Disclaimer: Not mine; for fun and not profit.

Warnings: M/M relationship. Some sex, but not graphic (sorry).

A/N: This is a sequel to "Gifts." You may wish to read that first or some of what's in here won't make as much sense, though you can still read this as a stand-alone. The story is inspired by Debussy's "Nocturnes," a beautiful piece of music for piano; the title of the story is the first movement of the piece. Definitely worth a Google search.

The story behind this is that I had originally intended to write "Gifts" as a H/G story, but it had a mind of its own. So I thought I might write this one as a H/G story, sort of a parallel to the other one. Nope. It ended up being a sequel. One of these days, I'll manage to write another H/G story.

I

New Year's Eve dawned chilly and overcast. The little snow they'd had ran down the street in slushy rivulets; it was not quite warm enough to melt thoroughly and not quite cold enough to freeze again. It was the sort of day when one is in want of a fire, a good book, and perhaps a glass of something warming. Unfortunately, none of those things were in Harry's immediate future.

After what could be called a successful Christmas with Draco's parents and an uneventful few days of filing parchments, Harry was more than ready to enjoy the next four days away from the Ministry. He would have preferred to stay at home, but they had plans which could not be put off further. It had already been too long, and he'd ended up telling Draco's parents about their relationship first. That alone made him desperate to tell the others before they found out the wrong way.

Harry's hands shook as he rummaged around in search for the pan he wanted. After several minutes of this, he found the pan and plunked it unceremoniously onto the stove. He walked into the pantry to retrieve the food, but instead of coming immediately back out, he leaned against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. He'd had weeks to prepare for this; there was no good reason why he was so anxious. To his credit, he had only gotten sick once that morning. On the other hand, he had shattered several picture frames and an antique vase, and that had been before he'd left the upstairs hallway.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Harry emerged from the pantry to find Draco leaning calmly against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest and his ankles crossed. Harry was deeply annoyed at his utter lack of concern. Wasn't he aware of the import of the day?

Harry banged the his armload down on the counter next to the stove. Without warning, a teacup on the table shattered. Harry reached for his wand, but Draco had already reassembled the cup. Harry sighed.

"Are you certain your in any shape to cook? The last thing we need is to set the house on fire." Draco's lips twitched.

"I'm fine!" Harry snapped. He'd thought that the year spent with a therapist—as required by Auror training in order for him to continue—should've cured his random bursts of explosive magic. It only fueled his stress that the symptoms were now recurring.

Draco shrugged and moved further into the room. "Suit yourself." He slid gracefully into a chair.

Harry muttered something rude about unsympathetic arses under his breath and resumed his task. Somehow he managed to create a mostly edible meal. Only the toast had to be discarded; he had burnt it to a crisp in the process of simultaneously trying to repair a second broken teacup. He joined Draco at the table, marvelling at the ease with which Draco consumed his breakfast. Harry tried to force himself to eat, but he gave up after three bites when his stomach threatened to reject anything else he put in it.

His teacup shattered when he picked it up, spraying tea over his plate and into his lap.

Draco reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. "Potter! Get a grip on yourself!" He cast a quick Reparo.

Harry knew he was in trouble when Draco resorted to the use of his last name. "I can't help it," he said. He pushed his plate away and crossed his arms on the table. With a groan, he dropped his head onto his arms.

Draco stood and circled the table to where Harry sat. He laid his hands on Harry's back and began gently kneading the muscles. "You are incredibly tense." He leaned over and said in a low voice, "I know what will relax you."

Harry looked round and eyed him warily. "What?"

"We need to get cleaned up." Draco's lips were against Harry's ear. He whispered, "Come on, let's go take a shower." He ran his hand down Harry's side until he reached his hip; he continued to slide his fingers until they rested on Harry's inner thigh.

Harry shivered a little and swallowed. "The sight of you naked and dripping wet is supposed to relax me?"

Draco rolled his eyes and stood back up. "You're insufferable. You know you're the only man ever to complain about it when his boyfriend suggests getting each other off in the shower, right?"

"Fiancé," Harry corrected immediately. "And I wasn't complaining. Much."

"Fine. I'm going to go have a wash and a wank. You are coming with me, and you can choose whether or not to participate." Draco grabbed Harry's arm and tugged firmly until he stood up.

Harry let Draco lead him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The same picture frames he'd broken that morning cracked again along the way. Draco turned around to give Harry a reproachful look. Harry felt his cheeks heat up.

"The sooner we get you calmed down the better," Draco grumbled. "And you'd better be more careful with my body than you are with the tea service and picture frames." With that, he pulled Harry into the bathroom and shut the door.

II

Harry had to admit Draco had been right. He did feel better. He collected his thoughts while he dried his hair. Not for the first time he wondered if he should call the whole thing off. It had been one thing to spend Christmas with the elder Malfoys; there were only two of them. This time, Harry and Draco would be outnumbered. Not only that, Lucius and Narcissa had no real reason to be angry with Harry—but nearly every single one of the Weasleys had very good reason not to trust Draco. The thought made Harry's stomach twist unpleasantly. Fortunately, there were many hours and several other tasks to take care of before he had to worry about that.

When they emerged from the bath, Harry watched Draco choose his clothes carefully while he himself dressed to minimise exposure to the cold. As he pulled a jumper over top of his shirt, he caught sight of Draco putting the finishing touches on his always-elegant clothes and admired how quickly he had put himself together. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"You sure you don't mind doing this?" he asked, examining the previous day's robes to see if they were too wrinkled to wear again.

Draco looked up from the boot he was now lacing. "I am going to hex you if you keep asking me that. Do yourself a favour and stop analysing it." He stood up and tugged his trousers down at the bottom. "What?"

Harry was taken aback. "You would really hex me?"

"No, of course not. I just meant that you've been reminding me about this all week. I'm beginning to think you're the one who doesn't want to go."

Harry didn't say anything, which was confirmation enough. They descended the stairs to the living-room.

"Why are we going down—" Draco started to ask, then scowled when he saw Harry take the jar off the mantle. "You know how much I hate travelling this way," he complained.

"Well, so do I, but it's the best way to get there. I have to call through first, though."

Harry had intentionally chosen to make this particular trip during the holidays because it would be quiet. He tossed in the Floo powder and said clearly, "Hogwarts Headmistress's office." The room spun into view. "Professor?"

"Ah, hello, Harry. Are you ready to come through?"

"I am, but I—I'm bringing someone with me. To see Professor Snape."

"Who are you bringing?" Professor McGonagall asked, no trace of hesitation in her voice.

"Draco Malfoy."

If she was shocked, she didn't show it. She just nodded and said, "Come through, then. Whether or not Professor Snape is in the mood for conversation remains to be seen. Of course, that describes him every day."

Harry pulled his head out of the fire. "We can go through." He grabbed another pinch of powder, pulled Draco closer, and tossed the powder into the flames. Before Draco could object, he shouted, "Hogwarts Headmistresses' office" for the second time, and they were off.

In no time they were stepping out into Professor McGonagall's office. Draco brushed soot off himself, looking thoroughly annoyed. Harry just smiled faintly and reached up to whisk away a little that had gotten stuck in the fine strands of Draco's hair. Draco glared at him.

"Mr. Malfoy," the Headmistress said cordially, extending her hand. Draco accepted it.

"Er, Professor, I'd like to give Draco a few minutes with Sn—Professor Snape, if that's all right."

Professor McGonagall eyed Draco for a long moment. At last she said, "Of course. Would you like me to escort you to the Hall of Portraits?"

"Actually, I'll wait for Draco."

She raised her eyebrows, and Harry could see the question in her gaze. He shook his head slightly, trying to tell her without words not to pry. Professor McGonagall relaxed and did not push them to elaborate. Harry was grateful that most of the former Heads had the good sense to feign sleep, though he did catch one or two of them peeping out under their eyelids. They clearly weren't going to ask questions either.

Professor McGonagall walked to the door. Before Harry followed her out, he said quietly to Draco, "Are you going to tell him?"

"Are you mad?"

Harry gave a quick grin and gripped Draco's upper arm briefly before joining Professor McGonagall outside the room and leaving Draco alone with a wall of dead wizards. Just before Harry pulled the door to, he heard Professor Snape say, "Really, Draco? Potter?" Harry muffled a snort.

What seemed like an eternity later, Draco emerged from the room. He thanked the Headmistress graciously for her time; she responded in kind. When Draco finally looked at Harry, there was gratitude in his expression. Harry closed his eyes briefly and nodded.

"We have one more thing to do here," he informed Draco.

"Will you be able to find your way?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Yes, thanks," Harry told her. He motioned to Draco. "Come with me."

He led Draco through the dark, empty corridors. When they had achieved a sufficient distance from the Headmistress' office, Harry asked, "Well?"

Draco sighed. "He knows." He shrugged. "He must have worked it out from our exchange before you left."

"What did he say?"

"That he was disappointed in my lack of judgement."

"Well, that definitely sounds like the Snape I remember. What did you tell him?"

"I told him it was your eyes. That shut him up."

Harry laughed, the sound echoing through the empty corridor. "I'll bet it did. Though he must be thrilled to know I shared that little bit of information with you."

"I'm glad you did." Draco paused. "He's the same as he always was—a subtly menacing, or menacingly subtle, condescending git."

"I thought you liked him!"

"That is what I like about him. Anyway, it was good to see him. Thank you."

They didn't speak the rest of the way down. Unlike they had done at the Manor, they didn't refrain from touching one another; as they walked, Harry reached out for Draco and kept a hand on his back. When they reached their destination, they stood outside the door for a moment.

"Wait. Before we go in, you should know what this is."

Draco frowned. "Tell me."

"This is the Hall of Portraits. Those who were considered heroes in both wars."

"I…I see." There were a good number of people Harry knew Draco had no desire to meet; he had never properly forgiven himself for things he had done in the past, and he was justifiably wary of their reactions to him.

"We don't have to visit all of them," Harry said quickly. "We're just here to see"—he swallowed—"my parents."

Draco stared. "Your parents?"

"Yes."

Draco glanced briefly behind them then put his hands on Harry's upper arms. He leaned in and brushed a gentle, chaste kiss against Harry's lips. "I'm honoured."

Harry laid his hand on Draco's neck. "Let's go, then." He turned around and pushed open the heavy door.

Having avoided the gala in September, Draco had never seen the Hall of Portraits. He trailed behind Harry, who knew exactly where to go . They stopped just before they reached the portrait of Harry's parents. He motioned for Draco to stand to the side.

"Hello, Mum. Hello, Dad," Harry said softly. "I've brought someone to meet you."

Lily's face lit up. "How lovely," she said.

"Who is it?" James asked.

He cleared his throat. "My…fiancé." Harry reached out and took Draco's hand and tugged on him so that he was in view of the portrait. "This is Draco."

Both of Harry's parents just stared for a moment, then exchanged glances. Harry had known this was risky; his parents were likely to remember Lucius, and there was absolutely no mistaking the physical similarities between father and son. He clenched and unclenched his fists, waiting for their reaction.

James disappeared from the portrait. Meanwhile, Draco said to Lily, "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Potter."

"Likewise," she replied, though it didn't sound as though she meant it. Her voice had lost its initial warmth.

When James returned, he had Remus and Sirius with him. Harry should have expected this; these were his parents' best friends, after all. Even so, he was caught off-guard. Draco was looking at him for an explanation.

Harry leaned against him and whispered, "My godfather, Sirius Black. And I'm sure you remember Professor Remus Lupin."

Draco only nodded and continued to stand mutely beside Harry.

"Gents, Harry's brought his fiancé 'round to meet us." For a portrait, James managed to look surprisingly angry.

It took less than three seconds for Sirius to recognise Draco. "What the hell is he doing here, Harry?"

"Didn't you just hear what James said?" Lily asked.

"I heard. But I didn't really believe it. Harry, isn't this that little shit that used to bully you?"

"Sirius!" Lily looked scandalised.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's also your cousin."

"I stopped paying attention to what that side of the family was doing a long time ago."

"Do we have to do this right now?" Harry knew he was bordering on whinging. Draco reached out to him, but Harry shied away.

Sirius continued, "When did you want to do it? After he poisons you or curses you? Do you have any idea what he could do to you?"

"That's not going to happen!"

By this time, James had joined in the argument, which left Lily and Remus to try and smooth things over—not that either of them seemed keen to do so. Another face appeared in the portrait.

"Wotcher, Harry! I heard shouting and I—" Tonks stopped and stared. "Draco Malfoy?"

At once, Sirius jumped in to explain, and the volume of the conversation increased. Harry shook with fury. These people didn't have the right to argue over it as though it were their decision, family or not. Harry's heart began to pound, and he could actually feel magic building inside him. That would not do—he could explode the entire Hall of Portraits if he didn't regain control. He took a few deep breaths in a futile effort to steady himself. Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his arm.

Draco drew Harry aside. He turned so they were facing each other and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. "You need to calm down," he said gently. "Don't risk it in here."

"I can't let them talk about you—about us—like this."

Draco drew his hand up to cup Harry's chin, forcing Harry to meet his eyes. "I can take it. You know that."

Harry drew a shaky breath. "All right." He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the man holding him and pouring warmth into him. Harry rested his forehead on Draco's chest, and Draco set his chin on the top of Harry's head. They remained like that until Harry's heart rate slowly returned to normal. Harry reopened his eyes and raised his head.

"Good?" Draco asked.

"I think so. Thanks."

The arguing had stopped. When they looked over at the portrait, all five occupants were watching them.

Harry walked back to the portrait. "I didn't come here to fight. I came here so you could meet the person I love. He's not the same person he was when we were kids. I'm not the same person. And he is absolutely not the same person his father is…er, was." He stole a glance at Draco; the last thing he needed was to offend his fiancé in the process of soothing his parents. Draco merely nodded, and Harry sighed with relief.

"You weren't all bad, even back then," Remus said softly to Draco. He gave Harry a faint smile before he continued. "A decent student, as I recall, and rather more respectful in class than one might expect. Aside from a few particular incidents, that is."

Harry was surprised at this, recalling how Draco had mocked Remus for his threadbare robes and had generally been a prat that entire year. He almost said something, but thought better of it. They had made their peace about their history, and they rarely talked about their school rivalry anymore. Of course, Harry would never have known what Draco was like outside the classes they shared—they were both too preoccupied with their mutual dislike.

"Well, you were the only competent Defence teacher we had in seven years here," Draco replied. He coughed a little, and Harry saw him hide a smile with his fist.

Remus chuckled. "They didn't have much success hiring good ones, did they?"

"I thought you liked Professor Umbridge. And Snape," Harry said to Draco. He immediately covered his mouth, wanting to shove the words back in.

Draco took no offence. "That woman? No. She gave me power, but there was nothing remotely likable about her, the disgusting little toad. As for Professor Snape, I was a little busy that year, if you recall, and I spent a good part of my time hating him for trying to steal my glory."

Draco stepped around Harry and approached the portrait. He began conversing with Remus about what he had been up to since Hogwarts. As they spoke, the scowl on Sirius' face slowly eased and his features relaxed. Harry understood there wasn't really anything he could do from inside the portrait anyway, but at least they seemed to be getting somewhere. When Draco mentioned his position at the Ministry, Sirius was keen to discuss the finer points of current politics. It seemed that he and Draco had something in common at last: both had a very low opinion of the functionality of Ministry officials.

Lily had been watching Draco the whole time, but now she turned her attention to Harry. "Harry, dear."

"Yes?"

"Are you happy?"

"Very happy," Harry assured her.

"You love him?"

"I do, yeah."

"And he loves you?"

"Yes."

She appeared to be thinking. "It was his mother, wasn't it? The one who saved you in the forest?"

"It was."

"When you see her, tell her I'm grateful."

"I will, Mum. Thanks."

III

Harry was relieved to be out of the Hall of Portraits. That made one set down and one more to go. He was grateful for their lunch plans with Ginny. Despite their awkward history, she was a good friend. Harry appreciated knowing that there was at least one person he wouldn't have to convince of his sanity that day.

They had chosen to meet her in Hogsmeade, as they were already in the vicinity. The pair of them made their way along the road between the Castle and the village, their cloaks pulled around them against the chill. Clouds hung low and threatening over head. Despite the time of day, few people were about, so there was no jostling or pushing through crowds. By way of avoiding the Three Broomsticks—and another ongoing sore spot—Harry led Draco to a smaller place at the edge of the village.

"You're late." When Ginny spotted them, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Harry grinned; he could tell she wasn't really angry.

"Took longer than we expected."

She greeted Draco, who leaned in and kissed her briefly on the cheek. In spite of her acceptance, Harry still found their ease with each other disconcerting. He was glad when she led them to a corner table.

Ginny slid into her seat and said quietly, "How did it go?"

"It was all right."

She looked over at Draco, who gave a curt nod in reply. This appeared to satisfy her. "Good. You've got the warm-up out of the way, at least."

"About that—" Harry started.

"Tell me you're not considering backing out now. Please trust me, you do not want to do that."

"Actually, I was going to ask why you wanted to meet us when we'll be seeing one another later anyway."

Ginny smirked, and Harry was alarmed at how much it reminded him of Draco. He had a sudden revelation about why they got on so well.

"Gin?" he prodded.

"I have something for Draco. Besides, I wanted to let you know that I think you're pretty well going to be off the hook later. I happen to know that you're not the only one who's been keeping secrets."

Harry exchanged a glance with Draco. Not that he wasn't grateful, but he wondered what could possibly distract the rest of the family from the fact that he'd been hiding his relationship with Draco for nearly a year—and that wasn't even counting what had happened between them before then.

"I don't understand."

"Oh, you will," Ginny said. "If any one of them says a single thing to you, I'll tell Mum everything." She grinned.

"What on Earth could possibly have happened?"

She shook her head. "I can't tell you all of it. But besides this"—she gestured between Harry and Draco—"it's what Percy's done that will set Mum off the most. He didn't tell her because he didn't want to deal with the Howler, but that's only because he's never been yelled at by her in person."

Harry gaped. "Percy did something?"

"He did."

Draco cut in. "Spill it, Weasley."

"Not a chance. You're going to have to wait. I think he's planning to tell us himself, if he can work up the nerve. The rest of them—well, they'll all have to just tell you themselves. Other than Percy, it's mostly good anyway."

"It's quite rude to leave us hanging this way, you know."

"I know." Ginny winked.

Harry asked, "How did you end up being the one in on all the secrets?"

She shrugged. "Being the youngest of seven and the only girl, everyone thinks you're the one person they can trust."

The server chose that moment to approach the table to take their orders and they were distracted from the conversation. The talk moved on to other things while they dined. When they had finished lunch and stood to leave, Ginny handed an envelope to Draco, and Harry eyed him questioningly. Draco didn't explain; he merely pocketed the envelope and thanked her before putting a hand on Harry's back and leading him outside.

IV

They Apparated back to London so that Harry could retrieve the gift for the Weasleys; Draco waited outside. When Harry emerged from the house, Draco was leaning against an automobile that looked like it was on the verge of falling to pieces while they stood there. He was wearing a self-satisfied smirk that made Harry want to hex him—or take him inside and do other naughty things to him. He'd never made peace with the fact that Draco's snark made him more than a little flushed.

"What's this?"

"It's a car, obviously."

"Well, yes, I can see that," Harry said impatiently. "The question is, since I don't drive and you hate cars, what's it doing parked outside our house?"

"It's our transportation."

"I'm not getting in that thing! It looks like it's going to come apart before we get out of the drive!"

"Turnabout's fair play," Draco drawled. "Get in."

Harry stayed firmly planted on the stoop. "Not a chance."

"Relax, will you? I promise not to destroy us."

"You're not—are you going to drive it?"

"You're joking. Have you ever known me to drive a car? It's a portkey."

Harry relented and got in the passenger seat. He was still wary; the car he'd bought for Lucius had been brand new, but this one was at least thirty years old and full of rusty holes. Harry debated about the seat-belt—it might keep him safer, or it might keep him tethered to a wreck. In the end, he fastened the belt. Once he was settled, Draco flicked his wand to set the portkey, and they counted down to the midsection-grabbing sensation. They landed with a soft thud outside the Burrow.

"Where on Earth did you find this thing?" Harry asked.

Draco cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to hide his amusement. "That cousin of yours is pretty useful."

"He doesn't sell this sort of car! And just how did you—"

"He may not sell them, but he knows who does, and I'm not telling you how."

"Fine." Harry scowled. He wasn't really in the mood for this anyway.

"Don't take it out on me that you're in a foul mood. This cannot possibly be as bad as you are imagining. You survived a day with my parents, after all." Draco climbed out of the car and walked around to the passenger side. He yanked open the door and pulled Harry to his feet. His grey eyes glinted the way they always did when he was serious. "You will be fine. Do you need to say it out loud?"

"No." Harry slumped against Draco for the second time that day. He took a deep breath and straightened up. "Let's go."

Inside, there was the typical bustling and conversation. At first, no one even glanced at the door to see who had come in; they were too wrapped up in their own discussions. Ron and George had their heads bent over a piece of parchment, and Ginny was talking to Bill in front of the fireplace. Harry wondered vaguely where Fleur and two-year-old Victoire were. He was just about to announce their presence when Hermione looked up from her conversation with Percy—she was about the only one who didn't fall asleep talking to him—and saw them.

"Harry!…" Her voice died out on the second syllable of his name, and her eyes widened.

When the others heard her, they, too, looked up. The room, which had been buzzing only a moment before, was now deadly silent. No one so much as twitched.

"Er…hullo," Harry replied, trying to sound casual. "I've, erm, brought a guest."

"Yeah, we can see that," Ron said. "The question is, why the hell did you bring Malfoy? We all thought you were bringing your—" He stopped as understanding dawned. "Holy fu—"

Hermione aimed a kick at him before he could finish. "What he means to say is that this is a bit unexpected."

"That's understating it," George muttered.

The silence was deafening. At least no one was shouting—yet. Harry braced himself for a round of questions about his judgment, but it never arrived. Instead, everyone just sat there while seconds, or possibly aeons, ticked by. It was just reaching the limits of what Harry could tolerate when several people spoke at once.

"How long?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Why the hell didn't you say anything to us?" Ron demanded.

"Have you really thought through the consequences?" Percy asked.

"You can't possibly be serious about this," Bill said.

"You're lucky Dad's not here yet," George informed him.

Harry sighed. He'd expected them to be angry with him or suspect he'd been Imperiused or fed love potion, but no one mentioned either of those options. He tried to answer their questions. "It's been a little less than a year, officially, and I think you can guess why I didn't tell you. Yes, I've thought about this, and yes, I'm serious. You're right, it's probably best that you lot get adjusted before your dad shows up."

Hermione frowned. "What exactly do you mean by 'officially'?"

"Er," Harry answered. "It started the summer after—after the war."

"Wait," Ron said. "You mean when we all went back to repair Hogwarts? You've been together since then? Bloody hell, mate."

"Right," Harry replied. "Well, I suppose I thought it was best to give you only one major piece of news at a time. In case you've forgotten, not everyone took it well when I came out, and I could only handle one major news crisis at a time."

They were quiet again, and then several pairs of eyes shifted away from Harry as they all appeared to have realised simultaneously that Ginny had said nothing thus far. Harry rolled his eyes at her failed attempt to look innocent.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asked.

"Why haven't you said anything about this yet?" Ron countered.

"Because I…because I think Harry's an adult and can choose for himself."

"You knew!" George accused.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "I know a lot of things. And if you don't behave yourselves, the lot of you will find that I might not be as capable of keeping your secrets as I was for Harry and Draco."

While most of them merely looked uncomfortable, Percy's face went white. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I most definitely would. Shall I tell Mum the real reason you didn't bring Audrey with you?"

"She's with her parents," Percy said automatically, but he sounded odd.

"Of course she is." Ginny turned to the others. "And that goes for the rest of you, too. Say another word to Harry and I'll talk."

"Go right ahead," George challenged. "Everyone's going to know later anyway."

"Wait, what happened to Audrey?" Ron asked. "I thought you two—"

"Nothing," Percy said tersely. "Everything is fine. Ginevra, not another word."

"Did you two have a row?" Ron pressed.

"I don't have to answer your questions," Percy replied. He rounded on his sister. "Look what you started."

"You might as well tell us," George put in. "Otherwise, we'll find another way to get it out of you."

Percy looked weary. "Audrey is…expecting."

Ginny looked slightly smug. "And she's too far along for it to be much of a secret. But that's not what's going to upset Mum. It's the other thing."

"What other thing?" Ron asked.

"The part where they're already married. They did that as soon as they found out. They've deprived Mum of another wedding. Oh, and her family already knows."

"But what difference does that make? Mum's going to have plenty of weddings, especially since—" Ron cut himself off, and his face went red.

Harry's eyes travelled between his two best friends. Their eyes met, and he nodded. Hermione appeared relieved that he understood. He felt less guilty keeping secrets from them, as they had obviously been doing the same. So the conversation wouldn't devolve into an argument, he stepped in. "And now we all know more that we did at the start of this. Can we move on? I'm tired of talking about it." He glanced at Draco, who appeared as calm and collected as ever. Harry took a deep breath and tried to draw on that strength, just as he'd poured his own out for Draco's sake when they were at his parents' home.

Before anyone else could say anything, the elder Weasleys finally appeared in the room. They entered from opposite directions—Molly from the kitchen, Arthur through the front door—but their expressions matched when they saw Harry and who was with him. Harry gave them credit. After the initial shock, they both managed somewhat forced smiles and welcomed Draco to their home. For his part, Draco demonstrated that he had, after all, been brought up with manners, and he had long since abandoned the belief that some people were more deserving than others.

Harry couldn't help feeling guilty about the lingering tension in the room. All he had wanted was for the family he loved to accept the man he loved. Perhaps it was too much to ask, or too soon to ask for it. Either way, their presence had dimmed the mood significantly.

After a period of polite conversation and inquiries after Draco's current employment, the conversation petered out. While Harry wondered what he might say or do to coax the warm atmosphere to return, the door opened and in walked two people Harry had not been expecting but was nonetheless pleased to see. Andromeda Tonks had brought Teddy for a visit, and Harry suspected it was on his behalf, as he had not been to see his godson in about two weeks.

Harry rose to greet her, and Draco, acting the gentleman, stood as well. When he laid eyes on Andromeda, Harry felt him stiffen and knew he was having the same reaction Harry had experienced the first time he saw Andromeda. He heard the soft intake of air and the sigh of relief when Draco realised it was not his long-dead Aunt returning from beyond the grave.

Their eyes met, and Harry saw recognition on Andromeda's face. Time stood still for the length of a breath, and then Andromeda deposited Teddy with Molly and swept across the room to stand before Harry and Draco. She looked at them, hardly blinking, for several long, tense moments.

"Please forgive me for staring," she said. "I'm not sure you even know who I am."

Draco said, "I assume you are my mother's other sister. Andromeda?"

"Yes." She smiled a little. "I was not expecting to see you here. What brings you?"

Harry caught his eye, and Draco nodded. "Andromeda, he's here with me," Harry said.

"With you?" Her eyebrows rose.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "We're…together."

"Oh!" She beamed and clapped her hands together. "Narcissa said nothing about it the last time we spoke."

Draco appeared surprised. "I had no idea Mother had been speaking with you."

Andromeda chuckled a little and arched an eyebrow at Harry in very much the same way her nephew often did. "Apparently everyone has been keeping secrets. Well, it's high time to be out with them, I say." Harry didn't miss several exchanged glances around the room nor the multiple guilty expressions.

She reached out and pulled Draco to herself in a warm, firm embrace. When she let him go, it was as though the whole room breathed a collective sigh of relief. With that, Molly reappeared in the doorway, Teddy clinging to her leg.

"Dinner is served," she said.

V

After they had eaten, they sprawled around the room, comfortably full and a little sleepy. Andromeda had taken Teddy home, as he had grown irritable and tired. No one else seemed inclined to move at the moment, so Harry thought it might be a good time for gifts. He only had the one, as he had already exchanged small tokens with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. When everyone had seated themselves, he stood up and cleared his throat.

"I have something for you." He reached into the bag he had brought and produced the package, returning it to its original size. All eyes were on him, curious. Gently, he laid the gift in Molly's lap.

Carefully, she removed the wrapping to reveal the empty painting. "It's…lovely," she said, sounding uncertain.

"There's more to it than it looks," Harry said. "It's connected to Hogwarts. I'm sure you know that people can move between their own portraits—"

Molly gasped as comprehension descended on her. "Oh," she breathed. "It's…that's very kind of you, dear." She set the painting aside, leaning it against the wall. "I'm sorry. Please excuse me." With that, she hurried from the room.

All eyes were on Harry in almost exactly the same way they had been when he first arrived with Draco in tow. This time, no one asked any questions except Hermione, who seemed content to say, "Oh, Harry, how could you?" in a ferocious whisper.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I just thought—" He stopped. It didn't really matter what he'd thought he was doing. "Never mind."

Instead of sitting down with the others, he gave the room one last apologetic look and fled, snagging his cloak on the way out the door. Outside, he ran until he reached the old car they'd brought and leaned against it, breathing hard and trying desperately to fight back the well of emotions threatening to spill over. He braced his hands on the car, keeping his back to the house.

A moment later, he felt a warm hand on his back. "You're still here."

Harry looked over his shoulder at Draco, whose expression was unreadable. "Of course I am. Did you think I would leave without you?"

"I worried you might, yes."

"No." Harry shook his head. "I might have, if you hadn't been with me. I…I didn't know they would react that way." He closed his eyes.

Draco replied, "So they didn't fawn all over you as the hero rushing in and saving them again. So what?"

"What?" Harry whirled around to face Draco. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Draco shrugged. "You have a need to save people. I've seen it before." He paused. "I've experienced it before. This time, they just didn't give you credit for it."

"You think that's what I want?"

"That's what you always want. Isn't that why you do these things?"

"No! It isn't! And I'd have thought that you would know that after all this time." Harry's eyes stung and he was breathing hard.

"Then tell me what it is!"

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut against the wash of hurt and shame. "You're right. I did want their attention. But not in the way you think."

"What is it?" Draco repeated. He stepped closer. "Tell me."

"I just—I want to belong. I want to know that this is my home, too. This is the first family I ever really had, but I still feel like a stranger. I wanted them to know how much they mean to me and to hear it in return."

Draco put a hand on Harry's shoulder. With his free hand, he cupped Harry's cheek. He slid his fingers down to lift Harry's chin and look directly into his eyes. "Then tell them."

"I—what?"

"Don't tell me that, tell them."

"I—"

"Every day, you tell me you love me in one way or another. Maybe I don't say it often enough in return, but I hope you know it to be true." Draco leaned in and kissed Harry softly. "They love you too, or they wouldn't have been so keen to protect you from me. Go inside and tell them what you told me—that you wanted them to know how much you love them."

"I don't know…"

"Yes, you do. You know I'm right, because I'm always right." Draco smirked. Harry rolled his eyes and started to say something, but Draco pressed another kiss to his lips. "I'll wait out here and give you some privacy. I need to get the gifts from the car anyway."

Harry pulled back to give Draco an incredulous look. "You brought gifts?"

"Of course."

"You sure you know what you're doing?"

"Give me some credit, please."

"All right." Harry steeled himself then walked back to the house, leaving Draco to rummage around in the car for Merlin knew what.

When Harry stepped back inside, the low conversation died out. For the third time, he found himself the center of attention. "I'm sorry," he said. He took a deep breath.

He never finished what he was going to say. Instead, he found himself surrounded by his surrogate family. Somehow, he had managed to convey the message he had intended. Though the empty portrait still lay untouched in the corner, they knew. They understood. And not only were they telling him that he belonged, he knew they accepted his decision to be with Draco, even if they weren't ready to accept Draco himself yet.

After about fifteen minutes, Draco returned with his gifts. They turned out to be exactly right, of course. Harry knew he would never hear the end of it, from either the Weasleys or from Draco. He decided it was worth it.

It looked as though Draco had been collecting things on his various travels and distributed them around. There was a book on the Wizarding history of Laos for Hermione, a bottle of some Muggle beer from Canada for Ron, and a set of small vials for George that appeared to be some of what he was in process of testing and approving for import. Harry chose not to ask questions, particularly after taking note of the gleam in George's eye. For Molly, he had found a book of kitchen spells from around the world, and Percy had a new magically extendable file for sorting his important papers. Ginny was surprised and delighted by the autographed broom from the Japanese National Quidditch team, and Harry wondered vaguely when Draco had met them. There was an expensive and unusual vase for Bill and Fleur, along with a small plush dragon for Victoire which Bill said he was sure she would appreciate. The car, naturally, was for Arthur, who was more delighted with it than even Harry would have imagined. He should have expected it, really, since the ban on enhancements had been lifted. He didn't miss the way Arthur pointedly ignored Molly's disapproving frown.

The only things remaining were an unopened gift Harry assumed was for Charlie, who had gone back to Romania immediately after Christmas, and the envelope Ginny had given Draco. Harry suspected she knew what was in it. When everyone had settled down, Draco handed the envelope to Arthur.

When he opened it, Arthur's eyes widened. "It's too much," he said. "We can't—"

"You can. It was a gift, and I am passing it along to you."

Harry looked at Draco for explanation. "What is it?"

"It's Quidditch box, and there's a story behind it. About a year ago, I made a sizeable donation to the Janus Thickey ward of Saint Mungo's." He gave Harry a look that plainly indicated he should say nothing; Harry honored that. Draco continued, "I met someone there who wanted to thank me for my gift. He said he knew someone who was looking to be rid of a Quidditch box and asked if I would like to have it. At first, I planned to say no, but I thought better of it. I had thought to make a gift of it for Harry, since he sometimes goes to see Ginny play. But after talking to Ginny, something occurred to me, and I simply had to make this a gift for you. This afternoon, she brought me all the papers, signed and sealed in that envelope."

"Just what changed your mind?" George wanted to know.

"I made the donation in my father's name. Which means that you, sir," he turned to Arthur, "are the beneficiary of a charitable donation to the mental ward at my father's expense. Oh, I used my own money," he said hastily, "but the fund will forever be known by Lucius' name. And that box is worth more than the one my parents own."

There was a beat, and then George guffawed. It was contagious, and soon the room was full of the sound of laughter. When they had calmed down, Hermione eyed Draco shrewdly.

"You really are different," she said.

"Don't let him fool you," Harry muttered, and Draco nudged him.

"We all are," Draco replied. He dropped the Glamour on his hand, and for the first time that night he allowed the others to see the ring Harry had given him.

"Welcome to the family, Draco, dear," Molly said. And with that, it was settled.

The general mood of the gathering became merry, and the earlier tensions passed into comfortable conversation. Over the course of the evening, several more guests arrived to celebrate the new year. Harry's former Quidditch teammate, Angelina Johnson, arrived with George's friend Lee Jordan. Harry had known they were engaged, but apparently, no one else had even known they were seeing each other. A glance exchanged with Ginny confirmed that this was yet another one of her brothers' secrets she had kept.

Luna and her fiancé, Rolf, were there, and Neville had brought Hannah, a ring sparkling on her finger; it appeared to have been a busy holiday. Harry was surprised to see Draco and Neville greet each other warmly. Something clicked into place, and he smiled as he put two and two together.

For a long time, there was laughter and chatter, but as the evening wore on, a relaxed, sleepy feeling descended over them as they awaited the dawn of the new year. Bill excused himself to return home to Fleur; it turned out that the reason for her absence was pregnancy-induced illness, and she had not felt well enough to come. Everyone else settled in around the room in smaller groups. It was the first time all day that Harry felt entirely at peace.

Hermione thumbed through her new book, curled into Ron's side; he leaned back and closed his eyes, his fingers trailing through her hair. Neville kept his hand laced with Hannah's while they talked quietly with Luna, Rolf, and Angelina. Lee was recounting some ridiculous story about a boorish Quidditch star, and Ginny muted her laughter behind her hands. Harry thought he heard her say something about not being surprised.

Harry reclined against Draco, feeling warm and content to just watch the others. As he scanned the room, he felt someone sit down beside him and turned to look. It was George.

"I think I'm ready," George said. "I know Mum's not, but I want to see him."

Harry nodded, understanding. He extracted himself from Draco, who seemed perfectly happy to settle back down by himself. George followed Harry to the corner of the room, and they retrieved the empty frame. They carried it upstairs to George's old room and leaned it against the wall.

"Just call for him, like you would any other portrait," Harry said. "I'll leave you to it." He left the room, pulling the door closed on his way out.

VI

George returned shortly before midnight. Shooting Harry a grateful look, he took his place beside Angelina. The clock struck, and everyone stilled for a moment. Then the room broke out in choruses of "Happy New Year!" Ron called everyone out back to where he and George had previously set up the fireworks. He let off the first firework of the new year, and it exploded, leaving behind a glittering trail. There was another and another, until the sky was lit up in brilliant color.

As the last of the fireworks burst, Draco leaned in and whispered, "I told you."

"You did. And thank you—you were brilliant tonight."

"I know."

Harry huffed a little before reaching up to extinguish the smirk with a kiss.

They bid everyone good night and Apparated home. Despite the late hour and long day, Harry could not sleep. He lay in bed, listening for the even breathing that would tell him Draco was asleep. He thought he might get up for a bit and read until he was able to rest.

Beside him, he felt Draco shift. A warm arm slid across his middle, and a warm body inched closer. "Still awake?"

"Yeah. Can't sleep. Thought you'd be out by now, though."

"Mmm. I might know how to help you." Draco gently turned Harry to face him then pressed a kiss to his lips.

They lay on their sides, kissing unhurriedly, allowing desire to build slowly. It was unlike their desperate need to touch after their visit to the Manor; this time, they had no need to rush. They moved together, gently at first and then with increasing urgency, tangling themselves in each other until they were both breathless with arousal. Swiftly they pulled at their own and each other's clothes until everything lay on the floor beside the bed.

As their foreplay had done, their lovemaking started out tender and slow, gradually increasing in intensity until both were gasping and groaning with a mixture of pleasure, relief, and joy. They rocked and thrust until, unable to bear it any longer, Harry let go with a cry, spilling over in an orgasm so intense he thought it might tear him in two. Draco followed him, silent but for a sharp gasp as he came. Harry panted in Draco's ear for a moment before seeking his lips and drowning their breathlessness in kisses.

At last they pulled apart, and Harry settled against Draco's chest. Strong, warm arms encircled him, and he wondered if it was possible to be any more content than he was at that moment. He began to slide toward sleep. His last thought before succumbing to his dreams was that the year ahead—and all the ones after that—could only grow his love for the people around him. There was nothing more he could ask for.