Chapter Text
Harry and Draco arrive at The Ministry. It’s the same emerald green lobby, though a little worse for wear. The massive, horrible, racist statue in the center is completely gone, having been justly destroyed during everything. Magic held up some stones as a replacement making a floating column. It was to be replaced with a massive column with inlays that held statues with the likeness of those who died because of the war. Harry demanded Dobby and Cedric get one, and no one disagreed. There was to be one of Dumbledore, and Snape. Sirius, Remus, and Tonks would share one.
It’s not like Draco didn’t try to ignore all the stares they got. He even tried to stay a few paces behind Harry, but Harry would then slow up so they walked together again. It wasn’t a massive secret that they were together, and if anyone asked they wouldn’t lie about it, but it’s a rare sight to see either of them back in the wizarding world to begin with. They rarely had a reason to come back and had all the reason to avoid it.
Harry takes Draco’s hand through the long sleeves of their robes.
“Nevermind, it’s alright,” he whispers to Draco.
“I know,” Draco replies, “I just hate being back here. Like fuck, they’re all looking at us.”
“I know.”
Everyone knew Draco fought with the death eaters, everyone knew what lay under his sleeve (minus the scars from him trying to make it go away), and everyone knew how he came back like an unwanted prodigal son. Not everyone understood or forgave him like Harry and their friends did. They called him a traitor and a coward and a reject and a deserter. Draco could almost hear them calling him that now. Harry squeezed his hand.
“Almost there,” he mumbled. A camera flashed from some reporter stupid enough to leave the flash on. Draco and Harry entered a horizontal elevator before rocketing away. They arrived in front of big double doors.
“Alright,” Harry mumbled, pushing them open and pulling Draco through. He wouldn’t let go of his hand because it was for both of their comfort.
The large room was gratefully empty besides the smiling faces of Arthur and Ron.
“Big day,” Arthur says with a smile, handing Harry some papers.
“What are these?” He asks.
“Adoption papers of sorts. We’ll all be here for you, Harry, but for legality and the muggles.”
“Right, yes,” Harry says, talking past the lump in his throat.
“He should be here any minute,” Ron said with a smile.
“Who?” Draco asks.
“We had Hagrid fetch him. For old times sake,” Arthur replies, and it was supposed to be humorous. In fact, it was, but Draco saw how Harry flinched out of the corner of his eyes. He squeezed his hand and thought, “breathe,” loud enough for Harry to hear. Harry smiled absently in response.
“Yes, right,” he said. Just then the doors flew open and the massive stature of a half-giant walked in.
“‘Ello, all!” Hagrid says. His cloaks concealing anything in his arms.
“Hagrid,” Harry says happily.
“Ain’t this weird,” Hagrid says, “feels like just yesterday I was doing this with you in my arms… well not, not yesterday…” He trails off and the silence is telling. Maybe it was closer to the last time, in the wake of so much death. Hagrid sniffs.
“Right,” he says, “now who wants to see the little bugger?”
Everyone smiles, and even Draco feels a tinge of excitement, but this was very weird for him. It’s not like he doesn’t feel the deaths, it’s not like he doesn’t mourn too, but he was so disconnected from it all, is so disconnected from it all. The people in-company didn’t blame him even though Hagrid and Arthur still didn’t really like him, but he was on the wrong side of the war for a long time. His arm reminded him of that everyday no matter how hard Harry tried to kiss it away.
Draco shakes himself as Hagrid pushes back his big coat to reveal a little toddler lying on his stomach on Hagrid's arm, fast asleep.
“Sleepin’, just like Harry was…” he mumbles. Teddy looks a lot like his father, but with his mother’s face shape and chin. He has caramel blonde hair that curls at his ears. It’s messy. He’s everything a little boy should be. Everyone is standing around Hagrid looking at Teddy.
Harry is flabbergasted. He keeps opening his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Draco grabs his arm to comfort him. He decides he’s not going to process any of this until later. It’s not like he’s processed much of it all to begin with, just started sleeping with Harry to cope, and fuck if that wasn’t one of the greatest decisions of his life. He feels his age, his past, everything come crashing down on him as he looks at Teddy. He tries not to think about Harry. That small, that alone, his parents killed by someone Draco served.
He’s gripping Harry’s arm tighter than he realizes.
“What’s wrong, Hagrid?” Ron says, pulling him away from his thoughts. Hagrid is frowning, looking perplexed or frustrated.
“Just somethin’ one of the ladies at the orphanage said,” Hagrid mumbles.
“Oh?” Harry asks, finally tearing his eyes away from Teddy.
“She said that she’s always happy to see the guys go, but especially him. Said he’s impossible to please and so grumpy for just a little guy.”
Draco and Harry don’t think about what this means for them. There’s a sadness pulling on Harry’s chest, and he’s looking at Teddy again.
“Right,” he says dismissively. There’s quiet for a moment.
“Well don’t just stand there, pick him up,” Arthur encourages. As Hagrid hands Harry Teddy, he wakes up. He starts to cry and fuss.
“No!” Teddy screams and seems to shake the room. He was the manifestation of the love of two people that they all loved dearly that had died. He was a manifestation of everything that happened. An unexpected surprise along the way, and he was old enough to talk, to yell, to cry out. The echoes of his yells seemed to say, “it’s not fair!” And it wasn’t. It was like the ceiling had fallen as the war crashed down on them at the beck and call of this little one’s wails. He had all the right to cry. It was so unreal that he was here let alone to hear him talk. He’s in Harry’s arms.
“No!” He yells again as he starts to flail and hit Harry. Some items in the room clatter to the floor seemingly by themselves.
“Hey, hey,” Harry said quietly, shifting Teddy to one side and using the other hand to gently push his arms down. Teddy stops hitting him but still yells.
“I- I didn’t know he could talk,” Harry says to the group, saying what they’re all thinking.
“Yeah, just a few words,” Hagrid adds, “he walks too, I was told. Well runs, runs away from people.”
“Right,” Harry says again, tightening his grip on Teddy a little. No one really knows what to say after that.
“Right,” Hagrid echoes, “oh, and there’s this.” He hands Harry a stack of papers with Teddy’s birth certificate on top. Harry’s hand shakes. It’s their names, their handwriting, their child. Also, his first name is Edward. Harry has nothing to say even if he could say it. His mouth is dry and his head is spinning, and it doesn’t help that Teddy is protesting right by his ear.
He looks at Draco helplessly, his hands full. He gestures to Draco to have him take one of them: the baby or the papers. Draco just smiles. He takes the papers and nods at Teddy so Harry goes back to him.
“Hey, hey,” Harry is saying again, bouncing Teddy. He pushes the hair off Teddy's forehead. “Teddy, Teddy.”
Teddy stops fussing for a moment, his big green eyes locking with Harry’s. Harry watches it all cross his little face: confusion, fear. The poor thing doesn’t know where he is.
“I-I got you, okay?” Harry says barely a whisper. Teddy stares at him for a moment before he starts to cry again. Harry sighs. He takes some of the papers from Draco and tosses them on a desk, makes a pen appear from thin air with his hand, and signs the adoption papers before handing them back to Arthur.
They get back to their apartment and Teddy doesn’t stop crying. It’s a mix of toddler anger and real tears. They get looks on the train– two barely-twenty boys with a baby. Doesn’t help that they’re in wizard robes. The looks are almost as bad as the ones when they walked out of the Ministry, but these are of annoyance not utter bewilderment. There are no cameras pointed at them in the muggle world.
Where are their parents? The train goers could’ve been thinking. Dead, dead, in jail, Harry thought back.
They get home and start showing Teddy his things. It only occupies him for a few seconds before he looks at them and starts crying again. They’re getting frustrated. The air is hot and tense
“Right,” Harry says finally, getting Teddy and putting him into a floor, toddler chair they got for him. He quiets for a moment at the swift movement.
“Watch him, please,” Harry asks Draco as he more or less stomps over to the kitchen. Draco obliges and slides down his chair to sit on the floor across from Teddy. They make eye contact.
“What does he eat?” Harry asks to fill the silence. He's going through the cupboards. They’d given Teddy biscuits and things, but he’d just throw them.
“He eats solid food, but-” Draco starts, but Harry has slammed a bottle onto the counter. They had gotten formula as well. It’s not like they had any clue about how to raise a baby. They had no sense how big 20 months was. Harry makes a bottle as Teddy continues to yell and cry. Draco is trying to distract him. It’s not helping.
Harry comes back over and there’s a determination in his eyes that almost scares Draco. He slams the made bottle onto the coffee table before scooping Teddy up. He sits on the couch and positions Teddy in his lap. He leans him back and takes the bottle off the table.
“I need a break, okay?” Draco whispers. Harry nods. “I’m going for a walk.” Draco gets up and leaves.
Harry shushes Teddy before putting the bottle in his mouth. The silence is an embrace.
“I know you’re unhappy,” he says quietly to Teddy like he can understand him. “I know you’re unhappy and you’re scared and you’re probably wondering where your mum and dad are if you even remember them. But this is it, okay? No more moving around, no more strange new people. I’ve got you, Teddy, okay? I’ve got you.”
Only, it seems Teddy does understand. He’s looking Harry in the eyes.
“I was you once,” Harry is saying, “but this is different. You will know about your parents and what they died for. They died for you, Teddy, just like mine. They died for both of us and we’re safe now. You have no idea. And it’s different for you, Teddy, because I care about you. I love you and no one-” Harry doesn’t realize he’s started to cry. “No one is ever going to lay a hand on you, okay? You will eat with us and have fun with us. It’ll be hard sometimes, fuck, it’ll be so hard, but we have each other now, okay? You’re not getting sent away, and you’re wanted. You’ve always been wanted, Teddy, and you’re home now. You’re safe”
Home. Isn’t that weird? It’s never been a place, Harry knows that. He’s known that since his “home” was a cupboard under the stairs. Hogwarts was home, and now it’s gone. It’ll come back but… home is people. Home is people and not knowing everything will be okay but knowing that you are safe with these people. They are yours. You are theirs. They’re home.
That night in Harry’s dream he’s greeted by three familiar figures. He shudders at the sight of them. Remus, Tonks, and Sirius are standing and smiling at him. Tonks comes up to him and takes both his hands in hers. There are tears in her eyes.
“Thank you, Harry,” she says, just a whisper, before squeezing his hands. She drops them and looks into his eyes. They do the thing where both of their eyes move because they’re looking into each other’s eyes. She sighs, turns, and walks back to the group. Remus pulls her into his side. Sirius puts his arm around them.
“Proud of you, son,” Remus says.
“Very proud, Harry,” Sirius agrees. He’s beaming. The three of them wave as they walk off and to the left. Harry’s parents are waving them back and in the distance, he can sense Dumbledore, Snape, Cedric, everyone is there. He waves to them, tears in his eyes, half wishing he could run and join them. His feet stay planted. He misses them so much.
The dream fades and Harry awakes his hands tingling. Teddy has somehow escaped his crib, crawled onto the big bed, and ended up falling back to sleep on Harry's chest. His little hand is curled in the comforter over Harry’s heart. Harry frees his arms from the blankets and wraps his arms around Teddy. Draco stirs gently from where he’s curled into Harry’s side, facing him, and Harry thinks he gets it.
This is it.
This is what’s worth staying around for. This is why he didn’t run.
When Draco wakes up the next morning he doesn’t remember the previous day. He knows he’s in bed with Harry in their little basement flat, and he’s vaguely aware that there’s a third someone in bed with them. They hadn’t seen Luna, Neville, or Ginny the previous day. He remembers it all very fast. He opens his eyes to see Teddy sitting on top of a sleeping Harry. Teddy looks at him and smiles. His little teeth are starting to come in. It catches Draco off guard. The little guy had never smiled around them before. Draco briefly wondered how long it had been since he smiled. It hits him all very fast and his chest starts to constrict. This little person knew nothing about him. Knew nothing about anything that happened. Knew nothing about how his parents had died and Draco’s parallel role with that. He’s here, and his life is so broken, and he doesn’t even know it. Draco can’t breathe.
Teddy slides off Harry to sit in between them, babbling quietly. Draco sits up because it appears the little boy is talking to him. Teddy kind of pushes Draco before sitting heavily in his lap and sighing. He leans back into Draco and tears fill Draco’s eyes. He feels so guilty. His stomach is turning and his lungs are tight. He can’t stop thinking about a small Harry, orphaned like Teddy is, or himself. Either of them would’ve been shoved off. He’s shaking, but Teddy doesn’t move. Draco has half the mind to shove Teddy off him and rage at his dark mark with whatever sharp thing he could find.
No. He tells himself. No, no. Instead, he gently puts his arms around Teddy. He feels the little boy untense and smile again. Tears are streaming down Draco's face. He closes his eyes and holds on to Teddy. A disembodied whisper makes him jump a little bit, and it’s a voice he hasn’t heard since third year defense against the dark arts.
“I forgive you,” it says.