Dragonfly_Alice Writing

“Percy, my hair can’t be tamed,” Harry said, his heart beating faster like it always did when Percy was in the same room. “Thanks for trying, but even magic won’t hold it for long.”

“Well, it’s not a huge loss. Bedhead is in these days,” Percy said with a small smile. He leaned down and gave Harry a more reserved hug. Harry appreciated this because Percy wasn’t usually very tactile, except with family. Harry was family to the Weasleys. Harry hugged Percy back, breathing in the scent of his strawberry hair wash.

“What are you guys doing here?” Harry asked, pulling away from Percy. He was pleased to see them. “Ron’s around somewhere. Hermione and Rose have been staying with her family, and Ron wanted to spend some time with your parents.”

“We missed our little Harry, of course,” George teased, going in for another cuddle. Harry grinned, pressing his face against his chest.

“We’re doing renovations at the shop and can’t stay in the flat above it, so here we are,” Percy explained. “We’ll be here for two to three days.”

“I hope you don’t get sick of us. Charlie said he’d also stop by,” Fred added. “His dragons are thriving, and he doesn’t need him to check in as often at this stage, so he lives at the flat more often. If Ron and Bill hadn’t gotten married, all the Weasley brothers could have lived together and worked at the shop!”

“Yes, because we have so much room,” Percy said, though he didn’t seem to dislike the idea. Percy was fiercely loyal and protective of his family. He loved being around them because they understood him best.

George walked over to the sofa and flopped down face-first with a groan. “I’m knackered.”

Before they could do anything else, the fireplace roared to life, and Charlie stepped through, accidentally bumping into Harry. Harry, never the most coordinated person on the ground, nearly fell over, but Charlie was quick to catch him.

“I swear I’m not this clumsy on the broom,” Harry said, blushing at his clumsiness.

“Noted,” Charlie said, winking at Harry. "Save that sort of information for your suitors, though."

Ears burning, Harry realised how he had sounded, and quickly covered his mouth. He glared at Charlie, or tried to, but it came out like a flustered pout. Harry knew Charlie meant no harm, and kind of enjoyed being teased like a little brother.

“Merlin’s beard, shut up!” he said, voice cracking embarrassingly. He pulled away from Charlie and dashed into the kitchen to grab his laptop, feeling utterly mortified. He could hear the twins laughing and Percy scolding Charlie for being a pervert. Harry wished his face would cool down. It honestly wasn’t his fault, though. He got flustered easily and often spoke before thinking, which frequently landed him in embarrassing situations.

Percy walked into the kitchen and saw Harry clutching his laptop to his chest. “Are you alright?” he asked softly. Harry was annoyed that the tone in Percy’s voice made his heart flip.

***

Harry collapsed into their arms, his knees striking the floor with a jarring thud, though he was numb to the pain. “I-I… no! I can’t let that happen,” he growled, jaw clenched. “They claim it’s for my safety being here, but it’s killing me… slower than any Death Eater’s curse, yes, but I’m...ugh! I might as well be dead already.” He shot a furious look at the wall and began to pace. “I won’t let them execute the Malfoys. Not even Lucius.”

***

She lifted her mug and sipped carefully. Though not made with magic, the tea’s aroma and warmth were more magical than anything Narcissa had faced in weeks. “It’s about Draco. I know you want to wait until he wakes to share your story, and I respect that. But you must understand... My Dragon...” Narcissa paused, swallowing hard, fighting her tears like her upbringing urged her to do. “He’s... not himself, you see. Not fully, at least, not all the time."

***

Harry and Narcissa entered the living room quietly, each instinctively careful not to startle Draco further. Their wariness proved unnecessary. Draco, lost in tears, grasped Kreacher, who cradled him with an awkward tenderness and didn’t notice Harry and Narcissa at all.

“Kreacher is being drowned by tears. Kreacher is not minding.” He patted Draco’s head. “Kreacher is going soft.”

Narcissa knelt next to them, her voice gentle. “Dragon, do you remember? We escaped that dreadful place for a sunnier home. It is clean and safe, with beautiful blue walls.”

Draco blinked, rubbing his eyes as memories from the day came back to him. “Oh… I-I’m sorry.” He shivered, moving closer to Kreacher without thinking. “Am I really being cuddled by a house elf?”

“Yes, by the great and powerful Kreacher. Don’t tell the other elves. Kreacher will never live it down,” Kreacher said, his smile wide and goofy.

***

Kreacher carefully set Harry’s glasses back on his nose, his gaze moving between Draco and Narcissa. “Kreacher must shop for clothing that suits his new Master and Mistress.” With a disapproving click of his tongue, he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

“A house elf is going to shop for me?” Draco muttered, his voice filled with disbelief and a hint of gratitude. “Thank you for helping us, Potter.”

“Yes, thank you, Harry,” Narcissa echoed warmly. “I am curious what styles Kreacher will choose for us.” She found herself surprisingly unconcerned if the clothes ended up garish.

“We should get going,” Harry murmured. “Don’t want to be late on our first day back.”

“Yeah,” Draco said, standing up. Already dressed in his robe, Draco matched Harry’s stride as they slipped out of their room and made their way together through the quiet hallway toward the common room.

A handful of students glanced their way, eyes wide with surprise at the unlikely pair. Even knowing they were roommates, it was odd to see them together. Yet Harry found comfort in Draco’s presence, more than he cared to confess. Moments like this made him wonder how life might have unfolded if there had been no war, if they had simply grown up as ordinary boys.

Did Draco ever let his mind go down similar paths? As they left the tower, he glanced at Draco, only to discover Draco’s eyes already fixed on him. Heat crept up Harry’s neck as he turned away, though he couldn’t resist sneaking another look from the edge of his vision. Draco continued to look at him, unwavering. How many times had Draco’s eyes lingered on Harry when he hadn’t noticed?

A pack of third-year Ravenclaws rushed by, sending Harry stumbling straight into Draco. Startled, Harry grabbed Draco’s shoulders, their chests pressed close. The students vanished down the corridor, oblivious, while Harry forced a smile to mask his embarrassment, secretly reeling from the contact. He blinked in surprise as Draco’s hands steadied him, the nearness between them feeling almost intentional, as if they had chosen to embrace in the middle of the hallway.

Letting go of Draco’s shoulders, Harry expected him to step back or push him away, but Draco’s hands lingered at Harry’s hips. The space between them seemed to shrink, Harry acutely aware of Draco’s breath and the heat of it against his skin. Harry swallowed hard and turned away, half-wondering if Draco had slipped into an odd trance.

“If you don’t let go, some rumours are going to get started,” Harry finally said, his voice tinged with regret as the fragile spell of closeness faded. He relished the warmth, even if it was fleeting. Maybe it was that he was so starved for touch. At this point, he would have welcomed a hug or a cuddle from anyone, even Draco Malfoy.

The moment the words left Harry’s lips, it felt as if an invisible barrier shattered around Draco. His eyes widened in shock, and he snatched his hands away as if scorched by fire. Still, he hovered, their bodies nearly fused, breath brushing against Harry’s cheek. Harry refused to meet his eyes, but he could feel Draco looking at him. Draco’s stare was a tangible force, his magic curling possessively around Harry. Even when Draco finally retreated, the echo of his magic clung to Harry like a second skin.

“No, and I wouldn’t make a fuss about that if you did. Roommates should share their things within reason, as long as we replace what needs replacing,” Hermione said. “Sorry for grabbing you. Look… I know we’re not friends and we’ve had… um… well, never mind that. The past is the past. Parkinson, I know friendship when I see it, because of how I feel about my friends, so I know you hold yours in high regard as well, don’t you?”

Parkinson uncrossed her arms and glanced back at her friends, who were giving her alarmed looks, seeming ready to jump to her defence if needed. She shook her head, and they relaxed. Looking back at Hermione, she nodded. “They’re like my brothers, but what is it to you?”

Hermione frowned, looking down. “We wanted to throw this party, and I know it's not been that long since we’ve come back and found out some of us have surprising roommates, but… well, this party is hopefully a means to help with the unity students need. My friends are troubled, and your friends are as well…” Hermione groaned.

Eyes softening slightly, Parkinson nodded thoughtfully. “Are you proposing a scheme, Granger?”

“Does it count as a scheme if I want to force everyone to play silly party games and get drunk a bit?”

“Yes, yes, it does,” Parkinson said, laughing. “Salazar, Granger, I didn’t know you had it in you. Are you sure you’re in the right house?”

“I was supposed to be in Ravenclaw,” Hermione said. “Never mind that. Get your friends to agree to play silly Muggle games. There could be kissing involved,” she added with a slight smirk. “We can make sure everyone understands the risks and consents beforehand, of course.”

Parkinson doubled over in laughter. “Of course, of course. Oh my gosh, I’m going to die! You might not believe me, but we know a couple of Muggle party games, like truth and dare.”

“Or,” Hermione corrected.

“Sorry,” Draco said, bending over to catch his breath. “I… you’ve been pregnant before, right?”

Narcissa laughed. “I think so. Let me think.” She looked up at the ceiling, humming as she tapped her lips with her index finger. “Yes, yes, that’s right. I have been pregnant before.” She looked at her son, pride in her eyes. “How did you know about this?”

Draco stepped toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Mum, I know we don’t really talk about… him, but surely… well… did either of you keep any pain potions around to help with… um…”

“You don’t have to skirt around mentioning him,” Narcissa said softly, running her fingers through Draco’s hair. “He’s still part of our past.” She sighed and led him over to the bed, sitting down with Draco in her arms. “I’m going to assume you’re trying to ask me for advice on what I used to reduce the aches and pains during my pregnancy with you?”

“Yes, I should have done something sooner, but so much has been going on, and time really flew by!” Draco said, his eyes wide. “Also, Harry is so quiet about his discomfort, so… am I a bad boy…husband, Mum?”

“Of course not, sweetheart. This is all new for both of you. You’re learning to navigate a new relationship, you just got married, your husband is pregnant, and so much drama seems to keep finding us… It’s a lot for anyone to handle.” She smiled gently. “I do keep a lot of potions on hand. Severus always made sure we were well-stocked and taught us most of what we know.” Her expression grew sombre as she looked away. 

“I’m sorry for bringing up hard memories, Mum.”

She shook her head. “It’s alright, Dragon. Your Father did love us in his own way, but he wasn’t as attentive toward me during my pregnancy as you might have gathered. However, Severus was there for me. He was there for both of us.” They wouldn’t have survived without Severus’s help.

“Yeah,” Draco said, looking down. “I have Harry waiting. He’s currently confused because I made him rest face down on the bed.” Draco laughed, slightly blushing. It felt strange to talk to his Mum about this on his wedding night, even if it wasn’t a sexual thing. “I transfigured the bed to accommodate his stomach.”

“That’s…” Narcissa trailed off, trying not to think about how something so simple could have made her feel good during her pregnancy with Draco. Instead of dwelling on what she didn’t have in the past, she decided to focus on what she had now in the present. Smiling, she patted Draco’s shoulder. “You’re a wonderful son, husband, and soon we can add Papa to that list.”

Draco telepathically speaking: *This* Harry telepathically speaking: ~This~

Once they got to the Great Hall, Harry let Malfoy go in first and then walked in a few seconds later, accidentally bumping into Malfoy like they had planned. It was stupid, immature, but typical of them. “Watch it, Potter!” Harry yelled, trying to glare like he remembered Malfoy doing, but he had a feeling he just looked like a clown. It was so weird to be yelling at Malfoy but using his own name.

“Oh, sorry, my bad, I must have used weird mind powers to make you bump into me,” Malfoy said. He put his hands on his hips.

~I do not say ‘my bad,’ Malfoy!~

*My bad.*

~Oh, ha ha.~

“Just…whatever,” Harry said, spinning around and flipping his chin up in a snotty manner.

*I do not look like that, Potter.*

~Oh, yes, you do. Welcome to the front row seat of yourself, Malfoy.~

Harry, as Malfoy sauntered over to the Slytherin table. He sat down between Nott and Zabini. Parkinson was sitting across from him.

“Draco, darling,” Nott purred annoyingly in his ear. “Took you long enough.”

Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Harry sighed. “Ran into Potter.” He groaned, trying to sound disgusted.

“Aw, that guy will never not be under your skin, Draco,” Pansy said with a giggle.

~How do you tell Parkinson to shut up, Malfoy?~

*Shut up, slut.*

~Sweet.~

Harry gritted his teeth. “Shut up, slut.”

“Whore.”

“Bitch.”

Zabini laughed. “Your love language is pure poetry, Draco.”

“I have a headache,” Harry grumbled. “Potter being annoying and…well, you know.” 

*Having fun insulting yourself, Potter?*

~Are you having fun with my friends?~

*Fuck you.*

~Maybe later.~

*Shut up! I choked on some eggs, and now Weasley is trying to kill me with his large hands.*

~I’m assuming he’s wacking your back. Stop being so dramatic, Malfoy.~

Harry looked across the Great Hall, suppressing a laugh as he watched Luna walk up to the table and throw her arms around Malfoy from behind. She fluffed his hair and then ran off without waiting for a reaction.

*Ah! Where the fuck did she come from?*

~Be nice to her, please. She’s been through…~ Unable to stop them, memories of being trapped in the Manor came to Harry. He squeezed his eyes shut. ~Sorry, I didn’t mean to think about that.~

*I’ll be nice. I know she has been through more than some people do. I was… there, you know?*

Coming up samples:

Chapter 9:

Luna woke first, feeling fully refreshed now that there were fewer people around, and those still present were no longer as hyped as they had been the day before. She smiled, enjoying the magic that surrounded her. For the most part, being near the magic of her family was always comforting, except during times when one or more of them were going through a stressful experience. She glanced down at Ginny and gently nudged her shoulder. “Ginny, I know it sounds horrible to say this the day after we got married, but we do have school today. It’s time to get up.”

“Nooo,” Ginny grumbled, rolling away from her. Luna crawled on top of her, lying flat against her back. “How can I get up if you’re squashing me?” Ginny pushed her hips up, trying to knock Luna off balance, but that only made Luna hang on tighter, causing her to giggle. “I thought we had class.”

Chapter 10:

Narcissa waved as the last person passed through the fireplace. She sighed and looked down at Jingle. May couldn’t come soon enough. Her house arrest would end in mid-May, and at the beginning of June, Draco and the others would graduate and move into their new homes.

“Cissa, it won’t be long, and you’ll be able to do whatever you want,” Jingle said quietly. She didn’t mind being Narcissa’s eyes and ears during her time on house arrest, but she knew how lonely Narcissa felt when there were no visitors. “Draco and Harry will let you stay with them often! I’m sure of it.” She smiled up at Narcissa, reaching out to hold her hand.

“I know,” Narcissa said. “I’m alright, Jingle. Don’t worry about me.”

Chapter 16:

“Oh, my cousin had a…um…” Dudley didn’t want to lie, so how could he tell her without really telling her?

“Stop,” Sarah said, holding out a hand. “From the way you’re acting, I can tell it was something private. I’m sorry for prying. Is everything alright, though?”

“Y-yes,” Dudley said. “More than alright. I’m so happy I was able to leave yesterday. Thanks again.” He clocked in and pulled his nametag out of his pocket, placing it on his chest, rolling his eyes as he read what it said. He didn’t know what to put on it when his boss told him to put something interesting beneath his name. “My name is: Dudley - I would be happy to assist you. I like movies and the beach.”

Sarah tapped his nametag. “That sounds like something people say in cheesy dating videos."

“Ha, ha, so funny.” He rolled his eyes and looked around the storeroom as they entered, noticing another box of The Hobbit. “Alright, I get it; I’ll read the book. It must be good if it keeps selling out.” He put the box on a pushcart and pushed it out to the shelves.

“Dudley!” Kel yelled dramatically. He crushed Dudley in a hug, fluffing his hair. “Jesse was worried sick about you. He’s off today, but I’m meant to report back on everything. Now, tell me the whole story.”

Chapter 17:

“Harry, are you dense?” Oliver laughed, shaking his head. “You’re gorgeous. I should go; it’s early. Do you need anything before I leave?”

“Don’t let Draco hear you flirting with me,” Harry teased. “I’m good, thanks, Oliver.”

“If I were flirting with you, you would know,” Oliver grinned. “See you around.”

This is the story of survivors navigating the world, surrounded by those who contribute to their large, beautiful family, which is formed not only by blood connections but also by love.

 🐉⚡🐉

Sample From Chapter 6:

“I’ll protect both of you,” Draco whispered. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s forehead. “You hear that, little Poppy Seed?”

Slowly, Harry blinked awake and smiled. “Are you talking to the baby?”

Warmth spread across Draco's cheeks. “Oh, you caught me,” He said with a smile. “Yes, I must practice.” He turned his head, trying to hide a frown that started to take over his smile, but Harry caught it instantly.

Sitting up, Harry rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses. After blinking a few times, he focused on Draco, who was sitting stiffly beside him.

“What’s on your mind?” Harry asked gently. “You seem troubled all of a sudden.” Harry was used to having mood swings, but Draco usually managed his emotions around others. He was still learning that it was fine to be vulnerable around his friends.

“I was thinking about how when I was born,” Draco said, “Mum and Father didn’t take care of me very much. It was mostly the house elves, especially Dobby, you know?” He sighed and pulled his knees up onto the bed. “I was a bit of a brat. I wish I had been kinder to Dobby and our other house elves.”

“I’m sure you were nicer than you remember. Every time Dobby was around, he couldn’t stop talking about Master Draco. He loved you,” Harry said with a small smile.

Draco looked at Harry, his expression softening. “I know, but I want to be better than my parents, Harry. I want to make sure I-” He fumbled with his words, taking a deep breath.

“You’re already doing more than enough,” Harry reassured him. “I’m six weeks pregnant with a pea-sized baby growing in me, and you haven’t stopped treating me like royalty,” Harry teased with a playful smirk. “But a little breathing room wouldn’t hurt.”

Draco gasped in mock outrage. “Never!” He leaned down and pressed his lips to Harry’s, wrapping his arms around his neck.

“But breathing is a must for having a baby!” Harry exclaimed, pulling back from the kiss. “Not that I mind being smothered by kisses!”

“Hm,” Draco responded with a playful hum. “I want to make sure you’re doing well. Isn’t that what boyfriends are supposed to do?”

“Yes, and future husbands,” Harry added, making Draco turn bright red. Harry laughed and leaned in for another kiss. Harry pushed his legs over the side of the bed and started to stand up. Draco stood up and put his arm around Harry, pulling him into a hug, catching him when he stumbled. He tucked a clump of wet hair behind Harry's ear.

Suddenly, Harry jerked away from his arms and ran into the toilet. Worried, Draco hurried after him, only to find Harry leaning over the loo, vomiting. With a frown, Draco dropped to his knees beside him, gently pulling back his hair and murmuring a wandless cleaning spell to tidy up the area as needed.

Harry cried, his body spasming as more waves of vomit came from him. Draco rubbed his back, wishing he could do more, but this was part of the process that not even magic could fully take away. Weak and knackered, Harry leaned against the loo, but Draco quickly wrapped him in a comforting embrace, pulling him into his lap. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, concerned. He summoned a bottle of water from the bedroom and pressed it to Harry’s lips. “Sip slowly.”

After a couple of drinks, Harry let out a small sigh. “I’m alright,” he said, rubbing his cheeks and sniffling a bit before snuggling up against Draco’s chest. He had never been seriously ill before. Sure, he had his fair share of injuries, but being pregnant was a whole new experience, and he did not think he would get used to the morning sickness.

“It’s frustrating, Draco. Why is it called morning sickness? It’s three in the afternoon!” Harry said with a wince of pain as another wave of nausea hit him. Luckily, it passed. “Who came up with that term?” He snuggled deeper into Draco’s arms, feeling much better as Draco gently rubbed his back.

“Should I write a letter to the person who named it?” Draco said with a smirk.

Harry chuckled. “I think they’d be long gone by now.”

“They might be a ghost, you know,” Draco teased.

Pulling back a little, Harry grinned. “Good point. Let’s ask Nearly Headless Nick if he knows.”

“Harry, because he’s a ghost, doesn’t mean he knows everything about the afterlife. You shouldn’t assume,” Draco playfully scolded.

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Harry said jokingly. “Besides, it would give Nick something fun to think about instead of his worries about the Headless Hunt.” Draco snorted at the idea of Nick going to the underworld and asking around for the person who coined the term for morning sickness. Draco helped Harry up and guided him back into the bedroom.

“You seem to be dealing with morning sickness quite a lot lately,” Draco said, biting down on his lower lip and glancing at Harry. Harry crossed his arms and mock-glared. “I mean, every time of the day or night, sickness,” Draco corrected. “I think it’s time we let our Professors know. They should be aware, in case you need to leave suddenly, and why I’ll be right there with you.”

Knowing their friends, Draco could easily imagine them all rushing after Harry. He understood why Harry might hesitate to share the news, but keeping it a secret couldn’t last forever.

Harry shuffled his feet a bit. “We haven’t even told your Mum or the rest of the Weasleys.”

“Don’t worry, Harry, we’ll tell them when the time is right,” Draco said. “But since you’re here with the Professors, they need to know sooner rather than later.”

Harry sighed but nodded. “I see your point.”

🐉⚡🐉

Sample From Chapter 14:

Pansy picked up an oddly shaped metal object, tilting her head in curiosity as she looked it over. It had two large wheels, a seat, two handles, a basket in the front, and a chain. The word “Roadmaster” was printed on a metal bar beneath the handles.

“What in the world is that?” Blaise asked as he came up behind her. She shrieked, dropping the metal thing, and spun around.

“Blaise, you’re too soft-footed! Stop sneaking up on people!” Pansy glared at him, her heart racing. She looked down. “A Roadmaster,” she answered. She pointed at the logo.

“That does not explain what it is,” Blaise said, bending down and studying the Roadmaster. 

“It has a seat,” Pansy said. “I assume it is a vehicle of some sort.” She picked the Roadmaster up and swung her leg over it, settling herself on the seat. “Ouch, this hurts my ass. Now I know how Harry feels…” 

Pansy scrunched up her nose as she tried to figure out how to sit without causing herself an injury.

Blaise laughed. “Pansy, you’re an actual pain in the ass.”

“You’re not going to win your little redhead with a mouth like that,” Pansy said. 

“And who are you going to charm with all your jokes about gay sex?” Blaise asked. 

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t care. If I decide I want a relationship, I’ll find someone who likes me for the whole package deal.” She looked at the Roadmaster. “Now, how do I make this work?”

“Does it look like I would know?” Blaise asked. He reached for one of the blocky things near the chain and wiggled it. “These move the chain. Put your feet on them and see what happens.”

Gripping the handles, Pansy put her feet on the blocks and tried to move them, but she promptly fell over onto her side with a loud clatter, scattering dirt and grass everywhere. 

“Ow, who would like this? It’s more like a medieval torture device.” She was sure it was a toy of some sort, but didn’t think it was something anyone should be messing with. The fall hurt a lot.

They were both startled when a laugh came from The Burrow’s back door. Blaise turned around and immediately started to blush. It bothered him that he reacted so easily around Percy. This had never happened to him before. He wasn’t immune to being interested in someone, but it was never this strong. 

It was strange that Percy was the one to approach him this time and not the other way around, though Blaise wasn’t going to complain about that.

“I didn’t think I’d see the day where two Slytherins were in my backyard, trying to ride a bicycle,” Percy said, walking closer to them.

Blaise’s eyes widened, and he was the one to step back from Percy this time, embarrassingly enough, tripping over the Roadmaster and falling on top of Pansy, who was still grumbling on the ground about toys not suitable for children. 

Dirt ended up all over him, and he wished more got on him so that Percy couldn’t see how flushed he was.

“Get off of me, you great big oaf!” Pansy cried, pushing Blaise and trying to untangle herself from the bicycle. “Bicycle? This can’t possibly be for children! It seems so dangerous.”

“It’s for any age. They come in various sizes,” Percy answered, trying not to laugh. He could see how embarrassed Pansy and Blaise were. Though he admitted that it was cute seeing them exploring his Father’s items like curious little chicks that were born knowing nothing about the world.

Blaise stood up, casting Scourgify on himself. He offered Pansy a hand and helped her up, casting the cleaning spell on her as well. 

“How does it work?” Blaise asked quietly, pleased that Percy was actually having a conversation with him. Well, him and Pansy, but a win was a win.

Percy enjoyed explaining things, so he began to point out the various items on the bike, telling them what each item was called and its purpose. It made him happy that they were actually paying attention. 

He was accustomed to people getting impatient when he shared too much information about topics on which he was knowledgeable, and not many people ever seemed to want to listen to him when he got on one of his passionate tangents. 

Smiling, he picked the bike up and pushed it over to Blaise, who was looking anywhere but at Percy’s face.

Percy raised an eyebrow. This was a far cry from how Blaise had been acting the last couple of days. It made Percy think that someone had spoken with Blaise, which made him feel less overwhelmed.

“Here, get on.”

“M-me?” Blaise stuttered, his face turning pink. 

Pansy snickered, pressing a hand over her mouth. She wasn’t used to seeing Blaise acting like such a simpering fool because a man he liked was getting too close to him. It was fun to watch.

Blaise glared at Pansy but listened to Percy, putting his leg over the side of the bike. This was stupid. He was almost nineteen, acting like a twelve-year-old with his first crush. 

Once, when he was talking with Harry and Hermione about the Muggle shadow box, a telly it was called, they told him about some of the shows that came on. They explained that the boxes worked like magical paintings, except the people in the box were recorded somewhere else.

Blaise didn’t pretend to really understand, but they told him about the show where a bunch of weird things happened. This moment was like that show. Blaise had stepped into The Twilight Zone. It was surreal to have feelings like this so suddenly.

Especially considering how he used to think about Muggles and so-called blood traitors. He was unlearning all of that and was better for it. He would never again let something else so easily influence his thoughts about others, magical or otherwise.

“Now what?” Blaise asked. He gripped the handles so hard that his knuckles started to turn white. He blinked when Percy lightly tapped the top of his hand, the simple touch sending an electric jolt through his body.

“First, relax,” Percy said.

Pansy was going to die. This was so entertaining. She was not bored anymore. Not at all. She hoped they didn’t remember she was there.

“I want some popcorn,” Pansy whispered, backing a little away from them and sitting down behind a weird metal thing that had black gunk stuck to a metal grid on top of it. It smelled earthy, smoky, and, oddly enough, slightly sweet.

“I’m relaxed!” Blaise said louder than he intended. He wasn’t relaxed at all.

Percy was in instructor mode, so he wasn’t feeling as flustered as Blaise was currently feeling.

“No, you’re not.” Percy tapped Blaise’s knuckles again. “Let up your grip, Blaise.”

“Alright, alright,” Blaise mumbled. For someone who acted like they didn’t like getting touched that much, Percy didn’t seem to have any trouble tapping his hand like he was reprimanding a child. Not that Blaise minded.

Draco, Harry, Theodore, and Neville walked into the backyard, seeing several things at once. Pansy was hiding behind the grill, looking at Blaise and Percy with a predatory grin on her face, and Blaise was sitting on a bike, with Percy trying to teach him how to ride it.

Pansy saw them and put a finger to her lips, grinning wider. ‘Go away,’ she mouthed. 

Amused, they went back into The Burrow.

 🐉⚡🐉

Sample From Chapter 31:

“Why did I let myself be talked into getting up at five am?” Charlie groaned, rubbing fatigue from his eyes. He didn’t mind helping out, but wasn’t usually a morning person. He found it sweet when Jingle sought him out yesterday to ask if he would mind playing as Santa.

Jingle only grinned at him in response. With a snap of her fingers, Jingle made Charlie’s suit puff out around his stomach, and two bright red patches appeared on his cheeks. Charlie looked down, feeling under his shirt to ensure it was only the suit that was enchanted. He sighed, finding that his stomach was unchanged.

“Do I pass as Santa?” Charlie asked, turning around in a circle. 

“A young Santa,” Jingle said happily, snapping her fingers again. In an instant, Charlie’s curly red hair transformed into long, poofy white waves to match his fake beard. Charlie’s whole face was obscured by hair, only his eyes and rosy cheeks peeking through.

“Now you look great!” Jingle jumped up and down. “This is going to be so fun!”

With another snap of her fingers, a big red sack appeared beside them, filled with treats and little trinkets.

“Alright, let’s go fill the stockings!” Charlie grinned, slinging the sack over his shoulder.

Together, Charlie and Jingle crept into the sitting room, spending an hour stuffing stockings with the goodies from Santa’s sack. Charlie couldn’t help but smile as he realised many of the sweets were from Weasleys Wizard Wheezes.

He knew Jingle did all the shopping for Narcissa because she couldn’t leave The Manor, and wondered what the shopkeeper thought when she came in and ordered a lot of joke sweets.

Most wizards knew who Jingle was, as she was always seen around Narcissa over the years, being her personal house elf, so it had to be strange that they were witnessing Jingle buying so many odd items.

“Ugh,” Charlie groaned, leaning back until he heard a small pop. “What else do we have left?” He cast a Tempus and saw it was now six. “People are going to be waking up soon, even if it is early morning.”

The Manor was still quiet, but Charlie knew his siblings; they could be fifty and still excitable children come Christmas morning, even if they pretended otherwise. It wouldn’t be long before The Manor was filled with laughter and the sounds of feet running around.

“We set out breakfast next. Cissa and Molly have already prepared everything,” Jingle said, jumping off the floor, dusting off her elegant pillowcase that had been sewn so fashionably that it could hardly be called a pillowcase anymore.

“Father Christmas!” Luna’s voice came from behind them.

Charlie spun around to see Luna, her eyes sparkling in surprise as she cradled Selene in her arms. Luna’s hair was all over the place, and she was rubbing her eyes. She looked like a small child who had spotted Santa for the very first time.

“Ho, ho, ho! And what would little Luna like for Christmas?” Charlie asked, his voice loud and cheerful.

Luna blinked sleepily, gradually becoming more aware, then burst into giggles as she walked over. “Charlie? You look so cute!” She poked his big Santa stomach, tilting her head to the side.

“Charlie? Hmm, that’s a fine name!” Charlie said. “Who is this Charlie you speak of?” He looked around, pretending to look for someone.

“I must have been mistaken,” Luna said. She looked down at her doll. “Selene told me you were Charlie.” She tutted. “How dare she lie to me!” She pointed at the doll as if scolding her. “Don’t you want some presents, Selene? No more lying.”

He looked at her, eyes fond. He’d known Luna ever since she was a young child and had brotherly love for her, just as he did for his siblings. Charlie motioned for her to follow him, smiling when she held onto his hand.

“Want to help Santa set up the food?” Jingle asked Luna eagerly. “It’s all in stasis, ready to go.”

“Sure!” Luna beamed. “I’d love to help!”

They walked into the kitchen and started removing food from the fridge, stove, and counter, moving everything to the table.

“Chip the glasses and crack the plates! Blunt the knives and bend the forks! That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates! Smash the bottles and burn the corks!” Luna sang, making Charlie laugh. He shook his head. Luna was always a surprise.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Charlie said, catching a tray of tarts that Luna tossed to him. “Harry’s going to love this breakfast dessert.”

“Cut the cloth and tread on the fat! Pour the milk on the pantry floor! Leave the bones on the bedroom mat! Splash the wine on every door!”

“Where is that even from?” Charlie asked.

“You need to read more, Charlie,” Luna said. “Muggles have some fun books. Hermione introduced me to The Hobbit. There’s a dragon in it, too!” She wouldn’t mention that the dragon was killed, or Charlie might become upset.

“Luna, you’re so cute. I love you!” He hugged her. “I’m so glad you’re dating Ginny.”

She beamed, pointing her wand toward the open door at Hermione’s radio, clicking it on. Music started to play, and she and Charlie danced around, while Jingle and Minna did their own dance. Jingle spun in a circle with her arms out wide, and Minna darted back and forth between her legs, playfully meowing.

 🐉⚡🐉

Sample From Chapter 96:

"Thursday, 1st April 1999"

My dearest,

Charlie and Percy informed everyone of your wishes to stay home with them and Pansy and Blaise. I want you to know that your Father and I understand this with all our hearts. I mention this because I know you well enough to recognise that you might feel some guilt about not wanting to be surrounded by lots of people today.

This is your day to spend however you want. Fred will always be in our hearts, and while this day may be difficult for your siblings, your Father, and me, I understand that you’re experiencing something entirely different.

It may feel lonely, my baby, but always remember this: even on your loneliest days, there will always be someone by your side who loves you and cares about you endlessly. Fred is still with us, in spirit and in the magic he left behind, binding us to this wonderful extended family, not just of blood, but of love.

I love you with all my heart. Happy birthday, George. I’ve reached out to everyone and asked them to include their messages to you in this letter.

Love,

Mum

🐉⚡🐉

My Son,

You know that I am not as eloquent with my words as your Mother is, but I share her sentiments, and I know you’re aware of that. I love you and am very proud of you. Happy birthday, George.

Love,

Dad

🐉⚡🐉

Dear George,

You are in my heart today and forever. I want you to know that. I am proud to be your big brother. Happy birthday, George.

I love you,

Bill

🐉⚡🐉

Dear George,

Coming into this family didn’t just give me William; it gifted me a wonderfully large family. I’ve only ever had my parents and my sister, with whom I was close. Now, I am close to many people, including you. I hope you find a way to have a lovely birthday.

Je t'aime,

Fleur

🐉⚡🐉

Dear George,

This is a hard day for you. I’m not going to sugarcoat it because I know you don’t like that. It’s a terrible thing that happened to Fred and everyone else we lost. But you know what? All the people who are looking out for us are so proud of us for thriving and healing. We’ve come so far in that regard.

I’m proud of you, George. Bloody hell, I’m proud of myself. Happy birthday. I love you.

Love,

Ron

🐉⚡🐉

George,

I can’t relate to what you’re going through when it comes to losing a twin, but I loved Fred so very much. I love you and your family as if they were my own. Now, thanks to what Fred did, we’re all magically bonded. We’re family, and I don’t even have to marry Ron for that to be true.

Hey! -Ron

What I’m trying to say is that, whether you want to be alone today or to be surrounded by people, your family is with you. I love you. Happy birthday.

Love,

Hermione

🐉⚡🐉

Dear George,

You’re so important to me. I know this day is especially hard for you, and even though Fred is… (I refuse to write 'was') our brother, we can’t begin to understand how this feels for you. I realise that you and Percy hold onto a lot of guilt, far more than anyone else does, when it comes to how… well, you know. But please, please remember what Fred told us! Remember what he gave us.

This is still Fred and your day! He’s still here! I know you can feel him. You must be able to because everyone else connected to him can feel him as well.

I hope you have a great birthday. I’m glad that you have someone to share the day with. Pansy is really good for you. We had a rocky start with her, as well as some of the other Slytherins, but she’s proven to be a wonderful person. Cherish her, as we cherish you.

Love,

Ginny

🐉⚡🐉

George put the letter down, his hands shaking. There were still several pages left to read, but he didn’t think he could continue just yet. He looked down at Pansy’s dark hair with a smile. Ginny was right, of course. Pansy and everyone around them had proven themselves to be amazing people. They’d all come so far. Today was painful. It was hard, but George was fortunate nonetheless.

“Are you alright?” Pansy asked, moving closer to him. She reached out to steady George’s shaking hands.

“Y-yeah,” George swallowed, closing his eyes. “I could only get through a few messages in this letter. Mum compiled notes from… well, everyone. My brain feels fuzzy, and my eyes hurt.”

Pansy stood up and smiled, her cheeks flushed. “We can read our parts aloud.”

“Wait, you’re in this letter as well?” George asked, his eyes wide.

“We all are,” Charlie said. “Mum sent a message after we told her you wanted to be alone today and asked us to write you a birthday note. This was after Blaise and Pansy showed up, so they also added to the message.”

“Thank you,” George whispered. “I don’t know what to say.”

“How about we all tell him what we said and embarrass the heck out of him,” Lee teased, standing up and dramatically putting his hand over his heart. Pansy laughed and handed the letter to Lee. “Dear George…” Lee’s voice became serious. “I’ve always thought of you, Fred, and our other dormmates as brothers. Anyway, I’m not exactly a romantic writer…” Lee stopped reading, his cheeks turning pink. “I can’t believe I wrote this…”

George waved his hand. “Go on, I’m entertained.”

“...a romantic writer, so let me default to Olde English: I do yearn for Fred, yet he doth abide with thee and all of us, now and evermore. A joyous natal day, I wish thee. I hold thee dear, George,” Lee finished with a deep bow.

“Merlin, saying that in Old English makes it sound like you had feelings for Fred,” Charlie said, poking Lee’s side.

“Well… I mean, family feelings,” Lee said, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to George to apologise for joking like that on his and Fred’s birthday, but was surprised when George started laughing, sounding a lot like his old self.

“That’s great. Thank you. Fred would definitely say something cheesy back to you, probably propose as well.” George leaned against Pansy’s side. “Oh, Flower, what will we do with these people?”

“I suppose we continue to love them or something equally sentimental,” Pansy answered.

Percy stood up and went to retrieve the letter. He cleared his throat. “Dear George, I-I…” He dropped his hand, tears welling in his eyes. Blaise jumped up and took the letter from him.

"May I?" Blaise asked Percy. 

"Mm, please," Percy whispered, wiping a hand beneath his glasses, brushing his tears away.

“Dear George, I didn’t let…” Blaise’s eyes widened as he looked at Percy, who was staring down at the ground, avoiding Blaise's gaze. He put his arm around Percy’s shoulder and held him tightly, swallowing the lump in his throat as he continued, “I didn’t let the Healers magically mend my lesser injuries from when I was hit by some of the rubble from the explosion… Sorry, you know what I mean. I wanted my scars to be a reminder so that I never forgot what I believed was my fault.”

Blaise blinked back tears. “But then Fred came back as a ghost, and we got to spend time with him and share what we've been up to since he died. He helped heal a part of me that I thought could never be fixed…”

“Wait, no,” Percy looked up, lowering Blaise’s arm. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have put that in a birthday message. What was I thinking?” He glanced at George, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t… I mean…” He expected tears from George, but all he received was a smile.

“No, Percy, no,” George said. “I’m well pleased to see you opening up in whatever capacity. Please continue doing that, regardless of the date.” He stood up and opened his arms. “Can I hug you?”

“Y-yes,” Percy whispered, crushing George in his arms. “Happy birthday, George. Blaise, save the rest of my message... just for George, please.”

“Alright, my love,” Blaise said softly, searching through the letter for his part. “I’m afraid my message isn’t very grand. I’m not that wordy…” Blaise cleared his throat and then read, “Dear George, I’m sorry that this day is hard for you. I’m glad I can count you among family, and I am here for you if you ever need someone to talk to. Happy birthday, love, Blaise.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” George asked, reaching out to pull Blaise into the hug with him and Percy. “That was a great birthday message. Thank you. I’m feeling so… lucky, and I didn’t think I could feel this way after losing Fred, especially on our birthday.”

Blaise smiled, holding George and Percy tightly. He levitated the letter to Pansy and smirked when he saw her blush.

“Dear G-Georgie,” Pansy read, nibbling on her bottom lip as her hands trembled. George pulled away from Percy and Blaise to approach Pansy, but this only made her flush deepen. “B-Blaise and I-I rushed over to your flat as soon as we felt yours and Percy’s magic when we woke up this morning.”

“You don’t have to read it aloud, Flower,” George said, reaching for her shaking hands.

“No, I want to,” Pansy said, determination in her voice. “I care about you a lot, and it’s still new for me… as you’d expect if you went nineteen years without any romantic feelings. So bear that in mind; I don’t know how to do romantic gestures. I’m not going to be a poet when writing to you! I’m not sure what the right thing to do here is. Do I bring up Fred? I suppose I should, right? You don’t like it when people act like… Well, you know what I mean? So, Fred? I only got to be around him for a little while when he came back. Of course, I saw both of you at school, although not often, and we never really interacted back then… Anyway… he was a great person. So are you, of course. It’s not a contest…”

Pansy dropped the letter at her side. “Wow, I rambled so much. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Is that the end of it?” George asked gently.

“No,” Pansy said, covering her face. “Your mum probably saw all our letters. Salazar!” She groaned and looked at the letter again. “Why am I talking about contests? Sorry! Well, happy birthday and happy birthday to Fred as well. I like you a lot, Georgie. Have I said that recently? Well, I’m saying it now. Love, Flower.”

“For someone who claims not to be romantic, that was quite romantic,” Blaise said. “Sure beats my message.”

“Be quiet,” Pansy said, glaring at Blaise. George grabbed her, surprising her by suddenly lifting her off the floor and spinning her around.

“I like you, too, a lot,” George said, pressing his lips to hers, not caring at all that they were in a room full of people. Pansy blushed, tangling her hands in his hair, kissing him back.

“See? George agrees,” Blaise said, bending down to pick up the letter Pansy dropped when George kissed her. He handed it to Charlie. “Think you can top Pansy’s message?”

“Hey there, my good girl,” Blaise said, a smile spreading across his face. The orange tabby tapped his cheek with her paw, relishing the attention from her humans. “Have you been taking care of your papa for me?” He glanced at Percy and winked, causing a blush to rise on Percy’s cheeks. “You know how important he is to me.”

Percy’s flush deepened. He nudged Blaise’s side. “It’s too early for teasing.”

“But it’s after ten!” Blaise mockingly exclaimed with a laugh. “It’s not teasing, love; it’s unabashedly flirting.” He winked again and squeezed Percy’s hand. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

“Flirting and teasing could be considered the same thing,” Percy mused. “I don’t mind.” He was thankful for how they were learning each other's boundaries and how respectful Blaise was, a quality that meant a lot to him. “Though maybe you should save the flirting for…” He glanced around as a group of young kids ran past them, laughing. “...when children aren’t present.”

Chapter 95:

Charlie opened his eyes and looked down at the dark hair visible beneath his chin. He yawned and ran his fingers through Lee’s short hair. Lee had been adorable with dreadlocks, but Charlie loved being able to do this now. As he became more aware of his surroundings, it dawned on Charlie what day it was, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Lee mumbled something and turned away from him, burying his face in a pillow.

From the magic he sensed around him, Charlie knew that Percy and George were still asleep. He bit his bottom lip and silently cast a Tempus charm, glancing at the time. It was seven in the morning, and if he remembered correctly, Fred and George were born at eight.

'How is George going to handle today? It’s his first birthday without Fred,' Charlie thought, wanting to push aside his own pain so he could be strong for George, but tears began spilling down his cheeks. He covered his face with his hands and sobbed quietly into them, trying not to disturb Lee.

Charlie recalled being five years old and excited about the thought of having another little brother, even though Percy was one at the time; it would still be fun to have another small person in the house. His mum came home with two new babies, which felt like a gift, even if, later on, having so many siblings could be annoying at times. The twins were so small, bundled in their blankets. Charlie looked at them and instantly fell in love. Bill, who was seven, hadn't been as impressed; now he had four little brothers, and who needed that many?

Shaking off the memory, Charlie sniffed and removed his hands from his face. He glanced down at Lee's head with a sigh. Lee could sleep through just about anything. Charlie carefully scooted away from him and got out of bed, padding across the room. He used a quick change spell to put on some trousers and then left his bedroom, his eyes widening when he bumped into Percy.

“Sorry,” Charlie whispered, quietly closing the door behind him. He looked at Percy and noticed that his eyes were red-rimmed; he knew Percy was feeling the pain of missing Fred just as much as he was.

Percy blinked behind his glasses at Charlie and then abruptly hugged him. This was unusual behaviour for Percy, so Charlie was caught off guard, but he quickly wrapped his arms around his little brother. Percy seeking comfort was a big deal, and Charlie was more than willing to give him all the support he needed.

“I could feel your magic,” Percy whispered against Charlie’s neck. “Were you crying?” 

Charlie noticed his shoulder getting wet and felt Percy’s glasses digging into his skin, but he didn’t mind. He sighed and held Percy tightly, knowing that what Percy disliked the most about being touched was when contact was too light; he had said it made his skin feel like it was on fire. Sure enough, Charlie could feel Percy relaxing more in his arms.

“I was,” Charlie admitted. “But so were you.”

“Yes, and I am again,” Percy said, making choking sounds in the back of his throat. He had never wanted to show this side of himself to others because he thought it would burden them. However, he was feeling more comfortable opening up now, and he knew much of that was due to Blaise and all the healing he and his family had undergone recently.

Chapter 97:

Dudley finished his shift at the bookstore and walked outside, standing on the pavement and looking toward the parking lot at his little beat-up car. All day, he couldn’t stop shaking. His coworkers were taking notice of his odd behaviour, and Dudley wished he could act like nothing was going on. All he could think about was his reunion with Harry, as well as meeting his magical friends. Dudley was excited to learn more about a world his parents had tried to persuade him to detest, but he was also terrified.

“Pardon the intrusion,” a male voice said from behind him. Dudley spun around, his heart pounding. He clutched his chest and gasped. Standing next to him was an older man and three young women, appearing to be around his age.

They were obviously magical. Although they were dressed in what could pass for everyday clothing, each had a unique style, except for one girl with darker skin, whose clothing looked the most normal.

“We were in the area,” the redheaded girl explained, though Dudley had his doubts. He nodded and smiled anyway. “We thought we’d meet with you and ask if you’d consider coming early so that you are well aware of everything before the wedding and get the chance to get to know Harry again, and his world.” She smiled, brushing her long hair out of her eyes. She was pretty, with freckles scattered across every bit of bare skin Dudley could see.

The older man looked just like her, so he must be her father, Arthur Weasley, that Harry mentioned.

“We’re sorry if we’ve disturbed you by showing up unexpectedly,” the girl with long blonde hair said. She had ice-blue eyes and a dreamy smile. She made him feel calmer, though Dudley couldn’t quite understand why she had that effect on him. She and the redhead were holding hands.

‘Lesbians, and so open about it,’ Dudley thought, though not unkindly. He wondered if magical people were unaware of the homophobia that existed in the non-magical world. Even his friends, Jesse and Kel, had to tone down their relationship when they were in public.

“I’m…” Dudley swallowed. “Sorry, I’ve been a nervous wreck,” he admitted, looking down. “This is all so sudden, but I am off tomorrow and the weekend.” He thought he had until the eighteenth to prepare, but they wanted him to go with them now? What could they possibly have to tell him that they couldn’t wait until after the wedding?

“That’s understandable. I’m Hermione Granger, and I didn’t know I was a…” She lowered her voice, “...a witch until I was eleven years old, just like Harry.”

“The rest of us are purebloods. I’m Luna!” Luna said with a bright smile. “You don’t have magic like we do, but it is in your bloodline, so it’s easy to read your energy,” she explained, her smile faltering slightly. “You can calm down, Dudley. We’re on your side.” She slowly walked toward him with her hands out, and he had the sudden image of a zookeeper trying to calm down a scared lion.

Dudley blinked, flushing when Luna hugged him, patting him on the head like he was a puppy. “There, there, it will all be alright.” Open affection, especially from a stranger, was not something he was used to receiving. When was the last time he got a meaningful hug? He couldn’t remember.

“Thank you. I’m fine.”

Luna stepped away from him and bounded back to the redhead. “This is Ginny, my fiancée. You’re coming to our wedding, well, double wedding with Harry and Draco.” She grinned widely. “It will be so great and fun!”

“She’s super excited,” Ginny said, “if you couldn’t tell.”

“But… you’re both so young,” Dudley blurted, eyes wide in astonishment. “For that matter, so is Harry. How old is his…person? It’s not… he’s not super old, is he?” It wasn’t some strange, magical ritual, putting Harry in some trouble, right?

“Age doesn’t matter in pureblood marriages,” Luna said with a giggle. "Though Harry isn't pureblood himself... but..."

“Within reason, age doesn’t matter,” Ginny quickly added.

‘Harry really is marrying an old man. What the hell? It isn’t even my place to talk him out of it. What have I got myself into?’ Dudley’s head spun with all this information.

“Relax,” Hermione said. “You’re assuming a lot right now, aren’t you? Harry and Draco are the same age.”

‘That’s good, but why… so young?’ Dudley crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the pavement nervously. 

“We should get somewhere a Muggle can’t overhear us,” Mr. Weasley said. “Please call me Arthur, by the way.” Arthur held his hand out and Dudley numbly shook it, feeling like he was in a daze.

Chapter 98:

“Do you mind an age gap?” Luna asked Dudley, making him jump because he’d been lost in his thoughts.

“H-he’s not an old man, is he?” Dudley asked, eyes wide. ‘Their idea of an age gap and mine are probably two different things!’

“No, he’s twenty-two,” Lee answered casually, making Dudley sigh.

‘Four years isn’t bad. I really thought they were going to set me up with a sixty-year-old. I feel so jittery,’ Dudley thought, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “That’s fine,” Dudley said, feeling completely out of his depth. He couldn’t believe where he was standing. 

There were so many fantastical things around him; shops with strange names, flying envelopes darting from shop to shop, and even a broom or two zipping by with odd advertisements hanging from their handles. 

Everywhere he looked, bulletin boards in front of stores displayed moving pictures and flashing words, enticing people to buy everything from state-of-the-art brooms to potions and other magical contraptions that Dudley couldn't make heads or tails of.

“Oliver getting seen on a date might cause a lovely article in The Daily Prophet,” Ginny said with a giggle, though she sounded sarcastic to Dudley. “They’re always writing about single players and their relationship status, or-”

“Whoa,” Dudley interrupted, raising a hand. “Slow down! This isn’t a relationship. It’s just a blind date.” He began to think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to run away after all, even if he got lost in this alien place. Perhaps he could find a kind grandmotherly type to help him get back to The Burrow. “Players? The Daily Prophet? I’m so confused.”

“Quidditch is the most popular wizarding sport. I’m a substitute commentator for professional games, so I have a lot of contacts. Plus, I went to school with Oliver. He was two years ahead of me,” Lee explained, though Dudley felt more bewildered the more Lee spoke. 

Harry laughed. “At least you look cute. I love that we still wear the Christmas pyjamas.”

Later in the day, people commonly spent time in the common room in their loungewear, and most of his friends still sported their holiday pyjamas. Along with Fred’s gift, the pyjamas also made them feel connected. They even put up with the harmless teasing they got from other students.

“At least you changed!” Draco leaned against a wall, his cheeks growing warmer as someone whistled at him. “I’m not going to live this one down.”

“Draco, everyone saw how your ass looked in a short skirt, while you were jumping up and down, might I add,” Harry smirked. “I got the moving photos to prove that.”

“Don’t remind me. We were all a bit mad.” Draco covered his face as a group of Ravenclaw girls ran past them, giggling at his pyjamas.

“Chill,” Harry said, pointing his wand at Draco. “I’m a pro at this.” He swished his wand in a circle and grinned when Draco’s pyjamas were transfigured into a Muggle pair of blue jeans, hugging his ass in all the right places, and a taut silver t-shirt to match his eyes.

Draco twisted around, looking at the way the jeans hugged his form. “Is it egotistical to say my bum looks great in these?”

“No. You look delicious. I’m going to gobble you up,” Harry teased. To prove his point, he leaned up, gently biting Draco’s cheek.

“Don’t leave a mark on my face. Shove off!” Draco laughed, halfheartedly trying to push Harry away, though he was stuck between Harry and the wall; he couldn’t do much with how Harry’s stomach was crowding him, not that he wanted to. They were shocked out of their playing about when they heard a shout further down the hallway. It sounded like a kid.

A jolt of fatherly instinct kicked in for both of them, and they ran toward the sound, finding Dennis Creevey next to a Slytherin boy named Miles.

Pressing a hand to the bridge of his nose, Draco groaned. Why was it always his house? For the most part, Slytherin students had been keeping to themselves and not causing trouble; however, when trouble arose, a Slytherin was often involved. Luckily, nothing too horrendous had happened, and Draco prayed it stayed that way.

“What’s all this, then?” Harry asked. His magic moved on its own accord, shocking him to see a clear protective bubble form around Dennis. Harry blinked a few times, confused. What was that?

“I can't believe it,” Draco whispered in amazement. He recognised it from his younger days. It was a type of magic that emerged instinctively when a parental figure was protecting a child. Seeing Harry use magic like that was profound, making Draco’s heart start to race. The baby wasn’t born yet, but they were already parents.

No one said a word at first, but Miles had the sense to look proper scared to be caught acting up by Harry Potter. It was one thing to be faced with a war hero, but it was a whole different story to be up against a hormonal, pregnant war hero.

Draco casually lounged against the wall, though his gut told him to pull Harry away before he was harmed. Although he reckoned Harry could handle himself in a situation like this against a kid, he didn’t want Harry to feel like he was being coddled like a baby.

"Nuffin!" Miles finally replied. "We were mucking about, right?" He shot a glance at Dennis.

"Your magic's giving me a different story," Harry said calmly. "I wouldn't fib if I were you. I might not seem like much in my current condition, but you'd be gutted to find out how well off you'd be to think that."

Powerful Harry was something to behold. Draco grinned, crossing his arms. “Give him a listen, he’s not lying. Spit it out. Who kicked off first? Why are you both sporting bruises on your faces?"

"Miles teased Hannah Abbot when she strolled past him in the corridor," Dennis mumbled, staring at his feet. "Nattering about her Mum doing her hair because of her pigtails. I-I…" Dennis looked at his hand, and they could see that his knuckles were bruised.

"He got me first." Miles gave Dennis an appraising glance. Harry was gobsmacked to see a cheeky mix of anger and respect in his eyes. "Landed a right proper punch. Didn’t even whip out any magic."

“I acted without thinking,” Dennis said.

“Alright, so both of you’re at fault.” Harry wondered if he should tell them to kiss and sort it out like a parent would, because he was definitely feeling like a babysitter with these annoying kids. Guilt ate at him for even thinking that, but he knew his hormones were messing with him.

“We should grab Minerva,” Draco said. “Let the professional deal with this.”

Dennis sulked, tears trickling down his cheeks, and Miles looked remorseful, frowning and looking at his feet. Harry sighed and then shook his head.

“No, kiss and sort it out,” Harry said, deciding to go with the parental approach.

“Kiss and…” Dennis wasn’t expecting that. He knew the phrasing. He came from a Muggle family, but Miles took it at face value, blushing as he looked at Dennis.

"That ain't a proper punishment," Miles said, looking up, his eyes wide. "Do we have to?" He twisted his hands together, his hands shaking slightly.

Draco stifled a laugh. He'd never heard that line before, but he seriously doubted Harry wanted to encourage a couple of fourth-year students to kiss.

“One peck per bruise,” Harry said, running with Miles’s assumption. If it helped break the ice, it would be worth the awkwardness. “On the cheek, mind you.”

Draco was going to faint from holding in his laughter. He knew Harry was winging this now. “Harry, that isn't exactly appropriate.”

“It’s not like we’re Professors.” Harry crossed his arms. "Oh, lighten up, you two, I didn’t mean for you to kiss for real. Shake hands and say sorry, will you?

Dennis smiled. “I knew that.” He bit down on his bottom lip and hesitated before offering his hand to Miles. “I’m sorry I hit you, but you shouldn’t have said that to Hannah, even if her Mum were alive to fix her hair. A dead family member is hard to deal with.”

Miles sighed, frowning. “S-sorry I hit you as well.” He walked closer to Dennis and shook his hand. “I-I’ll tell her I’m sorry.”

“Alright,” Dennis said. “Want me to go with you?”

Sniffling, Miles wiped a tear from his cheek. “Y-yes. I was only teasing about her hair. I thought it was c-cute. I d-didn’t know her Mum was dead.”

Harry looked at Draco, mouthing, ‘The kids will be fine. ’

“Address you how? Mr. Potter? Or would you prefer something a bit more kinky, like Sir Potter?” Malfoy asked, bending over and laughing. He seemed to find his joke hilarious. “Oi, maybe Master Potter?” Malfoy straightened up and fluttered his eyelashes. “I didn’t know you were like this, Potter.”

“Bloody hell, you’re insufferable. Is this how you are behind closed doors, or is this just your drunk personality?” Harry couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Is this happening? This is insanity.’

“I’m not drunk. I’m pissed.”

"What I don't get," Harry said, "is how it even got here?" He didn't mention the batteries and refused to see if someone had put them back in.

"There must be a reasonable explanation for how it got here," Hermione said, always the one to stay logical.

"I bet it's cursed," Draco said with a smirk. He thought it was a funny joke, but noticed how visibly pale Harry turned and regretted his words.

"I will kill you all."

"Well, that escalated quickly." Draco took a drink of his water, seemingly unaffected. Everyone else was looking on with wide eyes, terrified and confused. The Furby had sounded so sweet and innocent.

“It’s normal to have a delayed grieving process, Harry. You went through a lot.”

Harry pressed his face harder against Draco’s chest. “No,” he said, sounding muffled. “It’s different. It isn’t that. I don’t know… of course, I’m sad about the people we lost, but this isn’t…”

Bells. So many bells.

Draco took in a shuddered breath.

“Please listen to me, Harry, I think we should go talk to Madam Pomfrey,” Draco said softly, absentmindedly running his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“I’m sorry for yelling before, but I meant what I said. I’d feel silly for going there over a stomachache,” Harry said.

“Harry, you’ve got too many symptoms for it to be a coincidence, and frankly, I’m terrified, but we’ll work this out, so please, let’s at least check,” Draco pleaded.

Pulling back, Harry blinked at Draco. “I’m confused. Why would you be terrified? What symptoms? For the flu? Is there a serious wizard strain I don’t know about?”

“Oh, Merlin,” Draco groaned. “You have no clue, do you?” Why did he assume Harry would know? It wasn’t like Hogwarts offered a sexual education class, which was idiotic, now that he thought about it. How many clueless Muggle-born wizards came to Hogwarts and never learned wizards could carry a child?

Surely, a bookworm like Granger would have learned about it and told Harry, or even one of the Weasleys, because they were pureblood.

“You’re freaking me out. What?” Harry rubbed his eyes and bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Draco leaned forward, putting his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. “Males in the wizarding world can get pregnant, Harry.”

“Is that a joke to make me feel better?” Harry asked. “Don’t be so ri…”

“No, I mean it,” Draco said, pulling back. He put his hands on Harry’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Harry, I wouldn’t make a joke like this, especially not when you’re so distressed. This is real.” He didn’t know if his hands were shaking or if it was Harry shaking.

“I-I can’t be…”

“It is possible, though,” Draco said softly. “I’m sorry. It didn’t even cross my mind that you wouldn’t know and take action after the fact… I feel so irresponsible.”

Harry put a hand on his stomach. “What will we do if I am?” he asked. He knew purebloods had strict ideals when it came to certain things and had no clue what kind of beliefs Draco still held onto after he changed sides in the war.

“I’ll take responsibility, Harry. I’ll take care of you and the baby.” Draco swallowed hard.

They weren’t even in a relationship. What did Draco even mean? “That sounds like you’ll ask me to marry you,” Harry said, smiling slightly. He still felt terrified, but at least he wasn’t alone.

Harry stumbled out of Hermione and Ron’s fireplace, nearly falling. At twenty years old, it was embarrassing that he still couldn’t manage graceful wizard traveling.

He stood up, anxiously looking for Ron or Hermione. His hands were shaking, and he felt like he would faint if he didn’t get support soon. Living alone wasn’t the best for someone who craved touch, but Ron and Hermione had an open-door policy with him. Ever since Hermione figured out what he was suffering from in their second year, they had been there for him. Of course, she was the one who had figured it out; neither Muggle doctors nor magical healers found out, but a twelve-year-old Muggle-born witch could.

To be fair, his Muggle family never took him to the doctor, and the Wizarding World was behind in mental health care.

“Ron, Hermione, are you here? I feel like I’m about to di-” He trailed off when the last person he expected walked into the living room.

Percy, looking so good in Muggle clothing. Of all people, it had to be him.

Harry’s shaking intensified. He wasn’t usually this bad, but stress had really triggered a severe reaction.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry said, his voice wavering uncontrollably.

“They got called into the office and said I could stick around… Harry?” Percy approached him. “Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?” He asked, his voice high-pitched in worry. Before Harry could protest, Percy cast a diagnostic spell on him.

Percy’s eyes widened, and Harry felt shame wash over him. He knew what Percy's spell revealed: increased heart rate, high blood pressure, muscle tension, and rapid breathing. Not to mention the feelings that triggered all of this: stress, feeling unloved and unneeded, and moodiness. A lot going on.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” Percy frowned. “I should have asked first. I realize I’ve seen private things.” He hung his head in regret.

“It… it’s fine…” Harry managed, chewing on his lower lip until it started to hurt.

Percy shook his head. “Not fine. It’s inappropriate to do things without asking first. I didn’t even…” He trailed off and walked closer to Harry, reaching out hesitantly. He gently touched Harry’s back and guided him to the couch.

“Sit down,” Percy said. Harry nearly collapsed onto the couch.

Hugging himself, trying to imagine his arms belonged to Ron or Hermione, Harry couldn’t look up at Percy. He hardly ever got this bad around someone random. Of course, Percy wasn’t a random person; Harry had known him for nearly half his life.

Panicked, Percy left the room but soon returned with a blanket.

“May I?” Percy asked.

“Huh, oh…” Harry blinked, somewhat confused about what Percy meant. “Yeah.”

Percy wrapped the blanket around Harry, taking great care to avoid direct contact. Even so, he managed to wrap the blanket tightly around Harry.

Harry relaxed slightly, but a blanket couldn’t replace the love and care of human touch.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered.

He glanced at Percy from his blanket cocoon and felt his face flush at how openly Percy was studying him, trying to understand and figure something out.

Sitting down next to Harry but not touching him, Percy bit his lip. His hand trembled as he placed it on Harry’s shoulder.

“Once again, I am sorry for…”

Harry let out a humorless laugh. "Percy, you've known me since I was a child. Surely, you’ve noticed how I am, so it isn’t a stretch to believe you would already have an inkling of what’s going on. The fact that you've seen proof with the diagnostic spell doesn’t change much." Despite his shaking, Harry managed a small smile.

“Besides, you’re the smartest person I know.”

That comment made Percy blush. “It would have been presumptuously rude of me to assume anything.” He pulled his hand back. “So this…?”

“It doesn’t get so bad as long as I…” Harry flushed. Percy nodded, aware of how affectionate Harry was with everyone.

“Sometimes I get triggered into… well, this.” Harry tried to wiggle his face more into the blanket to hide his shame, but he was wrapped so tightly that he could hardly move. It was a good thing, as it helped with his shaking, at least.

“I see. And so Ron or Hermione…?”

“Or whoever… well, people I’m close with. Ron and Hermione let me come over whenever I need to, and it’s really nice because I’m sure I cramp their wedded bliss.” He tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sob.

Percy reached out and touched Harry's shoulder again. Harry was surprised at how often Percy offered contact, but he understood it was his way of trying to help. That made Harry feel grateful and only made his feelings for Percy grow.

“Does it matter who the person is, Harry?” Percy asked quietly.

“Eh… well, a little. Of course, I wouldn’t expect a complete stranger or someone I disliked…” Harry knew he was babbling, but he didn’t feel stable at the moment; it felt like he was starting to lose his mind.

“Do you like me?” Percy asked. Harry needed to make sure Percy hadn’t suddenly gone insane himself. Percy couldn’t possibly be offering to hold Harry, could he? Harry knew how much Percy avoided being touched by others more than necessary.

“Who couldn’t like you, Percy? Of course, I do.” He meant that in more ways than one.

“If it’s agreeable to you, Harry, you may rest against my side,” Percy said, his cheeks slightly pink.

Harry wondered if his state was affecting his hearing. He glanced at Percy and saw that he was rigid and looked uncomfortable, but he had a small, friendly smile on his face. Harry blinked in confusion.

“But… Percy, that is okay! I know you don’t like being touched much and… well, I can’t put my needs above others…” Harry was babbling again, but it was to be expected.

Remarkably, Percy moved closer on the couch, and now their thighs were touching. Harry could even feel Percy's body heat through the blanket. Now Harry's heart was racing for more than one reason.

“It isn’t so much that I hate it, Harry, but rather, I dislike the unexpectedness of things,” Percy mused. “It also depends on the person.”

Harry knew that was true. Percy allowed his family to hug him, albeit briefly. There were even times during greetings and goodbyes when Harry was allowed a hug from Percy.

“Okay,” Harry said in a soft voice that was almost breaking. He may have been a grown man, but he suddenly felt like an eleven-year-old again, recalling the first show of affection he received from his two best friends.

Awkwardly, Percy put his arm around Harry’s shoulders, and Harry leaned against him. It wasn’t the same as Ron or Hermione, who would have curled around him, rubbed his back, or played with his hair, but it meant almost more, considering Percy wasn’t used to such things.

Percy accio'd a book from the coffee table. “Shall I read to you, Harry?”

“Hello,” Remus whispered as he stroked the bird's silky feathers. The owl lifted her leg, waiting patiently while he removed the letter attached to her.

“What have you got here?” he asked, giving the owl a treat before returning to his bed. He sat down and looked at the letter in his hands.

The envelope had his name written in a fancy script.

As he opened the envelope, Remus blinked several times at what he saw.

—

Dear Mr. Remus J. Lupin,

I regret to inform you of this: Due to an error on my part while trying to develop a cure for your condition, a potion has backfired. Mr. Severus Snape, who was serving his detention with me for the disturbance he and Mr. Sirius Black caused recently, was unwillingly made to assist me in its preparation. As you might know, he is one of the best in potions.

The potion should have been harmless, and I still believe it to be so for your physical health, though perhaps not for your mental well-being, considering the feud between you and Mr. Snape. The potion we created was intended to utilize the properties of wolfsbane along with several other key ingredients to make your transformations less painful.

Unfortunately, when the potion backfired, it exploded, coating Mr. Snape from head to toe. Among the ingredients were some very personal items of yours, hair and fingernail clippings I had a house elf collect.

At this very moment, Mr. Snape is unconscious in the hospital wing, being attended to by Madam Pomfrey. When he awakens, I cannot predict what will happen. Since Mr. Snape was doused in a powerful potion containing some of your essence, I suspect you will experience a temporary mind bond, though I cannot say for how long.

Once again, I apologize. I was only trying to make your transformations easier on you. Please keep this information to yourself. Explaining why this has happened will raise too many questions about your condition. Mr. Snape is already aware of your situation, as you know from Mr. Black’s actions at the Shrieking Shack. He has agreed to keep it a secret. I encourage you to consider this an opportunity to befriend Mr. Snape. The feud between houses has persisted long enough, and I know you have nothing personally against him.

Just some food for thought.

Respectfully yours,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

—

With wide eyes, Remus closed the letter and put it away with the rest of his belongings. 'Mind bonding? A cure for my condition?'

He shook his head. 'Dumbledore knows there is no possible cure... and now look what has happened.' Although Remus couldn’t help feeling a little pleased that the professor cared enough to try to make his condition easier, the thought of having Snape help was unsettling.

It was true that Remus bore no ill will toward Snape, even though he knew that Snape felt differently. Snape hated Remus simply because he associated with James and Sirius, who often bullied him. Remus despised bullying and tried to convince his friends to stop, but they never listened. He even felt a twinge of pity for Snape, half wishing they could all move past their houses petty feud and become friends. After all, they had known each other for almost seven years.

'Mind bonding. Sirius would probably die if he knew. Godric, how will Snape react to this? Just how far will this mind bonding go? Will it be like telepathy, or will we seriously be able to hear everything the other thinks and dreams? Will we hear every thought or just those directed at each other?'

Confused and anxious about what tomorrow would bring, Remus lay back down and tried to fall asleep.

—

Severus woke with a start, his eyes wide and wild. He looked around the room, trying to remember where he was. Oh yes, he remembered. He had been helping Dumbledore with a potion meant to ease Lupin's pain when he transformed. Severus scowled, annoyed that he had to assist the very person who had tried to kill him.

~That isn't true!~

The voice in his mind was so loud and painful that it made Severus yell out in alarm. That was not his voice.

*What the hell? Lupin...?* Yes, Severus would recognize Lupin's voice anywhere, even if it was in his own mind. *I must be dreaming, but why would I dream about you?*

~If you're dreaming, then so am I. Dumbledore hasn't told you the side effects of the potion you were making, has he?~

*I've only just woken up,* Severus replied, rubbing the back of his head. What was going on? Why could he hear Lupin's thoughts? Why could Lupin hear his?

Quickly, Lupin informed him about the letter he had received. All color drained from Severus's face. *You've got to be joking. We're to share a mind!*

~I'm not exactly thrilled by the idea either,~ came Lupin's quiet voice. His voice tickled Severus's mind, and for some reason, Severus shivered.

“Doesn’t matter,” Severus said, shrugging the shirt on. As he feared, it was a bit baggy on him. He hoped he didn’t look as bad as he felt he looked. “I’m running the meeting, so I could go in a hot dog suit…”

The kid giggled. The baker looked down at him with more fondness than Severus had ever seen before, not even from his own parents.

“That would be so silly,” Teddy said. He ran back to his coloring book and sat down. “I’m going to draw you in a hot dog suit!”

“You brought that on yourself,” the baker said.

“Indeed. Thanks for the shirt.”

“Wait, one moment.” The baker ran back behind the counter and after a few minutes, he brought back another coffee.

“Thanks.”

“No charge. Please visit again. Don’t let this affect your opinion of my bakery. I make some pretty good bread if I do say so myself.”