I'm working on a new idea that is going to be eventual romance between Draco and Harry (with some side pairings thrown in. I love those!) I'm attempting something different from what I've written before, exploring trauma Draco might have from being in Azkaban, which causes mental health problems, such as age regression. Would any of this grab you? Some of my favorite parts so far.
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Summary:
The Ministry’s attempt to fake Harry’s death had exploded spectacularly, and public fury was nothing compared to the heartbreak inflicted on those who loved him. At least Harry had managed to persuade them to trust Ron and Hermione with the truth. Desperate to save face after their repeated failures to keep Harry safe, the Ministry seemed eager to sacrifice the Malfoys, hoping to distract the public from their mistake. To help Harry, Hermione enlisted the unlikely help of Dudley and Oliver to expose the Ministry.
***
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.
“Mother, you’re calling him…” Draco’s cheeks flushed as he stared at his lap. It did make sense. They kept rescuing each other, after all. “Alright, Harry.”
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Instead of Dumbledore, Harry meets Death at King’s Cross Station, who looks like a strangely familiar and very attractive middle aged woman. She informs him that collecting the Hallows was a test to find a man worthy of marrying her daughter. Harry’s a bit annoyed that he doesn’t get a choice in the matter, but Death assures him that he wouldn’t have passed the trials if he wouldn’t love her daughter. Besides, with all the flirting with death he’s done, she wouldn’t mind taking him for herself. She gives him twenty-four hours to take care of business before there’s a wedding ceremony, either with her or her daughter; she’s not picky. And, no, despite the legend, the invisibility cloak won’t hide him from her for this.
After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry tells Hermione what happened and she offers to go through a magical marriage ceremony with him that’s said to bind two souls beyond death. They scramble to get the ritual done.
Death shows up just as it’s completed, which is a tad embarrassing as it’s a sex ritual. What’s even worse is that Hermione recognizes Death as well. She’s her mother. Death is ecstatic that Harry chose her daughter and insists that they have a more traditional ceremony later for the whole family. Hermione is actually more upset having to deal with her cousins than the fact that her mother turned out to be the anthropomorphic personification of Death.
The war ends and the magical world is happy; everyone is celebrating except those who truly won the war.
Hermione’s offer to walk with Harry to his death has implications. Harry can’t get over the words that Hermione uttered to him. He never doubted her friendship and always trusted her intelligence as he valued her loyalty but he can’t figure out how to deal with those words. He remembers Dumbledore telling him it was his mother’s love, her sacrifice that kept him safe, alive and repeatedly saved him at the end of his first year. He knows his parents and Sirius, all loved him enough to die for him. He knows that in his twisted way perhaps even Dumbledore cared for him but no one had ever explicitly told him those words that were forever impressed upon his mind. He knew Hermione loved him, he knew he loved her as well… but this, this was so beyond friendship that she offered to him. Not even Ron had made that offer as he stood besides them in that moment.
Speaking of Ron, he watches his other best friend and sees him take a buxom blonde Ravenclaw witch, Lisa Turpin, he thinks her name is, in his lap as he snogs her for all he is worth at this celebration held by McGonagall at The Three Broomsticks, one he really couldn’t deny attending.
His eyes go around the room as he watches Hermione, hugging Parvati, as the pretty Indian witch sniffles, still mourning her best friend Lavender. He notices how Parvati is angry as she gazed at Ron and Hermione with Padma’s help manages to hold her back. The sisters leaving as Padma drags her twin forcefully and he watches Hermione looking at Ron as she sighs and shakes her head. His eyes never leaving her as she crosses the room to fetch a drink and is approached by Anthony Goldstein who had stood for a moment and if Harry wasn’t seated where he was, he would have missed Anthony blatantly checking out Hermione’s derrière in her tight fit snug black jeans. The sight infuriating him more than anything. He sees the two converse and pretty soon, Justin, Michael and Terry join them. Hermione had always been beautiful, but now she was a beautiful, war heroine - a celebrity and these boys were swarming her. Unlike Ron, she didn’t revel in the attention.
Ginny approaches him as he is about to walk to Hermione and asks him to dance with her but he declines. The redhead however isn’t willing to take no for an answer and he refuses to create a scene. The adamance has his annoyed and he’s sure that something in his expression might have been frightening because quickly Ginny backs off, telling him he’s changed… her Harry would never behave like this making him laugh coldly, as he tells her he was never hers and she’s never known him if this is what frightens her. If she can’t take a look and he’s gotten worse than what he was before the war and she would be better off with someone else than chase him because they were never going to make it. A few kisses don’t promise a happily ever after.
Saying so he marches towards Hermione and the expression that scared Ginny must have been something for those boys cower and walk away from Hermione quickly once he approaches her.
He’s amused that she doesn’t even cower or flinch as she takes him in. Rather a small smile appears on her lips, one that reaches her eyes as she thanks him for coming to her rescue once again. His intensity not bothering her at all.
They have a couple of drinks as they talk, make observations and snide remarks remaining in their private bubble for nearly half an hour when the music changes and a softer song starts playing and Harry doesn’t even know what prompts him but he takes Hermione by the hand and walks to the dance floor. The alcohol buzzing in his veins as the floor gets crowded and Hermione’s pressed up against him, his body in ways that she never has. Pretty soon he’s sure she feels his erection but doesn’t comment as she holds him close and continues to dance with him.
Before he knows it, he has apparated them to his bedroom at Grimmaulds and is kissing her furiously, clothes flying off their bodies in a blur as they come together in a mess of tangled limbs and hungry mouths. When she takes him in her mouth he thinks he has found the most amazing thing he could ever feel in his life, until he goes down on her and knows nothing can taste as good as she has on his tongue. But it is when he finally enters her, as their eyes meet that he feels something he has never felt before and knows can never feel with anyone else - he feels complete, he feels like he’s home.
Just after the final battle, Hermione wonders if it was all worth it, but gets a chance to see what things would be like if she didn't exist, "It's a Wonderful Life" style. To her the weirdest difference is that without her in his life, Harry doesn't seem to understand what love is.
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