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Fifteen minutes isn’t a long time.
Those were the words Harry chanted to himself as he strode through the winding corridors of the Department of Mysteries, making his way to the room Draco disappeared into fifteen minutes ago. And was now inside with Hermione. Alone. Together.
It wasn’t that Harry didn’t trust them.
Hermione was the most loyal person he’d ever met, and he would trust her with his life — already had done more times than he could count. She was the one who'd been by his side since the very start. That was part of the reason he'd fallen for her.
And as much as his past self would have scoffed at it, Harry trusted Draco too. His Auror partner was still a snarky, sharp-tongued prat, of course, but where his words once held scorn, they now held a sort of teasing affection. He was no longer the prejudiced boy of his youth, and Harry found himself inexplicably drawn to the man.
No, it wasn’t that Harry didn’t trust them. In the past few years, he'd come to trust them more than he did anyone else.
But he had seen the way the two looked at each other.
Whether it was the heated clash of glares when they disagreed during case consultations or the exchange of amused smirks during interdepartmental meetings, Hermione and Draco had something — chemistry, or whatever the Muggles called it — that no one could match. Not even Harry, and he and Hermione had been together for almost five years now, friends for far longer.
So really, he couldn’t be blamed for feeling a little suspicious. It didn’t take fifteen minutes to deliver an Auror case file for Unspeakable evaluation, after all.
Harry took a deep breath, stopping outside the heavy, wooden door of the Space Chamber where Hermione did most of her specialized research — in what exactly, he wasn't quite sure. Damned secretive Unspeakables.
Pushing the door open as gently as he could, he looked inside, preparing himself for the worst. But somehow, Harry didn’t think anything could have prepared him for what he saw.
Sitting in the center of the dim room, with large models of glowing planets orbiting around her, was Hermione, parchment and quills spread out across the desk in front of her. Draco leaned against the back of her chair, looking over her shoulder at the case file she held in her hands, their voices echoing through the room in hushed whispers.
Harry watched from the doorframe as Draco leaned past her shoulder, pointing at something on the parchment with a muttered comment and a smirk. She threw her head back and laughed.
The scene had a soft, ethereal quality to it, and for a moment, Harry wondered what he was supposed to feel. Hurt? Or, Merlin forbid, jealousy? He thought he would have preferred jealousy to the bitter longing he felt as he intruded on the two people closest to him, absorbed in their own little universe.
He stared at them for a second longer, entranced, before finally stepping into the room and closing the door on the harsh light from the corridor.
At the click of the lock, Draco shot up from his place behind Hermione, turning to face Harry. “Potter,” he said with an easy grin. “Granger here was just looking over the files. She would’ve been done with them ten minutes ago, if only that owl’s nest she calls hair didn’t keep getting in the way.”
Harry let out a quiet snort and headed to their table, burying the twinge in his chest when he saw the way Draco gazed fondly at Hermione despite the insult.
"Don't laugh, Potter. You’re not much better,” Draco said, reaching over to smooth down a lock of his messy black hair. Harry's throat ran dry, his eyelids unconsciously fluttering shut at the light touch. “It’s a wonder how I managed to end up working with the only two people in this Ministry who don’t own a hairbrush.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, tucking an unruly curl behind her ear. “Not all of us can afford to slather ourselves in galleons-worth of hair potion every day, you know.” She turned to Harry and smiled at him warmly, teeth glinting from the light of the planets around her. "You made a good call taking this up with the Unspeakables, Harry."
He swallowed thickly, trying to clear his head. "Right. I figured you lot have more expertise in this Time-Turner business than we do."
Time-Turners. That’s what he needed to focus on.
Not how the model of the sun bathed Hermione in a hazy light, making her positively glow with warmth. Not how the charmed stars floating across the ceiling reflected off Draco’s alabaster skin and his white button-down shirt, making the man look like something of an angel.
Not how he somehow ended up falling for both of them, when he knew he deserved neither. Not when they so clearly belonged with each other.
Bloody Time-Turners. Of course.
He tore his gaze from them, watching the planets floating around him instead. “You, er— You think it’s been cursed, then?” he asked, coughing a bit when his words came out hoarse.
“Certainly not cursed, but I think it may have been tampered with," Hermione answered. "Perkins is out sick today, but I’ll have it contained in the Time Room for evaluation by tomorrow."
Harry vaguely heard her voice as he paced a little further out, his eyes following the model of Saturn. No matter how many years, decades he’d spent in this world, the possibilities of magic never ceased to amaze him. How an entire replica of the solar system could be created with just a muttered incantation was beyond him.
From the periphery of his vision, he saw Draco step up beside him. “As much as I like to call her a swot, I can see why Granger spends so much time here,” he murmured. “It’s beautiful.”
Harry’s eyes strayed back to the desk Hermione was seated at, where she was scribbling at a scroll of parchment, no doubt already absorbed in the Time-Turner case. A witch clearly in her element. Then he turned to look at Draco, only to see the man’s mercury gaze fixed on the stars in wonder.
“Yeah,” Harry breathed, wondering what he had possibly done to end up here with them. “Beautiful.”
Draco’s head tilted slightly, eyes catching his own and holding his stare for a moment. Harry wasn't quite sure he was breathing.
“Malfoy?”
Hermione’s voice pierced through the room and Harry startled, looking away quickly as a flush crawled up his neck. Draco brushed past Harry, shoulder lightly grazing his, and made his way to Hermione’s side, turning his focus to the place on the file she was pointing at.
Harry stared after them, his mouth slightly agape, and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, the grip of the cotton suddenly feeling as if it would choke him. Taking in a deep, calming breath, he approached the table, listening half-heartedly to their bickering.
"The file states that the perpetrator went back seven hours in a single use, Granger."
Hermione stomped her foot in her seat petulantly. “But a Time-Turner can't go back more than five hours into the past at a time!"
“Yes, but what if that's what it's been tampered with to achieve? To extend the period of time it could travel through?" Draco asked, arching an elegant brow.
"They couldn't— Oh." Hermione’s mouth snapped shut, and Harry watched amusedly as her cheeks flushed pink. Draco snickered and she swatted him with the case file. "We'll see if you're right after evaluation. Smug, pointy, little prat," she muttered under her breath.
"You know you love it."
Hermione swatted him twice this time. A familiar glint shone in Draco’s eyes — one Harry recognized from their Auror missions, just when he was about to do something against Ministry protocol.
Draco suddenly swerved, hooking his arm around Hermione's waist to lift her from her chair and spinning her around so she was pinned to the table, his face inches from hers. "Don't you know violence is most unbecoming of a lady, Granger?"
Harry almost shivered at the cool, seductive drawl of his voice.
“Good thing being lady-like isn’t a top priority of mine, then,” Hermione countered with a jut of her chin.
Her fiery tone could’ve melted him right there.
The contrast between them was palpable, really, and Harry wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. Hot and cold. Fire and ice. Sun and moon. His thoughts traveled to the planets orbiting around them. How oddly fitting.
He stood still as the two seemed to communicate something with their eyes, then turned their gaze to him.
“Harry,” Hermione said softly. “Draco and I were thinking, and,” she paused for a moment, biting her lip as they exchanged another look. “We thought it’s about time we all stopped dancing around each other. That we should be together, instead of...”
Harry tuned out her voice, his heart plummeting in his chest. This was it then, wasn’t it? They wanted to be together. She and Draco realized they were better suited towards each other, and now Hermione wanted Harry out of her life. Out of their lives.
Looking at the two of them again, at the pure passion that sparked whenever they were in the same room, Harry decided he wouldn’t ruin what they had. They were the two people he loved more than anything else, and if they were happy, then he would be too.
As much as it would hurt him.
“I think it’s a great idea,” he said finally, mustering a reassuring smile, although it felt more like a grimace. “You should go ahead.”
Hermione grinned, her entire being almost radiating with glee. She really was like the sun, he thought. And that made it all the more painful when she beamed, “He said yes!” and pressed a kiss to Draco’s lips. Harry felt his own lips fall as he tried to quell his devastation, turning to leave the room.
“Potter, just where do you think you're going?"
Harry winced and turned back around, keeping his gaze fixed on the black marble floor. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to look either of them in the eye. "I didn't want to intrude," he mumbled. "But I— er, I hope you both will be happy together, truly."
"What?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed. "What do you mean by 'you both'?"
Harry sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You both wanted to be together, right? I think that's great, honestly. You would make a great couple. Really, just… great.”
A beat of silence.
“Oh Merlin, Harry,” Hermione groaned, just as Draco’s pale, slender fingers reached out to wrap around Harry's wrist, tugging him between the two of them.
He reluctantly brought his eyes up to meet Hermione’s, and then Draco's. But instead of the pity he was sure he’d see in their gaze, all he saw was warmth and something that looked a lot like… love.
“You. Complete. Daft. Idiot, Potter," Draco said, punctuating each word with a kiss to his lips. Harry froze, his eyes going wide. "Were you even listening to us at all? Did you really think we didn't want you too?"
"What?" he croaked when he found his voice again. His stare darted between them, confused thoughts running rampant in his head. "I didn't— You said— I thought—"
"That's just it, isn't it, Harry?" Hermione said, her hands coming up to either side of his waist. "You thought. You know what happens when you do that."
He vaguely registered cool lips traveling up the column of his throat, and a pair of small, warm hands trailing up his sides soothingly. He wasn't quite sure he could think at that moment.
When he finally managed to gather his thoughts, he spoke quietly. "You— You really want me? Both of you?"
Draco reached his hand up to cradle Harry's face, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Of course, you thick-skulled git. We love you. I thought we made it obvious."
Hermione let out a laugh, tugging Harry forward by his collar. She was beautiful. Both of them were. "I hate to agree with him, but he isn't wrong," she whispered against his lips. "You really can be quite thick."
The corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin, knowing the truth of her words.
And twined between them as they finally came together under the light of the stars, Harry realized something. Hermione was his sun, and Draco his moon.
Everything they did, every kiss, every caress, every whisper of comfort or sin drew him in like a tide.
Together, they made up their own little universe, and Harry didn’t think he’d have it any other way.