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Draco had just tipped the dregs of the punchbowl into Harry's champagne saucer to refresh him as they flowed out of Glimmerald Hall into the cobbled street of Diagon Alley on the heels of a scrum of laughing, shouting, dancing Weasleys. Ron and Hermione were setting off on their honeymoon, and there were bon voyage fireworks sending pink and gold stars across the cold November sky, but Draco's eyes were fixed on Harry. He was looking extraordinarily pretty in his dress robes, and it made Draco want to do things for him.
Harry's soft black curls were slipping out of their topknot, his eyes were bright, and the pink of the fireworks was reflected on his brown skin. He'd been smiling so hugely all day that Draco reckoned it was a wonder he hadn't given himself a headache. He looked otherworldly, and so beautiful and happy that it made Draco's stomach hurt.
Draco reached for Harry's hand, rested his head on Harry's broad, solid shoulder. Harry squeezed Draco's fingers, and it seemed almost like a secret message. Like an invitation. So it was only natural that Draco couldn't help himself.
"This is gorgeous," Draco's voice came out a hungry murmur, swathed in the fug of his hot breath on the cold night air.
Harry grinned at him, bounced an eyebrow, "Yeah, isn't it."
"I want this with you," Draco pressed Harry's hand. "I want this for us. I want to bottle this up and pour it in my bathwater every Sunday night."
Harry laughed, "You're drunk."
"I'm in love with you," Draco persisted. "I love you, and I want to do something beautiful about it."
"Something beautiful?" Harry looked up at the dazzling sky. "Haven't we already done that?"
Draco wet his lips, "Let's do it again."
Harry laughed again, "Sure, in the tub every Sunday night, yeah?"
"Forget the bit about the bathwater. I only mean. I want to make you an evening this lovely, with all our friends about. If. If you'd like it. If you want it."
"Well," Harry leaned into him. "When you say it like that, how could I not want it?"
Draco kissed him and hardly noticed when Harry splashed rather a lot of punch over their shoes.
…
As he nursed his hangover Saturday morning at the breakfast table, Draco decided he had been deeper into his cups at Ron and Hermione's wedding than he'd realised at the time. Still the idea of the little plan he'd made with Harry at the end of the reception--the plan they'd embroidered together as they wended their way home hand in hand after the party--had him smiling foolishly into his bowl of porridge as he laced it liberally with cinnamon and cream.
Harry looked as if he'd fared a little better. He was still in his pyjamas, but he'd already pulled his hair up and a little of the previous night's bright joy was still lingering around his eyes and mouth.
"You're looking cheerful this morning," Harry remarked, freshening his own mug of coffee and then Draco's.
"I've a splitting headache," Draco admitted. "Which is, I regret to inform you, somewhat mitigated by love," he pronounced the last word in a mortified stage whisper.
Harry laughed.
"Yes, I know. Though if you could do that and everything else just a hair more quietly, I would be grateful."
"I'll try," Harry whispered, still smiling broadly. Under the table, he pressed Draco's slippered foot with his own. "Eat your breakfast. You'll feel better."
"Bossy,"' Draco took an obedient mouthful of porridge. It was quite nice, though that was as far as it went in terms of making him feel better.
When Draco had finished about half of his porridge, and Harry was having a second slice of toast, their breakfast was interrupted by a tapping at the kitchen window. Draco drew out his wand and pointed it at the window. It popped open, and a little brown owl sailed in on a damp gust of chilly wind with a violet postcard clutched in its talons. The owl circled the room, dropped the postcard on the table, and sailed right back out very quickly, as if it had someplace in particular to be.
Harry wiped his sticky hands on the hem of the tablecloth and reached for the postcard.
"What is it?" Draco sipped his coffee. "Surely it can't be from Granger and Weasley already? I shouldn't like to cast such aspersions on their honeymoon."
Harry turned the card over and glanced at it, "Mmnope." He passed it to Draco, "It's from Burnish & Glint."
"Oooh, Burnish & Glint? Give it here!" Draco took the card, trying not to yank.
Mssrs Malfoy et Potter,
I have the honour to inform you that your order is ready for collection. If convenient, please call in the shop this morning to collect it. This card will be required for admittance.
Sincerely,
Theodosia Burnish
"Oh lovely!" Draco actually clapped his hands. "How exciting! We must go over this morning, then. It's almost like a sign, isn't it? That it should be ready today of all days."
Harry leaned in to kiss Draco around his enormous smile, "I'll just mix a quick hangover potion before we set out."
…
Draco had forgot how very out of the way Burnish & Glint looked. Tucked into an oddly shaped nook of Diagon Alley, the squat little shop was dim from the outside, the gold lettering on its shingle was peeling, and there was a yellowing handwritten card in the dusty window that read:
By Appointment Only!
And in smaller letters:
Please place appointment card in tray
Draco placed the violet postcard in the small silver tray fixed to the front door. The lock clicked loudly, and the door swung open.
Once they were inside, the shop resembled nothing so much as the sitting room of a fussy, old fashioned, well-to-do witch. There was a thick, violet carpet on the floor. Before the fireplace sat a set of rather scrawny armchairs upholstered in violet damask, and an equally spindly coffee table and tea trolley. The walls were dressed in thick, cream coloured wallpaper which was patterned with violets. There were framed watercolours of violets hung up on the walls.
Theodosia Burnish was waiting for them in the chair closest to the hearth, where there was a fire burning and Draco had to hold himself back from crowding toward it to chase the November chill out of his hands and face.
"Good afternoon," she called in her rasping voice, rising to meet them.
"Good afternoon," Draco and Harry echoed.
"I'm so pleased you could be here on short notice," she said, waving them into their seats near hers. Madam Burnish was an elderly witch. Surprisingly, her robes were simple, black wool without much in the way of ornament, apart from the pearl buttons at the cuffs and collar. Perhaps more surprisingly, her hair was violet. Pinned up and elaborately coiffed, but definitely violet. It matched the frames of her spectacles, which she had hanging on a silver chain round her neck.
She crooked two bony fingers to beckon to the tea trolley, and it rolled obediently up to the coffee table so that she could pour out. "A little fortification before we get to the bloody bit," she remarked with a smile and served them tea and shortbread on delicate, violet-patterned china.
Harry snorted into his teacup, so Draco said, raising his voice slightly but matching her very refined tone, "Thank you so very much."
"Against fainting, you know. Not that you'd lose enough blood to warrant fainting of course, but my young gentlemen of all my clients do tend toward the squeamish. Best not to take chances."
"Best not," repeated Harry gravely, trying to catch eyes with Draco, who was staunchly avoiding it.
When Harry and Draco had each drunk a cup of tea and finished a biscuit or two, Madam Burnish set aside her teacup and drew out her wand, "Down to business then." She waved her wand, and a small blue velvet box came flying out of the back of the shop. "Inspection first," she passed the box to Draco, as he was sitting nearest to her.
Draco opened the box. Inside, nestled in more blue velvet were two glimmering moonstone earrings. One earring shaped like a tiny, twinkling star and the other shaped like a bolt of lightning about as long as Draco's littlest fingernail.
"They're perfect," Harry murmured, leaning over Draco's shoulder for a look. "That's just how I pictured them. Perfect."
"Perfect," Draco agreed, thinking of how exquisite the milky stone in the little star would look against Harry's brown skin. "I love them."
"Very gratifying," said Madam Burnish. "Thank you. Now then, who's getting poked first?"
…
"Shall we go to Fortescue's and soothe you with a hot chocolate?" Harry suggested on the pavement outside Burnish & Glint's, when they'd both been poked and both adorned.
"Nonsense," Draco tossed his hair. "I don't need to be soothed. I was incredibly valiant and stoic under that needle."
Harry laughed and offered his hand, "Call it a victory hot chocolate, then." Draco had been right about how lovely he would look with his star-shaped earring. He was always dashing, but his beautiful face was giving Draco very particular butterflies in his tummy now.
Draco accepted the proffered hand and gave it a little tug, "Well, since we're having a party, and it's a very specific party because we're. You know. We'll want new dress robes, don't you think?"
Harry grinned, "You want new dress robes?"
Draco tried not to touch the tiny lightning bolt that felt queer and warm in his right ear, "Well it wouldn't be fair to you, if only I had them. Unless you'd like to knock something up"
Harry laughed, "I suppose I can't argue with that. And no, I don't want to knock something up, with everything else there is to do, I haven't the time. Madam Malkin's, and then hot chocolate?"
"I'm beginning to think you're the one who wants soothing."
"Hot chocolate at least," Harry agreed, towing Draco with him as he made his way up the street toward Madam Malkin's shop.
Draco held the door open because being valiant and stoic had made him courtly as well.
"We're having a party," Draco declared when Madam Malkin came to help them. "Nothing too formal, but it's a celebration, so we're looking for something…exuberant."
Madam Malkin listened, nodding thoughtfully, then went off to gather up some candidates. Harry drifted away almost as soon as she'd left. Draco thought he'd got bored already, but realised in a moment that the object of Harry's distraction was a set of beautifully draped robes that looked sometimes golden, sometimes pink, and sometimes mauve without actually changing colour.
Draco sidled up to Harry just as he was wistfully stroking a silken sleeve.
"Those would look marvellous on you," he said, and Harry jumped like he'd been caught up to his elbow in the biscuit tin before tea.
"I really like the colour," Harry confessed, running his hand over the bodice. "But I think they're witch's robes."
"So?" Draco tossed his hair to emphasise how little it mattered. "Robes are robes. If you like them, try them on."
Madam Malkin came bustling out with her arms full of robes and three mannequins waddling along behind her. "Oh I like those myself," she said cheerfully. "Of course you should try them, and if they don't hang quite right, I'll sort them out for you. It's what I'm for, after all!"
"All right then," Harry lifted the robes off the rack. "I will."
Draco inspected the robes Madam Malkin had brought and chose a few of his favourites for himself and a few robes for Harry to look at as well.
"Just for the sake of options," Draco handed Harry his pile of robes as they each stepped into a changing cubicle.
They each tried on a number of robes. Draco went through a set of shimmery teal robes, a dove grey set with little golden feathers embroidered on the collar, and a twinkly midnight blue set without really feeling that he was on the right track, though he liked them all well enough and even thought of buying the grey ones for other occasions.
He stepped out to check on Harry, "How are you getting on?"
Harry stepped out of his own cubicle in a set of forest green robes with a high collar, "Those look nice."
"Thank you, I'm not sure about them actually. You look nice as well. Green always looks nice on you. Have you already tried on the other ones? Those peachy ones you were looking at?"
"Not yet," Harry approached the mirror to check his reflection. "You chose these, so I thought it'd be yknow. Polite to try them out."
"Well I'd really like to see you in the ones you liked, if you still prefer them."
Harry smiled, "All right, then." He slipped back into his changing cubicle. Draco went to examine his own reflection while he listened to the little shuffles of Harry changing.
Harry emerged presently, "Do you think it's too much? Do I look a bit naff?"
"No," said Draco fervently, taking Harry in with relish. "You look absolutely lovely." The robes were quite pretty, but it was Harry's nervous pleasure in them that really set them off. He could not really blush, but there was a blush in his expression and such genuine joy as made him almost a bit hard to look at. As if the little star in his ear were shining like a real star. "You look gorgeous. Dazzlingly beautiful."
Harry lowered his eyelashes as if he were rather dazzled himself, "I like it when you say things like that to me."
"I know you do." Draco prodded Harry to make him laugh, "You mustn't think I'm complimenting you and get a big head, Harry Potter. I'm only describing the naked facts of the situation. You're a fucking vision in those robes."
Harry stepped in front of the mirror and smoothed his hand over his chest, "They do look good on me. They hang all right. I was afraid they'd look a bit funny, but I look. Good." He really did. The colour of the robes brought out the warmth in his complexion and made his eyes look brighter. He turned on the spot so that the robes flared around him, then smiled up at Draco as though he'd discovered something truly marvellous.
"You look magnificent," Draco told him. "We have found your colour. Your eyes look ever so green. Oooh! I know what'll look well with these."
And he ducked behind his own curtain and changed quickly into a set of robes in the velvety lavender colour of a shadow, "There now!" Draco popped out of his cubicle and sidled up to Harry to sling an arm about his waist. "We look like dawn and dusk. Or the sun and the sky."
Harry laughed, "You're always so good at colours and things."
"You chose your own robes," Draco reminded him.
"I mean you just know how things will go together. I wouldn't have thought these would work as a pair; I'd've tried to match them or something."
"Ah, have we made our selections, then?" asked Madam Malkin, bustling in from the back with an assistant in tow.
"If you're having that one, I'm having this one," Draco told Harry.
"All right then, yes. Let's take these," Harry decided.
"Lovely. This way, please and we'll get you measured for the alterations," Madam Malkin ushered them over to a pair of stools standing nearer the front of the store. Harry and Draco each stepped up to have their robes fitted.
Draco watched Harry watch himself in the mirror as he was measured, taking pleasure in Harry's enjoyment of his new robes. A wave of overpowering affection washed over him so that he got a little giddy with it. When Harry caught eyes with him in the mirror, he found himself smiling and saying, "Hogwarts too?"
Harry looked surprised, and then laughed aloud, "I'm so glad I met you."
Draco had not quite heard it put like that before, and he felt so soft inside that he had to look away for a moment.
…
"Draco Abraxas Malfoy, tell me that you haven't pierced your ears!"
Draco nearly fell out of the fire at that. He hadn't been expecting to find his mother at all, and he certainly hadn't been expecting to be scolded by her. "Where is Auntie Andromeda?" he asked stupidly, squinting through the ash that was still settling around his head.
"She went to the hairdresser's, and I am looking after my nephew while she's away. I asked you a question, Draco." His mother reached out to cup his face with one cool, pale hand and turn his jaw this way and that to inspect his ears. "Oh, really, Draco, how common!"
Draco lifted his chin away from her grasping hand and shook his head, hoping his hair didn't catch fire and wishing he'd bothered to find an elastic before Flooing for his aunt, "It's only one ear, Mother, so it must only be half as common."
She frowned at him, her brow barely creasing through the glamour, "You look exactly like Cousin Sirius did the summer he was fifteen, but you're a grown man, Draco, surely you're beyond such little rebellions. Or are you making some sort of statement about your new affiliations?"
Draco grit his teeth, "I'm not sure which new affiliations you mean, Mother. Are you referring to my being a blood traitor or my being a homosexual?"
She sighed, "I do wish you wouldn't call yourself that, darling. There's no need to be crass."
Draco clenched and relaxed his fists to keep hold of his temper, just the way his healer had taught him. "Into every life a little rain must fall. I mustn't keep you, Mother. Good afternoon," and he began to withdraw from the fire.
She raised her voice very slightly, calling him back, "Did you have some message for your aunt, Draco?"
Despite it all, he was a little embarrassed to be caught excluding her, "Oh. Er. It's nothing, I can Floo again this evening. I was only. We're planning a little Christmas party here at the townhouse, and I was going to consult her about which rooms might be most suitable. And invite her, of course. But I'll just. I'll look in on her this evening."
"Mm," said his mother, a restrained hint of disapprobation in her voice, as if she were ever so measured and hadn't spent the bulk of his call enumerating the ways in which he was an unsatisfactory son. "Calling to invite her? Surely a written invitation is more traditional."
"Indeed. Well, there's no salvaging me, I suppose. I'm an unmitigated disgrace. Imagine Flooing my aunt to invite her to a family Christmas party."
A strange look passed over his mother's face, and she drew breath as if about to speak, then let it out again without saying anything.
"I'll let you go," Draco said quietly, feeling like an absolute ass.
"I could," she began uncertainly, then continued rather faster than usual, "I do remember the house a bit. I haven't been inside in, oh twenty years, but. It was my family also."
"I shouldn't like to trouble you," Draco said after a long pause.
"You might consider the first floor dining room, depending on the size of your party. The conservatory is adjoined, and it was so lovely to sit in it after dinner and look up at the glass ceiling as the snow fell onto it, and it's wonderfully cosy with warming charms. The acoustics are delightful for singing, as well. We would sing carols in there, and it sounded. Heavenly. My sister Bella had the most beautiful voice." His mother shut her eyes for a moment as if lost in the memory, and she looked somehow like a little girl and an old woman both at once.
"I must go," Draco said softly. "Good afternoon, Mother."
She smiled at him, "Good afternoon, my darling. You must call by the Manor soon. It seems an age since I last saw you!"
Draco yanked his head out of the fire abruptly so that he could put the stinging in his eyes down to the ashes he raised.
…
"Mmm, you've just reminded me of something," Harry murmured ticklishly into Draco's ear. They were still sticky with cooling sweat, their hearts still slowing. Harry threw an arm about Draco's waist, hooked his chin over Draco's shoulder, nudged his knee between Draco's knees, closing even the tiny amount of distance that had opened between them in the last few moments.
Draco smiled into his pillow, "I thought you were asleep, soggy."
Harry yawned, as if Draco had reminded him of his sleepiness, "I'm very awake, and you're the soggy one actually."
"If I am, it's your fault. What have I reminded you of?"
"I've been thinking. If you added my name to yours, you'd be damp."
Draco laughed, "I'd be what?"
Harry hummed thoughtfully, "You'd have to do it in the right order, of course. Draco Abraxas Malfoy Potter."
"Ohhh, you mean my initials."
"Your initials," Harry agreed. "Your initials do already spell a word, of course. But is it better to be DAMP than DAM?"
Draco actually had to bite his pillow to stop himself laughing too much, "You're ridiculous."
Harry tweaked his hair rather sharply, "Turn round and kiss me, if you're going to say sweet things like that."
"Right, my hair isn't a bellpull, you fucking plague," but he turned as he spoke and punctuated his remark with a smacking kiss on Harry's laughing mouth. "Draco Abraxas Malfoy Potter, mm?"
"Bit of a mouthful, but you know. Sometimes a mouthful is worth the trouble it takes."
"Hmm," Draco said thoughtfully once he'd finished hitting Harry with his pillow. "You er. You wouldn't want to be a Malfoy, I suppose. I scarcely want to be a Malfoy myself, come to that."
Harry made a gentle smile that was also a concerned frown, "Are you all right, Draco?"
"I saw my mother today," said Draco quietly.
Harry frowned properly at that, "Did you? When?"
"She was looking after Teddy while Auntie was at the hairdressers. She answered the Floo."
Harry made a low whistle, "How was that?"
Draco fiddled with the damp, dark fuzz on Harry's chest and did not look into his face, "She told me we ought to have our party in the conservatory and said the acoustics in there are good for singing. Got a bit misty about. Her sister's beautiful singing voice. The dead one, I mean."
Harry stroked his hair, "The usual stuff for her, then."
"Yeah. It's so." Draco shrugged but it came out like a twitch. "I don't know what to say when she goes on about Bella and them. Aunt Bella wasn't only horrible everyone, she was horrible to my mother specifically. And to me specifically. How can she miss her? Or imagine I would miss her?"
"Maybe it's not so much that she misses her awful sister, and she just misses having a big family to do those things with. I expect she's lonely since Lucius has been gone."
"Maybe," Draco allowed.
"You mentioned the party?" Harry asked after a moment of quiet.
"Oh, yes. It just sort of popped out. I didn't tell her about. You know. The other thing."
Harry nodded, "It's all right. You can tell her whatever you like."
"Do," Draco's first attempt came out a harsh squeak, and he had to clear his throat and begin again. "Do you think. Would everyone hate me if. If I invited her? Would you be cross with me?"
Harry shook his head and hugged Draco closer to him, "How could I be cross with you for wanting to have your mum?"
Draco pressed his lips together, but he felt a little tingling start behind his eyes anyway, "I know she isn't like your mum was, but."
"But she's still your mum, and you want to have her if you can," Harry finished for him.
Draco nodded, "I just. I feel like. It's starting to be the sort of thing you can't come back from. If I. Leave her out of this, and I just. I'm not ready for that. To stop trying completely."
"We'll invite her," Harry kissed his hair.
"Thanks," Draco wiped his eyes on a corner of the sheets. "Now we have that settled, I must brush up on my calligraphy for her invitation."
…
"Hello my darling!" called Narcissa Malfoy gaily from the Grimmauld Place kitchen fire, as if the phenomenon were quite commonplace and not an absolute first and indeed rather a shock.
"Good morning," Draco said uncertainly, towing Harry with him as he approached the fire.
"Good morning," Harry echoed politely.
"I received your note, and decided to take a leaf from your book and answer it quite informally," said Draco's mother, still brightly, though she raised an eyebrow at their pyjamas. "You must be cold in your night things. If you'd like to go and fetch your dressing gowns, I don't mind waiting."
"The kitchen is quite warm, thank you," said Draco warily, stopping himself from explaining that they'd get dressed after breakfast.
"Draco's got us wearing cashmere pyjamas in the winter," Harry chimed in. "They're warm as anything; you could go sledding in them and not take a chill. Soft as anything, too," and he slid a hand up Draco's arm and shoulder and down his back in demonstration. "Lovely."
"Lovely," Draco's mother repeated faintly, looking rather scandalised.
Draco fought the urge to laugh, "You wanted to speak to me about my note, Mother?"
"Oh yes," she smiled resolutely. "I'll be delighted to attend your party, darling. I only wanted to ask if there were anything I might do to help you prepare for the party? Tillie Bulstrode raved about the caterer she used for Millicent's engagement ball. Apparently they're a dream to work with. I'd be glad to write and ask the name, if you like."
"Caterer? We're just going to do the cooking ourselves," Harry told her.
"It isn't a ball, Mother. It's just a small family party."
Harry chuckled, "Right and anyway, worst comes to worst, we'll just pop to the Tesco and get some of those frozen sausage rolls and mini mince pies."
"He's joking," Draco said quickly, taking pity on the expression of mingled bafflement and dismay on his mother's face. "We're doing a crown roast and-"
"Draco, darling, it isn't polite to tell your guests the menu ahead of the party," his mother cut in delicately. "Is there anything else you need? Should I bring my harp?"
Harry looked impressed, "Do you play the harp?"
"Oh yes, it's traditional in our family. Draco plays as well, of course."
Harry turned to Draco, his eyes wide, "You play the harp?"
"Not well," said Draco, glaring at his mother.
"Well practise makes perfect, darling. What else can you expect, when you neglect your music?"
"There will be no need for you to bring your harp," Draco said firmly.
"Roses from the greenhouse on the grounds, then? To decorate the tables."
Draco shook his head, "We have it all in hand; you need not bring anything at all. We've actually decided to have it in the conservatory, and there's quite enough lovely greenery in there," he added. "Thank you for the recommendation."
"Of course, darling. What else are mothers for? Do tell me if you think of anything you need. Good morning," and she popped out of the fire.
…
"The thing about feeding a large group," Draco muttered, pushing the trolley rather faster than needed because the supermarket made him nervous, "is just to keep things simple."
Harry laughed, lengthening his strides to keep up, "Yeah, you've said that about fourteen times already, Draco."
"One for every confounded Weasley at our table," Draco stopped abruptly in front of the cream sherry and snatched a bottle from the shelf.
"Are there really that many?" Harry seemed inclined to pause and tot up on his fingers, but Draco pressed on, in search of custard powder, and Harry trotted along in his wake.
"I'm sure there must be at least that many. They keep annexing other families. Ruthless. We might be Weasleys ourselves before the night is out. The night of the party, I mean. Not tonight."
"I think you're actually quite keen to sign on with the Bill and Fleur contingent. Don't think I haven't seen you noticing his ponytail," Harry tweaked the ponytail Draco had put his own hair into.
Draco laughed, "The ponytail holds absolutely no power over me, I assure you, my dear. Anyway, his doesn't compare with yours. Nor does mine, come to that."
Harry patted his topknot fondly, "There is a lot of it."
"Plus it's bouncy. Glorious."
"Bill's is quite bouncy as well."
Draco shook his head, "Mmmno, doesn't compare." He grabbed a pot of raspberry jam. "Are we sure we want stick with the turnip mash? We could do buttered peas instead. Or a pea soup! That would be nice, don't you think? Maybe a bit more elegant."
"Bit rude to change the subject while I'm trying to flirt with you in Sainsburys," Harry remarked, flicking Draco's hair again.
"Buck up your ideas, Potter. Until the festivities are over, the overarching topic will always be the party. Please give me your opinion on the peas."
"You said you wanted to keep things simple," Harry reminded him.
"Mmm. Buttered peas then. So we'll need a leek. Leeks. We must be beleeked."
Harry laughed, "Well then lead on and beleek us."
"Right-o," Draco turned the trolley sharply and nearly bowled over a pretty little woman coming up the aisle behind them in a plum coloured peacoat. "Oh! Terribly sorry," he said, as Harry reached out to help steady her, then realised he knew the woman. "Tori?"
"Coco!" she cried delightedly and leaned in to kiss him. "Out amongst the muggles, causing mayhem, I might have known. There's still time for the naughty list, you know."
Draco laughed and kissed her cheeks also, "Oh you'd know all about that, Tori."
"Sorry," Harry interrupted. "Have you just called him Coco?"
"Oh where are my manners. Darling, this is Astoria Greengrass. We were all at school together. She was the year below us in my house, but we're old friends. Gosh, we were peas in a pod when we were kids. The Greengrasses used to call me Astoria's little sweetheart. That was before it came out what I am, of course," he waggled his eyebrows dramatically. "Astoria, you remember Harry Potter."
"Our Draco was rather a mush mouth when he was small," Astoria explained, answering Harry's remark instead of Draco's. "And he used to introduce himself as Coco because he couldn't say his own name properly."
"As if you were even thought of when people were calling me Coco, Tori!" though she was only a year younger than he was.
"Coco," Harry repeated, looking delighted. "It sounds like a cartoon cat. Oooh, I'm going to enjoy this."
Astoria threw her head back and laughed, "Oh, I like you."
"So nice to properly meet you," Harry offered his hand to shake.
Astoria shook it. "Likewise, I'm sure," she glanced over Harry again. "I like your skirt."
"Thanks, I made it," Harry said, brightening even more. "After I got used to wearing robes, it just felt funny wearing trousers. It's lined as well, so it's much warmer than trousers in the winter since it goes all the way down to my boots, and the pockets are deeper also. Plus I just look brilliant in skirts," he added with a confidential grin.
"Well you really suit it. Oh, I love your boots also! I live in my Doc Martens."
"Thanks, I was just going to say I liked yours." Harry looked at Draco, "How've you not introduced me to this delightful woman before, you rotter?"
"Last I heard, you were off in Brussels, studying charmcraft, Astoria?"
"That's right, but I'm in town to see my parents for Christmas. Be around til the new year, and we must catch up before I'm off."
"Well, if you're free Christmas Eve, we're having a party," Harry told her. "We'd love to have you. Round six o'clock. Just dinner with family and a few friends, but. Please come if you can."
Astoria looked genuinely touched, "Thank you, Harry. I'll be there."
…
Predating the party, indeed predating Harry and Draco's relationship by some years, was a standing appointment between Harry and Teddy for Harry to take Teddy on a Christmas shopping excursion in Diagon Alley the week before Christmas. Draco was a relatively recent, though welcome addition to the party. Fortunately, they all tended to favour the same shops, so there was no disagreement in how best to spend the time and money budgeted for the excursion.
After an extraordinary display of willpower in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, where Teddy bought only a box of crackers--for the party, he advised them--and accepted a gift of a few sparklers from George, they went on to Flourish and Blott's, then to Scribbulus, on to Madam Primpernelle's. Finally they treated themselves to a good, long perusal of Quality Quidditch Supplies. There, Teddy pined over a broomstick he'd long coveted called the Lightning Flash, and Harry and Draco bickered cheerfully about a quidditch game they had played against each other in their misspent youth.
When they'd visited every shop they discussed, and his feet were starting to hurt, Draco took hold of Harry on one side and Teddy on the other and made to turn to the public Floo.
"Well then, young Edward. Satiated with the delights of Diagon Alley? Home we go?"
"Well," said Teddy a hint of wheedling beginning to creep into his voice. "There was one last shop I was sort of hoping you'd show me."
"What's that?" asked Harry, glancing at Draco and bouncing an eyebrow.
"I really wanted to see where you went to get your ears pierced and maybe see if I could get mine done, too. If there are any earrings I fancy," Teddy finished carelessly.
Draco glanced at Harry, and they shared an amused smile at Teddy's affected nonchalance, "That's the sort of thing we'd need to consult Granny for, I'm afraid."
"But why? Harry's with me, and he's my godfather, and he looks after me and you look after me, Draco. Can't you say it's all right?" pressed Teddy, his tone innocent, his face alight with all the accumulated cunning of a cosseted nine year old. "Boys can have earrings, can't they?"
"Of course boys can have earrings," said Draco. "But it isn't only Harry and me who look after you, it's also Granny. So we'd all three need to discuss it and not go off on an outing for something entirely different and then come home fait accompli." He paused, "Do you know what fait accompli means, Ted?"
"With the thing already done," said Teddy impatiently. "What's Christmas shopping got to do with it?"
"Because when you're looking after someone together," Harry explained, "You don't give the young person you're looking after unilateral permission to make permanent changes to their body without discussing it first, unless it's an emergency. And piercings can make you ill if you don't look after them properly, and that's part of why we need to chat it over with Granny first. Make sense?"
"Suppose so," Teddy said reluctantly.
"And anyway," Harry added practically. "The place we got ours is by appointment only, so we can't just pop round because we felt like it."
"But it isn't anything to do with if boys can have earrings," Draco assured him. "You'd look brilliant with an earring, and that's not the issue at all."
"Boys can have earrings and boys can wear lipstick and skirts, and boys can have long, beautiful hair," Harry said, tweaking Draco's. "You can look how you want to look, Ted. If you want to do any or all of those things, it's all right with us." Teddy grew his hair out in a rush of turquoise over his shoulders as Harry spoke, so Harry tweaked his, too.
"Yes, you've said," said Teddy, sounding bravely resigned but smiling a little.
"We're not just putting you off, Teddy," Harry told him earnestly. "If it's important to you, we'll make sure and talk about it with Granny, and if we can all agree, we'll set you an appointment and do it properly. All right?"
Teddy brightened a little, "All right."
…
When they returned to Andromeda's house with Teddy, she was still absent on a visit, so Harry and Teddy went off to fetch out Teddy's collection of nail varnish to enact their plan to paint each of their fingernails in a different colour. Draco was tasked with arranging supper, and he was in the kitchen inspecting the larder when he heard the thrum of the Floo in the sitting room.
In the sitting room, Draco found his mother looking greenishly up at him out of the emerald fire.
"Oh good evening, darling. Is your aunt at home?"
"She's away on a visit," said Draco, crossing the room and crouching to speak to her face to face. "Harry and I are looking after Teddy."
"Is Harry with you? I had something for him. Perhaps you'd like to come through and collect it?"
"Something for Harry?" Draco raised his eyebrows. "All right."
His mother drew back from the fire, and he stepped into it and after shaking off a shower of ash, he stepped out of the floo and found himself standing in his mother's favourite parlour. There had been a few little alterations in the arrangement of the furniture and of the ornaments in the years since he'd seen it last. But it smelled just as it had when he was small, of the lilies in silver bowls on the side tables and of wood polish and old silk and the dust that could not be got quite out of the antique furniture, and he stood there shedding soot onto the hearth rug with his eyes shut, breathing deeply and unsure of whether it were steadying him or not. When his mother brushed his sleeve lightly, he half expected her to kiss the top of his head as she always had when he was small enough for the gesture to be expedient.
"Do sit down, darling. Tea?"
Draco sat down on a blue damask couch, "I won't trouble you. I can't stay long. I was just about to cook dinner, and we'll be eating directly."
His mother smiled as if he were making a joke by suggesting he might feed his family and went to her desk where she unlocked a drawer and drew out a photograph in an old fashioned heavy silver filigree frame. She sat down beside him on the sofa and put the frame into his hands, "Do you know who this is?"
Up close, he could see that the frame was very tarnished as if no one had handled it in years. The photo was quite an old one, pale in the way that told him it was only just in colour and not black and white. There were two young children in the photo, dark-haired and pale and rather solemn. They shared a stiff, antique sofa rather like the one Draco was presently sitting on beside his mother. The older child had Draco's nose and fine, loose curls falling to the collar of his robes. He rested his hand on the shoulder of the younger, who was little more than a toddler. They were remarkably still for such young children. Even the younger hardly fidgeted.
Draco shook his head, "I don't know them."
"No, I suppose you wouldn't. The baby is our cousin Regulus, and the older boy is our cousin Sirius. I thought your friend might like to have the picture, as Severus told us they were quite close. I understand Sirius was his godfather."
Draco was struck by so many thoughts at once that he had rather a job bringing one to the surface of his mind and putting it into words, "That's very thoughtful of you, Mother." He wet his lips, "I want to tell you something."
"Of course you can tell me anything," said his mother sweetly, and he nearly smiled because it had never been true.
Draco drew a deep breath through his nose, "We were planning to announce it at the party, and I see now that it would be wrong to. To surprise you with such a thing, because you're my mother."
She laughed lightly, "You look terribly serious, Draco. Surely it can't be as surprising as all that. Nobody ill, I'm sure. That would be an extraordinary thing to announce at a Christmas party."
"Mother," Draco said, wishing he had accepted the cup of tea if only to have something to do with his hands. "Harry Potter isn't my friend. He's my spouse. I. I married him in September. We. We had been keeping it quiet because we didn't want the newspapers, but we decided recently it was silly for it to be a secret from our families and. Well."
The smile didn't drop off her face, but she went quite still so that it didn't seem very like a smile anymore. Draco kept quiet and let her turn the news over in her mind until she was ready to speak.
"It is a very eccentric choice to get married without involving your family, Draco," said his mother in a voice as cool and brittle as bone china. "I must admit I cannot understand it at all."
"I thought you'd disapprove," Draco told her quietly.
"I see. I suppose this is why you've been so quiet and distant these last few months. Anticipating censure."
Draco's stomach clenched. He felt like the meanest coward. He nodded slowly, "Something like that. I just. I couldn't stand for you to say anything. Anything. Anything dreadful about him."
His mother was silent for a long moment. "When you were around three years old, you told me you were going to marry Harry Potter. Do you remember that?"
That surprised a little squawk out of Draco, "I did not!"
"You did. I think you were under the impression that it had something to do with getting presents. I had shown you some bauble your father gave me and told you he'd given it me because we were married, and you asked ever so many questions about getting married and weddings, and when you heard that people give you presents when you get married, you said you'd marry Harry Potter."
Draco still felt doubtful but didn't know why his mother would invent such a thing, "Why Harry Potter?"
His mother tilted her head in a way that would have been a shrug if she were a little less well bred, "Oh, you mentioned him often. Lots of people did, he was very much at the forefront of many minds and the subject of many conversations. I took it rather as if you had declared you would marry Father Christmas."
Draco let himself laugh, "And what did you say?"
"I told you that wizards marry witches, and that is how families are made."
Draco's heart sank, "Oh."
"When I was your age, there was nothing more important to me than my family and my duty. I used to see it in you also, Draco. But it seems to have sunk in your priorities of late."
Draco felt a hot surge of anger spike through him. He breathed carefully through his nose, counted down from ten, "Maybe I reckon my family and my duty differently than you do."
"Evidently so."
Draco began another countdown then gave it up as a bad job, "You do realise that your reckoning of my duty nearly killed me at age sixteen?"
His mother flinched back and paled as if he'd shouted and raised his wand to her, "How can you imagine I wanted that for you!"
"Because you can't preach blood purity at me for my entire life, and then act surprised at the logical conclusion!"
His mother sighed, "No. And I know you will be angry and call me an obtuse fool, but we really did never think you would be called on like that. We thought the worst was behind us."
Draco was very angry indeed, and it took him a long time to be able to answer, his gaze fixed on his fists clenched in his lap, "You can't pick up and put down violence like a boring book, Mother. It doesn't work that way."
"No, it most certainly does not," his mother had tears in her eyes when he looked up. She reached out a hand as she caught his eye and laid it on his wrist, "I have no explanation, really. We were wrong. I was wrong."
"About all of it," Draco pressed.
"About. All of it," his mother agreed.
Draco shook his head furiously, "Then how can you scold me like a naughty kid for making my own life!"
His mother clasped his hand, "Oh my darling, you misunderstand me. I meant that I am your mother, and your concerns will always be dear to me. It is proper for a man to make his own way in the world, but only a child skulks and hides. You should have told me."
"It is proper for a person to decide who to share their life with," said Draco and didn't add blood be damned though he was thinking it. "I'm telling you now because. Because I want you to deserve it."
"I'm afraid I've made rather a poor start," said his mother softly after a long moment of silence.
"Well," said Draco. "It's never too late to improve."
She smiled weakly, "Yes, of course. I shall try."
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, "Thank you, Mummy." And he meant it.
…
"Oh do shut the hangings," Draco advised much later that evening when he and Harry had found their way to bed in their own house and were spread out on top of the bedclothes and lazily shedding their night things.
Harry unbuttoned his pyjama top with the hand that wasn't resting on Draco's hip. His soft black curls were tumbled all over his pillow, and his moonstone earring was glinting blue green in the torchlight. It made Draco wild to kiss him.
"If I shut the hangings it'll be stifling in here. I'll melt all over you."
Draco wriggled out of his pyjama bottoms, "If you don't shut the hangings, there'll be a draught, and I'll be forced to keep my socks on. Anyway, I'd love you to melt all over me."
Harry grinned, "So keep your socks on. I was going to."
"I didn't mean it!" Draco objected. "One does not keep one's socks on. It isn't seemly."
Harry laughed, "Yeah? What's unseemly about it?"
Draco did not allow his dignity to be ruffled by mockery, "It. It suggests one intends to regain one's shoes within an inappropriately short span of time."
"How soon after an orgasm is it okay to get your shoes on?"
"Now, I didn't say anything about an orgasm. Don't hold me to that."
Harry laughed harder and slid his glasses onto his night table, "You really know how to set the mood."
"Shut the hangings and kiss me."
"All this and rude too," Harry shut the hangings, then flopped onto his side next to Draco. He held out one hand in front of him, "Lubricus."
"Presumptuous," Draco kissed him.
"Ha, if I'm going to cast it wandlessly, I've got to do it before I get stupid from foreplay."
Draco pressed his clean hand against Harry's slick one, "Do it again."
"Lubricus."
"That is probably your best wandless magic," Draco remarked, pushing Harry's bottoms down with his clean hand and taking hold of his cock with the slippery one. "I didn't know it ever ran dry on you."
"Mmm all this pontificating makes it a bit hard to kiss you."
"All I heard was 'makes it a bit hard.'"
"Maybe a bit more than a bit," Harry pushed up into Draco's slick hand, and his eyes fluttered shut as Draco squeezed and pulled his enthusiastic approval. Harry's cock was growing plumper and harder under his fingers, and Draco found he had got rather stupid himself under its influence.
He pressed Harry flat on his back with his palm against Harry's chest and sat up to straddle him. Harry's eyes opened and he looked up at Draco with a slack smile and such an expression of joyful desire that Draco thought he might burst with the longing to do things for Harry and give him everything he wanted. Draco cast another lube charm and squeezed their cocks together between them. Harry hummed and sighed, and it made Draco shiver.
Harry reached out, slid his hands over Draco's hips, squeezed his bottom, and a moment later, his warm slippery fingers were finding their way inside Draco.
"Oooooh," said Draco, bearing down greedily. "I had a very similar idea, but I think we can take it even a bit farther."
"You want me to fuck you," Harry said, nudging Draco up with his knees. "Yeah, got that."
"Well hurry up, then."
"Is it a race now? You're the one on top, if you haven't noticed."
Draco popped up obediently to reposition himself, guided Harry's erection into place and began to sink slowly onto it, "Fuck! Aaaohh fuck!" It was like there was a static charge surging through his body. His nipples had peaked, and his skin tingled. He could feel his cock starting to dribble precome. "Fucking hell. Oh fuck, Harry. Harry, I'm going to come!"
Harry laughed, "You always say that."
"And I always come!" he clutched at Harry's chest, scrabbled at his shoulders.
"Not before you've even moved at all you don't."
Draco rocked experimentally, and an electric zing of pleasure shot through him. "Oh fuck," he groaned, half to himself. "Big."
"You can do it," Harry said gently, stroking his thigh and rubbing his blunt nails against the ticklish place in the crease of Draco's knee. "Give yourself a moment to get used to it."
"I shall never be used to it."
Harry smiled up at him indulgently, "We can change positions if you like."
"No!" Draco snapped, and he began to rock again, clinging to Harry's shoulders for purchase and working himself up to a proper bounce, faster and harder, their bodies coming together with a wet smack of flesh until his thighs shook and burned and his dizzyingly hard cock slapped against his belly. He paused to catch his breath and leaned forward to kiss Harry.
Harry craned up for the kiss and pushed both his warm slippery hands between their bodies to clasp Draco's cock. Draco thrust hard into his slick grip and came warm over Harry's hands and onto his stomach, shuddering and clenching so that Harry was only a moment behind him.
Draco melted off Harry and after a split second's deliberation decided to Tergeo any stickiness left on the sheets and pillowed his head on Harry's chest.
Harry hugged him, "Can you not let me pant properly a moment before you go lolling your great, heavy head all over me?" But he didn't let go.
"I am a tall man," said Draco loftily, "and my head is proportionate to my frame."
Harry laughed, "You're ridiculous."
Draco yawned, "And what does that say about you?"
He shut his eyes and drifted in and out of twilight sleep with Harry's heart slowing to its usual sedate thump under his ear. He scarcely noticed himself mumbling something in his half asleep state.
"Was it you?" Harry asked, suddenly crystal clear.
Draco opened his eyes blearily, "Sorry?"
"You've just said your mum sent me a present. I assume you mean yourself."
Draco snorted and pinched Harry's ribs, "Did I really? I must have been dreaming. But no actually it was a proper present."
Harry caught his pinching fingers and made to kiss them til he noticed they were still quite sticky, "You dreamed your mother sent me a present?"
"No, I dreamed I was telling you. The present is in the kitchen, I think." He pushed up on his elbow and reached for his box of tissues from his night table.
"That won't do anything at this point. We need a bath. I couldn't believe you went to sleep on me without. Is it something to eat?"
Draco frowned, "Is a bath something to eat? It's a bath."
Harry rolled his eyes to the ceiling, "Not the bath, the present."
"No, it's in my bag, and I only put it down there when we got in. It's a picture of Sirius. From when he was small."
Harry's face grew rather sombre, "Oh. That. That was nice of her."
"Sev-she heard that he was your godfather, and he was important to you, so she thought you'd like to have it."
Harry found his hand and squeezed it, "Snape told her. You can mention his name. I won't go to pieces."
"I know," Draco squeezed back. "I told her about us."
Harry smiled, "Which bit?"
"The er. Married bit. I just. It's not a fun surprise if the person you're surprising might not be fun about it."
Harry hugged him a little closer, "She wasn't fun about it?"
"Not especially. She was angry I didn't tell her before. It's embarrassing in her set, you know, not to be consulted and allowed to give consent. She told me that since she's my mother, all my concerns are dear to her."
"Hmm," Harry looked as if he were trying hard not to say something like that's rich.
"I told her off," Draco admitted. "About the war and everything," his eyes were beginning to tingle.
Harry stroked his back, "How was that?"
Draco sniffed hard, "A bit like puking on her shoes. Felt simultaneously better and worse immediately."
Harry continued to pet his back, "Yeah. I can imagine."
"She was okay about that bit, actually." Draco turned his head to let a tear roll off his nose and splash onto Harry's chest. "I hope she still comes to the party."
"She was really keen when you invited her."
Draco sighed, "I know."
Harry kissed the top of his head, "Let's wash. And you can go back to sleep. You need some rest. You've had a big day."
"All right," Draco stretched. "Yeah."
…
They had outdone themselves. Harry was of course glorious in his beautiful dawn coloured robes. He'd pulled his curls into a fat plait and wound it once round his head like a crown. Draco thought he looked like royalty, like the fair folks underhill. Draco flattered himself they were well matched. He'd donned his own dusky blue robes and his fair hair hung in loose waves to his shoulders. He beamed every time he caught sight of them in the glass.
The house itself seemed to be congratulating them and joining in on the festivities. In the years he'd lived at Grimmauld Place with Harry, Draco had never seen a room in the house look so gay and bright. The dining table had stretched itself to meet the demands of their party, and the dining room chairs glowed like brown satin under their polish. The wooden floors were warm and smooth, not a creak under their feet, nor a scuff to be seen. The china and silver on the table glittered like precious gems, and at each place at the table, Draco had set a scarlet napkin folded painstakingly into the shape of a peacock.
The gold and silver bunting on the walls gleamed in the light of scores of floating candles, and the air was sweet with the fragrance of the winter narcissus that Draco had set in bowls around the room.
They had brought Sirius's record player down from his old bedroom, and put on an album of muggle Christmas carols. Draco didn't know the songs, but it made his insides flutter to hear Harry humming along as he put the finishing touches on the dinner. Harry had taken charge of the savoury dishes, and Draco looked after the trifle and the punch. The smell was so scrumptious that Draco couldn't decide what he would bite into first when the moment came to load his plate.
Ron and Hermione were the first to arrive, and Harry came hurrying out of the kitchen in his pinny to meet them as soon as he heard the buzz of the floo. They were positively blooming with health and happiness on the heels of their honeymoon, and they greeted Harry with such cries of delight, such hugs and kisses, that Draco hung reticent in the doorway, contenting himself with watching his spouse revel in the love feast until Ron turned to him with a smile.
"Draco, it's good to see you, mate."
"Good to see you too, Weasel King."
Ron laughed, and they all converged on Draco and hugged him, too. Even Harry. Astoria came next, and she hugged and kissed Draco with as much eager affection as had been bestowed on Harry. Then it was Ginny and Luna with Teddy and Andromeda so close behind that they nearly banged into each other at the mouth of the fire. Then Pansy and Neville supporting a large fruiting plant in a pot between them, followed by Greg cradling a magnum of champagne. Hagrid came to the front door, as he couldn't fit in the fireplace. Then Weasley after Weasley after Weasley til the room was full to bursting with flaming hair and hugs and chatter, and it quite made Draco's ears ring.
Draco was just going to ring the dinner chime, when the Floo hummed one last time, and his mother stepped out of the fire, shaking ash from her skirts with one hand and smoothing her silvering hair with the other. Her eyes widened just slightly at the motley assembly, but she came to greet him and Harry politely, kissing each of them on the cheek.
"Happy Christmas, darling. Harry, don't you look smart in your robes. What a lovely colour."
"Thank you," said Harry, whipping off his pinafore and tossing it at a chair with a grin. "Draco's good taste. He convinced me to buy them."
"But you chose them for yourself, because you have the sense to know when you look an absolute vision and the ruthlessness to use it against me."
Harry laughed, "Use it against you? Does that sound like me? I should go and get the food. Will you get this lot into the dining room while I get the food out onto the sideboard?"
"To hear is to obey." Draco turned to his mother, "May I show you to your seat, Mummy?"
"Of course," she took his arm, and he led her into the dining room.
The rest he chivvied with slightly less refinement, but he managed to get the last of them into their seat as Harry was setting the crown roast into place on the sideboard.
He sidled up to Harry and touched his waist, "Shall we do it now?"
Harry turned and kissed him, "Ready when you are."
So they stepped up to Harry's place at the head of the table, and Harry got the company's attention by shooting golden sparks overhead from his wand.
"We have a little announcement to make," Harry told them. "And we didn't want to tell you one at a time, because you're all our family, and every last one of you means the world to us, so we wanted to have you all together to hear it and celebrate with us."
"A rather serious announcement, I'm afraid," Draco chimed in. "Despite the numerous and varied charms of the Weasley family, neither of us will be able to become an actual bonafide Weasley at any point, because we've already married each other. Harry and I have, that is. Just recently, and I'm afraid we're deliriously happy over it," He caught at Harry's hand and brought it to his lips. "So now all that's left is for us to all be deliriously happy over it together. We're confident you will indulge us."
There was a moment of surprised silence, then the whole group burst into excited babble at once, over which Astoria could be heard shouting, "I knew it! As soon as I saw those moonstone earrings, I knew it!"
And then they would none of them be content til they were out of their chairs to congratulate the happy couple one at a time. Draco blessed the strength of Harry's Keep Hot charm, as his mouth was still rather watering over the crown roast. When everyone had their fill of warm wishes, they regained their proper places and sat down to eat. Draco couldn't remember ever enjoying a meal more in his life.
…
When the dinner had finished, and everyone was full as could be, Harry proposed that they go into the adjoining conservatory. A day or so before the party, Draco had found Regulus Black's harp in his room upstairs, and in a gesture that was more hope than faith, he tuned it and brought it down to the conservatory while they readied the room for the party. His mother's attention was caught by the instrument at once, but she was too polite to make for it immediately.
The room was lovely, lush and green with plants and glowing with fairy lights. Above them the night sky had grown pale with fat clouds, threatening snow. The warming charms had done their work, and it was exquisitely cosy.
Teddy had been told off by his granny for pulling five crackers in a row with Victoire and swapped to the sparklers George had given him, which were sending scraps of pink and green and gold dazzle dancing about the room on their own. There were just enough seats for everyone, leaving only one for Draco and Harry so that Harry sat on a pouffe, and Draco perched on his knee, one arm about his neck and Harry's hands on his waist to steady him.
"I've heard this room is lovely for singing," Harry called above the warm murmur of voices that had mellowed since everyone was fed and was still low enough that he didn't have to raise his voice much. "Have we all drunk enough to do it?"
"That sounds lovely, dear," said Mrs Weasley, who was holding court with her three eldest sons from a basket chair. "What shall we sing?"
"Does everyone know The Holly Wand?" Draco asked. After a chorus of general assent, Draco turned to his mother. "Would you mind playing us in, Mummy?"
She smiled such a warm genuine smile as he could not remember having seen on her face in years, "Of course, darling." And she rose and took her seat at the harp and began to play.
Harry was the first voice to join in the music, "O holly tree, thou king of trees…" Draco leaned back into the pleasure of Harry's chest swelling against him, and the warmth of Harry's arms about him. He married his voice with Harry's, and all around them, the people they loved best sang along with them, united if just for this shining moment of love and joy and peace.