Harry slept for almost an entire day. And when he woke up, he hurt.
A low groan bubbled from his lips, and he heard a soft chuckle above him, fingers running through his hair. "Sleeping Beauty awakens," Draco teased in a fond whisper.
The blond was propped up on the pillows, Harry's head on his chest. Harry wasn't wearing his glasses so everything was a little fuzzy, but he thought Draco was smiling when he craned his neck up.
"Time izzit?" Harry rasped, his voice hoarse. His head was pounding, his face and throat and even ears hurt — probably all the crying, he realised belatedly.
"Half six." Harry frowned; that wasn't that long. "In the morning."
Oh.
Slowly, Harry sat up, rubbing at his eyes and rolling his stiff shoulders. His body definitely felt like he had been through a battle. "I've been out the whole day?" he realised, tensing suddenly. "What did I miss? How is everyone? Sirius—" Draco cut him off with a kiss, thumb stroking the back of his neck soothingly.
"Is fine," he promised. "I woke up last night around eight, called him on the mirror, had something to eat."
At the mention of food, Harry's stomach rumbled viciously. Draco snickered. "Should we call for breakfast in bed?"
It was tempting. Very, very tempting. But now Harry was awake, awareness slowly returning to him, he wanted to move. He'd never slept so long in his life, and even though his limbs were sore he knew they'd feel better once he got up and walked around a bit.
And he wanted to see what had happened, in the time he'd been asleep. A whole day, when there was still so much to be done — how could everyone let him sleep so long?!
"Let's go downstairs," he decided, reaching for his glasses, setting them on his face just in time to catch Draco's frown.
"Are you sure? It's early; people might not be up."
"The elves will." Harry wanted to thank them, for all their help during the battle. Many more people likely would have died without their intervention.
Draco sighed, but didn't argue when Harry rolled out of bed, searching for some clothes.
Careful not to wake Neville and Ginny, who were fast asleep and hadn't even bothered to raise the partition before passing out, the two boys dressed and crept from the room. With a quick detour to the bathroom so Harry could wash his face in an attempt to feel more human, they went downstairs to the common room. To Harry's surprise, Fleur was up, curled in an armchair by the fire. She smiled widely at the sight of them. "Harry!" she greeted, quiet but excited. "It is good to see you well. You too, Draco."
"Same to you," Harry said vehemently, feeling a rush of relief at the sight of her. "You're okay? And— and all the family?"
"All Weasleys present and accounted for," she confirmed, grin playing at her lips. "Percy lost a few fingers, and Arthur will need to rest for a few days — Bludgeoning 'ex to the ribs," she elaborated. "But everyone is alive. Blaise and Angelina and Sirius are alive. And my parents, though Papa is in the 'ospital Wing. He lost a lot of blood." At Harry's look of concern, she shook her head. "No, no, he is fine. I think he enjoys the chance for Maman's attention," she added teasingly.
"Well that's alright, then," Harry said with a chuckle. "That's… that's really good." An enormous weight off his chest, to hear the family made it through relatively unscathed. There were so many of them, he had worried it was too much to ask for everyone to survive… but they had trained well, and had a hell of a lot to live for. They were fighters.
They left Fleur to her quiet morning, the summer sun already mostly risen. There weren't many people in the corridors at such an hour, but the few they did pass grinned widely at Harry, nodding their heads in respect.
In the kitchens, the elves cried joyously at the sight of them, and then cried even more when Harry thanked them. Dobby wailed about how great a wizard Harry Potter sir was, and obligingly fetched them tea and toast and fruit — nothing too heavy, not on Harry's already confused system.
After that, Harry knew there was one more place he had to go.
The Great Hall was no longer a makeshift mausoleum. The bodies had been moved — where to he wasn't sure — and the house tables had been reset. A surprising number of people were up and about, and the moment Harry walked through the door, they were on their feet and applauding.
Harry froze like a deer in headlights, hand clamping down on Draco's, entirely unsure how to respond. Why were they applauding him? They had all fought too! They had worked just as hard! Just because he'd been the one to get Voldemort in the end…
Thankfully, Harry spotted Sirius and Charlie at the Gryffindor table, and hurried towards them as the applause died down. Sirius beamed at him, opening his arms to wrap Harry in a hug once he sat down.
"I'm surprised to see you two up," Draco commented, and Charlie shrugged.
"Woke up a little after five, couldn't get back to sleep. Our schedules are gonna be a bit wonky for the next few days anyway." He sipped at what smelled like very strong coffee.
"How are you feeling, pup?" Sirius asked, grey eyes concerned.
"Not too bad." He wasn't going to be playing quidditch any time soon, that was for sure, but he couldn't feel any real injuries. Draco had done an excellent job patching up, and he said as much, just to make the boy blush. "My magic feels weird." It was hard to describe; it felt simultaneously sluggish and wired, far more present than he was used to.
"Yeah, that'll likely even out in the next few days. You overdid it right after your maturation, that always screws with the system. That's why they tell you not to do it," Sirius added, snorting at Harry's rueful expression.
"Didn't have much of a choice, did I?" he shot back. Sirius sobered, ruffling Harry's hair.
"You did wonderfully, kiddo," he murmured, brimming with pride. "Couldn't have asked any more of you."
That brought a lump to Harry's throat, and he blinked away the tears that threatened to spill. How could Sirius say that, when so many people had died?
Draco poked him hard in the side. "Get that look off your face," he scolded. "You're not responsible for every person who walked on that battlefield, the same way I'm not responsible for every person who needed healing out there. Agreed?"
Well, there was little Harry could do to argue that.
As the morning stretched on, Sirius relayed everything that had happened after they had parted the day before. The Ministry had indeed been mostly empty, and it hadn't been difficult to separate out the genuine Dark loyalists with those who had just been too scared to go against it. The Ministry had been reclaimed, and Kingsley and Tonks — who Harry hadn't seen yet, and was relieved to hear was alive — had arranged for all the surviving Death Eaters from the battle to be contained at the Ministry holding cells, their wands snapped if they hadn't been already. It amused Harry to hear that almost no Death Eaters had wands in-tact by the time the battle ended; the HA had very much taken that lesson to heart, the ruthless little blighters. So the word had started to spread around the country, the owls of Hogwarts put to good use as people sent letters to loved ones in hiding. It would take a while, for everyone to return to their homes — if they still had homes — and to pick up the pieces of their lives, but they had time now. They had peace.
The later it got, the more people began to show up. The tables filled with an assortment of breakfast foods as if it were a normal school morning, and Harry was so ravenous from his extended sleep he ate a whole second breakfast while chatting with Cassius and Oliver. The keeper apparently had some new scars from a Flaying curse, but it was nothing permanent. He kept sending adoring looks at Cassius, detailing to anyone who would listen how the man had jumped in to save him from certain death.
Harry was startled when the post arrived — for some reason he'd forgotten entirely that such things still happened. Letters had been so rare for the last month, everyone too worried about interception.
A copy of the Daily Prophet fell to the table in front of Sirius, and Harry groaned loudly at the front page.
'Boy-Who-Lived becomes Man-Who-Defeated. You-Know-Who dead, Ministry reclaimed.'
"They couldn't come up with a better nickname?" Harry complained, glaring at the paper. "'Man-Who-Defeated', Merlin, that's even more of a mouthful than the last."
"At least you're a man now," Charlie pointed out amusedly. "Won't have to live with being called a boy forever."
That was hardly a glowing endorsement, and Harry continued to scowl, eyeing the picture of him stood bloodied and dishevelled in the midst of all the destruction, his wand at his side. When the hell had someone even gotten that picture? Who brought a camera to a battle?
Sirius spread the paper out over the table so everyone could read it — inside, there was a long article recounting the battle from someone who had apparently been 'in the centre of the action', though Harry didn't recognise the name in the byline. To their credit, it was a fairly accurate account of things. A lot of it was information that was brand new to Harry; he'd been a bit single-minded at the time, and hadn't noticed a lot of what was going on around him. He hadn't known about the troll that made it all the way to the castle walls only to be slaughtered by the animated suits of armour, or the house elf that had bludgeoned Amycus Carrow to death with a cast-iron pan. From the description of the elf, it was very likely Dobby. Harry hadn't realised his small friend was so bloodthirsty. For eight pages the article went on about the battle, and then it led into a much shorter description of the reclaiming of the Ministry — no one involved had wanted to share details, it seemed. At the end, a full page was taken up with a request for all those employed by the Ministry prior to the Dark Lord's insurrection to come into the office at their earliest convenience, to reclaim their jobs and begin dealing with the mess. It also stated, to Harry's delight, that Amelia Bones had been made interim Minister, and there would be a formal election as soon as such things could be arranged.
That delight quickly faded, however, when he turned to the final pages of the paper, and found the obituaries.
It was nothing detailed. A list of names, split into two sections; those who died fighting for the Light, and those who died wearing the garb of Death Eaters. The latter section was much larger, but it still made Harry's heart ache to see a whole twenty-nine names in the former section. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the neat printed letters; Colin Creevey, Hogwarts Student, 16.
Far, far too young.
Harry was startled out of his reverie by a commotion up at the staff table — a red-faced and crying man was being held back by two of his fellows as he tried to lunge at Professor Snape, who had just left the table. Rage flaring within him, Harry was up like a shot, hurrying over. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he roared, raising his wand in defence of Snape, placing himself between the two.
"Even you're defending him!" the man spat. "How the hell is he just sitting there, easy as you please — he should be in the cells with all the other Death Eater scum! We all saw him yesterday, right at his master's side, the perfect little lap dog. We've all known for years about his true loyalties! Murdering piece of shit!"
The man tried to lunge again, but was held back, though there was a slowly gathering crowd behind them who looked like they may share the man's sentiments. Harry's stomach curdled — in all his relief, he had almost forgotten about this part.
"Severus Snape has been spying on the Dark for longer than I've been alive!" Harry growled. "He was with Voldemort yesterday because that was exactly where I needed him to be. Did you ever think that maybe there were plans going on that you weren't fucking privy to?"
The man didn't falter. "He's got you right fooled, hasn't he, Potter? Wrapped around his slimy little finger, believing he was on your side all along. He's a traitorous little worm and he deserves to rot for everything he's done!"
"Everything he's done?" Harry repeated incredulously. "Do you mean all the Death Eater raids he informed the Order about in time for them to send help? Or the misinformation he gave to Voldemort for years? Or do you mean training me himself for the last three years so I would actually have the ability to last long enough to off the bastard?" He sneered, watching the man go from very red to very pale in a matter of moments. "I don't need to explain myself to you," he added hotly, "but safe to say Severus Snape is the only reason I was able to kill Voldemort— STOP FLINCHING, it's just a name, he's bloody dead!" he snapped, seeing how many people still shuddered every time he said it. "There's more to this situation than you know, so don't start thinking you have the right to judge him when you know nothing. Hell, he's more of a hero than I am!"
The man still glared at Snape over Harry's shoulder. "How do you know you can trust him? How can you put your faith in that greasy little turncoat? You say he wasn't the Dark Lord's — then he was Dumbledore's man for a bloody long time; how do you know he isn't going to kill you as soon as your back is turned?"
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but before he could get even a word out, there was a loud bang.
Remus Lupin had shoved the door to the hall open so hard it hit the stone, and was stood in the open doorway, absolutely fuming. His eyes glowed a vibrant gold, lips pulled back in a snarl, and even with his left arm in a sling to protect his healing collarbone he still managed to look intimidating. "Anyone," he growled, stalking down the aisle between the tables, "who wants to get at Severus Snape, is going to have to go through me."
The man arguing with Harry scrambled back a step in fear as Remus placed himself protectively in front of Snape. "We did not spend eighteen bloody years hiding the truth for some whiny little idiot to damn Severus for crimes he was forced to commit just to keep people alive." He puffed up as if his hackles were raising, glaring at the man, looking exactly like the person who would lift a full grown troll corpse off a school child — and exactly like the werewolf he was, the predator everyone forgot he could be.
Then he straightened his back, gold eyes looking around the hall as if daring anyone else to try him. "I did not fight this goddamn war just to lose the man I love to your fucking prejudice."
And then he turned on his heel, fisted his good hand in the front of Snape's robes, and pulled him in for a fierce, passionate kiss.
Harry could do nothing but stare — Snape didn't even argue, tilting his head for better access, arm sliding around Remus' waist as the werewolf utterly devoured his mouth right there in front of everyone.
He'd known these men for years, known about their relationship, the truth of their lives, everything, and yet it was just hitting him now that he had never actually seen them kiss. Not more than a peck on the cheek, not in front of him, and always so careful never to get caught around the house unlike Sirius and Charlie, who didn't give a single fuck.
Looking at them, Harry was sort of glad for that — if he'd seen them kiss, if they were always like this, back when he'd been a fourth year, well… it may have led to some very confusing dreams for him. Damn.
The hall was nothing but stunned silence. Until finally, a wolf-whistle pierced the air. "Put the man down, Moony!" Sirius called, barely holding in his laughter. "There are children about!"
Harry was sure that if his hands weren't otherwise occupied, Remus would have flipped off his best friend there in front of everyone, but he did end the kiss, pulling back slowly and looking at Snape with so much love it made Harry's breath catch. "I've waited all this time," he said, still with a bit of the wolf in his voice, carrying clearly through the expanse of the hall. "They can't have you. You're mine."
Snape's kiss-swollen lips twisted in a smirk. "Yes, I think you've made that quite clear," he agreed wryly.
Harry tore his eyes away, looking back at the man who had started the whole argument, who was utterly gobsmacked. "Walk away," he warned, voice quiet but threat very clear. "Don't involve yourself in situations you know nothing about."
Finally, the man slumped, and allowed his fellows to lead him back to the table.
When Harry turned around, a smug grin took over his face, seeing Remus and Snape still in a loose embrace, Snape more dishevelled than Harry had ever seen him in public. "Well, that's that cat out of the bag, then," he remarked. Both men turned to look at him, Remus having the grace to look just barely embarrassed.
"It was going to happen sooner or later," he said, shrugging, then wincing as he remembered he was still healing. "Can't say I'm sorry about it."
A quiet snort escaped Snape. "Of course you're not," he muttered, shooting his partner an exasperated look. "Damned fool Gryffindors."
He didn't sound mad about it. Harry laughed, hugging the pair of them, uncaring about all the eyes still on them. "I'm really glad you both made it out okay," he said fiercely. He felt someone press a kiss to his hair.
"You and me both, cub," Remus murmured. "You and me both."
.-.-.-.
After that rather eventful morning, Hogwarts finally began to clear out a bit. Everyone was fairly fed up of being cooped up in the castle for the last month, and Harry was quietly relieved when he saw so many people packing up and heading out. He was really quite sick of being stared at.
Through lack of anything else to do, his body still weary and his brain still somewhat scrambled from everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, Harry remained seated at the Gryffindor table, watching the world pass him by. Occasionally someone stopped to talk — it seemed everyone wanted to thank him before they left the castle — but mostly he just sat with Draco and watched everyone else begin the day.
He was just contemplating making himself useful in the hour or so before lunch, when a throat cleared behind him. Susan Bones smiled at him, her left eye covered in patch made of yellow fabric dotted with tiny gold suns. "Susan!" he greeted, startled. "What happened?"
"Cutting curse to the face," she relayed matter-of-factly. "Pomfrey healed the scar, but she couldn't save my eye. It's fine, though; doesn't even hurt. I just keep bumping into things, my depth perception is shot to hell." She gave a dismissive shrug. "Theo jazzed up my patch a bit, though, do you like it?"
Looking at the cheerful patch, thinking of the somewhat dour Slytherin, Harry grinned; that was unexpectedly adorable of him.
"It, uh, looks great. But that's awful, I'm sorry."
"It's not that bad," Susan insisted. "Still got the other one, after all! Anyway, I was hoping to catch you — Aunt Amelia is going to call a Wizengamot meeting tomorrow. She wants every eligible seat claimed proper, so we can start cleaning this mess up."
"Oh," Harry said, surprised. "That's fast."
Susan grinned. "You did your bit," she replied, "it's my turn now. We aren't going to have a full session — there's a whole lot of work to do before we can start fixing the laws around here — but it'll be enough to get everyone sworn in and introduced and all that. Make the old relics who still have their seats aware that we're coming for them." She grinned a shark-like smile, eye gleaming eagerly. For a brief moment, Harry felt very sorry indeed for the existing Wizengamot members.
A sudden thought struck him. "Have you asked McGonagall?" he asked, frowning. "I mean, she should be fine with it, but… half of us are still students, after all. It's going to disrupt our studies, she should be aware of it."
Susan frowned too. "I hadn't thought of that," she confessed. "You don't think she'll make us assign proxies, do you?"
"I doubt it. She knows enough to know we've been planning all sorts for a while, I think she'd be happy to let us just get on with it. Hell, I think we've all proven that external distractions won't mess with our grades."
That made the Hufflepuff girl laugh. "Fair point. Look, why don't we gather everyone up, go find her in her office. Well," she faltered, frowning. "Maybe not everyone. Parvati…"
Harry grimaced, that sharp grief returning. "How is she?"
"About as you'd expect. Lavender's with her, so that's helping a bit, but… I think she's going to go home, as soon as the meeting's over tomorrow. India-home, not England-home." Susan's lower lip wobbled.
"That— yeah. She should be with family." He couldn't imagine what it was like to lose a twin.
Sniffing quietly and shaking her head, Susan forced a smile back on her face. "Shall we go now, then? Do you know where McGonagall is?"
Harry rummaged through the castle's wards. "She's in her office. I'll nudge everyone." He sought out his friends, all the student heirs, pushing his magic through the wards to send them a prod and a mental image of McGonagall's office.
Susan blinked, eyeing him weirdly. "That is bizarre, could you always do that?"
"I don't think so? But I can now." His connection to the castle was so much closer, now.
"Huh. I wonder if Hannah can do that." She shrugged. "Not important. Let's go. I— are you coming, Draco? Or is your mother going to keep holding proxy?"
When Harry stood, Draco stood with him. "She'll keep proxy of all the other seats my father amassed — she's still tracking down heirs for most of them — but the Malfoy seat is mine."
"Perfect." Susan linked arms with Harry. "She's terrifying, your mum, so that works out well for us."
Draco snickered. "I'm telling her you said that."
"Please do. I meant it as a compliment."
The three of them headed up to their headmistress' office, and met up with the small crowd of other heirs at the door. Not all of them had come — some, like Hannah, were still in the Hospital Wing.
"Please don't do that again, Harry," Ernie said with a weary sigh. "I was in the shower and you frightened the life out of me."
"Sorry," came Harry's sheepish reply. "Emergencies only in future, promise."
Susan squeezed his hand, then stepped up to the door and knocked. "Come in!" McGonagall called, freezing in place when she saw how many students awaited her. She was sat at her desk, quill in hand, writing what looked like a stack of letters.
Condolence letters, Harry realised with a sick twist of his stomach, for the families of students who had fallen in battle.
"If you're about to disrupt my day, Potter, you and your friends can come back in an hour," she said flatly. Harry snorted.
"We're not. At least I don't think we are," he promised. "We just need a quick word."
All of them filed into the room, Susan almost tripping over the chair opposite the desk. She gave McGonagall the same information she'd given Harry, about the meeting gathering in the morning. "All of us are eligible to claim our seats, and fully intend to do so tomorrow. But Harry said we should run it by you first, since it means we'll need to leave school sometimes and whatnot. I know Dumbledore strongly encouraged students to keep proxies until they graduated," she made a face, "but that really isn't going to sit well with us, Headmistress. All due respect, of course."
McGonagall's lips twitched. "Indeed," she said dryly. "Well, Miss Bones, you'll be pleased to hear that I have no intention of putting my nose in where it doesn't belong; I am your headmistress, not your guardian. As long as your duties to your family do not begin to impede your studies, you'll have no trouble from me or any of the staff about it." Her eyes flashed. "It's about time I took my own seat, after all."
That reminded Harry of something he hadn't even realised until that very moment. "What about the Hogwarts seats?" he blurted. "I— technically they're ours. But they usually come with being head of the school…" Sure, they all had other seats of their own, but…
"If the founders' magic has risen within you, it is for more reasons than just protecting this school from danger," McGonagall said evenly. "Far be it from me to argue with that sort of magic. All four of you should claim your seats, as is your birthright. Though Miss Lovegood may need to come of age, first, despite the… interesting circumstances behind all this."
"Luna's making me her proxy," Daphne volunteered. "If the hall allows it."
Harry swallowed thickly, wondering if anyone had found Mr Ollivander yet.
"That's settled, then," McGonagall assented, nodding firmly. "I look forward to watching the lot of you turn the entire Ministry on its head." The amusement returned in the barest curl of her smile. "Now, if you've nothing else to discuss, I have quite a lot of work to be getting on with."
They left her to it, parting ways in the corridor as everyone returned to their plans for the day. Harry leaned against Draco, pressing his forehead to the blond's temple and breathing in deeply. "Do you need to lie down?" Draco asked worriedly, but Harry shook his head.
"No. No, I feel a lot better, actually." Susan's task had been just what he needed to kickstart his brain again, remind him that he couldn't start drifting into uselessness now. In some ways, the battle had just begun. "Let's go find Sirius. There's some things I need to get sorted."
Draco frowned, confused, but didn't argue.
.-.-.-.
Perhaps Harry may have jumped the gun, just a little bit.
Between him and Sirius, they had a list of Black family properties currently being used as safehouses, and split it evenly between them — many of the people in hiding were not likely to trust a letter, or the Prophet. They would not leave until they could be absolutely sure things were safe for them.
So the pair of them left the castle together, and apparated separately to their first destinations. Technically Harry doing so was illegal, but he rather suspected the Ministry had bigger things to worry about.
One by one, he knocked on doors and greeted families, spreading the good news. He was hugged and cried on and thanked profusely, every house full of people whose eyes shone at the news they could finally rejoin the world. His last stop was the Pottery, and by the time he got there he was somewhat light-headed from all the apparition jumps. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to expend such magical energy the day after nearly emptying his core fighting Voldemort.
But he was almost done now. Just this one, and then home.
As always, stepping through the Pottery wards felt like a warm hug, the whole place welcoming him home. A frisson of excitement ran through him at the possibility of soon making this place his actual home. Filling it with all the furniture from the Potter vaults, turning it into a space he could spend the rest of his life in. Build a family in.
There were a few kids running around the garden, making the most of the summer sunshine, and they skidded to a halt at the sight of Harry walking up the driveway.
"Can you round everyone up and come inside?" Harry called, catching Nashira's eye as she was the oldest of the group he could see. "I need to talk to everyone."
He hated the way her face hardened, clearly expecting the worst.
Harry entered the house, and immediately Essie and Tinker were in front of him. "Hi, guys. Could you get everyone in the house to the ballroom, please? Everyone in the tents, too."
The pair nodded eagerly, disappearing, and Harry headed straight for the largest room in the house.
The occupants gathered quickly, wary as they looked at Harry, hope creeping into their eyes at the smile on his face. He stood at the head of the room, waiting patiently until what looked like everyone was inside. It had to be at least seventy people — Merlin, he hadn't realised they'd crammed so many in!
"I'm guessing some of you have seen the Prophet this morning," he began, watching several sets of shoulders grow tense. "It's real. Lord Voldemort is dead; I killed him myself. The war is won."
A collective intake of breath, followed by a few murmured prayers. "All of you are free to go, if you wish. I'm going to give the Fidelius another week before I end it, just to give you all time to sort yourselves out. If you need to stay a little longer — if your home isn't in the same state you left it — that's absolutely fine. Take as long as you need to get back on your feet. There's no rush." He didn't want anyone to feel like he was kicking them out.
"It's the truth?" someone gasped, stunned. "It… it's finally over?"
Harry nodded. "We can't guarantee there isn't a Death Eater or two lying low somewhere, but we got all the ones who turned up at Hogwarts to fight. And we're working on straightening out the Ministry." Between Amelia and Kingsley, Harry was sure things would soon be put to rights, the staff thoroughly vetted — both for undercover Death Eaters, and for those just so corrupt and heartless that they aided the Dark for their own gain.
"What about us?" The small voice of Nashira, calling out clearly over the muttering. She was stood with her twin siblings and a huddle of other kids; all underage, and all with parents either missing or dead.
"Kingsley Shacklebolt is liaising with the muggle government to try and track down families of muggleborns who might have gone into hiding without using magic," Harry told the kids. "I'll be honest — we don't know how long it's going to take. But we're doing the best we can. If any of you have friends or cousins or other people you'd like to go and stay with, we can work out getting in touch with them. But all of you are welcome to stick around for the summer." Most of them would be going back to Hogwarts in September, now it was safe. Those who were too young even for that… by September, they would have figured out the guardianship situation. He hoped.
By the looks on their faces, Harry could see that at least the older children understood that there was a very high chance their parents wouldn't be found. Kingsley had said the muggles were pretty good at keeping track of deaths, especially those that had happened under suspicious circumstances in the last eighteen months — hopefully they could provide closure, if nothing else.
"We're in your debt, Mr Potter," Mr Pershore declared solemnly, squeezing through to the front of the crowd and dropping to one knee, holding his wand up in supplication. "If you need anything of the Pershore family, anything at all, it would be an honour to aid you."
At his words, several others kneeled as well, offering their wands. Harry coughed uncomfortably.
"There's no need for any of that," he insisted, fidgeting under the intensity of all that gratitude. "I just did what was right. If you really want to honour that, help us rebuild. Help each other rebuild. Magical Britain is a small community, in the scheme of things — we need to stick together."
Luckily, that gained a general murmur of approval, and people got to their feet once more.
Now that Harry had confirmed the good news, the occupants of the Pottery jumped into action, the whole house buzzing with excitement as everyone made plans to return to their houses and contact their loved ones. Harry left them to it, smiling and promising to be in touch if anyone needed anything. At the edge of the wards, he gathered his tired magic for one last apparition.
The crack that heralded his return to Hogwarts was much louder than usual, but he was all in one piece, so Harry counted that as a win. At least, he did until he took a step forward and the world lurched sideways.
"Oh, dear." A surprisingly strong arm linked through his, keeping him upright, and a delicate floral perfume tickled his nostrils.
Narcissa Malfoy smiled fondly at him, patting his cheek. "Overdone it a bit, have we?" she said knowingly. "I'll save the lecture for my son."
Harry groaned. "Do we have to tell him?"
Setting off towards the castle, Narcissa laughed. Harry tried not to lean on her too obviously as they walked. "You had better get used to it. My dragon is awfully protective of those he loves."
"Understatement of the century," Harry said, and she laughed again. "How were things at the Manor?" He knew Narcissa had gone to do much the same as him and Sirius — those staying at her house were even less likely to trust the word of the Prophet.
"They're delighted, of course, but… many of them now have family to mourn, even if they're really quite relieved that family is dead. It's a difficult situation."
Harry hummed in agreement, remembering how torn Draco had been when his father died. You could be aware that someone was a foul, bigoted prick, but that didn't stop them being family. Didn't stop you remembering the good times as well as the bad.
"At least they can start to move on, now," he mused.
With the castle in sight, Harry took a moment to survey the grounds ahead. He hadn't really given it a good look on his way out, too focused on Sirius and their plans. It was… well, it certainly looked like a war zone. All around them the grass was churned up, deep gouges of spellfire cutting through the earth, darker patches of what was definitely dried blood dotted about the place. The lake seemed murkier, too, and Harry did a double-take at seeing a tentacle breach the surface of the water holding what looked like a troll leg.
At least the squid was having fun.
"It's nothing that can't be fixed," Narcissa said gently, following his gaze across the bare expanse of earth. "I believe Professor Sprout and your friend Neville are already discussing the best ways to return the grass to its former glory. There was even discussion of a flower garden, as a memorial."
Harry swallowed thickly. He'd like that a lot.
"While I have you to myself, darling, I wanted to thank you." Harry looked oddly at the blonde woman.
"What for?"
She let out an airy chuckle. "What for, he asks! Harry, my son is alive, my family is safe, and I am not facing persecution as a Death Eater. None of that would have happened had you not been involved."
"I didn't do all of that," Harry argued. "You stood up against the Death Eaters after Lucius died. You helped keep everyone safe, too."
"But I was only able to do so with the knowledge that I had Harry Potter in my corner. Your name carries a lot of weight, you know."
He blushed, uncomfortable with the reminder. "All I did was fall in love with Draco," he muttered abashedly. "The rest sort of just happened, after that."
Narcissa giggled, squeezing his arm, resting her head on his shoulder for just a moment. "Indeed. Then may I just say I am very, very glad you did so. And not just because it led to my own safety." She looked up at Harry, grey eyes softening, creasing at the corners. "I have never seen my son happier than when he is with you. It is all I ever wanted for him in the world, and more; to be loved as fiercely as he offers his own love. We Blacks can be rather… intense, with our emotions." Harry snorted; that was putting it lightly.
"He deserves all that love, and more. He deserves everything." Everything Harry could give him, and then some.
"As do you," Narcissa said, and his chest tightened. "You are family, Harry, and I will do everything I can to aid you and my son in building the future you have worked so hard to reach. However that future may look; you have my support."
A lump rose in Harry's throat, his heart filling with an unexpected burst of warmth. "I have a ring," he blurted before he could help himself. "From the Potter vaults. I… he thinks he's going to be the one to propose, but I…"
Narcissa chuckled, mischief flashing in her eyes. "Yes, I daresay that will ruffle his feathers a bit, getting beaten to the punch." Harry held his breath, stopping in his tracks, as Narcissa took his hand and met his gaze. "You have my blessing, Harry. Not that I think you need it, but if there was any doubt in your mind — I cannot think of anyone better suited to my son than you."
He swallowed hard. His eyes itched. "Thank you," he rasped. "I— that's good to know." Narcissa was right, he would have done it regardless of her opinions, but… he would much rather have her on board.
"You silly thing," she tutted, kissing his forehead. "As if I would turn you away. Sirius and Andi would never speak to me again, for one!"
A choked laugh erupted from Harry's lips, and Narcissa gently urged him forward once more. "Come on, darling. If I'm not mistaken, it looks like there might be a party brewing."
Harry blinked, looking up at the castle, the illuminated windows shining brightly in the gold-hued evening light.
A party sounded nice. But a nap sounded better.
.-.-.
Luckily, Harry got his nap — Draco took one look at his ashen face and marched him right up to bed, muttering all the while about foolish Gryffindor idiots who didn't know their own limits.
Draco napped with him, cuddling him close above the blankets, the window open to let in a cool breeze and the sound of birdsong. It was perfect.
They woke in time for a late dinner, and came down to the Great Hall to find that a party had indeed been brewing, and was now in full swing.
There were just two tables left in the hall, both laden with mouthwatering food, and Harry eagerly took a seat beside Ginny and began piling his plate high. "I like the hair," he complimented. She beamed.
Where the night before it had been tufted and slightly charred, the left side of her hair at all sorts of ragged lengths in the wake of whatever spell had caught her, now it had been cleaned up a bit, made to look intentional — the side of her head was shaved to a soft red fuzz up to her side-parting, a juxtaposition with the fiery curtain of hair on her right side. It looked incredibly cool, and Harry wondered if she was about to start a new trend.
"Tonks did it!" Ginny enthused. "I actually really love it — I'd been thinking about changing up my hair, y'know. Wasn't planning on something quite as drastic as this, but it looks way better than I expected. And feel how soft it is!" She grabbed his hand, lifting it up to stroke the shaved side of her head. It was indeed velvet-soft. "Fleur's mum got my ear grown back, too!"
Harry hadn't even noticed that; the entire top half of her ear had regrown, not quite the same shape it once was, but present all the same. "Congrats." He tweaked the ear gently, making Ginny scowl and duck away, laughing. It looked like just about everyone who had come to the castle for refuge had left it now the world was safe for them — looking around the room, Harry only saw his family and friends, and those who fought alongside them. Except for a few he suspected were waiting on loved ones to be released from the Hospital Wing, it seemed the castle was back down to only hosting a few extra bodies. The core of the rebellion, still in need of a base of operations while they figured out how to move forward.
Harry had never seen them all so happy. The hall was filled with laughter and bright conversation, even those still recovering from injuries in good spirits. They hadn't forgotten what it cost them, of course — Harry saw more than one toast to fallen friends happen that evening — but alongside the mourning, they had to take the chance to celebrate their victory. To remember why it was all worth it.
The entire past Gryffindor quidditch team — Harry's original quidditch team — were clustered around the end of one table with their partners and Viktor Krum, Oliver Wood's exuberant hand gestures making Harry suspect they were talking quidditch. Charlie was with them, too, one hand tangled in Sirius' on the tabletop, both of them in entirely different conversations but still connected, always in each others' orbit. Opposite Sirius, Remus was practically sitting in Snape's lap; the werewolf was glowing with joy at finally being able to express his love openly, arm draped around Severus' back as he chatted with his best friend. Snape didn't really do 'glowing with joy', but he was smiling ever so slightly, and putting up with all the noise, so that said it all as far as Harry was concerned.
Most of the heirs were on the other table, none of them bothering to try and go home when they'd all have to go to the Wizengamot in the morning. Besides, they had earned this — they had fought in this battle that the adults insisted they were too young to handle, and they had survived it and won and they deserved to be proud of that. They were with other students, too; the HA past and present, all those who Harry had started out with just a Disarming charm and a simple Protego. How far they had come, now.
"Are you getting maudlin, Potter?" Draco asked with raised eyebrows, drawing Harry away from his perusal of the crowd around them. Harry smiled sheepishly, leaning into him.
"Not maudlin," he insisted. "Just… relieved."
Draco's gaze narrowed. Then he pressed a kiss to Harry's lips, and a glass in Harry's hand. "Have a drink and stop thinking so much," he insisted. "You've earned it."
Harry knocked back the drink, coughing slightly at the fierce burn of high quality firewhiskey. "Blimey. Where'd that come from?"
"Charlie," Draco told him, smirking and topping up Harry's glass. "He stopped by the dragon reserve to check in with work, and I guess someone over there had a big stash of the good stuff, decided to share."
That explained a lot, actually; from Charlie's stories, dragon tamers were notoriously good at handling their alcohol. Harry looked down at the cup, then turned suspicious eyes on his boyfriend.
"Are you trying to get me drunk?" he drawled, watching as Draco's smirk widened, his eyes darkening.
"A drink or two won't hurt." His tone was even, but there was no mistaking the spark of lust in that quicksilver gaze. Harry leaned in, nuzzling his temple.
"If you want me to fuck you against the wall again, you don't need to get me soused," he breathed huskily. "Or d'you just want me getting all handsy with you so everyone in this room knows I'm taken?" Like they weren't already well aware.
Under the table, Draco squeezed his thigh. "Why can't it be both?" he asked innocently. "Slytherin dorms have all been emptied. I checked with the elves."
Heat pooled in Harry's gut. "Later, then," he promised, kissing his cheek and then pulling back, taking another swallow of alcohol. There was no need to leave the party early — they could keep it in their pants for another few hours.
As the food cleared from the tables and more and more alcohol appeared from seemingly nowhere — seriously, this was a school, where was it all coming from?? — Harry let himself finally relax, joining in with the festivities.
Fred and George, being Fred and George, produced a whole bunch of their indoor fireworks, which caused McGonagall to just sigh exasperatedly and loudly declare how grateful she was that they had graduated.
They all got up from the tables, mingling freely; adults and students alike, all levelled by their experiences, all revelling in the possibilities of the new future that awaited them. Across the hall, Susan and Justin were loudly expounding on their plans for the Wizengamot to a group of slightly terrified looking HA members, while Theo stood at Susan's side with a smile that said he was very proud of his girlfriend but also would be happy to murder anyone who stood in her way. Not far from that, Luna seemed to have started a dance party with no music, joined by a handful of people drunk enough to join in enthusiastically. Mrs Weasley was stood with her husband and a few other ex-Ministry workers, sending increasingly concerned glances at her daughter, who seemed to have challenged Viktor Krum to a drinking match. Ginny had a dismayed Neville on one side and a surprisingly enthusiastic Hagrid on the other, the half-giant cheering her on as she downed cider at a rate that had Harry goggling. On the one hand, he could see what the Weasley matriarch was worried about. On the other, he figured Ginny had earned it. And Hagrid was supervising! She'd be fine.
Laughing to himself, he turned back to the group he was with, shoulder pressing against George. Draco and Blaise had wandered off to talk to Cassius and some others about Slytherin things — or possibly wedding things, Harry wasn't sure — so their two Gryffindor boyfriends had banded together.
"Harry!" The exclamation came from Sirius, who by this point was absolutely plastered. Harry couldn't really blame him; the war was over, their family was alive, and his godfather had an excellent future ahead.
"Harry!" Sirius grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. "You— you're the best, y'know? I told Prongs, I told him when you were born — this kid is gonna be brilliant. And I was right!" He beamed widely. "If him and Lily could see you now! They'd be so bloody proud of you. I'm so bloody proud of you. My godson, defeater of Voldemort!" he shouted, and a cheer went up around the hall. Harry blushed, even as he smiled. "I love you so much, pup. You're my son! Not, not really my son — I never ever touched Jamie's girl, not ever, I swear it! — but, but, you're my son in here." He thumped his chest, over his heart. Over his godfather's shoulder, Harry saw Remus stifling his helpless laughter in Snape's shoulder.
"I love you too, Padfoot. And— you're my dad, in here, too," he added, putting a hand to his own chest, refusing to admit to the tears welling in his eyes.
Sirius blinked rapidly, his own eyes getting misty — then he leaned in and pressed a big wet kiss to Harry's forehead. "Hey, hey Harry," he pestered again, grabbing Harry's wrist, stepping back. "Y'know Charlie?" He pointed at the dragon tamer, who was much better at holding his alcohol, sat on the edge of the table and watching his drunk boyfriend with an indulgent expression. "Yeah, I know him," Harry confirmed, trying not to laugh. Sirius' eyes sparkled, looking between the two. Then he let go of Harry's wrist, and stood right in the middle of their little circle of people.
"I am gonna marry that man," he declared firmly, pointing his finger vehemently at Charlie. He stumbled closer to his boyfriend, poking him in the chest. "I am. I'm gonna marry you."
Charlie's smile widened, bringing out the dimples in full force. "Are you, now?" he drawled, raising one red eyebrow. "Well, I have to say it — that was a shit proposal, sweetheart. You're gonna have to do better."
All of them laughed at Sirius' exaggerated pout. "I will," he promised, falling against Charlie's chest, the redhead's arm automatically steadying him around the waist. "I'll do better. I love you!"
"I love you, too, Sirius," Charlie assured fondly, kissing the taller man's jaw. The smile that stretched across Sirius' face was the biggest one of them all, and Harry couldn't help but grin widely in response.
"I need another drink!" Sirius declared, straightening up and swaying as he did so.
"I really don't think you do," Tonks replied with a laugh. Sirius whipped around to her, pointing an accusing finger.
"That's what a sober person would say!" he accused. "You need another drink. Or any drink. I haven't seen you drink! Why aren't you drinking?"
Now that he mentioned it, Harry couldn't recall seeing anything but water in Tonks' hand all night.
The auror blushed a furious red. "I just don't feel like it, alright," she defended. "I don't have to drink at parties."
"No, but you usually do," Charlie said, eyes narrowing at his best friend. "You're usually keeping pace with me. You didn't even get hurt, you've got no excuse!" Tonks went wide-eyed, her mouth opening and closing in soundless stutters. Suddenly, Charlie gasped. "Ohhh. Fuck me!" he yelped, much louder than intended, drawing the attention of half the room.
"Yes please," came Sirius' immediate response.
"Are you serious?" Charlie continued, ignoring his partner and staring wide-eyed at Tonks. "You're not. Are you—"
"Alright!" Tonks cried out, her purple hair turning red with the force of her blush. "Yes! Fine! You got me! I'm not drinking because I'm pregnant!"
Harry choked on his own drink. And then he heard a glass shatter.
All of them whipped around to see Kingsley Shacklebolt, previously mid-conversation with Amelia and Narcissa, staring with comically huge eyes in their direction, a growing puddle of beer on the floor where he'd dropped his glass in shock. "You're…"
"I'm pregnant," Tonks confirmed, quieter this time. "I was going to say something later. Privately. But these two idiots had to go and give the game away." She turned an annoyed glare on Sirius and Charlie.
Ignoring the splinters of glass in front of him, Kingsley strode over, not looking away from Tonks for a second. "You're pregnant," he echoed, once he was stood in front of her. His gaze dropped to her stomach. "There's…"
"There's a baby in there," she said, grinning tentatively. "Or at least, there will be, once it's grown a bit. I'm only ten weeks."
"You went into battle at ten weeks pregnant!" Mrs Weasley screeched as she hurried over, summoned by the talk of babies. "What were you thinking!"
"I was thinking I needed to give it every chance I could to make this world a place worth raising a child in!" Tonks defended. "I had a shield up. It was fine! It's fine. The baby's totally fine. Pomfrey checked." The last part was said to Kingsley again, who had gone ashen at the reminder of Tonks' presence on the battlefield.
"You should have told me. Before," he said. Tonks looked at him with challenge in her eyes.
"You would have made me stay in the castle," she argued. Kingsley didn't deny it.
"I didn't even know she was seeing anyone," George muttered at Harry's side, though the sound carried in the shocked silence. Harry snorted — he still hadn't figured it out yet??
Kingsley stepped even closer, one hand pressing gently against Tonks' stomach. Much closer than a co-worker would get, or even a friend. "A baby?"
"A baby." A cautious smile tugged at Tonks' lips. "Is that… okay?"
Kingsley's only response was to hug her tightly, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around, kissing her like his life depended on it. As he pulled back and set her down, there was a beaming smile on his face, wider than Harry had ever seen from the stoic man. "It's fantastic," he declared firmly.
"So that's why you didn't want the Head Auror job," Amelia said in realisation, brows drawing together amusedly.
Arms still around Tonks, Kingsley looked over to her, sheepish. "Um. Yes. Well. About that."
Harry laughed loudly, and all of a sudden Tonks was swarmed with people, all wanting to ask about the baby and Kingsley and how long they'd been keeping that one hidden.
George looked around at the unsurprised faces of everyone he stood with; Harry, Sirius and Charlie, Remus and Snape. "You knew," he said, "you all knew!"
"Tonks is family," Harry replied, an admission in itself.
"You'll soon come to learn, Georgie boy, that the Black family are very fond of their secrets," Charlie told his brother, squeezing Sirius around the waist with a conspiratorial grin. "I don't think I've had even a fraction of them! Hell, I probably never will. But there's a lot these little buggers have been keeping under all our noses for the last few years."
George looked almost put out by the knowledge that there was plotting and secrets going on without him. Harry patted him on the shoulder. "I'll tell you what I can some other time," he promised consolingly. He wasn't even looking at George — his gaze had been caught by movement across the room, a toss of shining blond hair and a careless push of shirtsleeves up to elbows. The heat in his belly returned. "Look, George, I'll see you later. In the morning. Yeah?"
He didn't wait for the bewildered reply, stalking across the hall and draping himself across a lithe back, kissing a pale cheek. "Hi," he greeted, wrapping his arms around Draco from behind. He canted his hips subtly, making Draco aware of the half-hard erection growing in his trousers. "Having fun?"
"I was," Draco confirmed, craning his neck to meet Harry's eye. "Did you need me for something?"
Harry grinned wolfishly. "That's a very loaded question," he replied. Several of the Slytherins around them snickered.
Draco didn't look remotely embarrassed by this clear — and fairly sloppy — attempt at seduction. Harry had never been more in love with him in his life. "At least let me pretend we have some sort of decorum, love," he sighed, making Harry grin wider and wiggle his eyebrows.
"Why bother? I'm fairly sure they would figure it out regardless."
"We did assume," Daphne said with a long-suffering sigh. Draco's ears turned a little pink, but he was smiling.
"Go on, Malfoy," Cassius urged playfully, "go take our saviour here off to celebrate somewhere private before he starts really trying to convince you to leave."
"Oh, I don't need convincing," Draco assured airily. "I had just planned for a slightly more graceful exit. But, Gryffindors." He and Cassius and Blaise shared an exasperated look, and Harry thought he should probably be offended by it. "Are we going now, then?" he asked keenly, peeling himself off Draco's back but only enough to tuck the blond against his side.
"We are," Draco said, gaze flicking to his friends. "Goodnight, all."
"Be safe, you two," Daphne replied with a blatant leer.
Harry tugged Draco away, ignoring the cat-calls from the Slytherin crowd — and then the much louder cat-calls that came when everyone else noticed the pair leaving.
"Good ni-ight!" he called to the hall at large, hand already sneaking up under the hem of Draco's shirt. "Don't stay up too late!"
"We could say the same to you!" Bill retorted to another round of laughter and wolf-whistling.
Harry smirked unrepentantly. "You're all a bunch of fucking hypocrites!" he told them, laughing, the pleasant buzz of alcohol coursing through his veins. "And I think I've fucking earned this!" With that, he took Draco by the hand, tugged on the castle's magic, and walked head first into the wall next to the door.
His next stride put him right in the Slytherin common room, stepping out of the wall next to the fireplace. Draco followed close behind him, staring around in awe. "What the fuck, Potter," he said, stunned. "Since when could you do that?"
"I've been pulling passageways for ages," Harry said, frowning in confusion. Draco goggled.
"Passageways! Not transporting through walls!"
Oh, that. Harry hadn't really been expecting that either, but Hogwarts was full of surprises. "Came of age with both hands on the Wardstone," he explained, shrugging. "The castle likes me."
The blond blinked, gaping incredulously, then shook his head. "This is what it's going to be like, isn't it? Being with you. You're never going to be done with the ridiculousness."
"I hope not!" Harry said cheerfully.
Draco frowned briefly. "Should we have told Neville and Ginny about coming down here? So they don't worry they'll walk in on us in Gryffindor."
It was awfully sweet, hearing Draco worried about such things, but Harry waved a careless hand. "Nev's an heir, he'll check the wards, figure it out." They would probably appreciate the dorm room to themselves.
Apparently satisfied with that answer, Draco tugged on his hand, heading towards the dorms, but Harry didn't move. "Don't tell me you were just teasing, Harry," the Slytherin drawled, eyes darkening. He let go of Harry, adjusting his rolled-up sleeves, forearms flexing like he knew exactly what that did to Harry's insides, the smug bastard.
"Oh, I'm not teasing," Harry assured, reaching out to undo the top button of Draco's shirt. "But you missed something, love." He undid another button, fingers just barely brushing Draco's chest.
"What did I miss?" Draco asked breathlessly, sliding hands down to grab Harry's backside. Harry's answering smirk was pure and utter Slytherin seduction.
"They cleared out the dorms. All the dorms." Draco still didn't seem to get it. "We, my love, are currently the only two people present in the entire Slytherin dungeon." The light dawned in Draco's eyes. "And, as the heir of Slytherin, I can keep it that way." It was the work of barely a thought to lock the common room entrance, make it so that not even Snape could gain access.
He finished unbuttoning Draco's shirt, pushing it back off the blond's narrow shoulders. "Why go to the dorms," he drawled, trailing kisses up Draco's right shoulder, "when we can fuck right here in the common room instead."
Draco moaned softly, hips grinding against Harry's thigh, erection straining at his trousers. "I like the way you think, Potter," he gasped, tilting his head back to give Harry better access to bite gently at his neck, sucking vivid purple marks into the porcelain flesh.
Harry walked him backwards, pushing him down onto the black leather sofa, straddling his lap and tightening a hand in that silky blond hair. Draco's hands were straight on his chest, practically ripping the buttons apart in order to get to bare skin, mouth latching on to one of Harry's peaked nipples, drawing a cry from the Gryffindor. He shed his shirt, pulling back, undoing the zip of his jeans before the pressure within got to the point of painful. Shimmying them down his hips and kicking off his shoes, he stood in just his boxers and socks in front of his boyfriend, heart hammering in his chest. "This is your show," he offered. "Your common room. What first?" He wasn't going to pretend that this was the only time they'd be able to do this, or the only round they'd go that night. Harry had spent almost an entire day sleeping before, and now he was wired, filled with an almost manic energy and wanting nothing more than to stay up all night wringing as many orgasms as he could out of Draco's gorgeous body. "I believe," Draco drawled, getting to his feet, gripping Harry through his boxers and making the Gryffindor's whole body jerk at the surge of pleasure, "that I was promised a fucking against a wall." Harry moaned, Draco's fingers trailing up his stomach. "That sounds like a good warm-up. Then we're going to go right to that table and I'm going to bend you over it and fuck you 'til you see stars."
He gestured to an ornate table off to the side of the room, likely a space where Slytherin students sat to do homework in their common room. Harry smirked at the idea, imagining Draco all throughout the next school year, trying to sit and study at the table and getting distracted by memories of pounding Harry into it.
"Sounds good," he breathed. "But that sounds like you think you can last through me fucking you," he added, raising one eyebrow daringly. "And that sounds like a challenge to me."
Draco smirked, pulling him close. "And a Gryffindor doesn't back down from a challenge, does he?" he drawled teasingly. "So get to it." He dipped his head, pecking Harry on the lips. "Impress me, Potter."
As always, those words sent a roar of heat through Harry — he looked up, seeking out a decent spot of wall, and quickly decided to use the very same section they'd entered through. He backed Draco up against it, expertly undoing the many buttons of his fly, kicking aside the trousers and underwear once he yanked them down.
Last time it had been a little clumsy, figuring out how it all worked, how to hold Draco up and still get the right angle and not risk dropping him when his knees buckled. But this time, Harry knew what he was doing — he grabbed Draco by the arse and lifted him up, gasping as their cocks pressed together, the blond's legs wrapping around his hips.
They stood like that, kissing languidly, arousal coursing through both of them as thin hands gripped muscular shoulders, Harry bracing himself against the wall and keeping one hand under Draco for support. If he had to use a little magic, that was just fine by him, not wanting to risk dropping his partner. He bucked his hips against Draco's, both of them crying out. Harry was on far too short a trigger for a long build-up, and he adjusted their position, hitching Draco a little higher so he could line things up properly.
"Lube?" Draco reminded, and Harry rolled his eyes, reaching out with his magic — flying through the open door to Draco's dormitory was a vial of lube, left behind when the boy packed up to move to the Tower. He uncorked it with his teeth, letting his magic do most of the work in holding Draco up as he coated fingers in the slick substance, finding Draco's hole. Even with the slightly unfamiliar angle, Harry was an expert in Draco's body by now, easily finding that sweet spot and crooking his fingers to press against it. Draco's hands tightened on his shoulders, a moan escaping him as his cock left a damp smear on his belly. "So sure about that challenge?" Harry teased, breath hot on Draco's neck, grazing his teeth lightly across the blond's sensitive skin.
"Fucking get on with it," Draco demanded, heels digging into Harry's thighs, trying to pull him ever closer.
Happy to comply, Harry slicked himself up, taking a steadying breath as he slid into his lover, stars sparkling behind closed eyelids at the tight heat enveloping him. Draco's breathy moan echoed in his ear, fingernails digging in to his shoulders almost painfully. Harry snuck his slick hand between them, but Draco slapped him away. "No touching," he scolded. "'S cheating."
Harry grinned — Draco was that close already, was he?
The blond didn't stand a chance.
One hand against the stone, Harry set a fast pace, fucking deep into Draco while the blond gasped with every thrust. He opened his eyes, watching the ecstasy on Draco's face, suddenly hit with the knowledge that they were free, the war was over, he could have this forever. He jerked his hips harder, biting at Draco's shoulder, chasing Draco's orgasm and his own. The angle was perfect, pressing right against the Slytherin's prostate, and Harry could see the strain in his neck as he built ever closer to release. His skin flushed rosy pink, his head tipped back against the wall, his cries echoing through the Slytherin common room — such an open area, so exposed, but private and just for them for now, for the rest of the summer if they wanted it.
"Draco," he hissed, in what might have been English but could well have been Parseltongue. "Draco, come on. Come for me, love." He was so close, he could feel it, the blond's heart beating so fast, sweat dripping down the curve of his neck. Harry was so focused on Draco's pleasure he hardly noticed the swift rising of his own — his ears began to ring and the tight coil in his belly tightened further, right on the crest of bliss. One more thrust and suddenly the heat around his cock got tighter, Draco's whole body spasming, and it was too much; Harry went tense, orgasm punching through him with a visceral wave of utter perfection.
He rode out the mind-shattering pleasure, trying not to crush or drop Draco as his brain short-circuited for the moment, until eventually the rush faded and he could hear himself breathing once more, hear Draco's heavy breathing as the blond finally loosened his grip on Harry's back.
His thighs began to quiver, his knees a little weak, but Harry stayed standing and grinned smugly at his lover. He leaned in to kiss him, gasping at the sensation on his still sensitive cock. "I win," he declared, feeling the sticky mess on his abs. Draco scoffed.
"Because losing was such a hardship for me," he replied, easing up the pressure of his legs locked around Harry, just a bit.
Harry had to pull out before the aftershocks overwhelmed him, leaning heavier against Draco, the blond's feet lowering to the ground. The buzz of alcohol still tickled his nerves, but it was just a lingering tipsiness, a languid melting of his limbs.
"It's a good thing there's no portraits in here," he mused, nose pressed to Draco's neck, inhaling the scent of sex and sweat. He felt Draco laugh.
"Harry, there are definitely portraits in here," he informed the Gryffindor. "They just all ran for it when you started taking my shirt off."
Harry pulled off him with no small amount of effort, looking over his shoulder at the common room at large. Now that he actually paid attention, he could see at least four frames with various empty backdrops and landscapes. "Oh. Oops."
He looked back to Draco, leaning nude against the wall with come all over his belly and thighs, hair a mess and lips swollen and so stunning Harry could hardly breathe. "Well I don't think they'll be coming back any time soon," he commented, "so we can take a breather before round two." And maybe round three. Possibly even four, if he was really being ambitious.
"Just give me a minute," Draco murmured. "Can't feel my legs."
With a bark of laughter, Harry stepped in close, picking up Draco's legs to wrap around him once more. Then he carried the blond back to the sofa, both of them collapsing into the surprisingly comfortable cushions. Draco's elbow was in his side, and they were sticky, and leather was not the greatest thing for sweaty bare skin, but all Harry could feel was a tingling, electric happiness through his entire body.
It was damn good, being alive.