Chapter Text
Harry fidgeted with his hands in his lap, watching as they brought Severus back in to announce the verdict. Court had ended yesterday on a sour note, Jones doing everything in his power to twist Harry’s words. There had been a lot of talk about his abuse, about how he wouldn’t have understood if Severus was taking advantage, about how he was lying about Dumbledore to protect Severus.
When they’d let out, Woods hadn’t said much besides that they’d done a good job, and the tomorrow would tell. Then both she and Lucius had disappeared. Harry hadn’t seen them again until he and Draco had walked into the court room this morning, waiting for the Wizengamot to come in and announce their decision.
Scrimgeour stood up, his hands flat against the podium in front of him. He glared across the room, and Harry turned his head to see Lucius’ lips curve up, his hand relaxed against the head of his walking stick. Draco reached over, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s trembling hand and squeezing.
“We’ve found Severus Snape not guilty of all charges,” Scrimgeour said, curling his fingers around the edge of his podium. “He will remain Headmaster of Hogwarts with no consequences and our apologizes.”
Severus’ head shot up, his eyes wide, and Draco’s grip on Harry’s hand turned borderline painful as he shot from his seat. Lucius just continued to smirk, his fingers caressing the hidden compartment of his walking stick, right where he hid his wand, and Harry wasn’t a fool. He knew it wasn’t any kind of luck that had gotten them out of this.
“Next time the Minister should think twice about hiding dangerous artifacts from the Department of Mysteries,” Lucius said, lounging back against the cushions of his chair. Draco laughed, his hand warm where it wrapped around Harry’s. They sat on the small couch across from Lucius and Severus, the fire crackling a few feet away in Severus’ fireplace, and Draco could feel the contentment seeping through the room. “He’ll step down after this,” Lucius said. “Well, if he doesn’t want me to make a scandal out of him.”
“I did wonder how you managed to pull off a miracle,” Severus said, bringing his teacup up to his mouth. He took a long drink, a faint smile playing along his lips, and Draco let himself relax against Harry, Harry’s hair ticking his cheek. Severus had acted like it was nothing, like he hadn’t been afraid of what would happen to him, but Draco had felt the way he’d gripped his shoulder. He’d heard the way Severus had told Lucius they were getting married as soon as possible. He’d noticed the way Severus had pressed Harry against him like he’d thought he’d never be able to again.
“How’d you find something like that out?” Draco asked.
“Do stop slouching, Draco,” Lucius said, and Draco sat up, keeping his left arm touching Harry’s. “Kingsley Shacklebolt told me, and I promised him my support in his bid for Minister.”
“Shacklebolt?” Severus asked. “I suppose there are worse choices.” Draco traced a finger over the back of Harry’s knuckles, and Harry let out a breath, laying his head on Draco’s shoulder. His body was completely relaxed, his fingers latched onto Draco’s. It was getting late, and they’d had a long day, it was probably about time they went to bed. Besides, Lucius and Severus might not have been touching, but Draco could tell they wanted to be alone.
“We should go to bed,” Draco said, pulling away just enough that Harry had to sit up. “We do have class tomorrow.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Severus said, setting his cup and saucer on the table beside him.
“Goodnight, Severus, Lucius,” Harry said. He didn’t let go of Draco’s hand as he stood, pulling him out the door and toward his room. Draco let Harry drag him along, feeling the tingling itch under his skin. It had been a long time since they’d just been together. They’d finally managed to talk, but then Severus’ trial had happened, and Draco just wanted to be able to kiss Harry without worrying about anything else.
“Do you think they’ll really do it?” Harry asked, pulling open the door to their room.
“Do what?” Draco answered, his eyes flicking down to the way Harry flung his robe to the ground, already reaching for the hem of his shirt.
“Get married,” Harry said, the pale edge of his stomach entirely too distracting in the dim light.
“I think we all deserve a little happiness,” Draco answered. He reached out, stroking his hand along Harry’s hip. His pinky grazed against his skin, and Harry shivered, his glasses flashing as he turned.
“It seems impossible.”
“It isn’t,” Draco said. He linked his fingers through Harry’s, pulling up on the hem of his shirt until Harry was dropping it to the ground and reaching for Draco’s robes, his hands fumbling.
Draco brushed his thumb against Harry’s cheekbone as his robes fell, tilting Harry’s head back up. He looked nervous, his green eyes wide and his cheeks flushed, and it wasn’t until then that Draco realized how long it had been since they’d done this.
“We don’t have—”
“I want….” Harry trailed off, biting his tongue like the words burned him, and Draco’s heart throbbed. He wondered if there would ever be a time when Harry wouldn’t be afraid of his desire. He hoped so.
Draco pulled his shirt off, stepping around Harry to lie on the bed. He smirked, legs spread and lights shining across his skin in a way he knew was attractive. Harry’s mouth twitched. It was as much of a thank you as he was ever going to get.
Harry didn’t bother distributing his weight when he settled on top of him, his chest pressing against Draco’s as he leaned down. His breath was hot, his lips just short of chapped, and Draco had to hold himself back. He really wanted to spring up and claim Harry without any more foreplay.
Then Harry was kissing him, his palm planted next to Draco’s head and Harry’s hips against his and Harry’s tongue against his lips and Harry’s stomach gliding down his. Draco moaned, sliding his hands down Harry’s shoulder’s, along his back, clenching on his—Harry tensed pulling his mouth away.
He was panted, pressed against Draco with his mouth swollen and his eyes averted, and it took a long minute for Draco to realize what he’d done. Draco pulled his hands away from Harry arse, laying his arms flat against the bed.
“I’m sorry. I—” Harry started.
“You shouldn’t apologize,” Draco interrupted, and Harry’s eyes snapped to him. “Just tell me what you want.”
“I don’t want you to touch me there,” Harry answered. “I don’t think I ever will.”
“Then, I won’t,” Draco said, and Harry spent a long minute staring at him, the hand resting against Draco’s head shifting against the covers.
“Alright,” he said finally. He leaned down, slotting his lips easily against Draco’s.
2 Months Later
Harry stood by the oddly smelling, purple punch while people danced and chattered around him. Lucius and Severus were still making their way around the room thanking and greeting everyone who’d made it to their bonding and marriage ceremony.
Lucius flicked his long hair behind his shoulder, the smile he flashed everyone something between gloating and possessive. Severus rolled his eyes, somehow looking bored in the dashing black ensemble that Lucius had picked out for him. Harry still didn’t know how Lucius had bribed him into wearing it or into brushing, washing, and styling his hair.
Draco had left for the bathroom thirty minutes ago and gotten caught by some woman with bright blonde hair who gestured louder than she spoke. He’d cast a look at Harry to save him, but Harry wasn’t going over there unless there was mortal danger.
He’d spotted Longbottom and Blaise dancing together earlier, standing entirely too close to still be pretending they weren’t together. Blaise had admitted to Draco almost immediately that he was dating Longbottom. Draco hadn’t understood why, but Draco still didn’t understand how Blaise had been in love with him.
Weasley—the female—had actually apologized to him, spouting some nonsense about Dean and breaking up and Luna helping her see, and Harry couldn’t understand why she thought he would care, but if the way Lovegood had smiled at her from across the room was indication Luna did.
“You could have saved me,” Draco muttered, tangling his fingers with Harry’s.
“You made it out alive,” Harry answered.
“You were too busy people watching,” Draco huffed, tilting his chin up as if that would really make Harry care.
“I was thinking.”
“You can think and dance,” Draco answered. He stepped toward the dance floor, the music shifting into an upbeat jive that would’ve made Harry want to throw something if he’d been anywhere else. Been with anyone else.
“Not while this is playing I can’t,” he said, letting Draco drag him onto the dance floor.