirely normal — under the circumstances, at least."
Beside him, Remus was frowning, much as he did any time Snape described working for Voldemort as any semblance of 'normal'.
"The only person who doubts you is Bellatrix, and she's not exactly been herself lately," Harry added with a flicker of amusement. Ever since Sirius had removed her from the Black family tree, Bellatrix seemed to have lost what little sanity she had left. Harry was amazed Voldemort put up with her raving and screeching — though she was very good at torturing, still, he supposed. After many late-night visions, he could attest to that personally.
"I'm more worried about how many meetings you're getting invited to, intentionally or not," Draco groused, his grey eyes surveying Harry fretfully. The Malfoys had only been living at Seren Du for a few days, but already it felt like they'd always lived there. "You're barely getting three hours of sleep a night!"
"I'm fine," Harry insisted, offering a smile. "I never slept much before, anyway."
"Do I want to know how you're aware of what sleep Harry is or isn't getting, Draco, darling?" Narcissa asked with raised eyebrows, her face unmoving as her son blushed.
"I can hear him walk past my room to get a cup of tea in the middle of the night," he explained defensively. Narcissa's lips pursed, but she said nothing further. Harry thought he could see a glimmer of amusement in her gaze.
"There's nothing I can do about the visions," Harry pointed out with a shrug. "I keep my Occlumency barriers up, but it doesn't stop me getting dragged into his mind. And sleeping potions aren't a long term solution." He was used to it, at this point. Used to functioning on very little sleep after years at the Dursleys'. Sure, it would be nice to sleep the whole night through every night, but honestly at this point Harry would probably wake up at four in the morning anyway, just out of habit.
Draco didn't look convinced. Harry reached over to squeeze his hand with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He could handle it. And if his visions helped save lives, he'd put up with them even if they were making him struggle.
.-.
Snape had to go and skulk around Hogwarts for a while so Dumbledore wouldn't get suspicious of his whereabouts, and Draco was helping his mother settle a few new people into Malfoy Manor, so Harry was left to his own devices that morning. With that in mind, he decided to tackle the never-ending stack of post that needed replying to. In his last batch of letters to his friends, Harry had discreetly insinuated that Dumbledore's health was beginning to fail him. Only to a couple of people; Susan, Blaise, Neville. But he knew word would spread from there.
Susan's response to the news was to not even acknowledge it, but instead to assure him she was getting in touch with other active Wizengamot members who may be amenable to their cause — gloating in the most polite way, as only Susan could. 'If I make overtures now, then with any luck I'll have good relationships with the neutral seats by the time things take their course'.
She was already at least on reasonable terms with the parents and guardians of most of their heir friends at school, thanks to an entire childhood of playdates and dinner parties. Harry absently wondered how long it would be before half the Wizengamot knew Dumbledore was dying, though none would ever admit to the information.
He wasn't worried; Susan had everything handled. Harry just had to focus on getting his hands dirty elsewhere.
But Susan was thinking of that, too; she had suggested Harry get back in contact with his lawyer, as they would need a formal suit against Dumbledore sooner rather than later.
So Harry did, penning a letter to Mrs Frobisher, asking if they could meet to discuss some of the work he had requested of her previously. He knew better than to put anything down in writing with someone working in a legal capacity, just in case it could all get turned against him.
His letter from Neville was much more mundane, and made Harry grin; apparently Ginny had accepted an invitation to stay several days at Longbottom Manor in a week's time. Susan's presence there had gone a long way to smoothing over any ruffled feathers Mrs Weasley might have, as did Neville's gran's reputation for being incredibly proper. The letter was adorable to read, his best friend flustered over his girlfriend and his gran spending time together, about the possibility of private time with Ginny. Harry did his best to give advice, but also pointed out that Ginny was an incredibly determined witch and Neville was best off just talking to her about what she expected. That had certainly worked for him and Draco, and he doubted the dynamics were all that different in a straight relationship. Considering how much Fred and George both had to say about the benefits of communication in a relationship, Harry was fairly confident that Ginny would be on the same page.
He knew the pair of them hadn't gone any further than snogging while still at school — but he also knew that she had definitely gone further with Michael Corner, though he wasn't sure how much of that she'd told Neville about.
Either way, Harry assured his friend that they would be fine, and he didn't need to feel pressured into doing anything he didn't want to do, but at the same time he shouldn't expect anything in particular from Ginny. Not that Harry thought he would — Neville was a gentleman to the point of reserve. Any progress in that relationship would almost definitely be at Ginny's urging.
Or manhandling, demanding and just outright taking matters into her own hands — that was more Ginny's style.
As he wrote his response, Harry couldn't help but look back at the letter and chuckle to himself; it was bizarre, going from one letter about political manipulations to another about normal teenage relationship woes. Sometimes he forgot he wasn't even sixteen yet himself, still just a teenager. It was nice, to be reminded of that. Harry had quiet hopes that he might be able to do a few more normal teenage things, over the summer.
Both with Draco, and with his friends.
Finishing off his letter for Neville and adding it to the stack to all be delivered to Longbottom Manor, Harry reached for the next correspondence; a three page letter from Viktor, mostly detailing his adventures with the Bulgarian quidditch team. It never failed to amaze Harry, how much the quidditch player could write, now they were more comfortable with each other. Viktor might not be much of a talker, but once he got going with a quill…
Then again, Harry remembered Viktor being quite chatty in his native tongue, with the other Durmstrang students and the small handful of others who spoke Bulgarian. Considering he strongly suspected Viktor wrote with a Translation charm, Harry was sure the man's 'quiet, reserved nature' was actually just a lack of confidence with the English language.
And probably a fair dose of feigned aloofness to keep the fans at bay. Harry could relate to that.
It made him smile to read his friend's eager recounting of some antics he and his teammates got up to at their training camp, and he happily returned the favour with a story of a prank he and Draco had pulled on Sirius and Charlie a few days before. There was a knock on his bedroom door, and Harry looked up, grinning at his godfather. "Hey, Padfoot. What's up?"
"Just letting you know we're headed to Grimmauld for dinner. Yourself included," the dog animagus replied, and Harry made a face.
"Order meeting?" he assumed, wondering if his blissful Dumbledore-free time was coming to an end. But Sirius just smiled at him, eyes sparkling.
"Nope. Family dinner." Harry cocked his head in confusion. "Charlie arranged it with Bill and Fleur; you'll get to congratulate them in person. And, ah, the Tonks' will be there. Bringing Kingsley, if he can get off work in time."
Suddenly, Harry was very suspicious of the look on his godfather's face. "When you say 'family' dinner…"
"Draco and Cissa are coming too," Sirius confirmed, bouncing on his toes. "Fleur swiped the bit of parchment Dumbledore used to let her in on the Secret. I'll be damned if I let that old goat keep my family out of my own bloody house." He grinned devilishly. "We tried to get the twins and Ginny in too — and the plus-ones, of course — but they've got stuff going on tonight. Also I thought perhaps it would be best not to have too many people around, considering Cissa and Andi haven't seen each other since before Tonks was born." A shrug. "We'll have the rest of them over some other time."
Harry blinked; that was a lot of information to take in at once. "Okay. Well, sounds good. Is Snape coming, or…?"
"No, he's managed to wiggle his way out of it. Don't want too many people knowing about him and Moony yet, after all. Might get back to the wrong ears." Sirius scowled lightly, but shook it off. "Anyway, the Malfoys will be back at four, so we're leaving at six, make sure you're presentable." He wiggled his eyebrows, making Harry blush.
"Shouldn't I be telling you that," he retorted, pointed gaze reminding his godfather that it had not been Draco and Harry who got caught half-naked in the library together.
Sirius just grinned wider, entirely unrepentant. "Pup, when you've had the life I have, people forgive your eccentricities," he declared happily. "As long as I'm wearing clean clothes, I'm more presentable than half the family expects of me." Harry snickered; that was certainly true. He did a mental headcount; even without Snape, that was still eleven people meeting for dinner.
And to think, that was still missing a huge chunk of the people Harry considered family these days.
"Did you ever think you could have this, Siri?" he blurted, voice suddenly small. Sirius frowned at him. "Family dinners with people you don't hate. Y'know. This." He made a broad gesture, vaguely encompassing the whole house. Sirius' gaze softened in understanding, and he leaned against the door frame.
"Not for a long time," he admitted. "And then never again after Prongs died. But… life's got a funny way of surprising you."
"Sirius!" That was Charlie, calling from somewhere in the direction of the stairs. "I'm popping into work for a bit! Trouble with one of the hatchlings. But I'll be back in time for dinner, promise. Love you!"
"Good luck, don't die!" Sirius called back cheerfully. "Love you too!"
There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and the front door opening and shutting. Sirius looked to Harry, and laughed, running a hand through his hair. "No, pup, I definitely didn't think I could have this," he agreed ruefully. "We're lucky buggers, though, aren't we?"
Harry's eyes trailed over his bedroom, with the wardrobe full of clothes that had only ever been his, the shelf full of books, the posters and the comfy bed and the big sunny window; the desk, covered in letters from friends and family. "The luckiest," he said, voice soft.
Life's surprises, indeed.
.-.-.
Narcissa Malfoy was nervous.
It was hard to tell just by looking at her, but Harry knew the tells in her son, so he knew what to look for. The way her fingers were curled ever so slightly at her sides, like she was trying not to clench her hands. The tightness to her jaw. The sharper edge to her comments, not quite sharp enough to actually hurt.
Harry would be nervous, too, in her position.
They were at Grimmauld, watching Ceri set the table for dinner. It was just the group from Seren Du so far, though Harry knew that would change soon.
The fire flared green, and Bill and Fleur stepped out. Narcissa's shoulders tensed further.
"Harry!" Fleur greeted him delightedly, beckoning him over to kiss him on both cheeks. "My, you have grown!"
He laughed. "Better late than never," he joked. "Congratulations, by the way," he added, glancing down at the very impressive engagement ring on her finger. "Blimey, that's a bit of a rock, isn't it?" Fleur beamed, holding it up for his inspection, while Bill flushed at her side. "When you work with goblins, you develop a bit of a high standard for jewellery," he defended.
"It is beautiful," Fleur declared, kissing his cheek. "But not more beautiful than the man who gave it to me."
That made Bill go as red as his hair, and Harry heard Charlie fighting a laugh behind him. Like the dragon tamer hadn't said soppier things to Sirius!
"Now I hear you have someone for us to meet, non?" Fleur pressed, turning back to Harry with intrigue dancing in her eyes. "Charlie talked a lot, but he did not say much."
"Sounds about right," Sirius piped up, earning an elbow to the ribs from his partner.
Harry was suddenly hit with a wave of nerves of his own; he'd somehow forgotten this part of the evening's proceedings. "I—" He turned around, looking desperately for platinum blond hair, and reached towards Draco. "I think you've technically met, in the past. Fleur, this is Draco Malfoy, my boyfriend. Draco, you remember Fleur, of course. And I don't know if you've met Bill?"
"Not properly," Draco replied, offering an open-palmed bow. "Well met, Lord Prewett." Then he turned to Fleur, with his most charming smile, kissing the back of her hand. "Miss Delacour, it's a pleasure. Congratulations on your engagement."
"Merci." Fleur looked back to Harry. "He is charming."
"Too charming for his own good," Harry agreed wryly. He was about to say something else, but the fire flared green again, and Draco went stock-still beside him.
The Tonks family had arrived.
Harry hadn't met Ted Tonks before, and he was quietly surprised by the kind-faced, slightly rotund man stood at Andromeda's side. He wasn't sure what he'd expected of the man Andromeda had been so in love with she'd abandoned her entire family, but… not someone who looked like a muggle green-grocer.
Still, he knew better than to take people at face value, and judging by the set of the man's shoulders as he faced his wife's estranged sister, there was certainly more to Ted Tonks than met the eye.
"Cissy," Andi murmured, voice choked with emotion.
"Andi," Narcissa replied, in the same sort of tone. "I… you're looking well, sister."
Andi cracked a smile. "A few more grey hairs since last you saw me. Entirely down to raising this one, I assure you," she added with a gesture to Tonks, earning an offended look — which was quickly turned on Kingsley when he snickered quietly. "You, on the other hand, haven't aged a day."
Narcissa's laugh only sounded slightly strained. "That isn't true, but I appreciate you saying so. I… this is your child, then? I've been told you prefer to be called Tonks." She turned to Tonks, who blinked, taken-aback.
"I… yes."
"You're welcome to call me Cissa," Narcissa offered. "Or… even Aunt Cissa, if you like. Though it may take some time to get there." She tittered quietly. Then she turned, and before she'd even said anything Draco stepped forward as if in a trance. "This is your cousin, Draco. Andi, I… I'd like you to meet my son."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Tonks," Draco responded, every inch the polite young pureblood he'd been raised to be. Andi smiled as Draco kissed her hand.
"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you." She studied him carefully, and Harry could see his boyfriend trying very hard not to fidget. "I'm very much looking forward to getting to know you, Draco," Andi said warmly, then her gaze travelled back up to her sister. "We have a lot of catching up to do."
There was a beat of silence, and then Sirius clapped his hands together. "I think dinner is ready, now we're all here?"
He was in fine hosting form, carefully seating everyone around the table so that reunions could be had without anyone getting overwhelmed. Harry found himself placed between Draco and Fleur, with Tonks and Kingsley sat opposite. Ceri flitted about, levitating plates of food in front of everyone, expertly managing the many drinks needing poured — she was a Black family elf, after all, even if it had been many years since their last dinner party.
With his knee pressed reassuringly to Draco's under the table, Harry started up a conversation with Tonks about a band that she'd got him listening to on the Wireless; a band that Draco had enjoyed too, giving them common ground to have a conversation of their own. He needn't have worried so much; by the time the second course came around, Draco was happily chatting away about school as if he'd known Tonks all his life.
"You are so protective," Fleur murmured in his ear, leaning in close. "It is very cute."
Harry flushed, turning to talk to her now that Draco was fine on his own, though he still kept his knee against his boyfriend's. "He hasn't had much in the way of good family," he replied in an undertone. "I just want this to go well."
"He is the boy you were with during the Tournament, non?" Fleur checked, and Harry nodded. "So sweet, that you have stayed together through it all. I did wonder if you were in love, when you wrote that article."
"I— I didn't know it at the time," he confessed sheepishly — though even then he'd had some idea of how much Draco Malfoy would come to mean to him. "But yeah. He's the one."
Fleur cooed delightedly. Beside her, Bill chuckled.
"Charlie mentioned you were smitten," he remarked. "I'd like to say I'm surprised, but honestly at this point I don't think anything you do could surprise me, Potter." His tone was teasing, and Harry shrugged ruefully.
"I try."
"You will have to bring him to the wedding," Fleur insisted. "Whenever it may be."
Harry glanced at Draco, imagining seeing the blond in dress robes again — and actually being able to dance with him in public, this time. "Sounds great, Fleur."
By the time they got married, Harry knew he would be ready to go public with Draco. Hell, he doubted they would be able to wait that long. With Narcissa openly setting the Malfoy family apart from the Dark, there was little reason to keep it secret these days.
As everyone grew more comfortable with each other, the conversations slowly expanded to involve the whole table; Narcissa offered recommendations for a florist for Bill and Fleur's wedding, while Ted got to talking with Charlie about the niffler nest in Ted's garden. Around the time Ceri served dessert, Harry looked over at Sirius — the Lord Black was in his element, face shining as he chatted with his cousins, Charlie's arm slung over the back of his chair. It was clear he was enjoying the company, after so long being mostly alone.
Harry could imagine him in the future, hosting even bigger dinners than this; Yule, perhaps, with the full family gathered around the enormous table. Big parties in the summer, at the Pottery so everyone could be there, spilling out onto the lawn to play quidditch and enjoy the sunshine.
The mental image made Harry's chest ache with hope — they could have that, if they just survived the war.
Dry lips pressed to his cheek, and he shook the thoughts away, meeting Draco's inquisitive gaze. "You alright, there? You were a million miles away," the blond asked quietly. Harry grinned at him, squeezing his knee.
"Just enjoying the company."
Draco gave him an odd look, but let it lie, though his fingers tangled with Harry's; he only needed one hand to eat his white chocolate parfait. After dinner they retired to the big parlour, and for once Grimmauld Place actually felt cosy and warm and the right size for the number of occupants; even the previous summer, with the entire Weasley family living there, Harry had always felt like the house was far too big.
Now it felt almost as much like home as Seren Du.
"I must say, Sirius, I love what you've done with the place," Narcissa declared, running a hand over the back of the sofa. "Your mother had horrendous taste in interior design."
Sirius' laugh was loud. "Horrendous taste in a lot of things, Cissa," he joked. "Merlin, did you know she left a portrait of herself here? Oh, the old hag used to scream—"
Harry tuned him out as he regaled his cousins with the story of the removal of Mrs Black's portrait, though he was sure Andi had heard it before. He was glad Sirius was getting to reconnect with his family. It was good for him to have someone to talk about his childhood memories with; to remind him they weren't all awful and traumatic, and to sympathise with the ones that were. Harry and Remus and Snape might have all had terrible childhoods, but they had never experienced being raised in a Dark pureblood home.
He noticed Bill beckon him over, and slipped across the room towards the redhead. Fleur was over chatting to Tonks, so they went unnoticed.
"I just wanted to let you know, you were onto something with the idea of checking the Death Eater vaults," the curse-breaker said quietly, and Harry's eyes widened.
"You found one?"
Bill nodded. "In Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. A cup; looked like it belonged to Hufflepuff herself. It was a hell of a shame to have to destroy it," he added with a slight frown. "We tried to use the ritual from that book Snape gave me, but that's definitely only for moving horcruxes from one living vessel to another. The team wanted to experiment a bit with the inanimate vessel, but Gorrak and I convinced them it was best to just destroy it and let it lie. Don't want to risk doing something we can't reverse." His face turned grim, and Harry nodded. That was a dangerous road to go down.
"So another one's been destroyed?" Bill nodded. Relief flooded Harry's veins. "Blimey." Including Harry's scar, and assuming the ring Dumbledore nearly died over was indeed a horcrux, that was six of the damned things — with only his scar and the snake remaining. "Surely there can't be many more?"
"No more than three," Bill assured. "We're close, Harry. We're getting there."
Harry grinned up at him; there was light at the end of the tunnel.
.-.-.
It was an exhausted group of six that apparated back to Seren Du, the balmy summer evening perfect for the short stroll up to the house.
"Thank you, Sirius," Narcissa murmured, linking arms with her cousin. "That was delightful." They all knew she was talking about more than just the dinner, and Sirius grinned at her, patting her hand.
"There'll be plenty more to look forward to," he promised. "The Black family used to dominate the social calendar, back in the day. I think it's about time we brought it back to that — though with better company, this time, preferably."
Narcissa's laugh chimed through the garden. "Charlie, dear, I hope you know what you're getting into with this one," she teased lightly. "A more social creature you'll never find."
"He lets me keep my dragons, I can put up with parties," Charlie replied, grinning. "I like the idea of a full house."
The couple shared a heavy look, and Harry felt like a voyeur just for being present.
They parted ways inside, each heading to their own bedrooms. Harry prayed he would get to sleep through the whole night for once, with no Voldemort-based interruptions. He just wanted one night to bask in the feeling of family.
Dragging himself to bed, he tugged the duvet up to his shoulders — and froze when his door creaked open. His wand jumped to his hand, but he needn't have bothered; it was just Draco, the moonlight shining off his pale hair.
"What's the matter?" Harry asked, reaching for his glasses. Draco was in a matching set of silver silk pyjamas, and Harry was only briefly distracted by the play of the material across his thighs. "Not that I object to a late night visit, but I'm a bit too tired for anything fun tonight." He grinned lopsidedly, and Draco rolled his eyes.
"I overheard you and Bill talking, in the parlour," he declared, and Harry froze. "What the hell are horcruxes?"
Harry sat up properly, and patted the mattress beside him. "That's… kind of a long story."
With a ball of light glowing overhead, Harry told Draco the truth — all of it, including the matter of the fragment of Voldemort's soul within Harry's own head. With every word, the blond's face grew more and more horrified.
"So that's why Occlumency doesn't help with my visions," he finished. "I can keep him out of my mind, but dreams are a sort-of… in-between space. And he's not putting much effort into keeping me out of his."
"And he doesn't know? That part of— that it's inside you?"
Harry shook his head. "Not as far as we're aware. But Dumbledore knows. That's why he blocked my magic, we think. So that he could use me to destroy both the horcrux and Voldemort himself, once the time was right. Then he could swoop in and play the devastated mentor, and keep the country eating out of the palm of his hand."
The horror on Draco's face was replaced by a scowl. "He's lucky he's already dying, the bastard," he muttered. "I'd kill him myself for what he's done to you."
Harry gave Draco a chaste kiss, stroking his face. "It's fine. Like Bill said, there's no more than three others out there, maximum. Probably less. We know how to get the one out of my scar, so we've just got to find a couple more, kill the snake, and then I can end it."
Draco tilted forward, until their foreheads were pressed together. "I wish you'd let the Gringotts team destroy the one in your head," he whispered. "But I know you won't. Fucking Gryffindor." Harry laughed quietly, fingers threading through Draco's hair.
"I've saved lives with that connection," he said. "You can't ask me to give it up for my own comfort."
A quiet sigh escaped Draco's lips. "I know. I'm not asking. But… can I stay here tonight?" He pulled back, grey eyes hopeful, tentative. "It's a hell of a lot to take in. I just— I just want to hold you. Please?"
Harry couldn't say no to that. He tugged back the duvet, shuffling them both to lie down beneath it. Draco pulled him close, Harry's back to his chest, a kiss fluttering across Harry's temple. "Promise me," he breathed, barely a whisper. "Promise me you'll get rid of it if it starts looking dangerous. If it starts looking like he's manipulating the link."
Harry put his hands over Draco's, melting back into the warmth of his boyfriend's body. Really, that was more than he could ask for — he wasn't sure he would be this calm, had their positions been reversed. "I promise," he vowed, curling his foot around Draco's ankle. "I want to survive this war, Draco. That wasn't always true, but now — now I know what's waiting on the other end of it. I won't take stupid risks. I won't let him kill me when I'm so close to winning."
Draco squeezed him tighter, his steady breath hot on Harry's neck.
Nothing more was said between them, but nothing else needed to be.
And for once, Harry slept through the night.