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The Lesson of You

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“Ssh, Bobby. Bobby no.”

A warm, furry thing pressed against the side of Harry’s face and chest, a small snuffling sound emanating from its body. Harry reached out and patted at it, finding Todd’s ears and neck under his palm.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Ollie said.

Harry opened his eyes to see Ollie standing a few feet away next to the bed, a tray with three bowls on it in his hands. He was still in his pyjamas, his dark hair mussed from sleep.

“What are you doing, buddy?” Harry asked, rubbing his eye as best he could with Todd in the way.

“I made you and Papa breakfast. I tried to stop Bobby jumping up, but I couldn’t run with this,” he lifted the tray up slightly.

“Come here,” Harry said. Draco made a snuffling noise when Harry sat up, his arm slipping from around Harry’s waist.

Ollie handed Harry the tray and clambered up onto the bed, climbing over Harry and situating himself into the newly vacated space now between Harry and Draco.

Draco appeared to wake far more graciously than Harry had, his eyelashes casting little shadows over his face as he opened them to smile at Ollie and Harry and even Todd, who poked his small face up from Harry’s opposite side.

Ollie described their cereal as being crafted by hand from ingredients of far off lands, and Harry and Draco humoured him, despite knowing it came from the third aisle of the local supermarket, and that the box was likely still sitting half-full on the kitchen counter for them to find when they eventually made it downstairs.

It was curious, Harry thought as he sat there, how one could be so spilt between feelings for two people, how he could love Ollie with every part of himself, yet still have so much room for Draco. He knew exactly where his feelings for Draco were heading, and it was interesting to examine how drastically different they were from his love for Ollie. Previously, he’d experienced really only one kind of love. He’d loved Hermione and Ron and really the entire Weasley family, and he’d thought that was that. Perhaps that was why things hadn’t worked out for him and Ginny, why they’d fizzled out as quickly as they’d started; because his love for her wasn’t what she wanted, needed, or, perhaps, expected. He felt for her almost like he did for Hermione; he thought she was brilliant and lovely and wanted to spend time around her, but he didn’t necessarily feel romantic towards her.

Draco was different. He was the comfortable and somehow easy kind of love that had crept up on Harry until it was ingrained in his bones and he almost couldn’t imagine a time when that fact hadn’t been true. It was the thing of songs and poems, but then there was also Ollie. Harry certainly didn’t feel for Ollie what he felt for Draco, but he also couldn’t match it to how he felt for those he considered his family, like Ron and Hermione. It was like his love for Ollie came from an entirely new part of his body, like it was shaped and moulded in a way that couldn’t be touched by any other part of him, like it was completely and utterly out of his control. He hadn’t even know that kind of love existed, those purely paternal feelings, but now he couldn’t imagine going back, would have no way to erase them or push them away now that they had taken root deep within his core.

“I’ll bring dinner,” Draco was saying to Ollie as he sent their bowls out of the room with a wave of his wand.

“Can we have fish and chips?” Ollie asked, bouncing up and down on his knees. “I haven’t had that for ages.”

“Fuck,” Harry said under his breath, receiving wide eyed looks from both Draco and Ollie, both of whom were no doubt about to chastise him for swearing. “God, I love you both so much.”

“Love you too, Daddy,” Ollie said easily, launching himself into Harry’s hold and wrapping his arms around him.

Ollie saw absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about Harry’s sudden confession, but Draco was different.

Draco’s mouth was slightly open as he stared at Harry, clearly not sure how to respond.

“You don’t have to—“ Harry started to say, but Draco wound his arms around Harry and Ollie, pressing his face into Harry’s neck, holding them both so tightly.

“Yeah,” Draco whispered, and that was enough for now. Harry hadn’t expected Draco to be quite at the same level as him, but he thought that he might be, had hoped that he was. He hadn’t expected Draco to somewhat lay his cards on the table, though perhaps he should have, since Draco had been the one to make it obvious to Harry what he wanted in the first place. Harry had let himself be caught, but Draco had been the one to cast the line.

Draco didn’t mention what Harry had said, or what he himself had essentially admitted to, that morning or evening. Harry didn’t mind that he didn’t; his and Draco’s relationship hadn’t been rooted in words in the first place. Rather, they seemed to rely on gestures and long looks that had confused the hell out of Harry in the beginning, but that he rather liked now that he knew where he and Draco stood in relation to each other.

Draco had apparently decided to put away every last ounce of his poncy Pureblood upbringing when he picked up the take away that night, because he’d gotten authentic fish and chips “from some bloody shady store, Harry, I’m not even sure it was up to code”. Ollie was delighted, blissfully unaware about how apparently close to death his father had been picking up the meal, though Harry was sure that at least 90% of Draco’s story was heavily embellished.

“I would never,” Draco said, when Harry asked him just how dramatized his retelling was, but he’d still kissed the salt from the chips off of Harry’s lips while Ollie covered his eyes and squealed at them to stop.

“Are you staying the night again?” Harry asked once Ollie was in bed and he and Draco were sitting on the couch, the radio playing softly in the background.

“Ollie asked me that too,” Draco said, brushing his fingers along Harry’s collarbone.

“What did you tell him?”

“That I probably wouldn’t be.”

“Why not?” Harry asked, brow furrowing.

“Don’t you think it’s a little … soon for me to be staying over so much?”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Maybe on paper, but not for us.”

“Why?” Draco asked, turning Harry’s head to better look at him. “How are we any different from anyone else?”

“Well, we’ve skipped quite a few steps, don’t you think?” Harry asked. Seeing Draco’s confusion, he pressed on. “Most people meet and then date for a while. They move in together and maybe get married if they don’t drive each other completely mental, and have kids if they want. We didn’t really do things in the right order.”

“So that means we should skip the other steps?” Draco looked as though he was concentrating, his eyes staring into Harry’s as he tried to explain.

“No, but I do think that we’re a little different. You’ve liked me since fourth year—“

“Not like this.”

“No, but still. It’s been there, under the surface. We’ve already been spending time together every day and we practically act like we’re married already.”

“Bloody hell, you’re not asking me to marry you, are you?” Draco asked, eyes wide.

“No,” Harry laughed. “I’m just saying that we spend every bit of spare time you have with each other during the day, so what difference do nights make?”

“Alright,” Draco said after a moment, biting at the inside of his cheek as he thought about it. “Alright.”

“Alright,” Harry said with a smile that stretched across his face.

And Draco did stay.

Harry had thought his presence was ingrained into their lives before, but he’d been more wrong than he’d expected. While it was true that Draco had been spending almost all his leisure time at Grimmauld Place, or out and about with Harry and Ollie, he hadn’t been using his leisure time as he would have if he’d been at the Manor by himself. He was more relaxed after Harry’s little speech, seeming happy enough to bring his big stack of potions textbooks and put them on Harry’s bookshelf in the living room, taking one down to read as Harry and Ollie played with Legos on the floor in the evenings, racing to see who could build the highest tower the fastest, pausing in his reading to utter sounds of reverence or exclaim about how lovely Ollie’s tower was, smiling into the pages of his book when Harry pouted about not receiving the same avid praise that their son did. It usually ended with Draco giving him a consolatory kiss, so Harry didn’t mind the favouritism all too much. Besides, Draco’s praise always lit up Ollie’s face like it was the best news he’d ever heard, and Harry found his heart swelling whenever he saw it.

Draco didn’t bother redoing his temporary vision correction charms at night sometimes, cooking dinner with Harry while wearing his glasses, transfiguring a pair out of an empty cereal box when Ollie asked for his own so he could better resemble Harry and Draco. Draco’s clothes hung in Harry’s closet next to his own, and his toothbrush sat next to Harry’s on the bathroom counter. He picked up groceries before coming home one day, filling the cupboards with his favourite snacks that he always refused to share, but ended up doing so anyway after Harry sunk to his knees and sucked him off in the kitchen late one night.

Ollie stopped asking whether or not Draco was staying for dinner, or whether he’d be coming for breakfast, or if he could please stay the night “in case Daddy gets scared”, and that somehow was the part that made Harry the happiest, that Ollie wanted and needed both of them equally, and that he wasn’t worried about whether they’d both be around when he needed them. The three of them together felt like more of a family than Harry had ever felt possible, filling gaping holes inside of Harry’s heart that he hadn’t even known existed until they were no longer there. Harry might not have made a concrete decision about what he wanted to do with his life in the semi-near future, but he found that he didn’t need to worry so much anymore. Everything else seemed so unbelievably insignificant in life whenever he looked over at Draco and Ollie curled up on the couch together, their heads bent over whatever picture book Ollie had picked out for Draco to read to him that night, the transfigured glasses Ollie had asked for sliding down his nose a little he bent his neck to peer at the words on the page as he attempted to sound them out, Draco murmuring praise when he got the sounds right. Harry didn’t need anything else anymore; he already had everything he’d ever wanted.

/ - /

Hermione came over one Saturday afternoon as Harry was just getting back from the shop, groceries in hand. Draco and Ollie had declined his invitation to come along, instead preferring to take Todd for a walk and maybe to the park down by the corner of Grimmauld Place. The sound of the Floo startled Harry and he almost dropped one of the bags he was carrying, laden with vegetables and a suspicious box of crackers he hadn’t been able to stop himself from picking up. They were Teddy’s favourite and he missed him like crazy, not having been able to see him for weeks now. He’d wanted to take Ollie round to see him since they were apparently good friends in Ollie’s world, but Ollie’s Teddy was somewhere around twelve, whereas Harry’s Teddy was only two. Harry hadn’t thought Ollie would react too well to the change in Teddy’s age, so he’d explained to Andromeda that he’d leave Ollie with Draco and come by sometime soon. Harry was just thankful that Teddy was still young enough that he likely wouldn’t notice Harry’s absence, though Harry would still make it up to him the next time he saw him.

Hermione nearly ran into Harry in the doorway to the living room, her wand automatically coming up as she cast a spell to levitate Harry’s groceries into the kitchen for him.

“Don’t know why I didn’t just do that,” Harry said sheepishly, watching as the groceries put themselves away.

“What would you do without me?” Hermione sighed. Harry followed her into the kitchen, where she slid into one of the chairs at the dining table. “How are things?”

“Good. Really good,” Harry said, unable to keep the smile off his face.

Ah,” Hermione said, her expression warm. “I expected as much.”

“Apparently everyone did,” Harry said, smiling in mock exasperation. “Did you want a cup of tea?”

She nodded, reaching into her bag to pull out a small scroll of parchment. Hermione waited until Harry was seated opposite her to unravel it, words and diagrams and what looked like mathematical equations crammed into every inch of the available parchment space.

“Uh,” Harry said, staring at it with wide eyes. He hoped Hermione wasn’t expecting him to know what any of it meant. Thankfully, she didn’t.

“I’m not expecting you to be able to make sense of it. I barely can, and I wrote it,” she said, rolling the parchment back up.

“So what is it?”

That is the very complicated and long winded explanation of how Ollie got here and how he’ll get back.”

“Oh,” Harry said, frowning at the table where the parchment had just been. “So you’ve figured it out then?”

“No,” she said with a wry smile. “Actually, the calculations show you just how bloody impossible it would be for me to work it all out with certainty.”

“Oh,” Harry said again, more life creeping into his voice. “So you can’t know? It’s impossible to send him back?”

“Not without knowing exactly which potions ingredients were on his hands at the time, and what he caught himself on when he tripped. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, except the haystack is the size of England. We could try, of course, but I’m not going to attempt sending him anywhere without knowing exactly where he’ll end up, and it’s not like someone could go with him; then we’d just be back to square one. It’s a bit impossible, really.”

Harry couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face at the words. “It’s fine. God, it’s so fine. It’s not like we wanted him to go anywhere.”

“You’re missing him somewhere out there,” she said softly, reaching across the table to squeeze Harry’s hand.

“But there’s nothing we can do, so I can’t feel too sorry about it,” Harry said, unable to stop himself from smiling. He could physically feel the tension releasing from his body at hearing that there was nothing they could do. They didn’t have to send Ollie back because they couldn’t. “He could be from anywhere in the universe, after all.”

“So you’re still thinking space and time?” Hermione asked. “I’m not sure that’s possible, but time itself certainly is.”

“Definitely space and time,” Harry said. “A parallel universe or something.”

“You really think those exist?”

“Magic does.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said, sipping at her tea. “It’s just a little frustrating not being able to solve the puzzle.”

“That’s probably the first time you’ve ever had to say that,” Harry said with a smirk.

“Speaking of puzzles, you should invite Draco to brunch tomorrow,” Hermione said, smiling at him coyly over her teacup.

“I was thinking about it,” Harry said. “I’m just not sure … won’t it be awkward, what with his past?”

“It might have been,” she said, setting her teacup down. “But I think Ollie’s bridged the gap a little. He talks about you two a lot when you’re not there, you know. You both obviously love him and have raised him well, wherever you’ve done it. He talks about his sister, too. Does he do that with you?”

“Not since he first got here,” Harry said with a frown.

“Apparently he wasn’t too taken with her when she was first born, and is a little scared that he accidentally wished her away somehow. Didn’t believe your explanation of her being off with Charlie and my daughter, but I convinced him. He was quite concerned.”

“He didn’t mention it, no,” Harry said. What else was worrying Ollie that he hadn’t thought he could bring up?

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Hermione said. “I talked with him and I think he’s fine about it now. But really, do invite Draco.”

“I will,” Harry said. “I’d like for him to be there.”

“I’m glad you both have got here,” she said, smiling at him. “We’re all really happy for you, Harry. For all of you.”

And Harry thought about the three kinds of love he felt right at that moment as Hermione squeezed his hand, the sounds of Draco and Ollie and Todd arriving home through the front door, their laughter loud in the air.

/ - /

“Is that a good idea?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly. “Hermione thinks so, and I do too.”

“Please come, Papa,” Ollie said, clinging onto Draco’s hand. He was pouting, his tiny bottom lip pushed out as far as it could go as he gazed up at Draco with his big grey-green eyes.

“They’ll hate me,” Draco said.

“They don’t,” Ollie cried.

“Ollie, go through and we’ll come in a moment,” Harry said, handing Ollie some Floo powder. He smiled at Ollie’s concerned expression, and ushered him into the Floo. “They won’t,” Harry said to Draco, once Ollie had disappeared into the vibrant green flames.

“Have you even asked them? The kinds of things they hate me for don’t just go away overnight, Harry.”

“We’ve been over this war stuff,” Harry sighed. “Everyone knows you were just a kid, and they all know how good you’ve been with Ollie.”

“Been singing my praises have you?” Draco asked, but his shoulders lost some of their rigidity.

“Actually, Ollie has,” Harry laughed. “Mine too, according to Hermione. Someone who raised him couldn’t be all that bad, they reckon. Can’t say I disagree with them.”

“I’m leaving if hexes start getting thrown,” Draco sighed, taking some Floo powder. His lips twitched into a small smile as he glanced back towards Harry.

“That’s the spirit,” Harry said, pressing his lips to Draco’s.

It was fine, as Hermione had assured Harry it would be. Draco was apparently now known through his connection to Ollie, rather than his connection to the war. Harry supposed that common ground would do that to people, would take down walls and allow for healing to happen.

Ginny – back from her season with the Harpies – was apparently the love of Ollie’s life, which amused absolutely everyone to no end. He’d run straight to Ginny, bypassing even Molly, and had immediately started begging her to show him photos from her latest Quidditch season. Ollie’s exclamations took some of the attention off of Draco, which Harry was thankful for. Draco was polite as usual but still clearly on edge, preferring to stand and watch Ollie rather than throw himself into the various Weasley conversations happening around the table.

“My word, that’s adorable,” Molly said to Harry and Draco, as they all watched Ollie climb onto Ginny’s lap, all the while pleading for her to tell him more stories of her time with the Harpies. “You’ve certainly raised him to be a future Quidditch player, with that level of interest.”

“Hufflepuff won’t know what hit them,” Harry said. He smiled as he imagined a much older Ollie darting above the pitch on his broom wearing bright yellow flying robes. He wondered what position the older version of his son would play, whether he’d take after both of his father’s and be a Seeker, or whether he’d take after both Ginny and Harry’s father and be a Chaser. Maybe he’d even carve out a new position for himself among the team.

Harry was jerked out of his daydreaming by a tinkle of laughter coming from the table, Ginny smiling widely at a sheepish looking Ollie, who was still perched on her lap.

“Did he just talk about marrying her?” Molly asked, snorting with laughter into her palm. “Merlin, he’s a bit forward.”

“Good to know he apparently likes strong women,” Draco said, unable to hold back his own snort of laughter.

Molly patted Draco on the shoulder. “Flattery like that will get you everywhere,” she said, and handed him a biscuit.

“If only you could have been like this,” Ginny called out to Harry, smirking to show she was mostly joking.

“Proposals aren’t binding until the person asking is at least twelve,” Harry said, walking forward to scoop Ollie up to tickle him. “You’ll have to do a whole lot of grovelling if you want parental consent.” Ollie shrieked with laughter and held his hands out to Ginny, who eagerly took him back.

“So is it true that he’s basically a little window into the future?” Ginny asked, peering into Ollie’s eyes. “I predict pumpkin pie within the next few hours.”

“That’s cheating,” Ron called out from further down the table. “You helped Mum make it.”

“Ah, so it’s accurate, is what you’re saying?”

“Yeah,” Ollie cried, throwing his hands up. “I love Nanna’s pumpkin pie.”

“Yes, you’d better start flattering your mother in law early,” Molly said, handing Ollie a biscuit from the tray she’d just brought out.

“So if Ollie can see the future, then who do I marry, hmm?” Ginny asked. “I should get to know since George did.”

“He’ll just say himself,” Draco said, before Ollie could open his mouth. “There’s definitely a bit of Slytherin in there.”

Ollie nodded, his little head bobbing up and down, making Ginny snort with laughter.

“Alright then, what else can we ask him?”

Nothing, because knowing your future can be disastrous,” Hermione said, clapping her hands over Ollie’s ears.

“It’s not like it’s the real future,” Harry said, snagging one of the biscuits from the tray.

Hermione sighed at Harry’s words and elaborated when Ginny shot her a look of confusion. “Harry here is under the impression that Ollie has broken every known law of the universe and has travelled through both space and time.”

“What are you saying?” Ollie laughed, slapping at Hermione’s hands which were still firmly planted over his ears.

“Grown up stuff,” she whispered into his ear, making him screw up his face and stick out his tongue.

“Hermione thinks he’s just come back in time, no space,” Harry said.

“Well that one certainly seems far more logical,” Ginny said, shrugging. She pulled Hermione’s hands off of Ollie’s ears. “So, crystal ball, does your Dad ever decide to go back to the Auror department?” Ollie looked confused, so she elaborated. “Does he catch bad wizards still?”

“Yeah,” Ollie said. “He has a big office and a red coat and Cheryl, who has the sherbet lollies.”

“Is he married to Cheryl?” Ginny asked, eyes wide.

“No, he’s married to Papa. Cheryl brings him his letters.”

“Ah,” Ginny said with a nod. “Suppose that makes your career decision easier then, already knowing what it’s going to be.”

“I haven’t even decided to go back to the Aurors yet,” Harry said.

“Apparently you will,” Ginny shrugged.

Everyone got a right kick out of Ron’s future career as a teacher to the family’s various children, but Ron stated that he didn’t have a problem with his future career prospects.

“Sounds nice, doesn’t it?” he said with a shrug.

Thankfully, Molly stopped everyone from prying answers about their possible futures from Ollie by bringing out the food. Harry squeezed Draco’s hand under the table and Draco shot him a small, private smile, squeezing back.

Draco needn’t have worried; everyone was even more welcoming than Harry had hoped they would be. Draco and Hermione talked about academics for nearly the entirety of brunch, only to be broken up by Ginny asking Draco about his potions apprenticeship. She asked him if he’d done any work with broom potions, and Draco promised to develop something for her once he’d gotten more experience in brewing them. Everyone was lovely, and Harry’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest at the pure happiness on both Draco and Ollie’s faces. He didn’t think he’d ever want anything more than this, and he wouldn’t have changed anything about the morning for the entire world.

“Thank you,” Draco said once they’d stepped into Harry’s living room from the Floo, pulling Harry into a kiss.

“My pleasure,” Harry replied, sucking one of Draco’s lips between his own.

“No, but really,” Draco said, stepping back. His cheeks were already flushed from the contact, and Harry itched to reach out and touch them. “I had a lovely time. It was surprisingly good.”

“I’m glad,” Harry said with a smile, before Ollie came barrelling out of the Floo and into his legs.

“I want to do something for you later,” Draco whispered into Harry’s ear as Ollie tore off through the house in search of Todd, calling his name in a sing-song voice. Draco pressed a kiss to Harry’s neck and stepped back, walking into the kitchen. Harry groaned and glared in his direction, willing his prick to ignore everything Draco had been hinting at, lest Ollie come walking back in. He wasn’t quite ready to have to explain the birds and the bees to a five year old.

Bloody Draco made him keyed up for the rest of the day, unable to sit still. It was ridiculous, and he ended up wanking in the bathroom to stop himself from being so jittery. He imagined all the things Draco could choose to do to him as his fist flew over his cock, picturing them so clearly in his mind it was like the various acts were happening right in front of him.

Harry practically dragged Draco to the bedroom once Ollie had finally gone to sleep, insisting on Todd coming into the room with him. Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry’s lack of want to put up at least somewhat of a fight as to the moving of Todd’s bed, but Harry didn’t care. Ollie also seemed surprised, but clearly wasn’t about to push his luck.

A laugh bubbled up form Draco’s throat when Harry pushed him against the inside of the door of their – their – bedroom, pressing up against him and kissing him hard.

“A bit eager, are we?” Draco asked, biting at Harry’s lip.

“It’s a special form of torture having you in front of me all day but not being able to touch you like this,” Harry said, sucking a mark onto Draco’s neck. “God, can I fuck you?”

“Please do,” Draco said. He reached between them to strip off their shirts, Harry getting in his way with his want to keep his hands all over Draco, to touch all the bare skin that was being revealed to him inch by inch. Draco ended up waving his wand to get them out of the rest of their clothes, obviously not wanting to wait any longer than Harry did.

Harry pushed him down onto the bed and rocked his hips against him, grinding their cocks together. Draco gasped and tightened the hand that was resting on Harry’s back into a fist. Harry muttered an Accio to call the lube over, and pressed Draco back into the mattress, pulling one of his legs up around his waist.

“Fuck, can we—” Draco gasped, pressing back against Harry’s finger. “Oh god.”

“Not teasing this time,” Harry said, sucking a mark onto Draco’s collarbone as he curled two fingers inside Draco.

“Clearly,” Draco replied, clutching at Harry’s shoulder as he spread his legs wider. “Fuck, sit up against the headboard.”

Shit, yeah,” Harry muttered, giving his fingers a final twist before pulling them out.

He pushed one of the pillows out of the way and pressed his back to the wood of the headboard, Draco straddling his hips.

“Can you—“ Draco said, his words ending in a gasp as Harry pressed three of his fingers back inside him, rubbing directly onto his prostate.

“Can I what?” Harry asked coyly, fucking his fingers in and out sharply.

“That,” Draco gasped again, pressing his chest against Harry’s and rocking his hips down onto Harry’s fingers.

“Fuck yes, Draco. Fuck yourself on my fingers,” Harry said, gently biting at Draco’s collarbone.

Draco moaned and rocked his hips back harder, whimpering when Harry stilled the movements of his fingers. Harry stayed still, making Draco fuck himself on Harry’s fingers as he pictured it was his cock. That would come later, obviously, but he liked watching Draco get worked up first.

Harry, fuck, come on,” Draco groaned, reaching behind him to grasp for Harry’s cock, slicking it up.

“Yeah,” Harry gasped, pulling his fingers from Draco’s arse. “Merlin, yes.”

Draco slid down his cock quickly and efficiently, shifting his hips to find the angle which opened his arse up around Harry the easiest. Harry resisted the urge to fuck up into Draco, giving him ample time to adjust. Just like the first time, he didn’t know how he’d gone two decades of his life without this, how he’d survived before he’d been allowed into the deepest recesses of Draco’s body. How he had lived with Draco being right there in front of him for so many years, yet being unable to touch him, he didn’t know.

Draco whimpered and started to roll his hips, planting his hands on Harry’s shoulders to give himself leverage. Harry’s hands fell to Draco’s waist, helping him move on his cock. Draco’s head was tipped back, the small marks Harry had bit and sucked onto his fair skin standing out against the pale background. Harry’s nails dug into the skin of Draco’s hips as he moved up and down on Harry’s cock, his arse clenching. He gasped and yanked Draco’s head down to be within reach of his, pressing his tongue into Draco’s mouth when he gasped.

“Touch me,” Draco whimpered, clumsily grasping one of Harry’s hands and pressing it against his cock, bobbing with each roll of Draco’s hips.

“Yeah,” Harry moaned, wrapping his hand around it. Draco gasped and thrust forward into Harry’s fist, changing the angle of Harry’s cock inside him. Harry used the small bit of leverage he had to fuck up into Draco as he jerked his cock, sucking wet kisses across Draco’s neck and jaw. Draco was moaning loudly, and Harry hoped the silencing spells that were built into the walls of the house would hold, because he was in no mood to shush Draco.

“Fuck,” Draco gasped, whimpering into Harry’s mouth when he pressed their lips together. “Fuck, Harry, yes.”

His arse clenched around Harry’s cock and he came with a shout, come shooting onto their chests. Harry followed him immediately, not able to hold out any longer after watching Draco’s orgasm. Draco’s arse was looser and more open as he spurted into it, and he felt a bit of his come slip down his cock and onto his bollocks. He stroked up and down Draco’s damp back, pressing his hands into the muscles. Draco made a content sound against Harry’s neck and arched his back to give Harry more access to his muscles. Harry’s cock slipped out and Draco made a face, Harry letting out a bark of laughter at the sight of it.

“I’ll clean up,” Harry said, giving Draco a soft kiss.

“Mm,” Draco said, rolling off of Harry and snuggling into the blankets as he waited for Harry to cast a cleaning charm.

Harry bit at Draco’s arse playfully and Draco pulled him up for another kiss, before batting at his head and frowning in mock anger.

“You too,” Draco whispered once Harry had turned the lights off and was curled up behind him, his face pressed against the back of Draco’s neck.

“Hmm?” Harry asked, half asleep.

“You too. Well, me too.”

Harry snorted sleepily against Draco’s skin once he figured out what he meant. “It doesn’t count if you don’t actually say the words.”

“Yours did, so mine does too,” Draco replied. He wiggled his hips to better fit his arse against Harry, and pulled Harry’s arm tighter around his waist.

“Ok,” Harry said, smiling into Draco’s hair. “I’m glad.”

“Good. Because I wanted you to know.”

“Love you, Draco,” Harry said a few minutes later, sleep pressing down on him.

“I love you too, Harry,” Draco replied, squeezing his hand hard.

/ - /

They got into a routine, the three of them. They would have breakfast together at the kitchen table on weekdays, in bed on weekends. During the weekdays Harry and Ollie would do things together, take Todd for walks or play with Ollie’s Lego or watch one of the Muggle films that Ollie was completely taken with. When Draco got home, Harry would go start dinner or read a book in the kitchen while Draco and Ollie spent some time together. Then they’d all cook dinner as a family, Ollie tuning the radio to whatever Muggle station he decided was playing the best music at the time. Most of the time Ollie would convince them to dance, and he’d attempted to teach Harry some kind of variation of ballroom dancing that Harry was completely hopeless at, much to Draco’s amusement. After dinner they’d play quietly or watch a Muggle film until it was deemed late enough for Ollie to go to bed. Harry and Draco would alternate nights reading books of Ollie’s choice, with Draco usually telling Ollie the tales from the books he loved as a child, while Harry was relegated to the various Muggle books they’d picked up when they went into Muggle London.

The weekends were for the three of them. Ollie was getting better and better at riding the training broom, able to get up to the maximum speed the thing allowed, which terrified Harry a little. Draco promised to buy him the model from the next age group up, and agreed that he would ask Ginny if she would come over and teach Ollie some tricks. They picked up a new box of the animal fireworks Ollie loved from Ron and George’s shop, and made a few trips into Diagon Alley. Harry found that he didn’t much care what the Prophet printed about him now, because he was far too happy to give a shit. They could print all the lies they wanted, but he, Draco, and Ollie knew the truth. And that was more than enough for him.

They started making more long term plans as to what to do with Ollie, now knowing that he’d be sticking around for a long while. The largest concern for Draco was Ollie’s schooling, not wanting him to fall behind where a wizard child should be at his age.

“We can’t exactly use the same method that he’s used to,” Draco said, tapping his fingers down the side of his teacup. “Ron’s not exactly going to give up his shop to teach Ollie mathematics.”

“We could enrol him in a Muggle primary school,” Harry suggested, shrugging. It had been where he himself had gone as a child, after all, and he’d turned out alright. He’d had a bit of a shit time, but that had been thanks to Dudley and his little gang, not because of the school itself. They’d look around and find the best fit for Ollie, of course. They could certainly send him to some poncy private school if that’s what Draco would prefer; it wasn’t like either of them were short on funds, after all.

“Merlin, no,” Draco said, wrinkling his nose up. “Next suggestion, please. How about a private wizarding tutor?”

Harry frowned a little as he pictured it, Ollie sitting at a table with some stodgy old witch or wizard as he tried to learn to read, while Harry and Draco were off doing things outside the home. He didn’t want to leave Ollie there, waiting for them to come back, getting scared that they might not. No, they couldn’t expect Ron to pick up his teaching career from that other world, but they could do the next best thing.

“I’ll do it,” Harry said, taking a sip of his tea. “I’ll stay home and teach him.”

And it all sounded so right when he said it, like everything was falling into place. Harry had no desire to leave Ollie at home with someone else, with no other children in sight. Besides, Harry knew exactly where Ollie was at with his education, and what his strengths and weaknesses were. It was the perfect solution.

“Are you sure?” Draco asked. He was worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth slightly, like he was concerned that Harry hadn’t thought his suggestion through.

“Yes,” Harry said, and he was. “I’m sure. It’ll be fun.”

“Won’t you go a bit mental, staying at home all the time?”

And Harry laughed, because that was essentially what he’d been doing since Ollie had gotten there. And it wasn’t like he would be by himself; he’d always have Ollie and Todd around to keep him occupied.

“What about your career?” Draco asked, setting aside his cup. His hands were linked on the tabletop, like he was interviewing Harry about a job position.

“What about it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to return to it at some point?”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged. “And I still could, when Ollie got a bit older. He won’t stay home forever, he’ll be heading to Hogwarts in a handful of years.” And Harry didn’t particularly want to think about that, about Ollie heading off to bloody Scotland and only coming home a few times during the year.

“They won’t let you just slip back into your positon, you know. Not even being Harry Potter could let you get away with taking a six year sabbatical and picking up right where you left off.”

“That’s fine,” Harry said. “I could go through training again, if I needed to. I wouldn’t even necessarily have to go back into the Aurors; I could do something else in the Ministry. There’s so many departments that I’m sure I could find the right one. Hermione will probably be the Minister for Magic by then, anyway, so I could even just be her assistant.”

“And you’re sure about this?” Draco asked, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards slightly. “You really want to throw away the glitz and glamour of the Auror force to stay home and teach a five year old his spelling words?”

“Glitz and glamour isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Harry said. He stood up from his seat and rounded the table, crouching in front of Draco. “I’d much rather have this, anyway.”

Draco tugged him forwards until he was sitting on his lap, and curled his arms around Harry’s waist, tucking his face into Harry’s shoulder.

“We’ll need a bit of structure, of course. Lesson outlines, and the like,” he said against Harry’s shirt.

“Naturally,” Harry said, pressing a kiss to the top of Draco’s head. “I assume you’ll be wanting to help out with that?”

“Well we wouldn’t want our son to receive a subpar education now, would we?” Draco said, his voice so fond that a ball of contentment settled in the middle of Harry’s chest. “Does this mean I have to start calling you Professor now?”

“If you like,” Harry said, letting out a small snort of laughter.

“Hey, lads,” Ollie called out, trotting into the room.

“I’m going to murder George for telling him to call us that,” Draco mumbled, before pulling his face away from Harry’s chest. “Yes, buddy?”

“Can I come up? I drew a picture,” Ollie said, waving a piece of paper in the air.

“Merlin, it’s a masterpiece,” Harry gasped, hauling Ollie onto Draco’s lap as well.

“I went almost all in the lines,” Ollie said proudly, dropping the picture on the table. The drawing was a picture of Harry and Draco holding hands, their wide smiles practically coming off of their faces. Above their stick figure selves, Ollie had written ‘Papa and Daddy’ in his clumsy script, the letters running across the page in varying sizes.

“It’s beautiful, Ol,” Draco said, squeezing Ollie’s hand. “Should we get Daddy to put it up on the fridge?”

“Yeah,” Ollie said, grabbing the picture and holding it out for Harry to take.

Harry leaned over Ollie to press a soft kiss to Draco’s mouth, before doing the same to Ollie’s cheek. Draco laughed when Ollie scrunched his face up, no doubt pretending he didn’t absolutely revel in the ready affection that both Harry and Draco doled out to him in spades. Harry still wasn’t sure why they did so, considering neither of them were overly physically affectionate with any of their close friends, even now. Harry suspected that it might have something to do with the minimal physical affection they themselves received as children from the people who were supposed to care from them. Both consciously and subconsciously, Harry wanted to ensure that Ollie never once felt unwanted or unappreciated like he himself had as a child, and he suspected that Draco felt entirely the same.

“Papa,” Ollie said quietly, as Harry stuck his drawing to the fridge. “I’m glad that you and Daddy are happy again.”

“Oh, buddy,” Draco said, his voice thick. He was holding Ollie tightly to his chest when Harry glanced back over, his face pressed into Ollie’s hair. “You don’t have to be worried about us.”

“I thought you might be fighting, since you didn’t hug and kiss each other for so long,” Ollie said. His voice was a little muffled, a consequence of hugging himself to Draco so tightly.

“We’re not fighting,” Draco said. He glanced up at Harry, his eyes shining slightly. “We love each other, and we love you just as much.”

“It’s true, buddy,” Harry said, coming to kneel next to the chair his boyfriend and son sat on. “You don’t have to be worried about us at all, ok?”

“’kay,” Ollie said, turning his face out from Draco’s chest and towards Harry. “Does that mean you’re going to have another baby soon? You said that when you said we were going to have Cassie.”

“Not anytime soon, no,” Harry said, laughing softly.

“I should bloody well hope not,” Draco said, and Harry would have thought that he sounded mildly scandalised, but his warm smile gave him away. “Not for a good bit, at least.”

“Can I have a brother this time?” Ollie asked, sitting back a bit to clap his hands together. “I don’t wanna wait, even if Daddy says you’re having a whole Quidditch team.”

Draco turned to glance at Harry with raised eyebrows, his deadpan expression clearly betraying how unimpressed he was with Harry’s apparent want for an entire sports team of children.

“Papa doesn’t look too happy about that one,” Harry said, poking Ollie in the ribs to make him giggle. “You might have to wear him down a bit before that happens.”

“Should we take him to the Quidditch next time so he can see?” Ollie asked, leaning over to whisper it loudly into Harry’s ear.

“I don’t think that’ll help your case,” Harry said, a snort of laughter escaping.

“No, I think that sounds like the perfect idea,” Draco said, running a hand over Ollie’s constantly tousled hair. “I’ll see about getting us some tickets to the next game, shall I?”

“Can Aunty Ginny and Aunty Hermione and Uncle Ron and Uncle George come with us?” Ollie asked, the words coming out as sort of a babble.

“That would be lovely,” Draco said, and Harry’s heart felt so full because it sounded like he really mean it, like he genuinely wanted to spend time with the people Harry considered to be his family. Well, outside of Ollie and Draco, that was.

“That sounds like a great idea, Ol,” Harry said, sliding his arms around both Ollie and Draco, not ever wanting to let them go.

/ - /

It had all been going so well when it happened.

They were in the back garden at Grimmauld Place, Ollie and Todd chasing each other around the yard as Harry and Draco reclined on the grass in the sun. Draco was patting his stomach, complaining that Molly was trying to fatten him up.

“I won’t fit into my work robes at this rate,” he said. “I’m turning into an Erumpent.”

“A lovely Erumpent,” Harry joked, kissing him. As he pulled back the air touching his skin started to buzz, the hair on his arms standing up.

“Ollie,” Draco barked, pushing himself to a standing position. The air seemed to shimmer and twist around them, becoming almost like water on a pond.

Ollie rushed over, clutching onto Draco’s leg. Todd followed him, his head low as he whimpered and glanced around frantically. Harry pulled his wand out as the air rippled and a shape came into view.

“Oh fuck,” Draco muttered, his eyes going wide.

“No,” Harry said, watching as someone who looked exactly like Draco stepped out of the patch of rippling air and onto the grass of Grimmauld Place’s back garden.

The man looked older than Draco did now, his body ever so slightly stockier, his hair a little longer. His eyes crinkled as he turned and his gaze landed on them, his eyes going straight towards Ollie.

“Papa,” Ollie cried, stepping out from behind Draco’s leg. Draco grabbed at Ollie’s shoulder to keep him there, anchoring him in place.

“Thank Merlin,” the other Draco said, rushing towards them and holding his arms out.

The hand that was holding Draco’s wand twitched, as if he wasn’t sure how to react to this other version of himself. After an extended pause Draco swallowed heavily and lowered his wand, relaxing his grip on Ollie’s shoulder. Ollie rushed towards the other-Draco, wrapping his arms around him.

“I missed you so much, buddy,” the other man was saying, pressing his face into Ollie’s hair. “Thank you,” he said, looking up. “I know he’s a bit of a handful.”

“He’s not,” Draco said, the words sounding strangled, like he had to fight with himself to force them from his throat. Harry reached over and clasped his hand around Draco’s to stop it from shaking.

“How did he do it?” Harry asked, watching as Ollie stepped back from his father with a smile.

“Ashwinder eggs and rosewater,” other-Draco said. “Apparently those are catalysts for time travel, if you can believe it. They activated an old Time Turner that was put out of commission decades ago. Took us over a month just to brew the elderflowers to get him back.”

“Hermione will love that,” Draco said softly. His voice shook a little, so Harry squeezed his hand.

“Is it, um,” Harry said, clearing his throat. “Did he just go back in time?”

“Thankfully, yes,” other-Draco said. He crouched down in front of Ollie, frowning. “Orion James don’t you ever do anything like that again. Your dad and I were going bloody mental without you.”

“Language, Papa,” Ollie said.

“Wait, his name’s Orion?” Draco asked, glancing at Harry. “I thought it was bloody Oliver, or something.”

“You would have called him Ollie,” other-Draco said. “You can thank his missing teeth for that. We’ve been trying to get rid of the lisp but I doubt it’ll go away until his adult set comes in.”

Harry snorted hysterically, unable to hold in his laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, that they’d managed to get their son’s bloody name wrong.

“How did you know that’s what we called him?” Draco asked, his frown deepening.

“I’m you. I’ve already lived it,” other-Draco replied. “So that means I’m qualified to give you some advice. Look, it’ll be hard without him, trust me. But you can do it, if you support each other.”

“Are you sure you’re not Harry,” Draco said, shooting Harry a look. “Saying stuff like that is more his forte.”

“Let’s just say he’s made a bit of an impact on us,” other-Draco said, smiling at Harry. “Uh, take it from me when I say try not to be spiteful.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Harry and Draco sheepishly. “Mostly me. Well, us, I suppose. It will make things easier in the long run.”

“Uh, thanks,” Draco said. He was biting the inside of his cheek again.

“The portal’s only open for around five minutes, so we should go,” other-Draco said. “My Harry’s powerful, but his magic can only act as a conduit for so long.”

“Fuck,” Harry muttered, unable to stop the tears from welling up in his eyes.

“Please don’t,” Draco said, his voice thick. “Please don’t take him.”

Other-Draco bent down and whispered something into Ollie’s ear, and Ollie rushed over. Harry drew him in and pulled him between himself and Draco, hugging their son tightly between their bodies. Because he was their son, despite them not having technically made him themselves.

“You’ll see him again,” other-Draco said. “You’ll have to be patient, but you will.”

“I love you,” Draco said to Ollie, tears running down his face.

“Love you, Papa,” Ollie said, though his voice was more confused than it had been before, the sight of two of Draco throwing him off. “Love you too, Daddy.”

“I love you so much,” Harry said, pressing his face into Ollie’s hair, so identical to his own.

“Orrie, we need to go. I’m sorry,” other-Draco said. He looked a bit teary himself, his eyes a little red.

“He’s happy, isn’t he? In your time?” Draco asked.

“He is,” other-Draco said with a nod.

Ollie walked over to his father and called Todd to him, pulling the Crup into a hug and laughing when Todd licked his face.

“Bye, Bobby,” Ollie said into Todd’s fur.

“See you later, Todd,” other-Draco said, bending down and scratching Todd behind the ears. “It’s good to see you, old chap.”

“Harry,” Draco said, grasping Harry’s arm. “I can’t.”

“I know,” Harry said, wrapping his arm around Draco as they watched Ollie.

“Come on,” other-Draco said, taking Ollie’s hand. Just before they walked through the rippling patch of air he turned to glance at them. “Did he carry around a camera with him while he was here, by any chance?”

“Yes,” Harry said, the word coming out shaky. “While we were at the beach.”

“Take it to a Muggle store and get the photos taken off,” other-Draco said. “It’ll stop you feeling like you’ve gone insane. Trust me.”

“Ok,” Harry said quietly, not really sure what else to do. He felt like he and Draco should be fighting to keep Ollie there, but it felt like their energy had been completely drained out of them. And despite their naivety in expecting Ollie’s actual parents not to come and get him at some point, Harry had known deep down that it might still happen. Just because they weren’t equipped with the proper knowledge to send him back didn’t mean that it was the same on the other end. They didn’t want to frighten Ollie by trying to keep him there, not when it wasn’t where he should be, in the end.

“Bye Daddy and Papa,” Ollie called, waving at them.

Harry was able to hold it together until the older version of Draco led Ollie into the air that smelt of ozone and fresh grass, so like how the air smelt after Harry cast a particularly strenuous smell. Then Ollie was gone and the air sealed itself up, the backyard looking like nothing had changed from an hour ago, like their lives hadn’t just been completely decimated in a matter of minutes.

Draco gasped and sank to his knees, pulling Harry down with him. Harry wrapped his arms around him and let the tears fall into Draco’s fair hair as they held each other on the grass in the backyard.

It took a while for them to go inside, and Harry nearly broke all over again once they did. Signs of Ollie were everywhere, his toys and his drawings and his clothes scattered about the space in a way that Harry hadn’t even noticed before. He certainly did now that Ollie himself was gone and wasn’t coming back. Each item that reminded him of Ollie stuck out like a sore thumb, drawing Harry’s eyes to it. Everything Harry laid eyes on reminded him of Ollie in some way. The table was where Ollie would colour as Harry made them lunch, the stove was where he and Draco taught Ollie how to cook, the cupboard was where Ollie hid when he’d convinced Harry to play hide and seek with him one time, assuring him that Todd wouldn’t spoil their hiding places.

“I can’t,” Draco gasped, clutching at Harry’s arm. “There’s too much of him here.”

Harry swallowed heavily and looked around, his eyes burning.

“Come with me,” Draco said, turning Harry towards him. “We can go to the Manor. I can’t be here, Harry.”

“Ok,” Harry said, taking a deep breath. “Ok. Todd, come here.”

Thankfully Narcissa wasn’t home when Draco apparated them in, stumbling and gasping for breath as he clutched at his middle. They went up to Draco’s bedroom which was so devoid of his everyday objects, most of them having found a new home at Grimmauld Place. Draco pulled off both of their shirts and pushed Harry onto the bed, helping him get under the covers. They didn’t have sex, just laid there together, pressing against bare skin, Todd making snuffling sounds at the end of the bed as though he could sense their pain.

/ - /

“Fuck,” Draco said, squeezing Harry’s hand hard.

“We can do this,” Harry said, tugging Draco further into the room.

It had been a week since Ollie had gone and they hadn’t come back to Grimmauld Place until now, staying at the Manor until they were forced to realise they either needed to come home, or go out and buy a whole new set of their everyday items.

Ollie’s toys were scattered across the floor of the living room, bright spots of colour against the dark floorboards and fluffy cream coloured rug.

The kitchen was the room that had the smallest amount of physical reminders of Ollie in it, so they went in there. Harry made a pot of tea with shaking hands as Draco sat at the table, damn near biting through his lip.

“Thanks,” Draco said, trying to keep his hands steady as he took the tea. He was doing a much better job than Harry, whose hands were shaking like a leaf.

“He’s gone,” Harry said after a moment. “He’s really gone.”

Draco’s teacup clacked in its saucer when he wasn’t able to keep his hand steady.

“It’s like he was never here,” Harry said, looking around. “His stuff’s here, but not him.”

“The camera,” Draco said, sitting up straighter. “The … I mentioned the camera. We took that photo at the beach, Harry, we have to get it. It’s evidence that we didn’t make him up like some bloody fever dream.” Draco stood up from the table. “I had it in my pocket when we apparated and I put it in your study when we got back.”

“Ok,” Harry said, standing up to follow Draco. He wasn’t sure how much the photo from the beach would help, but both his Draco and the other version of Draco seemed convinced. Who knew, maybe it would.

Draco found the camera easily, taking it from Harry’s desk and handing it to him.

“Tomorrow,” Draco said, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Ok,” Harry said. “I’ll go into Muggle London while you’re at work and get the photos taken off.”

“Thank you,” Draco said, sniffing.

They stayed at Grimmauld Place that night, not venturing out of Harry’s bedroom lest they find themselves curled up in Ollie’s.

Harry didn’t want Draco to leave the next morning, didn’t want to be left in his mausoleum of a house that felt so hollow and empty, yet so crammed with memories all the same. It made his chest tight and his eyes prickle whenever he caught a glimpse of something that was Ollie’s, of things that they’d picked out together, or played with together, or made memories with.

He was eager to get out into the unfamiliar parts of Muggle London, avoiding the areas that he’d gone to with Ollie. He walked until he found a department store that took photos off of cameras, and walked in feeling like he was moving through a fog. The girl at the counter smiled at him and directed him to a waiting area, saying it wouldn’t take too long. Harry didn’t notice the passage of time as he sat there, so it could have been five minutes or fifty before the girl called him back over.

“You have an adorable son,” she smiled, handing him a packet of photos.

“Thanks,” Harry said quietly, attempting to return her smile but coming up short.

Once outside, he peeked inside the packet and frowned, not recognising the photo that was on top. He flipped through a few of the pictures, his eyes going wide, before he slid the packet shut, blinking hard.

/ - /

“Are you sure you want to be in here?” Draco asked, stepping gingerly into Ollie’s room like he was afraid the air itself might burn him.

“Yes,” Harry said. He slid to the floor and leaned against the side of Ollie’s bed, patting the space next to him.

Draco sat where Harry directed him to, his breathing deep and structured like he was trying to press down his emotions. He probably was; Harry wouldn’t blame him.

“I got the photos taken off,” Harry said, pulling the packet out of the pocket of his jeans.

“How many copies did they give you?” Draco asked. He reached for the packet but Harry moved it out of his grasp.

“Ollie didn’t find the camera that day we went to the beach,” Harry said, handing the packet to Draco. “He found it right after he came. I don’t know how we didn’t notice him with it.”

Draco’s breath caught in his throat and he let out a dry sob as he slid the first photo out of the packet and held it in his shaking hand. The photo was one Ollie had taken in the mirror in the main bathroom. He was kneeling on the counter to get closer to it, one finger pressing his top lip upwards to better show off his missing teeth. He smile looked like it was coming right out of the photo, like a wizarding photograph.

“There’s more?” Draco asked, setting the photo down on Ollie’s bed behind them.

“Yeah,” Harry said, squeezing Draco’s hand. “I didn’t look through them all. I wanted to wait for you.”

“Thank you,” Draco said. His eyes were watering when they met Harry’s, but he looked happy for the first time since Ollie had left.

There were quite a lot of photos; Ollie really was apparently a budding photographer. Harry and Draco laughed at a series of photos of Todd in the garden, running and jumping and tripping over one of Ollie’s toys at one point. One of Ollie’s favourite subjects had apparently been his toys, because there was a whole stack of photos of the things he and Harry had bought together. There were photos of the Lego creations they’d all built together, and photos of the books Draco had brought over from the Manor. Ollie had taken pictures of a few of his favourite stories, his finger coming into frame to point out certain words or passages that he must have liked. There were a few more photos that Ollie had taken of himself out in the garden or in his bedroom, Todd making an appearance in many of them. Most of those were taken by Ollie turning the camera around, so many were either out of focus, or only showed part of Ollie’s face. Draco burst into laughter at one that showed only Ollie’s forehead and Todd’s dopey face in the corner of the photo, and Harry felt laughter bubble up from his own chest in response.

He held Draco close as they flicked through the photos together, feeling so sad yet so happy at the same time. There was a photo of an awful drawing of a Crup with ‘Bobby’ written in green crayon above it, held next to a bored looking Todd. There was even a photo of the letter Ollie had sent Draco, telling him off for not coming around enough in the beginning.

Harry felt Draco’s breath catch in his throat when he pulled out a photo of the two of them out in the garden that Ollie must have taken from one of the kitchen windows. They were lying in the sun smiling at each other, their hands so close but not quite touching.

“This was before,” Draco said. His finger trailed over the picture as he looked at it. “Before we were together.”

“I can see how it was so obvious to everyone,” Harry said, smiling into Draco’s hair.

“Yes, we don’t exactly look subtle,” Draco said, placing the photo on the bed with the rest.

Ollie had apparently brought the camera along with him when he stayed the night at the Burrow, because there was a whole handful of photos from there. There was a photo of Molly smiling for the camera with a large pie in her hand, one of Ron and George wrestling in the backyard while Hermione looked on fondly, and one of Ollie and Hermione reading a book together that one of the Weasley’s must have taken. Harry smiled at the blurry photos of the Quidditch game that Ollie had snapped, and teared up at the photo of Ollie, Hermione, Ron, and George that someone seated near them at the game must have taken, Ollie beaming wide and decked out in Cannons colours.

Harry knew the photos from the beach were next, and steeled himself in anticipation. Ollie had taken a picture of the waves and a number of the sandcastle and all its various details. The photo of Ollie and Draco that Harry had taken, sandcastle in the background, made Harry’s throat feel thick, but the photo of the three of them was what made Harry tear up all over again. There were a few photos, slightly out of focus and a little blurry, but one was perfect. The sun beamed down on them, bouncing off their skin and making it glow. Ollie was seated in Draco’s lap, Draco’s arms around him. Harry was holding the camera, his free arm around Draco’s waist. The sandcastle was in the back corner of their photo, just as Ollie had insisted it would be.

The last picture was another photo of Harry and Draco, curled up around each other in bed. It was the morning after the beach, Harry could tell by the clothes. They were sleeping in each other’s arms, Harry’s head ending up on Draco’s chest at some point during the night.

“He must have taken this before he brought us breakfast,” Draco said. He smiled as his finger traced over their sleeping forms.

“I miss him,” Harry said quietly, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder as they gazed at the photo of them, taken by their son.

“Me too,” Draco said. He pushed the last photo up onto the bed and turned to kneel in front of Harry, pulling him into a tight hug. “I miss him, but I still have you.”

Harry nodded, his eyes burning as he hugged Draco as tight as he possibly could.

Draco went into Muggle London the next day and bought a photo album, presenting it to Harry with a smile when he returned to Grimmauld Place after work. They spread the photos out on the living room floor, sliding them into the album in as close to chronological order as they could get. They spent most of the evening there on the rug in the living room, flipping through the photos again. They didn’t hurt to look at as much the second time around, and Harry felt able to bring up stories about Ollie that connected to the things in the photos without tearing up.

“We’ll see him again,” Draco said firmly as they leaned against each other, looking at the completed photo album. “Other me said so. He’s not gone forever.”

Harry nodded, taking a deep breath and attempting to smile at Draco.

“Five years?” Draco asked, taking Harry’s hand.

“Five years,” Harry agreed with a nod.

“I can do that,” Draco said, wiping away a stray tear from his cheek. “I can do five years. As long as you do it with me.”

“Always,” Harry said, pulling Draco down for a soft kiss that gradually deepened.

“God,” Draco muttered, pulling away from Harry. A laugh bubbled out of his chest. “You’re an absolute moron, you know that?”

“How so?” Harry asked. The smile he shot Draco was genuine, and it made his chest feel lighter knowing that he didn’t have to force it.

“How did you possibly misunderstand what our bloody child’s name was?” Draco asked, snorting with laughter into Harry’s shoulder. “For Merlin’s bloody sake, Harry.”

“He was hard to understand at first,” Harry said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I blame the missing teeth.”

“I think it’s good, in a way,” Draco said after a moment, his smile dropping from one that stretched across his face, to one that was more subdued. “This is Ollie,” He pointed to the first picture, the one Ollie had taken of himself in the mirror. “We don’t have to give him up. Orrie – Orion – is different.”

“That’s for future us,” Harry nodded. “That’s what our son will be called. But Ollie’s the one who brought us together.”

“We can have both,” Draco said, kissing Harry through his smile. “Ollie’s for now, Orrie’s for later.”

“I love you,” Harry said, rubbing his thumb over Draco’s bottom lip.

Draco pushed his hand away and kissed him hard, clutching him tight so he couldn’t let go.

/ - /

They packed up Ollie’s things the next day, transferring his errant toys and discarded clothes into his room, leaving only a few drawings stuck to the fridge.

“We’ll keep his things,” Draco said. “He can use them when he’s older, since we already know that he likes them.”

“I wonder if that’s how he knew so much about Muggle toys; we’d already given the same ones to him,” Harry suggested. “Merlin, I can’t even wrap my brain around time travel.”

“I’m not even going to try,” Draco agreed, sending a pair of Ollie’s shoes from the front hall into his room.

The only other thing they left displayed were some of the photos. On the mantelpiece they framed the photo of the three of them at the beach, as well as the one of Ollie and Draco. Next to it, they put one of Ollie and Todd, and the photo that had been taken of Ollie and his aunt and uncles at the Quidditch game. The last photo they put up was the one of them lying on the grass.

“I like it,” Draco said, adjusting the frame. “I like that he took it, that he saw us get to know each other that way.”

They kept the one Ollie had taken of them in bed the morning after they’d first had sex on the bedside table in their room, where they could see it as they drifted off to sleep. On the fridge they stuck the first photo Ollie took, the one where he was inspecting his missing teeth in the mirror.

“So we can see it when we cook,” Harry said.

“He can still be with us,” Draco agreed, sliding his arms around Harry’s waist. “So, where do we go from here?”

“Well Ollie said we only live here during the summer, so I suppose we should start looking for something to buy,” Harry said. “Don’t freak out on me about moving too fast, we don’t have to do it right now.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Draco said, pressing a kiss under Harry’s ear.

“Oh,” Harry said. “Well, that’s good.”

“Mm,” Draco said, reaching behind him to open the cupboard. “Pasta sound good?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, moving to let Draco pass. A few minutes later he said: “I think I’ll go and see Robards tomorrow about getting back into the Auror training program.”

“I thought you weren’t sure about that?” Draco asked, turning away from the pot of boiling water to glance at Harry.

“I wasn’t,” Harry said, honestly. “But I think I am now.”

And he was. It felt like the right thing to do, since he didn’t have the option of staying home and teaching Ollie now.

“Don’t do it just because you think it’s what you have to do. Ollie could have been wrong about that being your job in the future.”

“I want to do something; make a difference. I shouldn’t have tried to go straight from the war into training, but I’m ready now. I want to.”

“Ok,” Draco said, starting to smile. “I’m happy for you.”

There were still gaps in their conversation while they ate dinner, so used to waiting for Ollie to interject with his opinions and stories. Each time they realised what they were waiting for, they would quickly attempt to fill the gap, the other smiling comfortingly, knowing exactly what was happening.

As Harry ate, the radio sitting on the counter caught his eye. It hadn’t been put away with the rest of Ollie’s things, because it wasn’t technically Ollie’s. Harry had bought it before he’d turned up, and it wasn’t like it couldn’t be reused. It was just that it felt like Ollie’s; they’d made so many meals as a trio with the radio playing in the background, spent so many quiet afternoons with it playing background music.

Harry stood up and walked over to it, bringing it back to the table.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The next step,” Harry said, turning it on. It was still on the Muggle station Ollie had picked on the afternoon that he’d left, a slow Muggle song emanating from it. “Come here,” Harry said, holding his hand out to Draco.

Draco nodded and stood, abandoning the rest of his dinner. They danced slowly, Draco’s head resting against Harry’s shoulder. They swayed together until the song ended and changed to a different, faster one.

“He loved this one,” Draco said, laughing when the beat picked up.

“I know,” Harry said, wiggling his hips and stepping to the side in an imitation of one of Ollie’s favourite moves.

Draco laughed loudly, his smile beaming.

“Hey, if he made me learn this bloody dance then you have to as well,” Harry said, taking Draco’s hand again. He directed Draco’s movements into the bizarre combination Ollie had deemed as dancing, Draco’s laughter filling the air as Ollie’s once had.

They danced for the rest of the song, breaths becoming laboured as they gave it their all. As Harry watched Draco he knew it would be alright. Yes, they’d miss Ollie, but they’d get to see him again. Next time they’d get to experience every bit of his life, rather than just a slice of it.

“Five years?” Harry asked, kissing Draco as the song petered out.

“Five years,” Draco nodded against Harry’s lips, pulling him into a twirl.

And until then, Harry had Draco.

/ - /


Ten years later


Fuck,” Harry yelled, staring at the spot from where Orrie had just dematerialised. “Hermione, it’s fucking happened. Fuck.”

“Oh god,” Hermione muttered, coming to stand next to him, Cassie still clasped to her hip. “Suppose I’ll start brewing the elderflower roots then, shall I?”

“Harry, have you seen Orrie?” Draco called, walking through the shelves of Hermione’s restricted objects. “He better not be bloody in here.” Draco stopped short when he saw Harry and Hermione, his eyes flicking to the old Time Turner on one of the lower shelves. “Oh, hell.”

“I’ll go make the call,” Hermione said, handing Cassie back to Draco.

Draco buried his face in his daughters light coloured hair, meeting Harry’s gaze over the top of her head.

“We knew it was coming, I suppose,” Harry sighed. He ran his hand through his hair, sending it into disarray.

“Let’s go back into the house,” Draco said, taking Harry’s hand. “I hate it in here.”

They made the short walk back to the house in silence, both lost in their memories of those times that had happened a decade prior, when they were on the other hand of Ollie’s little accidental time travel incident.

“This is so weird,” Harry said once they’d reached their living room, sinking down onto the couch. “I’m so worried about him, but at the same time I’m not.”

“Well at least we know he’s not getting into any trouble,” Draco said, sitting close enough to press the side of his arm against Harry’s.

Harry glanced at Draco to see him staring at the mantelpiece where the photo of them, ten years younger and at the beach, sat. Their faces smiled out into the room, the child in Draco’s lap somehow both Orrie and Ollie at the same time, now.

“That’s still one of my favourite days,” Draco said, smiling over at Harry.

“Not the day I asked you to marry me?” Harry asked, making a face at their daughter and getting a high pitched giggle in return.

“That too,” Draco said. “But I was so happy that day at the beach. I don’t think I’d ever been happier before then.”

“He’s in good hands,” Harry said, slipping his arm around Draco’s waist and pulling him in towards him.

“Good luck, past us,” Draco said, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder.

And as Harry sat there he reflected on ten years prior, when it had seemed like the world was ending when Ollie had left, ripping a whole in the life he and Draco had built together, the life Harry thought they might need their son to sustain. Back then, Harry and Draco had held each other up, weathering the storm together rather than driving each other away, and it had made them so much stronger.

“I love you,” Harry said to Draco. “And you,” he directed to Cassie, whose small hand tapped at his cheek.

He’d had Draco back then to help him through the complete rearrangement of his life. He’d had Draco then, and he had him now. He’d always had Draco, and that wasn’t about to change. That was something he’d never have to worry about.