Thank you all for the kind reviews! And sorry for the late response...
And for those who reviewed my other stories and haven't gotten replies yet... *Looks apologetically* I'm getting to them, really... I'm very bad with replying, but don't think your reviews aren't very VERY welcome!

For the next part of this story... God, I LOVE writing Drarry! I'd like to thank once again both Harrytwifan and BregoMellonNin for their awesome support and beta/prereading skills! You guys are awesome!

Now I just hope you will all like the next part, and as always... I do NOT own Harry Potter or anything related!

Part 2

Draco blinked his eyes open early in the afternoon on Saturday. Lazily stretching, he basked in the afterglow of one amazingly spectacular dream. "Harry," he breathed and smiled.

Peculiar how life had a way of twisting you inside out, dropping you on the steps to despair and depression, only to pick you up and show you how wonderful it all can be. Because that was exactly what it had done in the last few weeks. Draco was finally able to open his eyes and see, really see that the future wasn't as bleak as it used to be.

All because someone managed to worm his way into his thoughts. All because of Harry.

"Harry," he breathed again, and thought of all the things he could do to woo the man. Draco was a pureblood after all. And even when blood status had nothing to do with the worth of a wizard, the old traditions were still superior when it came to courtship. Harry deserved the very best.

He'd already mucked it up partially, because kissing someone without their explicit permission was certainly not courteous. He wouldn't go back and change it for anything though, because that kiss had just lit up a part of him that had been doused in darkness for so long. All he wanted to do now was smile his arse off and go see Harry.

He practically jumped out of bed and rushed naked into his living room. He pulled out some sheets of parchment and dipped his quill into the inkwell. Putting the quill to the parchment, he frowned. What was he going to write?

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, he ran through a few of the options. Everything he thought of was discarded. Too sappy, too cheesy, too corny, too dramatic. Harry wouldn't fall for anything so manipulative. The man loved honesty more than anything in the world, and that was what Draco should give him.

Harry,

I had a wonderful dream last night. You were there, which would've made it wonderful in any case. It wasn't sexual or anything, more... I don't know... Comfortable. We were sitting by the lake in spring, just talking, and when I looked into your eyes, I knew that that was the way I could want to spend the rest of my life.

It's weird, I know, for I've spent so many years not liking you. Wasted so many years not liking you, that I can't help but think what would've happened if you had taken my hand in first year.

I know, that's all water under the bridge now, and more than likely it would've ended up with my father betraying our friendship and turning you over to the Dark Lord the first time you came over to the Manor.

The Manor. You know, this is the first time I truly miss that place since it was taken. Not because of the riches and status that came with it, but because it could be so much more. It reminds me of you, in a way. All that beauty, all that possibility that was never truly fulfilled. It was never appreciated for what it should have been, what it wanted to be; just a home.

Now I find myself longing for it, to fill its halls with laughter and family in a way they have never before been filled.

I'm not trying to overwhelm you, or push you into something you and I are both not ready for, but I can see it. Can you?

This is not a declaration of undying love, because that would be absurd. Still, I think I could fall in love with you, I know I could fall in love with you if I give it a chance. So this is more a declaration of my intentions. I'm not looking for a one-off, or a bit of fun. You deserve more than that. I deserve more than that.

I hope you don't regret our kiss last night, and I hope you feel the same way I do.

Draco

He read it over a few more times before he rolled up the parchment and sealed it with wax. He had another letter to write; one he should've written over a week ago.

Pans,

You were right.

I was wrong.

Owl me.

Draco

When he'd waxed that one as well, he called his owl and sent both letters on their way. He contentedly went through his morning routine of showering and ordering breakfast from a nearby bakery, convinced this weekend could bring nothing but joy and new beginnings.

.

By suppertime he wasn't so sure anymore, but he pushed away the doubt when Pansy showed up to hear the scoop on whatever made Draco change his mind about Severus Snape. He told her. Why wouldn't he? She was his best friend, and even though he was horrible to her and failed to apologize in any way, she was there; she'd always be there.

Her opinions were slightly less welcome than she was though.

"You what?" she screeched. "Are you mad? Switching one completely absurd obsession for another is not a way to prove your sanity! Think, Draco! It's Harry Potter!"

"Calm down, Pans," he answered, wincing through the ringing her obnoxious voice was creating in his ears. "This isn't anything like with Severus, okay? Harry likes me as well. I think."

The doubt must've been clear in his voice, because Pansy slapped her hand against her forehead. "By Salazar," she whispered. "You're diluted, Draco, you need help."

"Pans, please," Draco replied while rolling his eyes. "There's something there, I know there is. Can't you just hold your pessimism this once and support me?"

She sighed and pulled him into a hug. "You always have my support, Drake," she whispered in his platinum blonde hair. "I don't want to see you hurt, is all."

"I won't be," Draco answered and returned the hug.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about every little thing Draco liked about Harry, and slowly Pansy became a believer.

When she finally left late at night, Draco allowed himself to feel the doubts that started to fester as the day passed without a single word from Harry. He'd been so sure that the other man liked him, but why wouldn't he have responded to Draco's owl? It just didn't make any sense.

Though if he was wrong, and Harry hadn't been interested in anything other than friendship, he could see how his letter would have pushed the man away. Though he still would've expected a gentle let-down. That was just the kind of guy Harry was. Wasn't he?

He had a hard time falling asleep, and when sleep finally came, it was restless.

.

By the time the owl tapped on his kitchen window in the late afternoon the next day, Draco was filled with anxiety. He jumped up when he saw the unfamiliar owl, sure that it was finally a letter from Harry, and rushed to open the window and accept the roll of parchment.

Draco,

If you're available, see me at 8 pm tonight.

SS

Draco's heart fell. He had no idea what to do. Visit Severus, even though he had a chance to have a real relationship that was both equal and mutual? Or did he?

It might be a very Slytherin way to go about it, but a cold shoulder was a definite message in his world. Besides, he was sure he'd read in an interview some time ago, that Harry said he was almost sorted into Slytherin in the first place. There was at least part of a snake in the man's character.

Or maybe Harry was playing games with him. Some sort of 'hard to get' ploy to get him to do whatever the man asked of him. Maybe that naive and clueless disposition Draco liked so much was nothing but a ruse. It didn't really make sense anyway, that one of the most powerful wizards in the world would be like that. He certainly hadn't been when they spent their days making each other miserable in school.

And Draco was tired of games; so fucking tired. He'd been manipulated by Voldemort, Death Eaters, and his father his entire life. He'd been nothing but a pawn in their schemes and ploys and he'd had enough. He wasn't about to crawl to the boy-who-lived no matter how much he liked him. Maybe Pansy was right; maybe he was going mad.

At least with Severus he knew where he stood. Their encounters were far from perfect, but at least he came to know what to expect from the man. Maybe he should just go and accept it was all he deserved, be content with the cards life dealt him.

It was with that thought that Draco found himself in front of Snape's door at 8 pm sharp. With that thought, he sadly answered the man's sneer with a smile when the door opened on the second knock. With that thought, that he turned around onto his stomach and bit back his disappointed tears when Severus tossed him out barely half an hour later.

It was with that thought that he comforted himself as he slowly made his way back up the stairs and out of the castle.

"Draco?"

The voice shocked him out of his musings, and he snapped his head up to meet an intense green gaze. Harry looked pleasantly surprised to see him and something inside Draco's chest pulled together tightly. Guilt.

"Were you looking for me? I just got back from St. Mungos," Harry said, and Draco paled in response.

"What? Why?" he asked, worried something might have happened to the man. But he looked fine, a little tired, but otherwise fine. He just wanted to be sure in any case. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry answered. "Rose is really sick though, they don't know what's wrong with her."

The small happy smile on Harry's face faltered, revealing an exhausted, worried, and clearly pained expression. Draco felt the world fall away from under his feet. How could he have been so fucking stupid?

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know," he muttered, taking a step closer to the other man, but stopping himself before he reached out.

"That's okay, you couldn't know," Harry said, an infinitesimal smile returning to his mouth. "Your letter made all the difference though. I felt so alone between all those Weasleys, and then I just... didn't. Thank you, Draco. I wanted to write to you sooner, but I really wasn't in the right state of mind to write anything worthy of your words."

Draco thought he was going to be sick, his face turning even paler, and tonight's dinner trying hard to make its reappearance. Merlin, he'd really fucked it up. Literally.

"I know you just came all the way back down, but would you come up to my rooms and have a drink?" Harry asked, and Draco only barely managed to nod in response.

They were silent when they climbed the many stairs up to Gryffindor tower, while the blonde was racking his brain frantically to think of a way to tell the other man what had happened. How did one explain how his doubts were so overwhelming that he'd ran straight back into the arms of a man who'd used him for months, just a day after writing a letter like that. How did one explain that what he'd written was nothing but the truth if his actions clearly stated something completely different?

His chance was taken away though, when they reached the corridor to Harry's rooms.

"Well, hello, dear. I thought we'd see you back after you went after our Harry Friday night," the blonde woman he'd spoken to the other night said, and she moved into the red-headed man's frame. "See, Nigel? I told you he'd be back."

"How could I not see, woman!" the male portrait snapped back. "You wake me up every single time someone passes through these corridors!"

Harry froze slightly, but still opened his door without a word. Draco swallowed thickly when he followed the other man inside.

"You weren't here for me, were you?" the man asked after Draco closed the door behind him.

"No," the blonde whispered, nearly choking on the word.

"Okay," Harry replied, and Draco had no idea what that one word meant. He just stood there, unmoving, anticipating a blow to follow, but not entirely sure.

"Okay," Harry repeated, and inhaled sharply before turning to face the other man. "And the letter? What you wrote, did you mean it?"

"Yes!" Draco cried out quickly. "I just thought...You didn't answer, and I thought you didn't feel the same way, I..."

He realized nothing he could say would really change anything. It was all up to Harry now. Sweet, loyal Harry who'd spent the entire weekend worrying over his best friends' kid, while Draco thought the worst of him.

"It's okay, I guess," Harry replied soothingly. "It's not like you cheated or anything. We aren't even dating."

Draco breathed heavily in relief. It would be okay; Harry wasn't angry with him. "I'd like us to be," he said softly, hope flaring in his heart.

"I don't know, Draco," Harry said and dropped his gaze to the floor. He was clenching and unclenching his hands in rapid succession. "What you said in your letter, I feel it too. I know I could easily fall for you. I just don't know if I can handle falling for someone that is still in love with someone else. I'm not sure I can take that risk."

"It's not a risk!" Draco said before really thinking. He just wanted this man so much, he'd say anything to convince him.

"Isn't it?" Harry responded, lifting his head and staring at him intently. "Can you honestly tell me you're not in love with Snape?"

Draco wanted to say yes, and in the past he probably would have to get what he wanted, but he couldn't lie. Not to Harry. Because Harry was important. Harry deserved the truth.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry whispered when the blonde didn't answer. "I need to think about this. I'll owl you."

Draco moved to reach out, but the other man took a step back, clearly not willing to be persuaded in that moment.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, not exactly sure which of his many faults he was apologizing for. He took a pinch of floo powder from the tiny cauldron Harry held out to him, and with a last look and his heart heavy in his throat, he flooed home.

.

Draco waited patiently. Well, if you count bouncing off the walls, throwing tantrums at Pansy (who called him an idiot for going back to Snape in the first place), and spending a ludicrous amount of galleons on therapeutic wardrobe shopping as patiently.

Two weeks of this 'patiently' waiting, where he went over every minute spent with Harry repeatedly, and missing the man a tiny bit more every time.

What he didn't do, however, was run back to his old lover the moment the first summoning owl came. Nor did he respond to the second, third and fourth one. No, Harry would come around and owl him, and then they were going to be dating and it would make Draco happier than he'd been in a very long time, if ever. He was not going to ruin it all by giving in to this obsessive addiction.

Pansy told him why she thought he kept going back to his old head of house. The woman had read some muggle books on psychology and was convinced Draco was just looking for a father figure to approve of him. But she said is was also quite possible that he kept going back to punish himself.

Just to make sure he'd behave, she gave him a rubber band to wear around his wrist. He was supposed to snap it if or when he even had the smallest thought about the older man. Draco reluctantly used it, and after the first week, he hadn't even really needed it anymore. Still, he felt like a bloody house elf for physically punishing himself each time his doubts turned his thoughts to the dark and damp dungeon.

After two very long weeks, his 'patience' was rewarded when a large grey owl tapped on his window in the early evening on Thursday.

Draco,

I wanted to say 'no' and forget all about it, I truly did. The thing is, my dreams and waking thoughts wouldn't cooperate. At all.

I find myself thinking about all the possibilities and how crazy I would be to give up on them before we even tried. But I'm scared, terrified really, to open myself up to possible disaster. I'm scared to want to have something that's worth having. A lover, a future, and a family. Each time I've come close to having that, it has been ripped away, and each time it took a tiny piece of me.

But when I finally realized what I was so afraid of, I remembered something Professor Dumbledore said to me the day Voldemort was defeated.

He said: "Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and above all, those who live without love."

Maybe he knew then I would one day find myself in this position. He knew so much, and I was always so angry that he wouldn't tell me anything. Now I think he told me exactly when I needed to know. So how could I not listen, when he's never lead me wrong before?

I've been living without love for much too long, Draco. Been pushing people away for much too long. Not truly letting them in out of fear of losing them again. So here's the deal; We hang out, we talk, and we explore this thing that is clearly between us. But I don't want to go any further than that for now, which means no kissing.

Please let me know if you can agree to that.

Harry

Draco wasted no time in sending his reply. Short, but to the point.

Harry,

Yes! Yes, yes, yes!

Draco

(p.s. Not that I'm complaining, but will you ever explain to me how Professor Dumbledore came to pass this great wisdom on to you almost a year after he died?)

It wasn't long before the grey owl was back with another roll of parchment.

Draco,

Join me for dinner in the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow night at 7, and I'll tell you all about it.

Harry

Draco sent back a confirmation of their date and immediately floo called Pansy to ask for her help in deciding what he would wear the next evening.

Of course, that wasn't because he would be unable to dress himself, or because he was as excited as a sixteen year old schoolgirl, but because he knew that his friend would appreciate the request. Besides, there was nothing as good as a relaxing night with a friend and a good bottle of port.

Well, maybe a date with Harry.

.

"So, how has life at Hogwarts been?" Draco asked after ordering something without really looking at his menu. Not that he wasn't picky about what he ate, he just couldn't keep his eyes off the man sitting across the table from him. He'd truly missed Harry.

"Much the same as always," Harry answered with a breathtaking smile. "Filius still talks a lot, Minerva still has that motherly stare that makes you feel like you're eleven years old, Hagrid still risks the life of our students with his 'interesting' animals, and Professor Snape still graces us with his sunny disposition."

At the last comment he eyed the blonde wearily. A test, Draco knew. He raised his eyebrow and stared the other man down until he flushed prettily. Still he tried to act as though he was completely innocent.

"The man has been even more grumpy though, these last two weeks," he continued, his eyes focussed on the red tablecloth.

"If you want to ask me something, just ask, Harry," Draco said flatly. He liked the man, he really did, but he didn't play games. Harry would be wise to understand this early on.

"I'm sorry," Harry replied, eyes still on the table. "I guess I just wanted to know if you'd seen him."

"I haven't," Draco said. "He's invited me, but I haven't gone to him since that Sunday."

Harry fumbled with the cloth now, clearly uncomfortable and not knowing what to say. It was as if he'd expected him to have been with Snape in these past two weeks.

"Harry," he said softly. "I'm serious about this. About you and me. That last time, it was a stupid mistake. A decision I should never have made."

The other man nodded in reply, though he didn't seem completely convinced. Damn, Draco really wished he'd never responded to that owl. Which reminded him of something.

"How's Rose?" he asked, and Harry's head snapped up in surprise.

"She's better, thank you for asking," Harry replied smiling. "They still don't know what was wrong with her though. She was glowing blue and had trouble breathing."

"How did they cure her if they don't know what was wrong with her?" Draco asked.

"They didn't," Harry answered. "It just went away. Their best guess is that she was just exhibiting very early accidental magic."

Draco frowned. Of course, it sometimes happened that very small children had flares of accidental magic when threatened, but only when threatened. "How do they figure that?"

"Well, it started when Ron had her with him at WWW," Harry started explaining. "Something went wrong with a potion he and George were making, and toxic fumes spread through their workroom. First they thought her problems were due to the toxin, but now they think she threw up a shield to protect herself. One that apparently made her unable to breathe properly."

"Leave it up to a Weasley to almost get killed by protecting herself," Draco muttered.

"You know," Harry said softly. "If we're going to work, you might have to ease up on them a bit."

"Damn it, really?" Draco said with a wink. Harry nodded in return, a small smile returning to his face. "Damn it!"

He looked thoughtful for a minute, smirked, and opened his mouth to say something else, but Harry stopped him. "You might want to spend another minute thinking that over."

"Oh, all right," Draco grumbled. "Anyway, I believe you owe me a story."

Harry raised an eyebrow, but before Draco could clarify, the waitress showed up with their dinner. The blonde scowled at the unidentifiable bowl of stew set in front of him and looked at Harry, who was excitedly rubbing his hands together as a steaming shepard's pie was placed under his nose. He looked up when Draco groaned and shot him a 'hey-you-ordered-that-yourself' look while shrugging his shoulders.

"Can I get you another drink?" the waitress asked, eyeing a very unhappy looking Draco.

"A firewhiskey," he replied. "Actually, make that a double."

"A glass of milk, please," Harry said.

"Milk?" Draco asked him exasperatedly. "Milk?"

"Shut it," the other man responded, again sporting one of those enticing blushes. "I like milk with my dinner, all right?"

Draco chuckled and lowered his spoon into the stew with a lot of uncertainty.

"So, are you still friends with Goyle?" Harry asked.

Draco's spoon froze mid-air. "No changing the subject, Potter," he said before asking wearily; "Why?"

"You really want to talk about my choice of beverages?" Harry responded. "And I was just wondering who I would need to be 'nice' to."

"No, you were going to tell me that story you owe me," Draco said. "And I never said I would be nice to the Weasels."

"What story?" Harry asked. "And don't call them 'weasels'."

"The story of how you had a talk with Professor Dumbledore after he died," Draco answered. "And I never said I would be nice to the Weasleys."

"Oh," Harry said softly.

"Well, come on," Draco pushed. "Spit it out."

Harry looked uncomfortable and used his fork to play with his food. Draco cringed, unsure how their playful banter ended up like this. Staring into his stew, he wondered why he always seemed to screw everything up around Harry.

"It was the day I killed Voldemort," Harry said. Draco lifted his gaze and his heart leaped when he took in the wounded expression on the other man's face.

"You don't have to tell me," he quickly said, earning him a weak smile.

"No, it's okay," Harry responded. "It's just hard to think about that day, is all."

Draco nodded. He still woke up from nightmares about that day sometimes. Not just that day, but the days directly following it as well. Aurors coming to the Manor and arresting him and his parents. The subsequent trials. His father being sentenced to life in Azkaban as he and his mother went free. His father's murder by the hand of one of his victims on the way to the wizarding prison. His mother's suicide. And then Snape, who took him back to Spinner's End when he had lost everything.

"Anyway," Harry said, pulling him from his dark thoughts. "When I found out part of Voldemort lived inside me, I knew I had to die. I let him kill me."

"What?" Draco breathed. "Part of him lived in you? And what do you mean 'you let him kill you'?"

"I can't really go into details," Harry said. "Because it was agreed some of it should never see the light of day, but let's just say that he couldn't be killed unless he killed me."

"You died," Draco said shocked.

"I'm not exactly sure on what happened," Harry said.

"But, you died," Draco repeated.

At that point the waitress came back with their drinks, and her gaze shifted from one man to the other and back again. "Are we alright here?" she asked. They both nodded, and she left with another doubtful look over her shoulder.

"When Voldemort's curse hit me, I ended up in some sort of halfway place and Dumbledore was there," Harry continued. "I had a choice, to either go back or not."

"And you chose to come back," Draco stated.

"It was a... tough decision," Harry replied. "I knew they were all waiting for me. My mum and dad, Sirius, Remus... But Dumbledore said that by going back, I'd have a chance to keep more people from suffering."

"How could you not jump at the chance straight away?" Draco asked, trying really hard to understand.

"I don't know how to explain it, Draco," Harry answered. "I'd fought so long to survive at that point, and when I learned I had to die... Well... Once I accepted it, I felt so calm, I don't know... Safe, maybe."

Harry stirred his dinner again with the fork and contemplated the rest of his explanation before looking up at Draco again. The blonde was watching him intently, and Harry realized that no one had ever listen to him like this before. No one had ever tried to understand him like this man was doing.

"I felt I'd earned it, to finally rest. I was so tired. Death, it was my reward for giving the world everything I was. Going back just meant more pain and suffering," he said as Draco lowered his eyes.

"That's almost exactly what my mother said in her letter," Draco whispered. "She'd done her part, making sure I was safe. She said that being alive was more of a punishment than being dead."

They were silent after that, eating their almost cold dinner without really tasting any of it. Both of them not really knowing what to say.

When their meal was finished, Harry payed the bill and they walked out into the cold night. The darkness gave Draco the courage to ask Harry a question that had been occupying his thoughts.

"Do you think I'm a coward?" His voice sounded cracked and broken and he cringed.

Harry turned toward him and lay his hand on Draco's shoulder. "I think you were faced with an impossible choice," he said. "I was there the night Dumbledore died, Draco."

His eyes opened wide in shock; Harry had been there. He couldn't understand how the man had seen him almost kill the man that had been so important to him, and was still able to see a possible future with Draco.

"You lowered your wand," Harry said. "Before the Death Eaters burst through the door... You lowered your wand."

"I was scared," Draco muttered, dropping his gaze to the ground.

"Yes, you were," Harry replied. "Everyone would be in that situation, but you lowered your wand, Draco."

He didn't understand what the other man was trying to tell him. He still felt so confused about that night. He'd been so scared, and then the Death Eaters had been there, and then Snape killed Professor Dumbledore. It all happened so fast, his mind had never had a chance to catch up.

He lifted his chin and stared at Harry, trying to see the message in his eyes.

"You didn't lower your wand because you are a coward," Harry said. "You lowered your wand because you knew that killing him would be wrong. It takes courage to do that, knowing what the consequences would be."

Draco chuckled darkly. "I don't think I was even thinking that coherently, Potter."

"Nevertheless," Harry said. "You lowered your wand."

"Thanks," Draco replied, feeling slightly better that Harry had seen him in one of his weakest moments and hadn't found him wanting.

"No, Draco, thank you," Harry said. Draco gave a weak smile in acceptance, completely oblivious to what the man was thanking him for.

Harry smiled in return, feeling a little closer to the blonde than before. He didn't think Draco was a man that easily opened up to anyone, and he felt honored he'd opened up to him.

"So," Draco said when they reached a safe place to apparate. "I guess this is goodnight?"

He was hoping with all his heart that it wasn't good night, that they would go to a club, or just hang around in his flat. Harry awkwardly held out his hand, and Draco stared at it like it was covered in something really nasty. When he looked up into those green eyes, he saw a breathtaking smile aimed at him.

"I had a lovely evening, Draco," Harry said. "Thank you."

Draco looked down at the hand again and tentatively shook it. "As did I," he replied, brushing his thumb over the palm of Harry's hand. He wondered how strict the no kissing rule was and contemplated leaning in and brushing those puffy lips with his, but Harry saw the gleam in his eye and pulled back.

"Well, good night," the raven haired man said, pulling out his wand, ready to turn on his heels.

"Harry?" Draco quickly said, catching Harry's attention. "When will I see you again?"

Harry smiled. "Would you like to visit Rose with me this Sunday?" he asked. Draco thought about it for a second. Rose meant Weasels, an undefined amount of Weasels. Merlin, Harry was almost perfect, almost, save for those Weasels.

"I'd rather not," Draco replied, being rewarded with a disappointed look. "But I'll come along if you'd like me to."

"Brilliant!" Harry said excitedly. "Floo in around one and we'll make for the Burrow from there!"

Draco couldn't help but return that smile and watched Harry disapparate before going back to his own flat. What on earth had he gotten himself into? The Burrow. He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd heard Harry and Ron talk about it before. If his memory served him well, it was the place Ron grew up in, his childhood home. This could only mean that he wouldn't be meeting just Rose, Ron and Hermione; he was meeting the entire family.

"Oh, bloody hell!" he groaned, and accioed a bottle of firewhiskey.

.

"Don't act like you're better than them," Pansy said with her index finger against the side of her mouth, her thumb under her chin to emphasize the way she was thinking. "Oh, and don't say anything bad about Gryffindors."

Draco sat at the breakfast bar and listened intently to his friend. This was Harry's family, at least as close to Harry's family as possible. He really couldn't muck this up.

"No superiority, mine nor Slytherin's, got it," he replied. "Anything else?"

"We'd better plan your outfit to your underwear," Pansy replied. "You don't want to look like you put a lot of thought to it, but you don't want to look too haughty, either. Even with their combined salaries, they might not be very rich."

"All right," Draco confirmed. "No fancy clothing."

"There was a no kissing rule, right?" she asked and Draco nodded.

"Why?" he asked. "I know better than to kiss in company."

"That's the thing," she replied. "Those people are disgustingly affectionate. You'd never know they were pureblood if it wasn't common knowledge. Do try to show some affection, though. A hand on his shoulder in passing, brushing his arm, or even looking into his eyes lovingly. Try to let that famous Malfoy mask down a bit."

"Act like a love-struck fool. That'll take a bit of work," Draco sighed. "Was that it?"

"Compliment Mrs. Weasley," Pansy said. "Which is part of your upbringing in any case, so I'm just adding it to be sure you come up with a compliment before you go. No glaring at that Ginny girl, if she's there. Read the articles in the Daily Prophets I gave you on Ministry dealings, and don't ask about Ron's involvement in WWW unless they bring it up themselves."

"Why not? I've been wondering about that." Draco asked, standing up from his barstool and reaching for the kettle to put up some water for tea.

"Well, I was talking to my friend Astoria the other day. You remember her, blonde and pretty? Anyway, she was talking to Angelina, their kids are in some toddler Quidditch team together, and she told Astoria that George's depression was getting worse," Pansy explained. "The official story is that Hermione didn't want Ron to stay with the Aurors after Rose was born, but the truth is that George needed his brother with him."

"Oh, all right," Draco said. "Mr. Weasley is still in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department, right?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Draco," she said. "You really don't follow the news, do you? He's been promoted ages ago! He's Head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects."

"There's still a use for that now?" Draco asked. During the war, defensive spells and protective objects were in high demand, and a lot of people had tried to gain some profit off that. But Harry destroyed the threat, so the problem should be solved now.

"Of course, there is!" Pansy said, eyeing him like he was crazy. "Think, Draco! No one forgets a war that easily, people are still paranoid. Yes, The Dark Lord is dead, thankfully, but that doesn't mean another couldn't stand up and try to take over."

"We still have Harry to save the day," Draco said sarcastically, waving the irate fear away.

"Yeah," Pansy said. "That's another thing you shouldn't bring up. From what I understand, Harry isn't very comfortable being the Saviour of the Wizarding World. I think he'd rather be normal than anything else."

"He will never be normal," Draco said, and Pansy gave him the stink-eye. "No! That's not what I meant! He could never be normal because he's extraordinary. Not in a Boy-Who-Lived kind of way, but in a Harry kind of way."

He took the whistling kettle from the stove and poured it into the pot, adding some very fragrant tea leaves and bringing it to the breakfast bar. He poured the both of them a cup before resuming his explanation.

"He's strong––physically, mentally, and magically. And he has this presence, you know? One that says he's met the world head on and come out blazing on the other side? But at the same time, he's so clueless and naive!" he said. "It's like magic and people still amaze him. He's been through enough to be numb and lifeless, but he doesn't ever give up on all of us. He looks at people and sees the best of them, the best they could be."

Draco sat down again and held his cup with both hands. "Harry could never be normal," he repeated. "To say he is would be an insult to everything he is."

Pansy reached out and stroked his cheek with her soft slender fingers. "You really like him, don't you, Drake?" she asked. He didn't respond, recognizing the rhetorical nature of her question. She knew him all too well. "I'm happy for you."

"I just hope Harry will still like me after tomorrow," Draco said. "How many Weasleys are there anyway?"

"Let's see, there's Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Pansy said counting them on her fingers. "Percy and Audrey with their kids Molly and Lucy. Then there's Charlie, who never married. Of course, Bill and Fleur and their three kids Victoire, Dominique and Louis. There's George and Angelina with their Fred Jr. and Roxanne. And to top it off, there's Ron and Hermione, with the youngest Weasley, Rose. And don't forget Ginny, who is currently dating our good old friend Blaise."

"Blaise?" Draco cried out in shock. "Blaise is dating a ginger?" He tried to stop himself from laughing, but soon ended up toppled over with his hands on his knees.

"I-imagine them h-having children!" he tried to say in between heavy breaths. "H-his complexion and h-her h-hair!"

Pansy was trying to look stern, but the corner of her mouth was twitching in amusement. "Stop it, Draco!" she admonished. "That's a horrible thing to say!"

"Yeah, but just imagine it!" Draco tried again.

Pansy turned her back towards him and shook her head. "I'm sure they will have beautiful babies," she said. "And ginger hair is a recessive gene."

"A what?" he asked.

"Honestly, Draco," she said. "Read a book every once in a while, will you? For someone that used to be so obsessed with heritage, you know very little about genetics. When someone has red hair, it means that both parents gave the child the gene for red hair, because if it was combined with any other type of gene, the hair wouldn't be red."

"What's that got to do with anything?" he asked.

"Blaise is as purely black as he is magic, and black people tend to not carry genes for red hair," she explained in a tone that made Draco feel like a five year old.

"We are magical, Pans," Draco said haughtily. "Do you know how uncommon this shade of blonde is? Or Harry's eye color? There are certain hereditary aspects that are imbued with magic, making them dominant despite the fact that they are naturally recessive. Therefore, Blaise will have wonderfully brown, ginger babies with the Weasel."

"You have a point," Pansy said. "But, you forget the fact that ginger is a girl, and magical heritage usually only travels the male line."

"True," Draco replied. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see how strong those family genes are."

"All right," Pansy said. "To get back on topic, I count twenty Weasleys and Blaise."

"Twenty?" Draco cried out, horrified. "Twenty?"

Pansy nodded, an evil smile on her face.

"Bloody hell," Draco breathed, quickly taking a sip of his tea.

"Language, Draco," Pansy said. "Just hope that Blaise will actually be there. He knows how to be the only Slytherin in a lion's den. If you follow his lead, you should be fine."

"Bloody hell," Draco said again, hoping with all his might that not all Weasels would be there.

.

When Draco stepped through the floo and into Harry's rooms, he was wearing a pair of grey woolen trousers and a smart looking, black turtleneck. Harry himself was wearing one of his rundown sweaters and a pair of faded blue jeans.

"Remind me to take you shopping sometime soon," Draco said as a greeting.

Harry just rolled his eyes while Draco brushed the soot off his clothes. "A good afternoon to you too, Draco," he said. "How was your weekend?"

"Yes, yes, greetings and whatnot," Draco replied. "My weekend has been marvelous so far, though I have a feeling that it's about to be a lot less pleasant."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Harry said.

"You do realise you have an extended family of twenty Weasleys, right?" Draco replied. "Twenty people who have more reason to hate me than to like me."

"Why, Draco!" Harry cried out with an amused glint in his eyes. "Are you telling me you're worried about the opinion of my friends?"

"Most definitely not," Draco said, his chin held high, while Harry tried his best to hold in the chuckle that was ready in his throat.

He wasn't worried about their opinions, not in the slightest. He was, however, worried about the influence their opinions had on Harry. What if they made him choose? Would Harry choose him? Would he want Harry to choose him?

"Whatever you say," Harry mused. "Are you ready?"

Draco seemed hesitant for a moment. "How many of them will be there?"

"I imagine all of them," Harry answered, making Draco wince. "Though Charlie isn't usually, still works in Romania, and I think Bill and Fleur are currently in France."

"So that's fourteen gingers," Draco asked.

"Fourteen Weasleys, Blaise Zabini and I think Molly told me my Godson Teddy and his grandmother would be over for supper," Harry confirmed.

Draco took a step back, his face turning pale. "Teddy," he said. "Teddy Lupin."

Harry nodded, not entirely sure what the problem was.

"Nymphadora Tonks's kid?" Draco asked. Another step back towards the fireplace.

Harry nodded again. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"With his grandmother Andromeda Tonks?" Draco asked just to be sure, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, Andromeda Tonks," Harry said, reaching out to the other man. "Will you tell me what the problem is?"

"Potter," Draco said. "Do you really think it's a good idea for me to sit down at the same table as my estranged aunt? The aunt whom my parents pretended was dead? The woman whose husband, daughter, and son-in-law were killed in the name of the man my family served?"

Harry closed the distance between them and lay both his hands on Draco's shoulder. "There's no hatred between you, unless it is in your heart," he said. "When I told her something was growing between us, you know what she said?"

Draco shook his head, feeling unnaturally uncertain. He looked at Harry from under his eyelashes, eyes full of hope for something unfamiliar.

"She asked me if I thought you'd want to meet her," Harry said softly, comfortingly. "Whatever caused the rift between her and your parents is rendered obsolete. You are not them, Draco. You can make your own decisions about who you accept in your life."

Draco pondered over that for a minute. Did he want to know his aunt? They were his last living relatives, and deep inside he ached for that type of connection to someone else. A connection that told him he belonged somewhere. At least he wanted to meet her and see if she was anything like his mother. Merlin, how he missed his mother.

He didn't want Harry to know how nervous this actually made him. What if his aunt didn't like him? Or Teddy? The boy was Harry's godson after all. He decided to make light of the situation and replied to Harry's words, rather than his message.

"Unless they are Weasleys," he said, and cocked an eyebrow at the other man.

"I'm asking you to be civil and give them a chance, not to become their new bosom buddy," Harry replied laughing.

"As if that would ever happen," Draco muttered and let himself be lead to the fireplace.

Harry floo-called the Burrow and asked to step through. Only seconds later, Draco's senses were being assaulted from all sides. People calling their names, red hair moving in and out of view, a large woman, probably Mrs Weasley, pulling him into a suffocating hug, some delicious smell lingering on her robes.

"Come on, Mum," someone called out. "Don't squish him!"

"Draco, dear," the woman said. "Welcome to our home. We're delighted to have you."

Another hug cut his breath off. Only once she moved away did Draco remember his manners.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said, frantically trying to come up with the complement he'd prepared. "You, erm... You smell good."

He could feel himself flush as the people around him laughed and chuckled. He could hit himself for that comment. What a lovely home you have, Mrs. Weasley. You're wearing a lovely robe, Mrs. Weasley. No, he had to say she 'smelled' good. By Salazar, kill me now!

He glanced around the living room and saw a lot of unfamiliar faces. Of course, he'd seen the adults before, but not the horde of small children running about. A tiny hand pulled on his trousers, and he was horrified to see the hands clutching the expensive fabric were covered in some sort of jelly.

"Lucy!" Harry cried out. "Look at your hands! You know better than that, missy!"

He picked her up and threw Draco an apologetic smile. He just waved it away like it hadn't bothered him. The quick scourgify he cast while Harry's back was turned earned him a scrutinizing glare from Ron.

"You'll be scourgifying the threads off around here," he said softly, making Draco very nervous. "Kids, they make a mess."

He could hear the accusatory undertone, but didn't understand the implication.

Ron made a show of looking at all the kids in the room. "Harry loves kids, he does," the man said. "Isn't bothered about sticky hands or dirty clothes. He'll probably want a house full of them."

Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry's best friend for a few seconds. "I imagine there's a lot I'd have to get used to, if I want this to work out. He's worth it though," he replied.

Ron looked shocked at his admission, but quickly recovered himself. "Look, I've never really liked you, Draco," he said. "And I'm not at all impressed by the way you managed to get him to smile so bright and hurt him as well in the course of one weekend."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Ron cut him off. "You are however the first person, other than the kids, in years who actually managed to pull that kind of emotion from him. For that, I'm willing to give you a chance."

The blonde looked surprised, but he was thankful in any case. To get the benefit of the doubt from this man could give him an honest chance of working things out with Harry.

"One chance," Ron said. "If you screw it up, I'll hunt you down and destroy you."

Draco's eyes widened, feeling slightly afraid of the former Auror. Ron slapped him on the back, making him almost topple over. "Just joking," he said. "I might kick your ass all the way to London, but you'll live to tell the tale."

"Funny," Draco replied with a sneer.

"Hey, Draco," Harry called from halfway across the room. "Come meet Rose!"

Draco shot Ron a challenging look before joining Harry at Hermione's side.

"Hey, Draco," Hermione said. In her arms was a tiny baby girl. All red and wrinkled. Two little blue eyes stared up at him as she let out a small wail.

"She's beautiful," he said in reply and reached out a finger toward Rose, but pulled it back quickly.

"Isn't she?" Hermione said with the smile of a proud mother beaming off her. "Would you like to hold her?"

He took half a step back. "I-I don't know how," he said.

"Just sit down, there's nothing to it," Harry said, and practically pushed Draco down beside Hermione.

"Here," she said, carefully handing over her precious daughter. "You won't break her, Draco."

When the girl was finally in his arms, he couldn't do anything but stare down at the slightly wiggling baby. He curled his hand around her and watched how she took a surprisingly firm hold on his finger.

"Would you like some tea?" Mrs. Weasley asked, making him reluctantly look up.

"Yes, please, Mrs. Weasley," he said.

Harry ran his hand down Draco's arm and looked down on the two of them, smiling brightly. "I'll help you, Mrs. Weasley," he said and walked after her to the kitchen.

Draco turned to Hermione. "I feel like I should apologise," he said. He'd truthfully disliked the Weasleys in school, for they always taunted him and pretended to have some superior morals. Hermione, however, had mostly treated him fairly. Yes, there had been the time she'd punched him in the face, but it was hardly unprovoked. He'd always secretly respected her loyalty, as misplaced as he'd thought it to be, her wit, and her perseverance in earning top grades. His own grades had only ever been that high because of the fact he didn't want to come in second to her. Which he had in every class save for Potions.

"Whatever for?" she asked.

"For being a git and calling you 'Mudblood'," he answered.

"We were kids, Draco," she said, looking at him warmly before dropping her eyes to her daughter, who was making small noises of content in his arms. "When the time came, you made the right decisions."

"I never had the future of the wizarding world in view," he answered. "I'm not a hero like you or Harry. I was really rather selfish."

"Harry told us about that night on the astronomy tower," she stated. Draco just shuffled uncomfortably on the couch.

"A perfect example," Draco replied dryly. "I know Harry has some romantic idea of what went on inside my head, but the truth of it was, that I didn't give a rat's arse if killing the headmaster was right or wrong. I just didn't want to be the person to do it. Didn't think I could live with myself if I did."

He eyed Hermione curiously. "Does this change your opinion of me?" he asked.

"No, it doesn't," Hermione replied. "The crux of the matter stays the same; you are not a murderer. We do what we have to, to protect ourselves and the ones we love. Me, Ron, everyone in this room. We see things happening and tell ourselves we don't care, because we can't afford to care."

Draco looked down at the baby in his arms. Such innocence, free to live and grow up in a world where she didn't have to choose between a bad thing and something that was inherently worse. Her parents created such a world for her; she could grow up to be proud of them.

"Draco, you were born between a rock and a hard place," she said. "It is a miracle you came to make these decisions at all. Your heart must be incredibly light and strong, to be able to withstand such darkness and remain honorable when the dust settles."

Draco huffed. "Honor," he said. "I'd curse it if I had any, because it would've gotten me killed."

"Codswallop," Hermione replied. "Honor isn't acting irresponsibly and charging whatever bad thing is threatening you and those around you. If that were honor, we'd have never won the war."

She lay her hand on his knee and squeezed lightly. "Honor is doing what you reasonably can to face up to what you believe in. If you hadn't had that, we'd all be dead right now."

"Why?" he asked, not at all sure he knew what she was talking about.

"If you had killed Dumbledore, Voldemort would've known the Elder wand was yours, and he would've killed you, even though Harry'd already won it off you," she explained. "And I saw the look in your eyes, Draco, when the snatchers brought us to the Manor. You knew exactly who we were and that it was Harry behind that disfigured face. You didn't want it to end there, and that had nothing to do with self-preservation."

"Yes, it did," he said.

"I don't see how," she answered. "Delivering him to Voldemort would have pardoned every fault your family had in his eyes. Instead, you gave us time."

"I didn't want to live under his rule, all right? I had no interest in seeing the light defeated," Draco whispered. "I just wanted to take my mother and get as far away from it as possible, and she would have, if not for my father. She made her marital vows, I didn't, I was just born into that mess. I never had that choice."

"And why didn't you want to live under his rule?" she asked. "Someone like you would've thrived in a world like that."

"Because it's wrong!" he all but cried out. A few heads were turning, and Rose squirmed in his arms. Ron took a step towards them, but Hermione waved him away and Draco continued. "He was wrong," he whispered. "How could being a pureblood be so much better, when we give birth to idiots like Greg and Vince? I think of them, and then think of you, and I cannot see how they would be better than you. You were the best student in that school. And then there's the way the lines are kept pure. Did you know my father had a younger sister?"

Hermione shook her head. "Well, he did. She died when she was six or so; out of the blue some rare wizard virus claimed her. Which is odd, because she rarely left the house," Draco said. "There is no documented accidental magic on her, none at all. I looked into it, because I thought it strange. Malfoys are very meticulous in documenting every ounce of magic displayed. Well, I found many children like my father's sister. They all died young, without ever showing any ability."

"What are you saying, Draco?" Hermione asked. She was looking horrified, like she'd drawn the same conclusion he had, and she probably had.

"I think my family has been killing off squibs for the past few millennia," he said barely audible. "I think all that inbreeding left us magically unstable. And I think it's worse for other families, because Malfoys at least allow half bloods into the family. I think that if Voldemort had gotten his way, there wouldn't be a wizard left in a few hundred years."

"I think you're right," Mr. Weasley said. "I know both the Weasley and the Prewitt families used to do it, centuries ago. It used to be a common practice amongst the pureblood families."

"But that's, that's horrible!" George yelled. "We can't be descended from anyone killing their kids!"

"Blood does not make character, George," Mr. Weasley said, softly but firmly. "The only difference between the Weasleys and the Malfoys is that our family changed their ways generations ago. The Malfoys only just started. Am I wrong, Mr. Malfoy, in believing you feel quite opposed to those ways?"

"I'm not sure," Draco said honestly, and George growled. "I mean, there's a lot of customs that are appalling, and even more that are outrageously outdated. Still, there's a lot of history in our customs. I'm not entirely sure that all of them are bad, and I think it would be a shame to see some of them go."

"Still thinking yourself better than us, aren't you, Malfoy," George said.

"No, not really," Draco answered, trying to figure out what he'd said wrong and how he could fix it before Harry returned. "I think it's more about wizarding culture than pureblood superiority."

"Right you are, Mr. Malfoy," Mr. Weasley said. "After all, we haven't given up all our family customs, just the ones we disagree with."

Harry and Mrs. Weasley came in with an entire lunch spread floating in front of them on two huge platters.

"A sensible man you have here, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, patting the raven haired man on the shoulder. "Knows how to think for himself, he does."

Mrs. Weasley took the now sleeping Rose from him and patted his head like he was a child. He felt somewhat accepted by the elder Weasleys, though George still eyed him suspiciously.

"Hasn't Ginny arrived yet?" Harry asked, causing a jealous surge to pass through Draco. Sure Harry was gay, but he had been with the girl, and he was obviously aware she wasn't there.

"She should have," Angelina said, walking in with her daughter on her hip. "I thought she said they'd be here around lunchtime?"

"Oh, they're just running a little late," Mrs. Weasley said. "They were having breakfast with Mrs. Zabini this morning."

"Uh-oh," Draco muttered.

"What was that, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked him.

"I cannot imagine how that could be a pleasant affair," he said. "My sympathy goes out to Blaise if he's introducing Ginny to his mother."

"What's that supposed to mean!" both George and Ron yelled. They shot to their feet and their hands were twitching towards their wands. "Don't you dare insult my sister!" Ron added.

Draco threw up his hands in defense. "I wasn't trying to insult her!" he said quickly. "I'm merely suggesting that Blaise's mother isn't very understanding when it comes to blood and blood traitors."

Now Ron's wand was actually in his hand and Draco looked at Harry for support. The man had his eyebrows raised though, as if he wasn't entirely sure Draco wasn't trying to insult the Weasleys.

"I-I don't think you're blood traitors," he pleaded, face paled and eyes frantic. "Really, I don't, and I wouldn't care anyway!"

Mr. Weasley held up his hand to Ron and George, telling them to back off without any actual words.

"By Salazar," Draco cursed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Blaise obviously likes Ginny if he's willing to defy his mother's wishes like that. She was never a supporter of Voldemort, but she shares more than one of his ideas."

Hermione lay her hand on Draco's knee again. "We're sorry, Draco," she said, earning her a huff from both her husband and his brother. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions based on petty prejudices that hold no ground nowadays."

Draco hung his head. "It's fine, really," he said softly.

The entire family looked uncomfortable when Harry sat down on the arm of the couch and put his hand on Draco's shoulder.

Then Percy shocked everyone when he stepped forward and spoke to the blonde for the first time that day. He held out his hand to Draco and smiled nervously. "Cease fire?" he asked.

Draco took his hand and smiled back. "I'd like that," he said.

"Draco!" a voice called from the front door. "Imagine seeing you here!"

"Hey, Zabini," Draco replied. "I could say the same for you. I heard you defied the beast today."

Blaise chuckled as Mrs. Weasley took his cloak and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. "She almost breathed fire this time," he answered, echoed by a high nervous laugh from the red haired girl behind him.

"Ginny," Draco said with a nod in her direction.

Her eyes widened and she looked at Harry who threw her a warning glare. "Hey, Draco," she said, while looking anywhere but at him. If that was how it was going to be between them, it was okay. He did after all come accompanying the man she'd grown up thinking she wanted to marry. Even if he hadn't turned out to be the person she thought he was.

The silence was still charged, and it seemed like Blaise was trying to figure out what caused it.

"Let's eat," Mrs. Weasley said, and Harry breathed in relief.

"Let's," he said and offered Draco a sandwich. He gladly took it and hoped that this day wouldn't get any worse. After all, he'd only been there for barely an hour and it had already almost come to a duel.

He glanced at Harry, who was now having a discussion about food with little Molly.

"But Unca Harry, I don't like pumpin pies!" she said loudly.

Harry smiled affectionately and caressed her little red cheek with his thumb, effectively brushing away the crumbs sticking to her face. "Why not, sweetie? I think they're very tasty."

She rolled her eyes, as if her thoughts on it were fairly obvious. "The orange bits make me nevous!"

Audrey laughed and shook her head, while all faces turned to Percy. "Don't look at me," he said. "Aud gives her way too much leniency when it comes to food!"

"Actually," Mrs. Weasley said, "I remember you being much the same when you were younger. Always having some strange reason for not eating what I served you."

"Bloody prince, he was," muttered Ron, and everyone laughed again.

This wasn't so bad, Draco thought. This was what family was all about. Even though he felt as lonely as Harry seemed to feel in the face of spousal bantering, he would work hard to become a part of it. For Harry, if not for himself, because he hadn't lied when he told Ron the man was worth it.

Molly was now showing Harry the correct way to eat a creamy lemon tart, the stuffing spreading all over her cheeks as she tried to shove it into her mouth in one go. The man was laughing and helping her keep the mess from falling to the floor. He looked back over his shoulder, trying to get eye contact with Audrey when he caught Draco staring. He smiled and held his gaze for a moment before looking on to find his intended target.

"Audrey," he called out across the room, still laughing. "Your daughters are obscene!"

"Well, don't bloody encourage them!" she yelled back. "It's hard enough trying to get them to behave at a dinner party."

Harry laughed even harder. "Oh, I can imagine the look on the Minister's face!"

"It's not funny!" Audrey replied. "Lucy was hiding her sprouts in the Minister's wife's handbag! We didn't catch on until the poor woman put her hand in, half the sprouts had been chewed on!"

Molly was now reaching her hands up at Uncle Harry, jumping up and down impatiently. "Unca Harry," she called and Harry turned back to face her. He picked her up, setting her securely in his lap and listening intently to the soft words she was mumbling.

Harry really was great with children and he'd be an awesome father one day. Draco just hoped he would be around to witness it, maybe even share it with him. He liked kids, he liked them alot, but he was worried that he'd be as bad a father as his own had been.

It was a shame those kids wouldn't have Harry's amazing green eyes though, not unless he found a woman willing to carry the child. Still, he couldn't imagine Harry wanting that, not if there were unloved children in the world who had no parents. And Draco knew all about those children.

Magical orphans got easily adopted, as long as their parents were magic as well. There was almost always a close or more distant relative, and within their world, gifted children were cherished. A child like that would never be without parents.

Muggleborns, however, were at great risk of spending their entire childhood in the system. They would just disappear into the void, not being tracked down until they were eleven years old.

By that time, it was often too late. Like Tom Riddle, they'd have been shunned and feared for the strange things that happened around them. Draco often wondered what would've happened had Voldemort grown up in a loving home; whether the man was born cruel, or turned that way.

Harry caught his eyes again and smiled so happily that he felt his own mouth morph into a grin. Of all the things he could be thinking about, he was thinking about adopting children with Harry. They weren't even really together yet, they were just hanging out. What had it come to, if this man was able to shake his world on its hinges and make him imagine things he'd never before thought possible? Did he really care?

No, he decided. He didn't care that he was changing every minute of every day, for he was changing for the better. He was becoming a man worthy of Harry Potter, and he'd be damned if he ruined it now.

The rest of the afternoon was spent getting to know Harry's extended family. They really were good people, and he didn't think them half as annoying as he used to. Even Ron and George reluctantly let up and pulled him into a conversation about Quidditch.

Draco carefully followed Pansy's well thought out plan; No talking about touchy topics, be affectionate with Harry, and keeping away from Slytherin superiority. Though the latter was hard when Blaise praised and almost serenaded their old house. Blaise could get away with it though, for he'd never really been involved in anything back in school. He couldn't, so he just shut his mouth and grit his teeth whenever the Weasleys engaged in petty house rivalry with Zabini.

His old schoolfriend often looked at him pleadingly, hoping Draco and his sharp tongue would come to his rescue, but he'd been good overall. Pansy would be proud of him.

*Jumps up and down excitedly* Working hard on part 3... This fic might actually get a bit longer than intended, but I won't drag it on and on, don't worry!