Title: It’s All Good
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco; previous Harry/Ginny & Draco/Astoria; some Hermione/Ron
Summary: When Harry discovers Ginny has been unfaithful with him from the start, he divorces her but allows her to have custody of their only son, Albus. However, when he realizes she’s been putting her own life ahead of caring for their son, he fights for full custody – alienating Ginny and the entire Weasley family in the process. Now, Harry feels alone and unloved, and being forced to change partners (as Ron will no long work with him) to Draco Malfoy – Harry’s long-unadmitted crush – has Harry’s emotional state in an uproar. As his first Christmas as a single dad approaches, Harry hopes he can pull it all together, for Al and for himself.
Rating: R (for language)
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): unsympathetic Ginny; infidelity (on her part); lack of smut
Epilogue compliant? Not especially, though things start out the same (until they’re not).
Word Count: ~5000
Author's Notes: You said you were okay with little smut, so I hope this fits that. And hopefully, the flangst has the right balance for you too – I enjoyed writing it and had fun with your prompt. Many, many thinks to my wonderful beta, J, for her support and help!
“I know this isn’t what you wanted, Harry, but I do think it’s for the best.” Kingsley shuffled the parchment in front of him.
Harry sighed. “I trust you – I just --” What could he say? Kingsley knew how Harry felt, but he had to consider the entire department, not just Harry. Of course, he doesn’t know exactly how I feel, Harry reminded himself. He couldn’t possibly know of the yearnings Harry had when anyone mentioned Malfoy’s name or when he saw a glint of that blond hair across the atrium.
Add to that this mess with Ron, and Harry wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it together. Kingsley seemed to assume Harry’s sigh had to do with Ron.
“Give him some time. I know this is hard for both of you, but your friendship will prevail.”
Harry managed a smile, though his heart clenched at the thought of Ron’s face when he’d told him. What if he’d lost his best mate forever? Harry pushed the thought away and stood. “So when do I start working with Mal – Draco?”
Kingsley grinned. “Good on you. You start after the weekend. Don’t forget that things haven’t been easy for him, either. The two of you can maybe help each other.”
Harry barely held his snort inside. Yeah, right. The day that Malfoy wanted to help him was the day Merlin would walk again. I wish he’d want to help me. I wish….
Harry left Kingsley’s office and tried to hold his head high. Probably most people had heard the rumours about him and Ron anyway, but he didn’t need to add fuel to their fire by letting the rest of his colleagues see how fragile he felt inside.
He made it all the way to the door of the office he’d shared with Ron – but he couldn’t force himself inside. Ron probably wasn’t there – and that hurt too, the realisation that he didn’t know exactly where Ron was. Harry couldn’t quite take a deep breath. “Fuck it,” he muttered, spinning on his heel and making his way down to the Floo bank.
He closed his eyes against the dizziness as he landed – and then the silence of Grimmauld poured over him, and tears burned Harry’s eyes. Everything had changed, seemingly overnight. When Al was born, Harry’d held his firstborn in shaking hands, unable to believe the life he’d stumbled into. Now, less than three years later, he felt like he’d lost it all.
After the war finally ended, Harry joined the others in returning to Hogwarts to complete his education. He’d started up with Ginny again, mostly at her insistence. He had the chance to live his own life, and even though a deep part of him longed for something Ginny could never give him, he mostly wanted to be normal.
At first, it had all been good. Even though the longings grew, Harry was mostly content. And when Al came along, Harry felt like it was all worth it. It didn’t take long, however, before his yearnings surfaced again – and those dreams of blond hair and strength fought with his belief that he should be happy as he was.
Then, before Al’s third birthday in September, Ginny had left him for Dean, whom she’d never quite stopped seeing, apparently. Harry was glad that Al looked just like him, or he’d have to wonder if he was actually his son – not that it would change his love for the boy, his son. Ginny cited Harry’s work schedule as her reason, and she took Al with her. Ron, Harry’s partner, had been furious on Harry’s behalf – until Harry decided he wanted custody. Suddenly, the Weasleys weren’t as fond of him, it seemed. Ginny wept and pleaded, begging Harry to change his mind. “I won’t stand a chance against the Saviour,” she’d said.
Harry gave it a month, but he felt like he had nothing – and couldn’t she have another child with Dean? “A child should have two parents, Harry,” she’d countered. “Al needs me and Dean – with you, he wouldn’t have his mum.”
Again, Harry backed down but, after only a few more weeks of overwhelming loneliness and feelings of loss, he contacted a wizard lawyer and started asking questions. It turned out that Harry could easily win – not because of his Saviour status, but because Ginny was the spouse in the wrong. When he’d approached Ginny at the Burrow last Sunday, the beginning of December, the shit hit the fan.
Molly, who’d always claimed Harry was her son like all the others, glared at him. “You can’t take away our grandson!”
“I’m not,” Harry tried to tell her. “I just want time with him too.”
It wasn’t that easy, of course. Infidelity to the point of divorce was taboo in the wizarding world; if Harry contested the custody agreement on those grounds, Ginny would have to give up sole custody to Harry. Faced with the tears and pleadings on Sunday, Harry had again agreed to back down. But then, he went to pick up Al on Monday for his scheduled time – and Ginny wasn’t home. Harry kept checking every fifteen minutes for over two hours, and when Ginny finally returned with an exhausted and cranky Al at ten o’clock that night, Harry’d had enough.
He filed for custody on Tuesday. He was granted it on Wednesday. Ron stopped talking to him on Thursday, moments after the screaming Floo call from Ginny. He’d gone into work today only to learn that Ron was refusing to work as his partner anymore. He would be picking up Al tomorrow, Saturday, and the silence would finally be broken. Harry told himself he had done it for Al’s sake – and surely that was part of it – but he wondered how much of it was hurt over Ginny’s betrayal. Not that I didn’t deserve it, he thought, his eyes blurring. He knew he hadn’t been a good husband. His heart hadn’t been in their marriage for a long time – from even before the ceremony.
Sure, he’d never cheated – and she obviously had – but his fascination with a certain other person had always held him back from giving himself to Ginny. The longings for someone else had claimed his true loyalty, and Harry admitted to himself that Ginny didn’t deserve that, either.
Harry rubbed the moisture from his eyes as he slumped on the sofa, watching the light in the room slowly dim. It was only early afternoon, but the weather had decided it was ready for winter, and the clouds had been building all morning. Harry felt like the skies were showing their displeasure for his foul-ups too. He’d made a right mess of everything.
Fitting, Harry told himself. He knew he needed to put the finishing touches on Al’s room. Thankfully, Hermione had helped Harry fix the house up during the year after the final battle. Harry’d only lived here for one year after completing his seventh year over again and taking his NEWTs. Then Ginny had insisted on marriage – why, Harry still didn’t know. If she wanted Dean from the beginning, why had she pushed Harry into a relationship he hadn’t wanted since sixth year?
And why did I let her? Harry sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair. He’d let her because it had been easy, much easier than facing those strange desires and unusual dreams which left him sticky and panting – dreams that all too often featured white-blond hair and silver eyes. “God,” Harry whispered. “And now I have to work with him.”
He pulled himself off the sofa and made his way upstairs. The room across from Sirius’s old room, which was now Harry’s, had been made over to a pale green, bright and sunny toddler’s room for Al. Despite the dreary day, Harry had to smile when he touched the minty-looking walls. Even though Ginny had refused to ever live here, Harry had kept the house up, thinking it might work as their family grew. Sure, it hadn’t been easy to conceive Al, though Ginny got pregnant in the first year of their marriage. Harry still suspected she’d used a potion or something, because Ginny only approached Harry for sex when she was ovulating, and he never approached her. It had taken nine months. They’d had sex once since Al’s birth, so Harry knew he should have suspected something was up. But he’d been so relieved that she was leaving him alone – and so enamoured of their beautiful boy – that he let it go.
Now, looking around Al’s room, Harry felt some of his unhappiness slip away. Ginny might hate him; Ron might hate him. But Harry would have his boy back, and really, nothing else could compare with that.
The next day, Harry sat with Al on his bed, smiling as his son babbled about his toys and his ‘new’ room. “I like it, Daddy,” he said, his green eyes peering up at Harry. “Twuly, I do.”
“I’m glad, kiddo,” Harry said, hugging him. Yes, this was all he needed.
Monday morning, however, when Harry went into work again to face Malfoy for the first time, his stomach was in knots. He tried to remember everything Kingsley had said about Malfoy having a tough time too – and he definitely remembered the scathing articles when Malfoy and his wife divorced last spring – but that didn’t help when he thought of how indifferent Malfoy had always seemed. Even when Harry returned his wand and tried to make things right during their last year at Hogwarts, Malfoy had held himself aloof. He wasn’t mean, per se, but Harry couldn’t seem to break through the walls around him, no matter how hard he tried, and he’d tried with everything he had. He just wanted – well, he wanted.
He took a deep breath as he stood outside their office door, thinking of Al and his excitement at staying at the Ministry daycare. Hermione had been one of the chief instigators of the childcare project, but Ginny had never wanted Al to go to work with Harry like that – even though she simply dropped Al off at Molly’s every day. Harry was glad he could finally use it.
Now, though, Harry had to face Malfoy and being an Auror without Ron. He took another deep breath, trying to fight off a growing feeling of panic. The door swung open, and Malfoy stood there, staring at him. “Aren’t you coming in?” he asked.
“Erm, sure,” Harry said. But when Malfoy didn’t move back, Harry didn’t move forwards.
Then Malfoy smirked. “I guess you need an invitation,” he said, stepping back and sweeping his arm towards the office in a grand gesture.
Harry walked past him, feeling like an idiot. He caught a whiff of vanilla and something spicy – and he closed his eyes for a second. He’d only been ‘working’ with Malfoy for a few seconds, and already he was distracted. There was no way this would work.
“Did you get your son off okay?” Malfoy asked, coming round to the front of the desk Harry plopped down at.
Harry nodded. “Do we have a case?” His voice was hoarse, and Harry wished he had some water.
Like Malfoy read his mind, a bottle came flying from the other desk, and he handed it to Harry. “We do. Something easy, I’m guessing, to let us figure this new dynamic between us.”
“Kingsley tell you that?” Harry managed, gulping the water.
Malfoy nodded. “You don’t think I go around talking like that normally, do you?”
“I guess I wouldn’t know,” Harry murmured. “Thanks,” he added, giving the half-empty bottle back.
Malfoy took it without comment and perched on the edge of the desk. Harry tried hard not to notice the way his thighs tensed where he held his balance – what was wrong with him?
“I considered making my hair ginger for the occasion, but I’m afraid my mirror at home wouldn’t allow it.”
Harry stared. What?
“So I’m afraid you’ll simply have to make do with a partner who is, in every way, superior to your previous experience. I hope it won’t take long to catch up.” With that, he rose and strode to the other desk, picking up a piece of parchment. “Our first case,” he said with a flourish. Then he paused, raising his brows at Harry.
Harry couldn’t hold back a short laugh, and Malfoy’s grey eyes sparked.
“Althea Timberbolt has gained a cat – and she’s convinced that the creature in question is actually an unregistered animagus who has been spying on her and reporting back to some mysterious, evil force.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “Y-you’re joking.”
Malfoy’s brows lifted again. “Oh, no. It’s all right here, written in our esteemed superior’s hand.”
Harry took the parchment offered to him, scanning it with shock. He wasn’t joking. “Oh. Well, erm --”
He perched on Harry’s desk, crossing his legs this time. Harry did not notice those slender, muscular thighs. “So – how shall we begin?” Malfoy asked.
Harry couldn’t think.
Malfoy didn’t give him much of a chance to, either. “Why don’t we head over there and talk to the, erm, witch in question?”
“S-sure,” Harry managed. He hadn’t even taken his cloak off yet, so he simply followed Malfoy out the door, his head spinning.
“Take my arm,” Malfoy said, as they went outdoors. Harry blinked but didn’t argue, though his head felt fuzzier when he touched Malfoy, and he knew it wasn’t the Apparition itself.
Malfoy steadied him as they landed, a slight smirk on his face – though Harry thought he saw a kind light in those grey eyes. Harry looked around, noting the typical village neighbourhood – not that different from Hogsmeade, really. The cottage was small, with numerous trees stretching out their limbs towards the neighbours and the winding road where Harry and Malfoy stood.
Harry pulled his cloak a little tighter as a gust of wind swept past them. Then the front door burst open, and a petite, elderly witch stomped out to meet them. “Took you long enough,” she huffed, folding her arms over her chest. “He could a’ killed me by now, you know.”
Malfoy moved back a bit, leaving Harry to deal with the angry woman. “We’re sorry, ma’am. We just got the case this morning --”
She rolled her eyes. “Right,” she muttered. “More like Mr. Head Auror didn’t think my complaint held any merit. Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m senile.”
“We don’t think you’re senile,” Harry said. Malfoy nudged him in the back, and Harry stepped on his toes in retaliation. Harry cleared his throat. “Erm, where is the, erm, animal in question?”
She peered up at him, her black eyes narrowing. “You look like that Harry Potter fella,” she said.
Malfoy snorted, but Harry tried to hold onto his patience. “I’m just another auror, ma’am. My partner and I will do our best to figure out what’s happening here --”
She hmphed and whirled away, back towards the house. Harry hurried to follow her, knowing Malfoy was calmly walking behind him. When they reached the cottage, the sky opened up and a freezing rain pelted them.
The witch didn’t seem to notice and instead blocked the doorway while she began calling, “Seamus – here, kitty!”
Malfoy snorted again and said something that sounded like, “Finnigan,” but he seemed to be silently laughing too hard to make it clear.
Harry sighed. “How long have you had the cat?”
“It’s not a cat,” the witch said, even as she added, “Here, kitty, kitty!”
Behind him, Malfoy sounded like he might be choking, and Harry could tell it was up to him. The rain had chunks of snow in it, and Harry could feel water dripping down his neck. That, mixed with huffs of warm air coming from Malfoy, had his skin prickling as goose pimples broke out. He shifted his weight, hoping Malfoy didn’t notice that he was losing his composure.
“What does the, erm, cat-person look like?”
The witch whirled around, almost punching Harry in the gut with her swinging elbow. “What kind of auror are you? If I’d just waited I’d know you couldn’t be Harry Potter – he would have heard of an animagus, at least.” She sounded disgusted, and Malfoy let out another of those wheezy laughs, and Harry thought he felt Malfoy’s lips brush the back of his neck – but why would that happen?
I have to get it together, he thought. This was a nightmare. He’d gone from Malfoy being aloof to him thinking Harry was an utter idiot. And all Harry could think of was how that scent of vanilla infused even the snow – and he was lost. He was lost, and he didn’t know how he’d get past this.
Then, Malfoy stepped up next to Harry and said, “This is Harry Potter, actually. And he knows what an animagus is – but he’s trying to showing you some credence, if you’d bother to do the same.” His voice was calm but cool, and, while Harry stood in shock, the witch didn’t seem to realise she’d just been insulted.
By the time her mouth began to open again, Malfoy had moved her aside and gone into the house. “Redire ad se, he called, moving his wand in a sweeping motion.
From the back of the cottage, something crashed, and Harry heard the tinkling of glass breaking. The witch scowled. “What are you doing? I don’t want you destroying things.”
“I thought you wanted the animagus to return to its human form so we could contain him?” Malfoy said coolly.
Harry stared, feeling like he’d lost any control he might have had. Where had Malfoy learned that spell, anyway? Then he realised that their culprit was in the cottage still – unless he’d got away while Harry stood here like a wooden block. He bolted around the cottage, slipping and sliding in the now-icy grass, hoping the person was too stunned to escape.
Someone was stumbling through the garden at the back, and Harry whipped up his wand and yelled, “Stupefy!” The person pitched forward, landing with his head in the middle of a prickly-looking and leafless vine. Harry winced as he made his way over, hoping he hadn’t shredded the person’s skin. He really hated this part of his job – even though this was a Bad Person supposedly, Harry still felt cruel for inflicting pain.
Before he reached the prone person, however, the witch pushed past him, moving with surprising speed over the slick ground. When she reached the man, she began beating him with a cane. “You daft prick,” she said. “How dare you sneak into my home and spy on me?”
Harry hesitated, not sure how to intervene. Behind, he heard sniggers. “Are you going to do something?” Harry asked, pushing his wet hair from his forehead.
“Why? He’s getting what he deserves.” Then Malfoy sighed and came forward. “Fine. I’ll formally arrest him and send him off to the Ministry holding cells. Will that make you happy?”
Harry managed a mute nod, though he didn’t feel that happy. Even when Malfoy moved the angry – and still whomping – witch aside and did as he said, Harry still felt unsteady and confused.
What was wrong with him? He and Malfoy had worked together fine, and although Harry had struggled to focus and help out at all, they’d got their man. They’d solved the case – or rather, Malfoy had, and Harry had…well, he’d been here. Backing Malfoy up, so to speak.
Malfoy sent the man off – who was bleeding from a number of deep scratches on his face – with a portkey. Then he said something to the witch and dragged a still-silent Harry away. When Harry didn’t respond to Malfoy’s question, whatever it was, Malfoy pulled Harry close and Apparated them away.
Harry clung to him as they landed, his eyes squeezed shut. “Harry. Come on, snap out of it,” Malfoy said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I know my speed and efficiency is breathtaking, but I do need you to pretend to be a competent human here. We still have paperwork to fill in, and there’s no way you’re leaving all that to me too.”
And just like that, everything became too much. Harry’s breath clogged in his throat, and he couldn’t make his lungs function. He tightened his grip on Malfoy, unable to let go or even pry open his eyes. There was an awful wheezing sound filling Harry’s ears, and he couldn’t think beyond it. Malfoy was saying something, but Harry couldn’t focus on his words, and the blackness slowly enveloped him.
“—don’t know what else to do.”
Harry felt warm and comfortable. The darkness seemed different now, less restrictive and suffocating. And that was Hermione’s voice, which settled something deep within. Plus, he was dry; no more icy water trickling down his neck.
“For now, maybe this is what he needs.”
Harry thought about opening his eyes, because that was Malfoy. He didn’t know why Malfoy and Hermione would be talking near him – and then he realised he didn’t know where he was. He listened, trying to figure it out.
A fire crackled, and he could feel the heat melting into him. As he breathed, he smelled the wood, a faint hint of lavender – that would be Hermione – and something which soothed him instantly: vanilla and spice.
He could also smell something which felt like home, and he realised that was where he was: Grimmauld Place. But if he was here, where was Al? Suddenly panicked, Harry bolted upright, the room swimming around him a bit as he opened his eyes.
“Harry --” Hermione started.
“He’s fine,” Malfoy said, putting his slender hand on Harry’s arm. “He’s with Scorpius, at the Manor. My mother is watching them both.” His grey eyes met Harry’s with such warmth and reassurance that Harry fell back onto the sofa in relief.
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said, and Harry finally looked at her. She sat near his feet, her brown eyes filled with tears.
“I’m okay,” he said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Really.”
“I’m so sorry Ron and the others are being so awful,” she said, like he’d not spoken. “I’ve tried talking to them, but they can’t seem to understand what’s going on – and Ginny has been used to getting their attention for her entire life, you know.”
Harry reached out a hand to her, only then realising that Malfoy was still touching his other arm – and that he liked it. He kept that arm still as he talked. “It’s not your job to convince them, ‘Mione. I – well, I shouldn’t have married her like that.”
“Like what, exactly?” came Malfoy’s voice.
Harry’s stomach clenched. He needed to be honest, but what if Malfoy refused to be his partner once he learned the truth? What if Harry lost this – whatever this was – for good? He swallowed, looking for some semblance of courage within. Even so, he couldn’t look at Malfoy while he explained. Keeping his gaze on Hermione, he said, “I never really fell in love with her. I mean, I cared about her – I still care about her. But it was always more of a sister-type love, I think. I wanted so desperately to be normal and to have a family. And Ginny was always there, always offering me what I thought I wanted.”
“Until she cheated on you, you mean,” Malfoy said, dislike clear in his voice.
Surprised, Harry met those grey eyes, eyes filled with what looked like anger. “It wasn’t only her fault. I – I couldn’t, um, be with her. I couldn’t get excited, you know?” Heat surged into his cheeks. Did Malfoy know what he was saying?
Something in those eyes softened, and the understanding Harry saw there made his breath catch in his chest.
“Ah.” Malfoy didn’t say anything else, but Harry’s stomach relaxed, only to tense in a different way as Malfoy’s thumb rubbed over Harry’s wrist in a gentle caress.
Harry swallowed, wanting to get it all out – needing both of them to know everything. “I was so happy to have a child – a son. I’m sure she could tell that I loved Al in a way I would never love her, could never love her. So yeah, even though part of me feels used because she kept things up with Dean, I also think I had something to do with that.”
Hermione slapped his leg. “That wasn’t your fault!” Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparked. “I don’t care if you were having sex regularly or not, Harry. She shouldn’t have used both of you the way she did – and she should’ve talked to you about it before she did anything to cheat on your relationship. The Weasleys are being ridiculous in their support of her, and you have every right to ask for Al’s custody -- you’re the one who’s been his main parent all along.”
Malfoy’s brows rose. “I’d have to agree,” he said. “Even those of us who weren’t a part of your daily life could see that Al was most often in your company.”
Harry looked between the two of them, suddenly feeling a peace he’d been missing for a long time. “Do you really think it’s okay that I pushed for custody?” he asked, hating the break in his voice.
“Of course,” Malfoy said.
“Absolutely,” Hermione said, at the same time. Then she looked between them, and a sly smile crossed her face. “Listen, Harry. I need to go and check on a couple of things. I’ll come back in a while, but I think you should rest a bit. Can you stay with him, Malfoy?”
Harry almost protested, but then Malfoy said, “Of course,” in that matter-of-fact way, and his hand tightened on Harry’s wrist. Harry closed his mouth and nodded to Hermione.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek before Floo-ing off.
After a brief silence, Malfoy said, “Did you ever hear why Astoria and I divorced?”
“No. I mean, I-I wondered, but it wasn’t really my business,” Harry said, his heart beginning to thump. He hoped Malfoy couldn’t feel it in his wrist.
Malfoy tilted his head a bit, angling it toward the fire, which flickered and sent shadows over Malfoy’s high cheekbones. Beautiful, Harry thought.
“I’m gay,” Malfoy said bluntly. “And actually, it is your business.” He took a deep breath, still looking at the flames, though he hadn’t loosed Harry’s wrist. “Astoria found out I was – that I had unresolved feelings for you.”
Harry blinked, his pulse speeding up to the point that he was certain Malfoy could feel it. It wasn’t until he turned his head to again meet Harry’s gaze that Harry realised he was grinning. “Really?” he asked.
A slow smirk curved Malfoy’s pink lips. “Really.”
“S-so if I told you that working with you made me nervous because I was certain you’d see this crush I had on you --”
And then those pink lips were touching Harry’s, and Harry’s eyes slid closed even as he opened his mouth. When Malfoy’s – no, Draco’s – tongue touched his, Harry thought he’d finally found what he’d always been looking for.
Within moments, Draco had draped his body over Harry’s, and the heat of the fire was nothing compared to the heat between them. Harry panted as he thrust his hips up into Draco’s, searching for that completion, that perfect moment. He looked up at Draco’s flushed face, those grey eyes blissed out, and Harry’s head went back and he came, harder than he ever had before.
Draco groaned and dropped his head to Harry’s shoulder. They held each other as their bodies shook, and then Draco began kissing Harry again, his lips gentler but no less fiery than before.
“Spend Christmas with me?” Harry breathed, once he could speak again.
“Try and stop me,” Draco said.
It would’ve been nice, Harry thought, if they could just live happily ever after. Of course, things didn’t always work like that. But, as the new year came and went, he realised he was happier than he’d ever been – and even though life wasn’t perfect, it was awfully good.
Draco not only came for Christmas but was often at Grimmauld in the couple of weeks before that. So often, in fact, that they decided he should use most of the week between Christmas and New Year setting up another room at Grimmauld for Scorpius. He and Scorpius moved in on New Year’s Eve, and now he and Harry had a routine of dropping the boys off at the Ministry daycare on their way to work on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. On Tuesdays, Scorpius went to the Manor and Al went to the Burrow. On Thursdays, both boys went to the Manor. Narcissa was overjoyed; Molly was coming around.
Ginny still acted like Harry had betrayed her in the worst way possible – and, because of her own behaviour, she could only see Al on the Tuesdays he was with Molly. Ron still wasn’t speaking to Harry; Hermione had moved out and broken off their engagement. Kingsley loved the new Auror partnership between Draco and Harry, but Harry was thinking of retiring. He felt like someone should be available for the boys – and Draco, to his surprise, agreed. Harry suspected they might both be working elsewhere by the end of the year.
Till then, he saw Draco at work and at home, which was no longer quiet or lonely. Now, even when the snow fell outside or the wind blew against the windows, the giggles of their sons and the constant light in Draco’s eyes warmed Harry’s heart. And the scents of vanilla and spice filled his days and nights with a love he never thought he would find – yes, life was pretty damn good.