Happy 2015, everybody! Hope you had a fantastic holiday season. Here's a one shot I wrote for hp_minifest on Livejournal. Enjoy!

Warning(s) for the mildest of flangst.

The Frostling had been watching him for a while now. It was rare for her— this sudden interest in one of them. Humans, as a rule, were dull creatures with nothing to offer her kind. They abhorred the bracing cold and huddled by the fire when the first snowflakes fell. They cursed when they slipped and skidded on the ice. Most of them didn't even seem to notice the perfect, delicate frost patterns she left on their windows. There was no romance in their hearts. The magic of her season eluded them thoroughly. They just didn't see it.

By the North Wind, they were an odd lot! What self respecting spirit of winter would wish to associate with such a strange people?

And yet, she watched this one. He came to her little nook in the woods every other day, meandering from his human settlement and into the wilderness of her natural home. The first time she saw him, she assumed he was lost. Out of the goodness of her heart, she sent a winter chill to drive him back to the town— back to their strange, warm houses and the meticulously swept, snow free streets. But he ignored all her efforts and trudged on anyway.

Perhaps that was when she realised he was different.

She watched him closely after that. He was always alone. The Frostling thought this strange. Over the centuries, she had observed his kind from a distance. They didn't like being alone any more than they liked the cold. She knew this was true. Humans always changed, it was in their nature. They changed the world around them and shaped it by their hands and will— but this one thing had remained the same for as long as she could remember.

Every human had another human. Unfathomable as it was, this made them happy. Younglings made them even happier. When a human pair had younglings of their own, they became a...what was the word? A family. Yes, that was it. She didn't understand most of it but she did know that this 'family' was very important to them.

So, why was her human always alone? Did he not have a family?

Today, she decided, she would find out. The questions had been bothering her for a while and she didn't have time for such distraction. Winter was well upon them, and she had to do her part. There was fresh snow to sprinkle, frost patterns to make, winds to direct...she couldn't very well do it with a maudlin human moping about, could she?

And also...maybe if she helped him, he wouldn't look so sad.

It was easy enough to shift her form. Her hair grew long and golden, her eyes turned blue, her cheeks filled with colour. She looked just like a human youngling now. Wrinkling her nose at the distasteful notion, the Frostling set out to solve the mystery of the lingering human.

"Why are you alone?"

He froze immediately, then sprung up and whipped around to face her. She had startled him. Those eyes— green like the firs in the forest— widened in surprise. For a moment, she was intrigued. Who knew humans had such vivid eyes?

"Hey, little girl," he said, and she could hear concern colouring his voice. "What are you doing here?"

A question for a question? How strange. Perhaps, he didn't understand her.

"Why are you alone?" she repeated, speaking slowly for his benefit.

He just looked flummoxed. He ran a hand through his messy, black hair and straightened his winter clothing. "I'm just walking," he explained hesitantly. "But we can talk about that later. Are you lost? Where are your parents?"

Parents? Lost? Would she never understand anything that came out of this boy's mouth? "I am fine," the Frostling explained, a touch impatiently. "And I see that you're walking. I was simply enquiring as to why you are alone in the forest. Where is your...family?"

He blinked. "You have a pretty solid vocabulary for someone so little." He started walking towards her then, slowly and carefully. She suspected he was trying not to scare her. The thought was amusing— and a touch endearing. So, she didn't protest when he knelt down in front of her and put a cautious hand on her tiny shoulder.

He hissed in concern. "You're so cold. Look, don't be scared, yeah? What's your name? My name's Harry."

"Harry?" The name sounded strange and foreign on her tongue.

Harry smiled. It was a warm smile that brought thoughts of summer to her mind. Despite that, she found she liked it. "That's right," Harry said. "Did you wander off or something? I can help you find your mother."

By the North Wind, not this again. Were all humans such worrisome creatures? The Frostling hastened to interrupt him before he decided she was completely incapable of looking after herself. "I'm not lost. My...mother is nearby. She is my family?"

It wasn't supposed to sound like a question. For a moment, she thought she had blown her cover. But Harry laughed, clearly amused. "That's usually how it works, yeah."

Oh, good. She was finally getting somewhere. "Where is your mother?"

The smile faded. His eyes clouded over. There was a private, personal grief in them she couldn't understand. "She's not here," Harry said quietly. "She...died a long time ago."

"Oh. How unfortunate." So, she was right. He didn't have a family. He had no one. "Are you all alone then?"

He shrugged, and the smile returned. But it was tinged with pain and lingering sadness. "I do alright. I have my friends. They're sort of like family."

"It is not the same." She didn't know that for sure, but she could tell. Harry had other humans, but he needed one of his very own. A mate, perhaps? Yes, that made sense. She was sure of this now. And with a little touch of magic, she could help him. Then he wouldn't be so sad any more.

"You're a strange kid," Harry commented. His eyes were still bright and kind, but there was touch of speculation in those green depths. He wanted to ask her questions. Questions, she could not and would not answer. It was time to go.

"I must leave," she told him firmly. "My mother will worry."

Harry looked hesitant, but finally he nodded. "You're sure you know your way?"

"I am certain. Do not worry about me."

"Well, alright then." He didn't sound very certain, but he made no move to stop her. "If you're sure. But before you go, will you take this? Just to keep warm."

She watched in surprise as he took off the red scarf from his neck and wrapped it around her. The fabric felt strange against her skin, scratchy and soft at the same time. The warmth was unpleasant but she didn't want to hurt Harry's feelings by taking it off. Humans were so sensitive.

"Thank you," she said politely. "You are a very kind man."

He chuckled and shook his head. "And you're a very strange little girl. I hope you know what you're doing."

It seemed as good a farewell as any. She tightened her hold on the scarf and left, treading through the snow on fast, sure feet. She could sense Harry's eyes on her back, making sure she was safe for as long as he could. It was...sweet, in an odd way.

When she heard the fading crunch of his boots in the snow, she knew he was leaving. Perhaps forever. If her magic worked, she would never see the curious, kind human again. That was alright. She was a winter being, after all. It was not in her nature to get attached to anything or anyone.

Still, she didn't throw the scarf anyway. It would make a nice memento.

Harry woke the next morning, feeling groggy and blissfully warm. He couldn't remember ever having been so comfortable in his life. Apparently, there was something to be said for the new covers Hermione had foisted on him after all. He smiled in his sleep addled state, just enjoying the sensation. Of course, he would have to get out of bed sometime. He had to get to work soon and he still had to get that new quill from Flourish and Blotts. Maybe he could stop by after getting take-out from that new Chinese place and…

"Stop thinking so loud. I can hear you all the way over here."

Harry froze. His pleasant train of thought screeched to a standstill as a scratchy, sleepy voice that was most certainly not his own, broke into the silence. He was not alone. There was someone else here. There was someone else in his bed.

"You're still doing it," the voice grumbled. "And by the way? You have your own side, you know. There's no law that says you have to sleep on top of me every..."

At that, Harry sprang up like he'd been burned. Reality was seeping in and the gravity of the situation slammed into him with the force of a freight train. What he had assumed was just the warmth of his bed was actually the warmth of another person in his bed. A person he couldn't remember having invited there in the first place. Oh, this could not be good. Harry scrambled up in sheer panic and whirled around to face his companion.

Bewildered, grey eyes met his frantic gaze.

"What's wrong?" Malfoy demanded, sounding worried. He sat up and the sheet slipped, falling off one pale shoulder. Harry very nearly dropped into a dead faint. Malfoy was nude under the sheet. Malfoy was in his bed without any clothes on and damn it, what the hell had Harry done last night?! Oh, he was going to faint. He was so going to...

Malfoy must have noticed his hyperventilating because he shifted, clearly intending to get up and approach Harry. Approach Harry without any clothes on.

"No!" Harry yelped in completely justifiable alarm. "Stay where you are! I mean it!"

"Harry, calm down," Malfoy soothed. His voice was calm but his eyes were large and grey and full of concern. "It's okay. Just a bad dream, yeah? It's alright. I'm here. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

That, in Harry's humble opinion, was the whole problem. He took a deep breath and tried his damndest to quell his frantic heartbeat. He had to make sense of this situation, damn it! Panicking wasn't the answer. "How...how did you...get in here? In my bed?"

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "As I recall, you invited me into your bed five years ago. Rather enthusiastically, I might add."

"What?! I think I would rem…"

Malfoy held a pale hand up. Something glistened on his finger. Harry's words froze in his throat as he stared at the slim, elegant platinum ring. A glance down at his own hand confirmed the worst. Harry stared blankly at the band on his own finger— a platinum ring, the exact mirror image of Malfoy's. And that wasn't all. Now that he wasn't descending into hysterics, he could see framed pictures on the walls. Malfoy and him in suits, smiling and waving with a glass of champagne each. Hermione and Ron joined them in another picture, smiling and laughing. Ron thumped Malfoy on the back and gave Harry a hug. In yet another picture, Narcissa Malfoy smiled and kissed Harry's cheek. Malfoy joined them and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist. A banner with 'Congratulations Newlyweds!' emblazoned on it, hung in the background.

Oh, Merlin.

Harry swallowed and sat down shakily in a chair. This...didn't seem like a joke anymore.

"I don't understand," he whispered. He couldn't...he didn't...this was impossible. But the pictures on the walls couldn't lie to him. The ring on his finger wasn't a lie. And Malfoy was out of bed now— wearing pyjama bottoms, thank goodness— and hovering over Harry, looking for all the world like a concerned husband. And that wasn't a lie either. Malfoy was a git and a prat and a liar, but even he couldn't pull such an elaborate stunt.

Oh Godric, what had happened?!

"I don't understand," Harry mumbled again. It was all he was capable of saying at the moment. He was entirely overwhelmed and more than a little frightened. The whole world had turned upside down and he didn't even know what was going on and…

Suddenly, two, slim arms circled around him. Harry yelped and started to struggle but Malfoy shushed him, carding an uncharacteristically gentle hand through his hair.

"It's alright," he whispered. "You're home, Harry. It was just a bad dream. You're here with me and I love you."

A part of him rebelled at the sheer outlandishness of such a claim. He wanted to shove Malfoy off, yell at him and demand an explanation. But he was being held. Malfoy's touch was calming to his frayed senses, reassuring him almost effortlessly. It was too nice to let go of just yet. So Harry relaxed into the embrace, taking the offered comfort as he struggled to figure this out.

"There are always days like this," Malfoy said, still holding him close. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. You're not alone in this anymore."

The nightmares. Malfoy was talking about his terror attacks. Harry had been struggling with them since the war. Even Ron and Hermione didn't know that he woke up in a cold sweat sometimes, wide eyed and gasping for breath. But Malfoy knew. There was no way he could have known something so personal about Harry. Not unless...not unless he had been here and seen the attacks, not unless he had held Harry through them and calmed him down. The way Malfoy was acting now, it was clear he had done this several times.

That, more than anything, confirmed it for Harry.

This was real.

This was happening.

He took a deep gulp of air and wrapped his arms around Malfoy, burrowing into his neck. Later, he would sit down and think long and hard about why that was a terrible course of action. But right now, in the face of this inversion of his entire reality, he couldn't bring himself to let go. Malfoy was here and offering comfort and he would be a fool not to take it.

Later. He would fix this later.

Malfoy let go and disentangled himself. He smiled slightly and brushed a hand down Harry's cheek. "I'll fix breakfast today, yeah? You just take your time," he said softly. "The kids are probably up anyway. It is Christmas, after all."

He gave Harry a kiss on the cheek and left. Harry sat there, Malfoy's last words ringing through his head with screaming clarity.

Kids.

What kids?!

It took him twenty minutes to get dressed, and another twenty to bolster up the courage to leave the relative safety of his— well, his and Malfoy's— room. Whatever was on the other side of that door, it wasn't going away, and he was going to have to deal with it sooner or later.

That was what Harry told himself over and over again as he slipped into the hallway.

"Daddy!"

The attack cry and the telltale patter of footsteps was all the warning Harry got before a pint sized person flew out of nowhere and attached himself to his leg. Harry gaped uncomprehendingly as green eyes blinked up at him, accompanied by a bright, toothy grin.

"Daddy! Up!" the toddler demanded, holding his chubby little arms out.

Harry just stared, frozen into inaction. There was a little person stuck to his leg. The child had his dark hair and green eyes, but the sharp features and pointed chin had Malfoy written all over them. There was no doubt about it. This...this was his son. His and Malfoy's. A son he didn't remember. He didn't even know the boy's name. The boy definitely knew him though. He was still hanging on to Harry like a particularly persistent barnacle.

Just what was Harry supposed to do with him?

"Up, Daddy!"

The imperious demand and resulting pout hastened Harry into action. He swallowed down the impending panic and bent to pick the kid up. He giggled as he was hoisted, latching onto Harry with practiced ease. "Hi, Daddy," he greeted happily.

"Um, hi," Harry replied, trying not to sound too bewildered. "How are you?"

"Fine," the toddler replied seriously. "Pwesent day."

Harry's lips twitched in reluctant amusement. Apparently, he had a cute kid. "I think you meant Christmas."

"Pwesent day," the toddler agreed.

Right.

"So, um…" Harry struggled to come up with an appropriate question here. "How old are you?"

A little hand flew up, smacking him in the face. "Fow," the child chirped. "An' half."

Despite himself, Harry chuckled at the serious, sombre expression on that little face. He couldn't help himself, the kid was adorable. "Such a big boy," he said, bouncing him a little. The boy giggled in delight. It was the most wonderful sound Harry had ever heard. "What do you want for Present Day then, hm?"

This was the wrong question to ask. The kid perked up and commenced chattering nineteen to the dozen, reciting a list that had been clearly been planned months in advance. Still, Harry couldn't help but smile fondly and listen as that list grew longer and more enthusiastic by the second.

"An' a bwoom, an' a wand an' a Pygmy Puff," the toddler finally finished. "For Cowy."

Cory?

"Cory?" Harry echoed. "Who...uh, I mean where is Cory?"

There was a bit of urgent shuffling and squirming. Harry finally caught on enough to put his...son down. A small hand wrapped around his finger and led him to a bedroom on the left. Two bunk beds stood proudly in the corner and toys of all shapes and sizes were strewn all over the floor. Harry's eyes widened. Well, at least he was rich. He had to be to afford all this. Still, it was nice to know his son was happy and clearly loved. Certainly not the way he remembered his own childhood…

"Cowy!" said son yelled suddenly, making a beeline for the beds. He poked and prodded at a little lump on the bottom bunk. "Wake up! It's pwesent day!"

"Al, stop," a small, sleepy voice demanded.

Harry watched in stunned silence as a small blond head poked out of the covers. Another little boy. His second son. Cory had blond hair and wide, grey eyes. He was the spitting image of Malfoy— save for the chubby cheeks and the tousled, scruffy look only little boys ever seem to manage. He stared at Harry for a second before yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Hi Daddy," he mumbled.

Harry fell in love instantly.

"Hey mate," he whispered, approaching slowly and brushing a careful hand over the little, blond head. Soft hair sifted through his fingers. The little boy blinked at him and held his arms out, just like his brother. Harry lifted him up without a second thought and in that moment, he knew he had fallen and fallen hard.

Al and Cory.

He didn't even know their full names yet, but he loved them so much. They were perfect. Just perfect.

"Were you sleeping?" he asked, cradling the little boy carefully. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"S'okay," Cory mumbled. He slumped back on Harry's shoulder and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Al watched the heart-warming scene for all of two seconds before deciding he wanted in as well. It took a few tries but Harry was soon carting both of them around, one in each arm.

His boys. His sons.

He had sons.

He was a father.

"My boys," he whispered, holding them close. He could hardly believe it. All his life, he had wondered if he would ever have this. Somehow, he had it now and Merlin help him, it was better than he had ever imagined. It was everything he had ever dreamed of. It was so much more than that...

"So there you are. I was wondering where everyone was."

Harry turned around as Malfoy walked in, grinning with evident amusement.

"Morning, Father," Al chirped brightly.

Malfoy ruffled his hair. "Good morning, Albus."

"Morning, Fadder," Cory added sleepily.

Malfoy's smile turned to a chuckle and he reached out to take the child from Harry. Harry wasn't all that keen to let go of his baby but Malfoy was obviously their father too. If anyone had a right to cuddle and coo over his boys, it was probably the man who had raised them with him. Cory went willingly, tumbling into Malfoy's arms with a contented sigh. Malfoy bussed a kiss to his head. "Good morning, Scorpius," he murmured affectionately. "Merry Christmas."

"Happy pwesent day!" Al insisted adamantly.

Harry chuckled and Malfoy sighed wearily. They shared a fond look over the boy's heads, the kind only parents can. Parents. The thought came to him suddenly, catching him off guard. He was a parent. And a husband to Draco Malfoy. It...wasn't as disconcerting as it had been a few minutes ago. Of course, it was still disorienting and frankly terrifying to learn he had ended up with his school rival of all people. It was even scarier when he thought of what he and Malfoy had put each other through, all those years ago. He was married to this man now, and he didn't even know how they had fallen in love, how they had ended up with this perfect family, how any of this had happened.

But the fact was, this had happened. Malfoy may have been a git and a prat a long time ago, but Harry had been one too. Malfoy was here now, and he had given Harry so much. He had given him comfort and love and two wonderful, little boys. He had given Harry a home. It was hard to understand and even harder to come to terms with but...well, he had time to get there.

He would get there.

"So how about that breakfast then?" he asked Mal—Draco. It was Draco now. It had to be.

Draco grinned and bounced Cory in his arms. "We're ready when you are."

Harry tried very hard not to read too much into that statement.

Breakfast was a cheerful, chaotic affair. The boys were particularly eager to dispense with the formalities so they could head for the presents. It resulted in a few...incidents.

"Daddy!" Cory whined, turning sad, grey eyes on Harry. "Al got butteh in my hair!"

"Did not!" Al protested, turning to Draco. "Father, did not!"

"Daddy!"

"Father!"

"Boys," Draco broke in sternly. "We don't argue at the table. Scorpius, you'll be fine. Albus, refrain from buttering your brother please."

Harry bit back a chuckle as the children turned to him for back up. They were so cute. He just wanted to gather them up and coo over them for hours. But Draco was clearly angling for discipline here and in Harry's limited experience, parents had to keep a united front. So he just shook his head at those sad, pleading eyes. "Listen to your father."

Draco favoured him with an approving smile and squeezed his hand gently. For the first time since that harrowing morning, Harry didn't act on the urge to pull back. He just let his wrist dangle in Draco's grasp, trying not to think about how comfortable it all felt. Those long, slim fingers brushed against his wrist and Harry tightened his grip on them.

In that moment, he thought he could get used to this. He really could.

"This is nice," he murmured, half to himself.

Draco hummed in agreement and leaned against him, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry startled in surprise before deciding to just go with it. He brushed a hesitant hand through Draco's hair, carding it with his fingers. Soft, blond and silky smooth. So much like Cory's hair. The thought made him smile.

"Really, really nice," he amended.

Draco chuckled. "You keep saying that. It's almost like our first date."

"Our first…"

Oh.

He hadn't even thought about that yet. He should have expected it. Of course, he must have dated Draco. Dated him, fallen in love with him, moved in with him, had children with him...how else would they have ended up here? But then, how could he know? He didn't remember any of it. Not a damn thing. Where had he taken Draco on their first date? When was their first kiss? Their anniversary? Hell, how long had they been together at all?

He didn't know.

He didn't know anything.

Draco didn't seem to have noticed his muddled musings. "You remember. It was snowing. I wanted to see the big Christmas tree at the Hogsmeade town square. We stood there for hours, looking at the lights and listening to the carollers. It was just...it took my breath away. I asked you what you thought about it and you just said it's nice." He nudged Harry playfully. "Always good with the words, you were."

"Hey, I was good enough to land you, wasn't I?" Harry contested, getting caught up in the spirit of the banter.

Draco wrapped an arm around his waist. "Yes, you were," he whispered. "It was the most amazing night of my life. I'll never forget it."

Something inside Harry twanged painfully at the words. It did sound like a wonderful night. Draco obviously had some very fond memories of their time together. A sense of despair welled up in Harry's chest. He wanted those memories too. He wanted to remember. He still didn't understand just how he had skipped to his Happily Ever After but the more he thought about it, the more he wished he could have been there for the journey. It sounded amazing. And that was just their first date. What about when he and Draco first moved in? Or when Al and Cory were born? All those times that could and should have been the most special moments of his life were just...gone. He'd skimmed over them in his desperation to get to the end and now...now he felt more bereft than anything. But he couldn't say that aloud, could he? Draco would think him mad. How could he even begin to explain this to his husband?

"I remember," he said instead. The lie felt cold and bitter on his tongue.

Draco pulled away and leaned in for a kiss. It was a chaste kiss— just an innocent, affectionate brush of the lips— but it pulled Harry in like nothing before. He gripped Draco's arm, drawing him closer to deepen the contact, to feel more of those soft, full lips and…

"Harry," Draco murmured, pulling away gently. "The kids."

Oh. Right.

Harry snuck a glance at them. Al and Cory had yet to notice anything amiss. They were still busy chattering about presents. Al was demonstrating the best way to wind up the clockwork Pygmy Puff and Cory was watching with rapt, unwavering attention.

"They're not looking," Harry argued, leaning in again. He wanted another kiss. He needed to feel those lips on his again. And damn it, the kids weren't even looking!

Draco rolled his eyes and pushed him off. "Stop it. You know how they get."

"But…"

Draco cut him off with a quick peck on the lips. "Tonight," he promised softly. "When they're asleep."

Harry swallowed audibly. Draco's eyes were alight with mischief and his sultry smile promised a whole lot more than a kiss. Merlin, when did Draco Malfoy get this attractive? One kiss and Harry couldn't get enough of him. But for the promises those grey eyes held, he could hold out. Tonight would come soon enough.

"Fine," he murmured, pressing another kiss to Draco's neck and resisting the urge to bite down on the tantalising flesh. "But you owe me."

"Don't I always?" Draco countered with a grin. "Now, come on. It's present time. And Ron and Hermione are coming over for dinner tonight. Apparently, it's our turn to host."

The kids whooped in delight at the announcement and raced to the tree. Harry allowed himself to be dragged off into the fray again.

But he couldn't escape the nagging feeling that sooner or later, he would have to deal with this. He just didn't know how.

By the time dinner rolled around, Harry's resolve had weakened considerably.

He couldn't help it. The stirrings of guilt were still there— nicking at the back of his head like persistent gnats— but the more he lived this life, the more he loved every second of it. The more he got to know this family of his, the more it tore him to think he could ever let them go.

His sons were perfect in every way. Bright and innocent, sweet and wholesome...they lit up his life. Al was smart and friendly— an energetic little bundle who brought life everywhere he went. Cory was just the opposite, but in a very good way. He was shy and quiet and those big, grey eyes saw wonder in everything. Although they were both four and a half, Scorpius was clearly the baby of the family. Even Al was rather protective of him— something that amused Harry to no end. They were so different in every way but they did everything together. Despite all his excitement, Al refused to open a single present without Cory right there beside him. And once Cory figured out that Al liked the toy broomstick he'd got, he handed it over to his brother without a word. Not that it mattered, because what was Al's was clearly Cory's as well.

It was brilliant to watch and he had to wonder at what a good job he and Draco had done, raising such generous, thoughtful, sweet little boys.

And then there was Draco.

Draco who was such a revelation that Harry didn't know what to do. He was kind and generous, thoughtful and considerate— the more time Harry spent with him, the more convinced he was that Draco was the perfect partner. The few kisses they had stolen when the children weren't looking had done nothing to change his mind. Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy would turn out to be everything he had ever wanted in a husband? And who would have thought someone like Draco Malfoy would choose him of all people?

But there it was. They were together, and they were pretty damn perfect if he did say so himself.

It almost seemed wrong to mess with such a wonderful state of affairs. It was hardly hurting anyone, was it? Draco was happy, the kids were happy, and Harry had probably never been happier in his life...so why mess with perfection? Didn't he deserve this? Didn't they all deserve this?

That's what he constantly told the nagging voice in his head, willing it away with everything he had. It took a while but sooner or later, Harry managed to silence that annoying voice. Yes, this would work out just fine. He realised it was...unconventional, but this was clearly where he was meant to be and in time, he would get used to it.

And so, by the time Ron and Mione showed up for dinner his spirits had lifted considerably.

"We're here," Ron called cheerfully as he stepped out of the Floo. "Merry Christmas, you lot!"

Harry grinned. At least his best friends were still the same. Ron's wide grin was just as welcome a sight as ever and Hermione's warm brown eyes brought thoughts of home to his mind. He practically ran over to greet them.

"I'm so glad you two are here," he mumbled in Ron's shoulder.

"Mate, you saw us yesterday," Ron chuckled, returning the hug. "So, where's the old ball and chain? He owes me a Firewhisky."

"Call me that again and I'll set you on fire," Draco drawled, coming to a halt alongside Harry. He smiled and nodded at Hermione. "Always a pleasure, Granger. Thank you for coming."

Hermione laughed and gave him a hug. "I wouldn't subject you to these two alone," she teased. "Besides, we still have that report due at the Ministry and I was hoping we could..."

"Mione, no! It's Christmas, for Merlin's sake!" Ron groaned. He sighed and gave Harry a long suffering look. "I told you nothing good would come of them working together."

Oh. So, that was it. Draco and Hermione were co-workers. Well, at least the bizarrely friendly scene made sense now. Harry nodded along as best as he could, valiantly trying not to feel too out of his depth here.

Fortunately for him, the kids spotted their favourite aunt and uncle and ran over with shrieks of delight. There was little opportunity for conversation or deep thinking after that. He soon found himself swept along for the ride, watching in contentment as Ron and Hermione indulged his children.

He only started when an arm wrapped around him. Draco grinned and rested his chin on Harry's shoulder, watching as Al used Ron as a climbing pole and Cory engaged Hermione in a very serious conversation about otters.

"Every year," he murmured in amusement. "Never changes, does it?"

In that moment, Harry fervently wished he was in a position to agree.

"Okay, what is it?"

Harry started, jerking out of his musings and back to reality. Draco was up putting the kids to bed and Ron was tuning in to the WWN's Christmas special. Naturally, Hermione— observant as ever— had sensed something amiss with him. Harry sighed. He should have known better than to think he could ever slip something past her.

Still, he could try. "Nothing," he told her. "I'm fine, really."

Hermione smiled and took a seat next to him. "Really, Harry?"

Harry chuckled weakly and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "No," he admitted. "I'm a mess, Mione."

Her brow creased and concern flashed in her eyes. "Talking about it might help. You know I'll listen."

"I don't doubt that," Harry replied. "It's just...Merlin, Mione. You'll think I'm mad."

"Honestly, Harry," she admonished with a light laugh. "I've known you fifteen years, give or take. There's nothing you can say that would surprise me."

Harry raised a challenging eyebrow. "Well, if it's all the same to you I'll give it a shot. I woke up this morning to find that my life had changed completely. And I don't mean any of that metaphorical shite. Until yesterday, I was single and alone. Today, I woke up married to Draco Malfoy, I have two kids and this perfect life and I don't know how any of that happened. I was just here all of a sudden and I don't know why in Merlin's name it happened but it did. So yeah...that's about it."

She was silent for a few seconds. "Okay, you win," she replied finally.

Harry's smile turned to a grimace. "Told you so."

"So, you don't...remember anything?" she confirmed. "Draco or your kids or your wedding or..."

"No," Harry groaned. He felt so helpless all of a sudden. "It's not that I don't remember, Hermione. It's just...I just know none of that happened. Not to me."

She looked justifiably alarmed now. "Harry, I was there. Ron was your Best Man at the wedding. I'm Godmother to your children. I assure you..."

"I know. I know you were there. But I wasn't. I...I dropped into this life. I can't understand it but..." He chanced a look at her. "You don't believe a word I'm saying, do you?"

She pursed her lips. Her eyes flashed with determination and no small amount of anger. "I'm honestly offended that you would ask me that after all these years," she scolded. "Harry, I know you. Better than you know yourself. If you say it's the truth, then it is. I'll admit it's implausible— impossible, actually— but I believe it. I'll always believe you. Never doubt that."

She believed him. Relief coursed through him in waves. She believed him. He finally had someone to help him figure this out. Now that he knew for sure, he couldn't stop himself. The story poured out of him. He told her everything— how miserable he had been yesterday, how tired and weary and bereft, how he had woken up to a new, perfect life that he knew nothing of, how torn he was between wanting it all and wanting to keep the precious little he had...just everything. She listened carefully, patiently and with rapt attention.

"I can't say I'm not surprised," she admitted once he had winded down. "It's just...I've always seen this happen one way. You and Draco met when I started working with him at the Department of International Affairs. You hit it off and practically moved in after the first date." She smiled softly. "We didn't all jump on board at once— Ron had his reservations, of course— but after a while, we had to admit you were perfect together. And then of course, you had a storybook wedding and the kids came. You were an absolute mess when he was due, by the way. Ron had to half-carry you to St Mungo's. Draco was not amused."

Harry laughed out loud at that, but his mirth disappeared completely as the implications of that story set in. "I don't remember," he whispered. "Hermione, I don't even remember the day my sons came into the world. I don't remember meeting Draco or falling in love with him or..."

"Are you?" Hermione cut in gently. "In love with him, I mean?"

"I..." Harry trailed off. That was a good point, really. He had barely known Draco— this Draco— a day, hadn't he? Could he really say he was in love with him? Did people fall in love in a day? Was such a thing even possible?

"Yes," he heard himself saying. "I do. He's...he's perfect."

Hermione smiled softly. "That's exactly what you said to me after your first date with him. Even back then, you just knew."

"Then why can't I have this?" Harry demanded desperately. "I love him. I love the kids so much it scares me. I love our family and what we have and... does it really have to end? Why can't things just go on the way they are?"

"I never said they couldn't, Harry," Hermione pointed out gently. "You came up with that one on your own."

She reached out and took his hand before he could stage a protest. "Don't you see? You have to fix this. You can't go on like this, it's tearing you apart. You love Draco, and you love what you have now. But you'll never truly have it unless you know how you got here. You need that, Harry and you know it."

"But...but what if it goes away?" he asked. "What if I let it go and it fades away into nothing?"

Hermione squeezed his hand again. "You've taken bigger risks for a lot less," she said firmly. "Harry, this is your choice. But it sounds to me like you've already made it. The question isn't if and when you're going to fix this. The question is how this happened to you in the first place and how you're going to fix it."

She was right. She was. There was nothing he could do but put things back the way they were. The right way. Anything else would be unfair—to him, to Draco and to the kids. They deserved someone who had been there every step of the way. Not someone who had slipped in when no one was looking, someone who had accidentally magicked his way into their lives without even...

And that's when it hit him.

Harry slumped back in his chair. "The girl in the forest," he whispered.

"Who?" Hermione asked.

He shook his head dazedly. His mind was racing, clawing through the faded memories. The girl...he had known, he had sensed something strange but...could it be? She was just a child, right? But in that brief meeting he had felt something different—almost unworldly— about her.

This was her doing. It had to be.

And if he could find her...

"I know how," he managed. "I can...I think I can fix this."

Hermione's eyes widened but she didn't ask questions. "Alright," she replied softly. "I trust you, Harry. You'll do the right thing."

Harry went with impulse and drew her into a hug. "Say bye to Ron for me," he whispered, his voice tight in his throat. "I need to...I should..."

"I know. Good luck."

He left her without another word, not trusting himself to look back. Hermione and Ron would be there when he returned to his old life. At least he still had that. But there were others who wouldn't be, not like this. He had to say goodbye before he left. If he never saw them again...

Honestly, Harry didn't even want to think about that.

He crept up the stairs, making his way to the boys' room. It was dark, but he managed to make it without stumbling. Draco was talking to Albus, speaking in low, reassuring tones. After a while, he pressed a kiss to the little boy's head. Al turned over with a contented snuffle, hugging a plush dragon. Draco smiled softly, keeping a close watch until he was certain his son was asleep.

Harry took in the scene with a tight throat and stinging eyes. He was saying goodbye to all of this. How could he ever go back to his old life now that he knew what it could be like? In a way, it was almost cruel.

But he couldn't think like that. It had to be this way. It was just the way things were.

Draco turned around and caught sight of him. "He's fine," he promised. "He's still convinced there's a vampire in his closet but he's being very brave about it."

Harry chuckled fondly and approached the beds. In the dim light, he could just see the sleeping faces of his boys. He could hear soft mumbles as they dreamt. They looked so sweet. So perfect and peaceful and safe. He had done that— him and Draco. They had made this together.

He bent to press a kiss to Cory's head. He ran a gentle hand through Al's messy hair. They didn't even stir.

"I'll come back to you," Harry whispered, too soft for anyone to hear. "When it's time. I promise I will."

He meant it too. They would have to say goodbye for now, but looking down at the faces of his children, he knew he could never truly be apart from them. One way or another, he would have this again. Even if he had to tear reality itself apart, he would have this.

That was a promise, as much to himself as to his family.

"Alright?"

Draco's soft question brought him back to reality. Harry turned to him. Draco's brow was creased and he looked faintly concerned. His grey eyes roved Harry's face as if searching for a cue. Harry hastened to reassure him by slipping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer.

"I'm fine," he replied, pressing a kiss to Draco's temple.

"You were thinking," Draco mumbled, pressing into his chest. "In my experience, that's never good."

Harry chuckled and jostled him playfully. "If you must know, I was thinking about how lucky I am. To have you and the kids. I just... I don't know what I did to deserve it. To deserve you."

Draco shook his head fondly and leaned in. "You were you," he whispered, against Harry's lips. "That's all you ever had to do."

The kiss they shared was nothing like Draco had promised. There was no needless heat or passion clouding the moment. Instead, there was just a soft intimacy born of years of love and commitment. Harry pressed into the kiss, determined to say everything he couldn't voice out loud. If this was goodbye, he wanted Draco to know how he felt, how he would always feel after this.

Nothing could change that.

"I love you," Harry whispered. The words slipped from his lips so easily, so effortlessly. And now that he was saying them out loud, he desperately wished that he could have just a little more time. Just a little more time to say those words to Draco again and again. He was out of time now, but he promised himself that if he ever got this lucky ever again, he would never let a day go by without saying them to Draco.

Never.

"I love you too," Draco murmured, leaning into him. "So much, Harry. More than I ever thought possible."

Harry stole another kiss and broke away. His fingers lingered on Draco's jaw line, tracing the pale skin. This was it. It was time. If he didn't summon his courage and do this now, he would never find it in himself to leave Draco's side.

"Hey, I'm just going to step out for a bit, okay?"

The words came unwillingly, forcing themselves from inside him.

Draco's brow furrowed. "Now?" he asked, sounding understandably perplexed. "At this time of night? It's freezing outside."

Harry's throat tightened. "There's just something I need to do."

"Oh." Draco still looked sceptical, but he offered a slow nod. "Alright. If you're certain it can't wait."

"I wish it could," Harry replied softly.

Draco detached himself and slipped out of Harry's arms. Harry resisted the urge to pull him back in the embrace. This was it. This was goodbye. He pressed a light kiss to Draco's forehead— a final farewell— and turned to head for the door.

"I'll see you soon, yes?"

Harry stilled and turned around. Draco smiled softly, uncertainly. There was a question in his grey eyes, a fleeting wish for reassurance. Harry couldn't deny him that. Not now.

"You will," he replied. "Very soon."

And with that parting promise, he left— preparing to give up his happiness and set things to right yet again.

Harry stumbled through the icy woods, rubbing his numb, cold hands. In his haste, he had forgotten his gloves. The frost crunched under his boots and the wind stung his cheeks. Still, he tore on.

This was his one chance to fix things. It was the only way. He had to find her, he just had to.

And there she was.

Harry stopped in his tracks. Crystal blue eyes met his. His very breath seemed to freeze in his lungs. How could he have ever mistaken those for the eyes of a child? No, she was something else— something both ancient and young, innocent and wise, thoughtless and strangely kind.

A creature of Winter.

"You're here," Harry whispered.

She cocked her head. Still in the guise of a child, her far too pale cheeks contrasted with the bright red of the scarf wrapped around her neck. The scarf he had given her just yesterday.

"Yes," she agreed. Her voice felt foreign to Harry's ears— like the brittle tinkle of ice and the soft flutter of a winter breeze— but he understood every word. She raised her eyes to his and a slight smile pulled at her lips. "You see me now."

Harry nodded. "I see you."

"You are alone again." She sounded unhappy. The smile gave way to a displeased frown. "That was not supposed to happen."

Harry took a step towards her. "You have to take me back," he implored, a touch desperately. "Whatever you did, you have to undo it. Please. You've got to make this right again."

"Are you still unhappy?" She sounded surprised. "But I gave you what you wanted."

"You did," Harry agreed softly. "You gave me this...this wonderful life with two beautiful children and a husband I love so much it scares me. It's perfect and I've never been happier. That's why you have to take it back."

"I don't understand."

Harry managed a choked little laugh. "Honestly? Neither do I. But there it is. There's only one way to do these things and this isn't it."

"But you are happy, are you not? Surely that is all that matters?"

"It's not just about me," Harry replied softly. "If I'm going to have a family, I want to be with them every step of the way. I want to live every single day with them and I want to give them everything I have to give. I'll never truly be happy if you took that chance away from me."

And there it was. It really was that simple. Now that he was saying it out loud— to a strange magical being, of all things— he understood. This was how it had to be.

She didn't understand him. Perhaps she couldn't, Harry thought. These things were foreign to her, no more a part of her nature as the frost was his. But he had to make her understand. She was his only hope. He could only pray that she'd be willing to take his word for it.

After a moment or so, she sighed. "Your kind is strange," she informed him.

Harry chuckled. "No arguments there."

"It will be difficult," she warned. "You have lived your dream. Letting it go will hurt."

"I'm not letting it go," Harry countered. "I'll just have to do it the old fashioned way, that's all." Despite the inflection of confidence, his heart clenched a bit in his chest.

"You are sure then?"

For a second, Draco's face flashed before his eyes. Silver eyes full of warmth and fondness, those full lips curved in a mischievous smirk...Harry's determination nearly wavered. Then he took a deep breath and nodded firmly. "I am."

"Very well then," she relented. "Close your eyes. And don't say I didn't warn you."

Harry obliged and squeezed his eyes shut. The next second, the world tilted violently off its axis. The air compressed, squeezing its way out of his lungs. Harry gasped and fell to his knees, only vaguely aware of reality shifting and sliding before his very eyes.

Then he felt a deep chill seep right down to his bones and the world went dark.

Contrary to his expectations, Harry woke up warm and dry. The soft covers around him bunched as he groaned and stirred, still half asleep. His head was still throbbing and his throat was dry as a bone, but he was still here.

Wait. Where was here?

"Ugh," Harry managed, prying his eyes open. The light streaming through the elegant bay windows stung and he hissed in pain. Morning then. Where was he? How had he ended up here? The last thing he remembered was...

"Potter. Can you hear me?"

That soft, exceedingly familiar voice broke into his frayed thoughts. Harry's eyes snapped open on instinct. Pretty silver eyes met his gaze— also extremely familiar.

For a moment, all Harry could do was stare in dumb shock.

Then Draco spoke. "Who is the Minister of Magic?"

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

Draco's frown deepened and he pressed a cool hand to Harry's forehead. "You don't have a fever," he muttered. "You were face down in the snow for hours. How can you not have a fever?"

"Huh?"

Draco huffed in exasperation and shook his head. "And you're obviously addled. I'm calling a Healer."

"Wait!" Harry yelped, grabbing his wrist to keep him from leaving. "Dra—Malfoy, just hold on a second." The name slipped unwillingly from his lips, but he forced it out. If this was the Draco from his old life, then they probably weren't on a first name basis. Not yet, at least.

Then again, this Draco didn't seem too interested in picking a fight or insulting him either. He just looked worried. It was a heartening thought and the flutter of hope in Harry's chest returned with a vengeance. "How did I...why am I here?" Harry asked. "In your house, that is."

Draco pursed his lips in annoyance. "Well, I couldn't just leave you out in the cold," he snapped defensively. "What were you even doing in the woods?"

Harry swallowed. "You were in the woods?"

Bloody hell, what were the odds?

"I go there to think sometimes," Draco replied. He still sounded a little defensive. Evidently, revealing something personal to Harry rankled him. But then, this Draco didn't really know him, did he? He had no idea what they had shared in another life. How could he? But Harry knew. Harry knew everything. Without giving himself a moment to reconsider, he tightened his grip on Draco's wrist.

"Me too," he said softly. "It's just that kind of place, isn't it?"

"You were lucky I was out tonight," Draco told him. He sounded uncharacteristically sober. "Merlin, Potter. How long were you out there? When I found you, you were practically buried in the snow— not to mention, half frozen. Can't you even take a walk without risking your life in the process?"

Harry chuckled. Draco's scolding was bordering on mother-hennish. It was rather endearing. "I've done worse," he countered lightly.

Draco's lips twitched with the hint of a smile. "I suppose you have."

Harry smiled and settled back in the covers, taking a moment to actually look at Draco. He looked exactly the same— a dash younger maybe, but then Harry did too. But this Draco didn't wear Harry's ring on his finger. There was none of that shared history between them now, and Draco wasn't looking at him with affection and just a hint of fond exasperation. No, he looked wary and somewhat bewildered which to be fair, was a normal state of affairs for this version of reality.

And yet, Harry saw him differently. Now that he was really looking— and he couldn't stop looking— he had to wonder why he had never approached Draco in the first place, before any of this happened. He was smart and charming and unspeakably attractive. Honestly, what had been holding him back?

Me, Harry thought to himself. I was holding me back.

Well, not anymore. If this bizarre experience had taught him anything, it was that life was what you made of it. No shortcuts. If he wanted his happiness, he was going to have to reach out and take it. Of course, Draco had never made things simple for him but since when had that stopped him?

It was time to take charge.

"Potter?"

Harry snapped out of his thoughts as Draco frowned and cocked his head. "You zoned out for a while there," he said. "Are you sure you're feeling alright? Maybe I should call the Healer just in..."

"Have dinner with me."

Draco trailed off and his eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Harry swallowed audibly, then reached out for the pale, slim hand resting on his covers. As he did, he imagined, he was reaching for his future.

"I said," he repeated softly, "have dinner with me."

And when Draco's startled expression melted into a tentative smile, Harry felt a faint flush of exhilaration deep down inside. He knew this feeling. He recognized it from a happier, less complicated time.

It felt exactly like catching the Snitch.

Five years later:

Harry yelped as something cold and wet collided with the back of his head, sending him face first in the snow.

"Alright, who threw that?" he demanded, picking himself up and brushing his jacket clean. Two of his suspects— the tinier ones— giggled and dashed off. Harry immediately centred on the remaining perpetrator, giving chase at once and tackling him before he got too far.

They both went down, tumbling and rolling in the snow. When they eventually came to a stop, Harry was on top (something he would undoubtedly make a tasteless joke about later), straddling Draco as the latter laughed and squirmed under him.

"Cory did it," Draco protested. Unfortunately for him, Harry had become way too good at reading him and the hint of mischief in those grey eyes was clear as day.

"Liar," he admonished, brushing their lips together. Draco tasted warm and sweet and faintly of chocolate. Harry absently wondered if they had any hot chocolate left. If not, it only made sense to prolong the kiss. "Cory wouldn't lob a snowball at me," he said, once he broke away. "He's my little angel. You, on the other hand…"

"You spoil them," Draco purred, curling against him like a contented cat. The ring on his finger glinted in the weak sunlight. Harry smiled and pressed an affectionate kiss to his husband's forehead. It had taken a whole lot longer doing things the old fashioned way, but he had loved every second of it.

He had been there for every second of it.

He wouldn't change a thing. Not now, not ever.

"What's that?"

Harry blinked as Draco sat up suddenly. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I…" Draco frowned and shook his head. "I thought I saw...someone out there." His brow furrowed again as he scanned the little grove of trees. "A little girl." He shrugged and settled back in Harry's arms. "A trick of the light, probably."

Harry's lips pulled in a tentative smile. For a second, he considered asking Draco if the girl had blond hair and blue eyes. If there was an old, red scarf wrapped around her neck. If she looked both old and young, child like and wise beyond her years.

But perhaps some things were best left unsaid. After all, she had kept his secrets. He would be remiss not to return the favour.

So instead, he smiled and pressed another kiss to Draco's head, wrapping him securely in his arms.

"Probably."