Title: Normality is to Freedom (as Blood-Pumping Muscle is to Heart)
Rating: Hard R
Disclaimer: JKR's
Fandom: HP
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Albus Severus/ Scorpius, James II/ Teddy, George/Lee, Canon pairings, Lily/Various
Summary: Harry and his children grow up. It's possible they don't quite fit the frame the wizarding world tends to accept.
Other: This is kind of a time-skip fic told in fifteen scenes at different times. Testing a new format, if it sucks, tell me.
Notes: So, I've been working on this forever, and I finally finished it this afternoon. I'm not 100% satisfied, but that's okay. I really have to do some schoolwork right about now...
Anyway, this was an incredibly fun fic to write. I mean, insanely fun. Harry is one of the best POV characters ever, because he can be so dense. Although I'm reasonably certain the ending lost it's touch.

1. 2008

Al is two. James is four. Teddy is eleven, and has just left for Hogwarts. "Can't I go with him?" James begs, and dissolves into tears when Harry says no.

"What's wrong with him?" George asks later. "He looks like Ron did when we turned his teddy bear into a spider."

"Similar story," Harry says slowly, noting the twitch in George's lips when he says 'we' and the plethora of bad 'teddy bear' puns applicable to this situation.

2. 2018

Al has always been quiet about his social life. He talks endlessly about his studies and uses words Harry can't count the syllables on, but he clams up when the talk turns to friends. It's not that he doesn't have any- by James' account, he's a real hit in Ravenclaw, and with most others for that matter- it's just that he doesn't talk about it.

Case in point, he doesn't know until a few days before Al's second year of Hogwarts starts that he's best friends with Scorpius Malfoy. They're in Flourish and Blotts, trying to locate all the books they need when a pale blond head that looks suddenly familiar spins around and says, "Al?"

And Al, whom you can't pry away from a book if the house is on fire, looks up, sees Scorpius and grins widely. "Score! I thought you said you couldn't make it."

"Change of plans," Scorpius said. "My mother was throwing dishes, so Grandmother got me out as fast as she could."

Al winces. "Sorry."

Scorpius shrugs. "It'll pass. Eventually."

Harry clears his throat pointedly.

"Oh, right!" Al says brightly. "Dad, this is Scorpius Malfoy. Score, this is my dad, Harry-"

"Potter. Yes, I'd gathered that, somehow," Scorpius says dryly. Harry can't help grinning. "Pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Please," Harry says, "call me Harry." It feels like an out-of-body experience. He says the same to any of Lily and James' friends, but this is Draco Malfoy's son.

And they look so much alike it hurts.

Harry is just trying to come up with something to say- something witty and kind, something that will keep the smile on Al's face, but also, Harry thinks, something that Scorpius would want to tell his father about, a subtle way of apologizing for whatever it was he said the last time they met that made Draco storm off in a huff.

He's stopped, though, by the arrival of Narcissa Malfoy.

Harry starts. "Uh," he says intelligently. "Mrs. Malfoy."

She waves a pale, slim hand deprecatingly. "Narcissa, please. I believe enough has passed between us to put us on a first-name basis."

"That sounds like a good idea," Harry says, still feeling like a complete idiot.

There is stilted silence for a while, while Al and Scorpius try very hard not to grin at each other and fail.

"So," Al says brightly, and Harry knows he understands, because he's always understood the intricacies of broaching the "war" topic. "What were your parents arguing about this time?"

"They're finalizing the divorce papers. It's all about property. And me. Ooh, is that the new charms workbook?"

"You're such a bookworm," Al says fondly (hypocritically, given the fact that he, Rose and Hermione are still the only three people in the extended Weasley clan to have read Hogwarts: A History from cover to cover) as they wander off, inspecting the stacks of books.

Not for the first time, Harry wonders how on earth he'd managed to produce Al.

"If he's having trouble at home," Harry hears himself saying, "He's welcome to come over sometime."

Narcissa's face softens. "That would be wonderful. His parents…well, they're good parents, but right now…"

"No, I understand," Harry says, one eye on his son, who is laughing loudly, his hand clutched in Scorpius' sleeve.

Al doesn't touch people often.

Before even two minutes have passed, he finds himself inviting Scorpius to stay with them till the end of the summer. Provided it's okay with his parents, of course.

Narcissa smiles widely. "Draco will throw a minor hissy fit, I'm sure, but it'll be fine. I'll just go run it by Scorpius."

Seconds later, Al is bounding up to him. "You invited Score to stay with us? Really?"

Harry nods, smiling.

Al hugs him. Harry would probably invite Draco Malfoy himself over if it would make Al this happy.

They finish their shopping together, and Harry finds, to his great surprise, that he quite enjoys it.

Narcissa leaves them at the Leaky, after getting their floo address, to go pick up Scorpius' things. The other three of them take the subway home. It's a novel experience for Scorpius, though Harry and Al do it often. James thinks it's boring, and it makes Lily nauseous, but Al loves it. Scorpius does too, it turns out; he's completely enthralled.

By the time they get home, Ginny and the others are already back from their own shopping excursion.

When she sees the pale face and the grey eyes, Ginny forgets the plates she's floating and they crash to the floor. She blushes bright Weasley red and spells them back together. Harry can see the back of Scorpius' neck turning roughly the same shade.

"Ginny, this is Al's friend Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius, this is my wife-"

"Ginny Potter," Scorpius says with a faint smile. "I knew that one too. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ginny smiles despite herself. "Nice to meet you too."

"Score's gonna stay with us till school starts," Al says, bouncing around already. "I'm going to show him my room." He drags Scorpius off by the hand and leaves the grown-ups alone.

"Till school starts?" Ginny repeats, pale eyebrows raised.

Harry sighs, runs a hand through his hair. "We ran into each other in Diagon Alley. Al was all over him, and he was saying his parents are in the middle of a divorce. I was talking to his grandmother, and I offered that he could come over some time. And she was so grateful…apparently there's been flying dishes and screaming, and Al was so happy…"

"Okay," Ginny says. "It's okay. He seems like a nice kid."

"Oh, he is. Er, by the way, Narcissa will be here soon to bring his stuff," Harry says nonchalantly and tries to escape.

"Stop right there, Harry," Ginny says dangerously. "Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Yes," Harry says innocently.

"Bugger," Ginny says. "That means I'll have to invite her over for dinner."

"What?" Harry asks, alarmed.

James comes storming in a second later. "What's Score doing here?"

"You know him too?" Harry asks. "Why'd you never tell?"

James shrugs. "I figured Al talked about him more than enough. They're practically attached at the hip."

"Well he didn't," Harry says grumpily.

"Huh," James grunts, going for the fridge and immediately being blocked by Ginny. "Might be on account of the whole thing where you hate the Malfoys."

"I don't hate them," Harry says.

Everyone stares at him.

"What?" He asks indignantly. "I don't. We've certainly had our differences, but I don't hate them."

"I think I do," Ginny says. "He's still a ferrety git."

She sees Al and Scorpius standing in the doorway and goes red all over again. "S…Sorry," She mutters.

Scorpius smiles. "It's fine. My father refers to both of you in similar terms when he's had more than two glasses of wine."

Harry smiles easily at him. "Well, then."

Just then, Narcissa floos in, holding a laden backpack and with a trunk at her feet. "Scorpius, darling," she says. "I brought your things. Your parents send their love and ask you to write. Your father apologizes."

"Thank you," Scorpius gets out, before Al is racing ahead again.

"Come on," he says, "I'll help you carry your stuff up."

James backs out the door slowly after they're gone.

"You must stay for dinner," Ginny says faintly.

Narcissa raises a carefully groomed eyebrow. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Oh, yeah," Ginny continues in the same tone. "We can reminisce fondly about hating each other. It'll be fun."

"Yeah," Harry says. "And then we can call Ron and Hermione up and have a nice talk about our fond memories of staying at Malfoy Manor…it'll be a blast."

For a minute, he thinks he's overdone it, but then she smiles and says, "All right, if you say so. I'm glad to."

And just like that, the Malfoys are officially part of their social circle.

Harry's thrilled, a little, because now he doesn't have to think up excuses to bug Draco at work.

The war is long since past, he has to get his kicks somehow, doesn't he?

3. 2019

Teddy and Victoire break up. Bill is livid. Al is twelve.

"Why does everyone expect every relationship to be true love and last forever?" Teddy fumes.

"I have absolutely no idea," Harry says. He's wondered the same thing about wizarding society many times before. He wonders if, if maybe they'd met a bit later in life, Ginny wouldn't have slammed the door on her way out this morning.

"It's not like she was even in love with me!" Teddy says.

Harry makes a commiserating sound. He's learned how to do those really well whenever Ron and Hermione argue. He and Teddy are halfway through a bottle of Firewhiskey, which is totally okay, because Ted is twenty-one and Harry no longer needs to set a Good Example For Teddy To Learn Things.

He wonders if he could tell Teddy he's not entirely certain he and Ginny were ever really in love.

4. 2020

Al and Scorpius are thirteen when they have a big blow-up argument and stop talking to each other. It lasts for all of four hours.

Harry doesn't even know what the argument is about. Ginny is certain it's about a girl, and Draco agrees.

Harry doesn't know whether to believe that. He doesn't peg Al or Scorpius as that shallow. They're both Ravenclaws and scarily intelligent. Harry also know they've both had girlfriends before (thought they really are ridiculously young for that sort of thing) and that hasn't lead to arguments. He doubts he'll ever know what the argument is about, but he knows that those four hours they aren't speaking are the most miserable and angry he's ever seen his son. It makes him wonder, just a bit, about Al and Scorpius.

5: 2021

The end of the war changed a lot in Wizarding society. An increase of awareness about Muggles, for one thing- within five years, a wizard's version of the internet was created. Soap operas caught on within three.

Harry feels rather old more often than he'd like.

Lily is only twelve when she first starts getting letters from boys over the summer. From several different boys. He sits her down to have a brief chat about it, in an entirely unthreatening way.

She rolls her eyes and says, "It's different now, dad," and walks away.

Al, from behind his book, fourteen and gangly, says, "She's right, you know."

"Why is it 'different'?" Harry asks grumpily, massaging his temples.

"Now the war's over, prejudice has become so obsolete as a factor of the upbringing of children that they're comfortable changing some of the most basic rituals of our society. Redefining ideas of relationships and conventionality. A bit like Flower Power, only more of it and less girly. Also, we have wands."

Al turned out to be a Ravenclaw, which doesn't really surprise Harry much. He's always been a thoughtful, intelligent child. More so than his siblings, at least. He always says Al takes after Hermione's side of the family (and Ginny snorts and shakes her head every time).

"Flower power as in…" Harry trails off, frowning.

"As in sex and bohemians, yeah," Al said. "Hm. Maybe Flower Power isn't the best example. But it's definitely about sex and bohemians. Somehow."

"Do I want to know more?"

Al closes his book. "Depends. Would you rather remember your children for their childhood innocence and ignore the rest or know all about their adolescent experimentation phase?"

"Stop giving me a headache on purpose."

Al smirks.

"I never had an adolescent experimentation phase," Harry says mournfully.

Al shrugs. "It's like the sixties. The generation after a huge war was fought that was all about prejudice hears all about how bad prejudice is and decides that the conventional path is too much like prejudice, or something."

"Or something. So how many boys is Lily seeing?"

"More like occasionally snogging and occasionally misusing for study purposes. A few, I suppose. It's nothing bad, don't worry. James and I'll be there if something goes too far."

Harry mutters something about not having snogged anyone till he was fifteen. Al tries not to laugh.

"What about James?" he asks, suddenly struck by horror. What if all of them are doing it?

Al shrugs. "He's going with the flow, but he's the type to settle into monogamy sooner rather than later. It's Lily who's the real time-bomb. I saw her reading Marx the other day."

Harry sighs. "I didn't even know you knew who Marx was."

"He was a wizard."

"Even bloody better," Harry grumbles.

Al grins. "Well, I'm off. I'm flooing over to Score's, I'll see you later."

It only occurs to Harry afterwards that he never asked about Al himself.

He mentions it to Ginny later that night over the floo. She shrugs, remembering herself at that age. "He's probably just fancying someone or something like that. He'll talk to us if it's serious."

Harry hopes so.

6: 2021

Harry never had to give any of his children the sex talk, a fact for which he is repeatedly and vocally grateful. Extended exposure to their Uncle George and Ginny's matter-of-fact way of addressing these things took care of all that. Unfortunately, it places him in the awkward position of never knowing quite how to react when his children happen to mention boyfriends or girlfriends.

On second thought, that may just be Harry's innate lack of aptitude when it comes to interacting with other humans. Sometimes, he wishes that life really were a stage; then there would be a script and someone would whisper his lines to him from behind a curtain and maybe, just maybe, he would manage to keep his foot far enough out of his mouth to not be Harry Potter, the Oblivious One, the Boy who Lived in Confusion.

Somehow, Al is the only one of his children whose presence Harry feels completely calm in. James is the son he always dreamed he'd have, when he let himself dream about things like that; robust, lively, funny and happy. Almost like Harry imagines his own father and James' namesake might have been.

Lily takes after her mother rather a lot, what with the whole growing breasts and giggling thing. The female sex has always been a mystery to Harry, he settles on spoiling Lily rotten and not trying to fathom the intricacies of her mind.

But Al seems to understand his comfort zone by nature, and Al is a quiet, stay-at-home sort of boy. He doesn't bond with Harry about Quidditch or hate of potions, but he's wise in a way that Harry appreciates ever more as his children grow.

Harry and Ginny peter out some time before Lily's second year at Hogwarts. Harry isn't unduly shocked about it; they've long since lost the adolescent spark that made their relationship worthwhile. That doesn't make the split any more bearable, though. It's a frigid war that makes Harry's mouth taste like he's swallowed cold coffee and ink.

Ron doesn't talk to him for a week after he moves out of his and Ginny's house.

7: 2021

They agree on joint custody for the kids, because no one could say that Harry isn't a good dad, and Ginny wants to work more. But the kids are all at Hogwarts for most of the year anyway, and Harry's flat goes cold and empty faster than he'd like.

Ron is talking to him again, at least, but Ron has a wife and an extended family, all of which is related to Ginny.

They still talk to Harry, yes, but there is a gap to be crossed, an inevitable consequence of the shifting of dynamic, and Harry gets that. It's just a bit lonely.

He meets Draco Malfoy at the Leaky. He's on his lunch break (there are no cases running, it's all just paperwork today. If it weren't he wouldn't even have a lunch break), as is Draco. Al and Scorpius are in their fifth year at Hogwarts, Lily in her third.

No one was more shocked than Harry when Draco actually started working some years back. He could have probably lived comfortably off the inheritance the ministry hadn't yet been able to take away, but he chose not to.

It was decent of him, in a way Harry had grown accustomed to thinking of Draco. A sort of pompous, code-of-honour that is strangely endearing, and if his thirteen-year-old self had heard himself think that, he'd have feared for his sanity.

The more surprising thing is, he's working for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Of course the hole left by Fred's death had been large. Fuck, it had been Mt. fucking Everest, complete with the ice and the high altitude inability to breathe, to begin with. And that humongous Fred-shaped hole is unfillable within the Weasley family. Of course, they wouldn't want to fill it. Fred had been Fred, and it was far easier and healthier to mourn his death than it would have been to pervert the purity of his memory by replacing him.

Is business, though, George had needed a replacement. Lee helps him sometimes, but even Harry can see what Fred's death has done to them. The Fred hole is almost visible with the two of them. Harry remembers when they were still at school, how you'd never come across Lee without the twins, and usually they were all slung around each other, a big rolling mass of trouble and mischief. Now George and Lee are always a foot apart, as if unconsciously leaving space for Fred, because his absence has changed them irreparably.

So Draco took over the potions section of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Harry had been pleasantly surprised that the products continued to be good. Ginny had refused to touch them with a ten foot pole, and Harry had proceeded to buy a few, just to spite her.

Back in the present, Harry plops down across from Draco, having ordered his lunch. Draco looks up from his paper (Wizard World Weekly. Even Rita Skeeter couldn't save the Prophet for those wizards who were capable of thought after the war), gives Harry a somewhat bemused smile, and puts the paper away.

"Potter," he says.

"Malfoy," Harry says. They always do this, carefully cultivate a parody of their long-since dead resentment. Harry hasn't called Draco "Malfoy" in his head since the day the war ended. There's a certain amount of comfort in the tradition.

"I see you're once again hard at work saving the wizarding world from evildoers," Draco says, indicating to Harry's plate of eggs and bacon and his cup of tea.

"Hm," Harry agreed. "And you're obviously on a much-needed break from all that important work, developing pranks for pre-teens."

"Oh, how do you think the world will continue turning without our valuable input?"

"Probably the same way it always does. If Hermione stopped working, then we'd be in trouble."

Draco snorts out a laugh. "So how've you been?"

Harry sighs. "The same. You don't really notice how boring your life will be without the constant arguments, bitter unhappiness and fear."

"Oh, I know. I didn't notice till a month after Astoria left that the reason it was so quiet was because no one was throwing things or yelling."

"Of course, boredom is probably better than being miserable. I take it you've been well?"

Draco shrugged. "Well as ever. Shunned by society and in severe danger of my sarcasm gland running dry."

"Your sarcasm gland? Dry? Don't make me laugh."

"I blame George. He so good at being cheerful I don't dare snark at him."

"He does have that brave-little-toaster thing going for him."

"I beg your pardon?" Draco says stuffily, and Harry has to laugh.

"I'm sorry. Muggle pop culture. I should know better."

"Too right you should."

"No, but seriously," Harry says. "How's work?"

"You just want the inside scoop on new products."

"You know me too well." Draco working for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is actually kind of a funny ironic twist. No one can really hire him because it's bad business, hiring a war criminal- unless you're a war hero, then it's a magnanimous statement.

It means that Harry's chances of seeing Draco are exponentially larger, though. George hired him seven years ago, and has become good friends with him since, to the shock of the Weasley clan.

Harry and Draco didn't kill each other on first sight for George's sake more than anything, really, until they realized that things had changed.

Harry is still, if he's completely honest, a little shocked at how important and thoroughly pleasant talking to (and yelling at, to begin with) Draco is. Hermione explained carefully and a little bit condescendingly that it has to do with Harry's comfort zone, how he needs someone like Draco to play off, needs an enemy and someone he can be mean to and hate.

Secretly, Harry disagrees.

He likes Draco. Sure, he was a ferrety twerp when they were at school, and then they didn't see each other for a full five years before Draco started working at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but they both got around to growing up during that time, and Harry finds he likes grown-up Draco quite a lot.

He enjoys their arguments (the first few times he'd been so inexplicably happy even Ginny had commented. Harry owes some of the best sex he and Ginny ever had to Draco. Thankfully, neither Draco nor Ginny know this) and rather revels in the lack of respect and hero-worship even Ron and Hermione sometimes fall into.

Harry doesn't know why Draco enjoys his company, but he does know that they haven't had an actual argument in many, many years. They bicker and snipe, but with affection. It kind of confuses Harry that no one seems to notice that. It has something to do with a forest, and trees, he thinks.

Draco snags a sip of Harry's tea. "My son tells me he caught your daughter in a broom closet with Blaise Zabini's spawn."

"You mean Cheryl?" Harry says. "The…"

"…girl?" Draco asks dryly.

"Slytherin," Harry says. "I know about the girl thing."

"Really," Draco says, the affected boredom and snobbism suddenly gone from his voice.

"Yeah," Harry says. "Apparently my children are either hippies or in a teenage experimentation phase."

"Ah," Draco nods, eyeing Harry's lunch. He's always careful and stealthy about stealing Harry's food. Harry would give it to him, if he asked, but he's guessed that asking would defeat the purpose. "I remember that."

"Really?" Harry says dully. "I don't. I never had one of those."

Draco stares at him. "You mean you only ever had…Ginny?"

Her first name still sounds a bit wrong in Draco's cultured, polished, somewhat snooty voice. Harry considers mentioning the few awkward snogs he shared with Cho Chang, but then remembers the rumours that were flying around about what exactly happened in the Slytherin dorms. "I wouldn't put it like that," he says, "but yes."

Draco looks like he's very close to laughing at Harry.

"I think I missed out," Harry says. "Now Ginny's gone, I kind of realized I never thought about it. Save the world, marry the witch and be done with it. I don't even know if I'm straight." If this were Ron, sitting across from him, stealing forkfuls of his lunch, Harry would never have said that.

"It doesn't make it better," Draco says. "Just because I knew I preferred men…it actually made marrying Astoria more difficult."

"Wait," Harry says. "You're gay? Why the hell did you get married?"

Draco shrugs. "Conventionality," he says. "Heteronormativity. A little bid for normality, if not happiness. Also, I always wanted children."

Strangely, this revelation about Draco doesn't freak Harry out. He's caught himself looking at men with more than platonic appreciation, and it doesn't bother him at all. Dumbledore did always like to say that love is his secret power, and, well, short of digging into Gilderoy Lockhart's wardrobe, it would have been difficult for Dumbledore to get any queerer. Who's to say this isn't part of some big cosmic master plan?

8: 2021

The first time it happens is just a few days after that lunch when Harry found out Draco's gay. Al and Score are still fifteen. Draco meets him one evening in a bar for a double shot of Firewhiskey and a bit of scheduled misery. Harry invites Draco home for another drink when the bar closes.

"May not be able to apparate," Draco says, but comes along anyway.

Draco takes in the (penthouse, you do need space for the children) apartment, the pictures of the Weasleys and Harry's children on the mantle. "You're lonely, aren't you?" Draco says.

"Aren't you?" Harry asks.

Draco gives him an unreadable look, and then Harry's back is against the wall and Draco's tongue is in his mouth, the taste of Firewhiskey and desperation passing between them.

"Oh," Harry says when they separate. Their eyes meet and they're kissing again, and Harry doesn't think he's ever felt quite like this.

9: 2022

Ron calls him out on the Draco thing just before the kids come home for the Easter holidays of Al's fifth year. "You've been…doing things with him," Ron says, and for a minute Harry freezes up in terror.

Then he remembers this is Ron he's talking to. Ron won't see what's going on if Harry laid it out for him piece by piece if he isn't ready to understand it, and Harry really, really thinks he's not ready.

"Yeah," Harry says, "I have."

"Not to state the obvious," Ron says, "but what the fuck?"

"It's not a big thing," Harry says. "It just turns out we have a lot in common."

"Really?" Ron says. "Because every time I see you two, you're yelling."

"I haven't yelled at him in twenty-three years," Harry says mildly.

"Arguing, then," Ron says, in a semantics schmemantics voice.

"Well, it's not the same," Harry insists. "I mean, how often do you argue with Hermione?"

Ron splutters, and Harry hits himself mentally. Draco would probably hate that comparison, as would Ron and Hermione, if they knew what's going on.

"You mean you actually like him?" Ron says.

"Yeah," Harry says.

10: 2022

Teddy Lupin is nineteen when Al goes to Hogwarts and meets Scorpius. He's working at the Wizard World Weekly as a journalist. Harry knows he would have been useful as an Auror, like his mother was, but he's secretly glad Teddy isn't doing that. He's happy the next generation doesn't have to work so hard to be safe.

Of course, Teddy does undercover work, and travels a lot. But he's never in actual danger.

Teddy is twenty-four when Harry finds out. Al is fifteen, and James just came of age. Harry stops by Teddy's flat one weekend (a Hogsmeade weekend, Lily later informs him, which explains how James got there. Not that something pesky like rules would have stopped him), Teddy gave him a key as soon as he got the place, but he's never used it before.

He has a reason for coming, of course, but it's kind of cancelled out by the sound of his oldest child's voice. "Teddy?" James calls. "Is that you? Thought you said you'd be at least an hour."

"Uh, no," Harry says, "It's me."

"Dad?" James crashes out, in boxers and a Weird Sisters t-shirt, hair a tousled mess (although that's not exactly unusual. It runs in the family).

"Yeah. Why…why aren't you in school?"

"I'm visiting Teddy," James says in the wide-eyed, innocent, my-back-is-turned-hear-me-whistle voice Harry has known not to trust since James was three.

Then again, Harry's not sure he's allowed to say that, given that James is of age and his business is his business. So Harry doesn't call him on it, sits down in Teddy's little kitchen and lets his son make him a coffee in awkward silence.

Just as he's considering possible ice-breakers, Teddy walks in. "Jamie," he calls. "I'm home. Got us some supplies."

Harry strongly dislikes the leer in the word 'supplies'.

"You're staying till Sunday, right?"

"Uh, Teddy?" James says. "My dad's here."

"Why?" Teddy asks, coming into the kitchen with a bag of groceries. "Hi Harry."

"Er. I didn't ask," James says. Teddy gives him a look of fond exasperation.

"I was going to visit you," Harry says. "I see you're already being visited."

"Heh," Teddy laughs nervously.

"So," Harry says comfortably, spying the flavoured lube peeking out of the grocery bag and how Teddy's eyes linger on the way the old, faded t-shirt clings to James, "How long have you two been sleeping together?"

James starts. Teddy smiles. "A few months."

"And I didn't know about it because…?"

"Because it's not the teenage experimentation thing," James says, taking Teddy's hand. "I'm in love with him."

"All the more reason to tell me," Harry says reasonably.

"So…you're okay with it?" James asks hesitantly.

"Of course," Harry says. "If you're happy, it's good. And we all already know Teddy's probably too good for you."

James gasps in outrage, but there's a big smile in his eyes, and Harry realizes he's become one of those cool, accepting people.

11: 2022

The first time Harry lets Draco fuck him is after George and Angelina split up.

It's in the summer Al turns sixteen. George and Angelina are forty-three, and no one thought they'd still have children. They've been married for a few years (on what Harry is reasonably certain was prompting from their parents), and before that they were on and off for almost two decades with a conspicuous lack of arguments during the off phases.

But there Angelina is, holding two adorable little babies. "His name is Fred," she says in a tone that brooks no argument.

"Hers is Roxanne," George says. "For your mother."

Their eyes meet over the heads of two adorable café latte coloured newborn twins, and George says, "We can't do this to children," at the same time as Angelina says, "I'll get the divorce papers to you by Friday."

They grin at each other for a second, before both saying, "Joint custody?" in a way that's eerily reminiscent of Fred and George before the war.

Harry asks George whether he wants to talk about it as they all work on the flat above the joke shop, expanding it to fit a family for when the kids are with George. He's not going to go on living with Angelina, of course.

George sighs. "Lina was Fred's girl, before he died," he says, and George is the only one who can talk so matter-of-factly about Fred.

"And you…" Harry peters off, not quite knowing how he's supposed to finish that sentence.

"We were both replacing him," George says, gentle in a way Harry's never heard, and then he notices Lee standing in the doorway, holding a box of kid stuff, Snorkack-in-the-headlights expression on his face. "We hurt a lot of people, including ourselves, and there's no way we can do that to children."

Lee sets down the box, walks over to George, stopping just before him, and Harry knows they're crossing the Fred-barrier that was always between them (in public, at least, he's not so sure about their private lives anymore), or maybe it was an Angelina-barrier, but they're crossing it, as George reaches out to take Lee's hand. "Could we-?" he begins, in that way he sometimes has of not finishing sentences because someone else used to do it for him.

"Yes," Lee says without hesitation.

"And you-?" George says as Lee's hand comes up to cup his cheek.

"Never blamed you," Lee says, resting his forehead against George's.

"I'm sorry," George says.

Lee kisses him gently, and Harry finds himself mesmerized by the way they look together, the sheer aestheticism of dark against light standing out in the beauty of the emotion that permeates every part of their interaction.

"I love you, too," George whispers when they separate, and Harry backs out slowly to give them privacy. He closes the door on his way out and tells the others that they can't go back up.

"Why?" Ron asks.

"He's making up with Lee," Harry says, and he sees the tiny knowing smiles on Charlie and Percy's faces and knows everything's going to be alright.

"About time," Draco says, relief palpable in his voice.

Harry smiles at him, and he's pretty sure at least one Weasley is going to have to notice something different about that, but as long as it's not Ron, he doesn't really care. "Hey, Draco," he says, "you wanna-" he indicates toward the door with his head.

"God, yes," Draco says, eyes not leaving his. It's the first time Harry's ever called him Draco in public.

As they apparate together, Harry wraps his arms around Draco's waist and whispers in his ear, "I want you to fuck me," and he relishes the shiver he can feel run through Draco.

It's not at all like Harry expected. Draco's played there before, but the single-minded attention he uses to make Harry go absolutely mad with pleasure is different, more intense. By the time Draco finally deems him ready, Harry is weak with it, melting into the sheets, fingers clasped to the bed so tight he might rip something.

The feeling itself is one of those moments of clarity, like the first time a spell worked for him, the moment he first held James, the moment Draco first kissed him. This time he realizes that he's falling in love with Draco.

He says as much after he's done clutching the headboard as Draco drives into him, alternately screaming Draco's names and begging for more, and after he's said that sex shouldn't be this good when you're over forty.

"You complaining?" Draco asks.

"No, just observing," Harry says. "It's fitting that we should break the status quo."

Draco huffs out a chuckle against Harry's shoulder, drifting in that moment after where the surrealism of the two of them, naked, together, meets the warmth of the afterglow.

"I just thought of something important," Harry says.

"Alert the press," Draco drawls.

"No, seriously, I did."

"What?"

"Well, it was just before you made my brain melt, so I'm trying to remember."

"I take that as a compliment."

And really, after that comment, Harry's not sure Draco's ego needs more petting, but he says it anyway. "I love you."

Draco lifts his head to look Harry in the eye. "What?"

"That's what I thought of. I love you."

"Oh." Draco considers, kisses Harry. "I…" He swallows. "I love you too."

And Harry has to kiss Draco back, because that was difficult for him, and Harry knows it.

"You're the third person I've ever said that too," Draco says. "My mother and Scorpius, that's it."

"It means a lot," Harry says, and ignores Draco's sarcastic look. "Beyond the obvious, I mean. Like we're…family."

11: 2022

Ginny floos him the next morning, and Draco has to shake him awake to answer it, which leads to Ginny asking who's there, and Harry going red and stuttery.

Ginny laughs. She's become much easier to get along with now that they're not trying to be in love. "I'm not going to get upset," she says. "I'm just curious."

"It's…" He knows she's not going to leave well enough alone, and he knows he's going to have to tell someone at some point. "It's Draco."

"Malfoy?" She asks.

"Yeah," he says.

Ginny giggles.

"What?" Harry asks.

"Sorry, just got a visual. Good one, too."

"Hey!" Harry's blush intensifies.

"Do you…" She searches for words. "Are you happy?"

Harry looks over to Draco, who's fallen back asleep on the covers, pale arse bared for the word, and he smiles. "Yeah."

"Good," she says firmly, and leaves without actually telling Harry what she called for.

12: 2023

Al is sixteen. He's still in school, still getting indecently good marks, and that's about all Harry knows.

Draco's sitting across from him in the Malfoy Manor dining room over breakfast, reading a letter from his son.

"So, I hear James has been sneaking out again," he says. "And Lily and Rose are dying their hair."

"Bully for you," Harry grumbles.

"Al sharing as much as usual?" Draco asks sweetly.

"I think we should just swap children," Harry says. "I like knowing what my children are doing."

"So do I," Draco says.

"I know," Harry says tiredly. "It's just…I wish I could get him to communicate. I mean, listen to this- We're talking about wizarding groups during the Regency era in History of Magic. I'm finding the Socratic one particularly fascinating. What does that mean? I never listened in History of Magic, and after living with me for sixteen years, he should know I don't understand subtext!"

"You could always look it up," Draco says mildly.

Harry is strongly reminded of Al.

And then he makes a connection he's not sure he likes.

"Draco…you don't think our sons are…"

Draco looks up from his coffee. "Are what?"

"Together?"

Draco looks at him like the breakfast table is a train track and Harry's a freight train. "No," he says, but he's thinking it, and Harry can tell.

They stare at each other in silence for a while. "Well, that would be awkward," Draco says at last.

"Incredibly," Harry agrees.

13: 2023

The summer before Al's last year at Hogwarts, James is eighteen. He's done with school, but he doesn't know what to do now. He's going to move in with Teddy, but Harry's the only one who knows. He's staying at Harry's for the first week of summer break with his other siblings and Harry hopes he's using the time to strategize. Coming out to your ex-wife is one thing. Coming out to your mother, quite another.

It's almost like old times, Al and Lily fighting for bathroom rights, Al being taciturn and helpful, Lily being incomprehensible and exchanging owls at a pace Harry finds frightening, out every two days, meeting friends or possibly lovers.

Al only ever meets Scorpius. It does nothing to alleviate the worry Harry now has about that.

The evening James goes to talk to his mother and Lily's out meeting a group of friends, he decides he is going to Talk To Al, and that's that.

"So," he says over dinner. "Are you seeing anyone? I mean, I know about James, and I know enough about Lily to know I don't want to know more, but you never talk about yourself."

Al looks fairly surprised at the direct question. "Not much to tell," he says quietly. "I'm just…normal."

And Harry could swear he's smirking behind the (almost shoulder-length) hair he uses to hide behind sometimes. Because fuck if normal hasn't been on holiday in Majorca since, oh, the dawn of time.

Then Scorpius floo calls, and Al's face lights up, and the two of them are chatting animatedly about books and plans and movies running in the muggle cinema, and Harry just knows that it's Scorpius.

When the floo fire finally dies down, Harry's sitting comfortably on the couch, waiting for Al to turn up. Apparently, the way he meets Al's eyes unsettles all, because he blushes, looks down.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" He asks.

Al looks down. "Yeah," he says. "I know we're only seventeen, but…"

"You just know?"

"Well, yeah," Al says, sitting down next to him. "I mean, we did enough screwing up getting here, which I don't want to talk about, thanks, but it's like…a revelation."

Harry thinks that's one of the longest sentences he's heard Al say in a while. "I'm glad," he says.

"Glad?"

"You open up with him, and it's nice seeing you happy."

"It doesn't freak you out?"

My freak out is for a completely different reason, Harry thinks, but he says, "Nope. I've been thinking about this for a while, for all you kids, and George, and…a lot of things, and basically, I've decided that as long as you actually are happy I don't give a fuck how."

"That's very mature of you," Al says.

Harry's not sure whether to feel insulted or complimented.

"Uh, Al," he says hesitantly. "There's kind of a complication we need to talk about."

"A complication," he says.

"Yeah, of the realm where your Grandmother might kill us all."

"Okay," Al says hesitantly.

"I'm kind if…involved with Scorpius' father, and James, well…"

"What is it with James?"

Harry sighs. "He and Teddy are moving in together."

"Oh," Al says.

Then, "I see your point."

"Yeah," Harry says.

"So you and Mr. Malfoy," Al says.

"Yeah," Harry says.

"That will be awkward," Al says.

"Yeah," Harry says.

Al shrugs. "Well, there's always Lily. At the rate she's going, she'll probably pop out a few great-grandchildren. We could steal some, Grandmum may never know."

14: 2023

Ron and Hermione are the hardest. They've known Harry the longest (with the exception of Dudley, but Harry's pretty sure he's always thought all wizards are queer, so that's not an issue) and Ron, at least, hates Draco the most.

"So, anything new?" Hermione asks over dinner. Their children are all off at Hogwarts, or starting up their own lives, and their houses have all gone silent. Empty nest syndrome imminent, Harry predicts.

"Where do I start?" Harry asks.

"I hear the beginning's a good place," Ron says, pouring himself a butterbeer.

"Well, Lee's moved in with George," Harry says.

Ron was expecting that one, he hopes.

"James came out to Ginny a while back and he and Teddy are renting a flat together somewhere in Diagon."

"I didn't know they were together," Hermione says politely, unphased.

Ron's looking at him with wide eyes.

"They weren't too keen on spreading it around," Harry says, "but now James is out of school it's okay."

Ron takes a big gulp of butterbeer. "That all?"

"Hardly," Harry says. "Ginny's considering going abroad this year, Al and Scorpius are in love, I'm going to give them my flat when they graduate and I'm moving in with Draco."

"Oh, my," Hermione says after a long while. "Well, that obsession you had in sixth year just started making sense."

"Why," Ron asks dully, "is everyone gay?"

"Not so much gay as equal-opportunity," Harry says. "I hear Lily's currently involved in some sort of bisexual foursome."

Ron stares at him.

"I try not to ask," Harry says.

"Why didn't you tell us any of this earlier?" Hermione asks.

Harry sighs. "You two are so…happy. And normal. It's like you did it right, found the right person at school and never looked back. And the rest of us, it's this big messy emotional thing. Like swallowing a whole box of Every Flavour Beans at the same time."

"That's no reason not to tell us," Hermione says huffily.

"No," Harry agrees. "But Ron kind of hates the Malfoys."

"Oh, god," Ron says. "Do we have to invite him over for dinner?"

"We can invite you first, if you prefer," Harry says.

"You do realize Molly's going to go crazy, right?" Hermione asks.

15: 2024

Weasley gatherings become even more of a mess. The amount of people has become staggering, so much so that they don't fit into the Burrow anymore. That's the year they start holding these things at Malfoy Manor.

It's awkward for all of 0.2 seconds, before little Roxanne spots the ice-cream and runs toward it, most of the younger generation hot on her heels.

"Harry," Draco calls from a window, "where's the-" he makes a strange gesture, and Harry says, "Kitchen, third cupboard from the right."

Hermione gives him a strange look, and then hugs him.

"I did always wonder why people got married so young in the wizarding world," she confides later. "It makes statistical sense, I guess, given that all the wizards go to Hogwarts, so unless you marry muggle, you're bound to meet someone there, but it was all so…normal."

"Repressed, you mean," Draco says, handing Harry another slice of cake. "But I have high hopes for Lily."

Molly, meanwhile, is chatting with one of Lily's girlfriends, a girl with ice-blue hair and about five piercings in her face, about lasagne recipes.

Somehow, Harry thinks, it makes a lot more sense like this. The sense of freedom he's been waiting for, the one that was supposed to come after the war but then just sort of didn't, it's finally there, because he's gotten what he wanted for himself, not what others wanted for him or what he wanted for others.

Dumbledore is probably really happy right about now.

Either that or he's cackling, because his big gay plot of doom succeeded.

Harry wouldn't put either past him.