Author: winterstorrm

Pairings and Main Characters: Harry/Draco, (side pairings of: Hermione/Ron, Pansy/Theo, Luna/Neville)

Summary: Draco Malfoy stands in the way of Harry and the person he loves more than anyone else in the world. Harry's not going to let that stop him.

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 53k

Warnings: Character Death (not H/D), Mpreg

Genre: Romance/Angst

Canon: Post-Hogwarts, EWE

Notes: Thank you to singlemomsummer and triomakesmehot for their amazing beta skills. Without Summer's cheerleading and support I would still be staring blankly at the screen trying to figure out the ending! Summer - you rock!

This fic is loosely based on an old romance novel (title is long forgotten) I read in secret when I was 12, so essentially, this is Harlequin HD - if I ever remember the name, I'll fess it up! Also, thank you lovely artists for chosing this fic, and thank you mods for the hard work. ♥

Harry sat at the bedside of the woman who had been the closest he’d ever come to having a mother, Molly Weasley notwithstanding, his hand in hers as she struggled to breathe.

"It’s not too late," he said. "The curse-breakers could find a solution any day now-"

"My dear, they’ve had four years, and nothing has been forthcoming yet. I’m afraid the wife of a Death Eater is not at the top of the list of priorities at the Ministry." Harry’s hand tightened in hers. He knew she was right, he also knew that Draco had spent a fortune on private consultants from every corner of the globe, magical and Muggle, yet even that had been unsuccessful.

Harry dashed a tear away with the back of his hand. When Narcissa died he would lose his lifeline, his last thread of hope. He loved her, for her selflessness and compassion, and for what she had done for him these past two years. Had it not been for Narcissa, Harry thought he might well have given up. She treated him as she treated her own son.

"I can’t bear to think about it," he sniffed. "I don’t know what I’m going to do without you."

"You’re the strongest person I know," Narcissa told him kindly. "The strongest I’ve ever known. To go through the things you have, your childhood, the way you were served up to the Dark Lord like you were, a sacrifice for the greater good…"

"If I’m so strong, how did I end up here, like this? I let myself be walked all over. He broke me, and I let him." Harry hung his head in shame. One minute he’d been the saviour of the wizarding world, and the next, he’d become a man he couldn’t recognise, even with the hindsight he now possessed. It had been that insecurity that led to his current situation. He was past all of that now; he was back to his old self again, the man he had been before the war had ended and he’d failed to protect the people he loved.

Harry was never meant to live. He was supposed to die with Voldemort, the sacrifice for the defeat of a tyrant being Harry’s own life. Narcissa had saved him then, and she was saving him now.

"You mustn’t be so hard on yourself," Narcissa said now. "Things happen, life happens, and you still have that life and you have to go on living it."

Harry smiled and leant forward to kiss her on her forehead. "How is Draco?" he asked, immediately feeling the tightening in his stomach at the mere thought of the blond.

Narcissa sighed. "Away on business again," she said sadly. "He’s away more than he is here. His memories are tormenting him. I don’t think he’ll ever be the same again. Losing one’s life partner to their death is not something a person comes to terms with easily."

Harry snorted in disgust, not bothering to hide the contempt he felt towards Draco Malfoy, "He’d lost his husband long before death took anyone. When he drove him away, when he took his child from him and refused to allow him to see his baby, even for an hour."

Draco Malfoy was a cold-hearted man, incapable of love or any kind of compassion or tenderness. He had driven away his husband with his cold indifference, and when he had uncovered evidence of what he perceived to be an affair he had warded the manor so that the poor man could not get back into the house he had been living in for two years. Draco’s husband had never seen his son again; he had eventually gone to Australia, his heart broken, to start a new life, and had been killed in a Muggle, plane crash over Ayr’s Rock.

"You don’t see how he regrets what happened, how he wishes he could change things, take them back." Narcissa defended her son, as Harry knew she would. He loved her for that, but he couldn’t agree with her.

"Has he told you he has regrets?"

"No, but he’s my son, I know from the way he behaves. He loved his husband; his betrayal nearly finished him off."

"That’s not love, Narcissa, that is hate. Even now, he spends no time with the son he fought so hard to keep." Draco’s son was the spitting image of his dead parent and nothing of a Malfoy in his appearance; and Harry hoped his personality would be spared as well.

"Draco loves Gabe, you know that."

"I know that he’s always away, that his beloved son is more or less permanently cared for by house-elves or Pansy Parkinson-Nott, neither of which I consider to be suitable full-time carers to a three year old."

"Yes, well, he and I have had words about the amount of time he spends away from the manor, and Gabe, but Draco tells me -"

Narcissa stilled at the unmistakable sound of Apparition interrupted them. Someone had Apparated into the sitting room downstairs.

Harry tensed, knowing full well who it was likely to be. Pansy was up at the main manor house, the elves knew not to make surprise appearances like that, and the grounds were strongly warded against everyone else, save for Harry as a visitor and friend to Narcissa, and Theo Nott, who lived in the west wing of the manor with his wife Pansy.

The door opened and Draco Malfoy entered. Harry’s heart sped up and his throat filled with bile. He hated this man more than life. It was a testimony to his love and respect for Narcissa that he could even as much as tolerate the other man’s presence in the slightest. If he had thought there was a chance Draco would come back from wherever it was he had gone, then Harry wouldn’t have hung around long enough to risk a chance meeting like this.

Draco’s formal robes, clipped neatly in place over a dark grey suit, hung off Draco’s tall, lithe frame with an elegance Harry himself had no hope of ever possessing. His blond hair was slicked back like he had favoured in his school days, the style Harry knew Narcissa preferred seeing on her son. He glanced at Harry, his beautiful pale mask twisting into a sneer at the sight of Harry.

"Sorry, Mother, I did not realise you had company," Draco apologised, sarcasm dripping out of every word. He turned and inclined his head at Harry. "What a pleasant surprise."

Fucking liar, thought Harry. Draco had resented Harry’s presence from the first day Narcissa had invited him to visit, but Narcissa had stubbornly insisted that he was a friend and could visit whenever he liked. Then, when Narcissa’s condition began to deteriorate and the frequency of Harry’s visits increased, Draco had stopped protesting because Harry’s presence always seemed to soothe and cheer her up.

"Likewise, Mr. Malfoy," Harry responded coldly. He glanced at Narcissa who was watching their exchange with a frown. "How is your son?"

Draco’s eyes narrowed, "Gabe is well, thank you." He turned to his mother. "He’s been asking about you, he wonders why he can’t come and visit his grandmother."

Narcissa shook her head, "No, Draco, I don’t want the boy to remember me like this."

"When did you last spend any time with your son yourself, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry couldn’t help asking, his barely contained anger simmering beneath the surface. He knew Draco barely spent any time with his little boy. Harry suspected he knew why, but with a man like Draco, there could be any number of reasons.

"What the hell does it have to do with you how much time I spend with my son?" Draco spat, the cool mask dropping for a moment to reveal his anger and disdain.

"I do so wish you two boys would make more of an effort to get along, for my sake if for no other reason," Narcissa interrupted.

Harry stood up. "I was about to be on my way." He closed his grasp around the cloak hanging off the back of his chair and draped it around his shoulders. "Narcissa, I’ll be back tomorrow." He leant over and pecked her cheek before turning for the door.

"I’ll see you out," Draco said, shooting a glance at his mother who nodded her approval.

"That won’t be necessary," Harry objected. "I’m perfectly capable of walking downstairs and Disapparating."

"Nevertheless, I insist," Draco said smoothly and Harry knew he had no choice but to agree. Draco held open the door and Harry passed through, trying to keep his expression neutral. As he walked down the narrow staircase into the lower rooms of the cottage, he was all too aware of who was behind him and what was at stake here.

When he reached the sitting room Harry turned and forced a smile at Draco. "We’ll meet again, I’m sure, Mr. Malfoy," he said as politely as he could muster, trying not to grind his teeth as he spoke.

"No, wait, please don’t go yet," Draco said and Harry was shocked at the almost friendly tone of voice. "You don’t like me much, do you?"

Harry gaped. He wanted to say ‘like? I loathe you,’ but he managed to control himself. Draco Malfoy was the one person he had to rein himself in around more than any other. Instead he said, "I feel it is you who does not like me, Mr. Malfoy."

"On the contrary, I cannot dislike you when I do not know you," Draco said, looking uncomfortable. "I feel we could make more of an effort with one another, for Mother’s sake. She seems to view you almost as a second son; and I whilst I was suspicious at first-"

"I-"

Draco held up a hand to placate Harry. "I was suspicious, but she trusts you and I trust her, so with that in mind; would you care to join me for dinner tonight?"

A cold tendril of fear unwound itself from somewhere deep within Harry and wrapped itself around his heart, squeezing until he felt he couldn’t breathe with the constriction it enforced.

"I don’t think so," Harry replied.

"Oh. If you have plans this evening, then another would suffice. Perhaps if you let me know when you are free we can arrange it then."

"No," Harry said, trying desperately to control the way his hands had started to shake. He shoved them into the pockets of his robe and attempted to inch towards the door. "You misunderstand me. I have no desire to spend an evening in your company, not tonight or any other night."

Draco’s cheeks flushed pink. "I see."

"I think perhaps, Mr. Malfoy, that your time might be better spent with your son. You fought so desperately to gain custody of him, after all." Harry knew he was treading on thin ice, but he couldn’t help himself. Draco Malfoy had excluded his husband from his and their son’s lives so thoroughly and utterly that the other man had been so broken hearted, so without hope, that he had left the country and travelled thousands of miles to get away from the destructive sphere of his spouse, and whilst there he had died without ever seeing his son again. Yet here Draco was, with his precious child all to himself and he barely spent any time with the child.

Harry had seen some of the little boy, before Narcissa’s illness had reached the stage it was at now, and he knew the child – Gabe – loved his father unconditionally. When he spoke of Draco it was with clear adoration that broke Harry’s heart. Harry suspected Draco’s coldness towards the child was due to the resemblance he had to his other father, Draco’s dead husband. Draco had treated his husband abominably; now it seemed that his poor son would fare the same.

"That is the second time today you have made reference to the amount of time I spend with my son," Draco ground out. "My son is loved and cared for, and I don’t quite see where this impression comes from that I am not a loving father-"

"I didn’t say you did not love the child, Mr. Malfoy, merely that perhaps your time would be better spent with him, than having dinner with me."

Draco’s eyes narrowed. "Is this your only reason for refusing me?"

"It’s the only reason you’re getting," Harry said with a calmness he did not feel. "Now, if that will be all, I have to be getting home. Good night." Before Draco could attempt to detain him further, Harry Disapparated.

* * *

When Harry Apparated into the hallway of his tiny flat he almost collapsed against the wall, so laboured was his breathing. His heart was beating so fast he felt he might explode. Oh Merlin, this latest encounter had been the worst yet. Behind Draco’s excuses for inviting him to dinner lay so much more than what appeared on the surface. Draco was attracted to him, Harry knew the signs even if Draco tried to hide behind his cold façade, and Harry knew the truth.

Well, Harry wasn’t about to get sucked in. He’d seen first-hand how Draco treated the person he supposedly loved. Supposedly being the operative word there. Draco Malfoy wasn’t capable of love.

Harry wearily headed down the hall to his bedroom and discarded his clothes into the hamper before heading for the bathroom and the shower. He stood naked in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the door and stared at the man looking back at him with a sigh.

His glamour still held. The man in the mirror shared only Harry’s height and build, as those were difficult to maintain even under a glamour such as the one Harry was using. He had slightly curly light brown hair, light brown eyes that did not need glasses, skin a shade or two paler than Harry’s own, and a face that was designed not to draw attention. Harry liked to think he looked average. His scar was gone. This man was not Harry Potter; he was Ewen Johnson, the home-schooled son of an old friend of Narcissa Malfoy and a complete invention thought up by himself and Narcissa.

This man staring back at him from the mirror was not Harry Potter, one-time husband of Draco Malfoy, now assumed dead to all but a close few. Ewen Johnson could get past the wards at Malfoy Manor, could catch the odd glimpse of the little boy he had given birth to three years before and if he was lucky he could spend some time with him. If he was still Harry Potter, he would not have made it within five miles of the manor and his son before Draco’s security removed him. A few stolen minutes with his baby were better than nothing at all.

It was ironic how boring, plain, Ewen Johnson could get past all those defences, and if he wanted, he could work his way back into Draco’s bed. That would never happen. Harry hated Draco for what he had done to him; he was here for his son and his son alone. Draco could be as vile or as charming as he wished, and Harry knew full well exactly how wonderfully he pulled off both states, but Harry would die for real before he let Draco Malfoy touch him again.

* * *

Draco watched Ewen Disapparate with a blank face, only letting the mask fall when the other man had gone.

What had just happened? He didn’t even know where that invite to dinner had come from, so to have it so unrepentantly thrown back in his face stung. He didn’t know why he had asked Ewen Johnson to dinner and he did not understand why it rankled that he had been so easily dismissed. He didn’t even like the man.

Yet there was something about him, something that had crawled its way under his skin and was nibbling away at him. He wanted to know Ewen; he itched to touch him. No one else had ever made him feel like that, no one other than Harry.

With that thought, Draco deflated. Harry Potter. His Harry. Grief swirled inside him and the iron clamp around his heart constricted. Sometimes Draco didn’t know how he managed to carry on, but he had to, for Gabe. Every day hurt more than the last. People always said grief became easier to bear, but Draco didn’t know that feeling. He just missed Harry more and more the more time that passed.

Harry’s death was Draco’s fault. He had pushed him away, so far that Harry had taken himself to the other side of the world rather than try to make things work with him, even for Gabe’s sake. Draco had to live with that every single day, and sometimes the weight of it consumed him.

When he found he was still staring at the spot Ewen Johnson had vacated seconds before, Draco shook his head and headed back to the stairs to visit his mother. Yes, there was an attraction there for Ewen. In fact, Ewen was the only person other than Harry he had been drawn to ‘in that way’ in his lifetime.

Draco felt both scared and exhilarated. He also felt guilty. Ewen’s refusal of his invitation was for the best. Draco did not deserve a second shot at happiness. He’d all but killed the love of his life with his own bare hands. He should not be given another chance to fuck up someone else’s life.

"I hope you were nice to Ewen," Narcissa said when Draco found his way back upstairs again. "You know my wishes with regard to him when I die, and I don’t want you making things awkward for him."

"Mother, what makes you think that Ewen will even want to accept your bequest? There are not many wizards who would want to live here in the manor grounds."

"Ewen will. He loves the peace and quiet of the countryside; and he has little money to afford it on his own," Narcissa looked pleadingly at Draco. "It’s important to me that he be given this chance; please don’t spoil it. He has never asked me for anything, and he doesn’t know I’m planning this."

Draco sighed, and hoped that if Ewen Johnson did accept Narcissa’s bequest, he would stay out of Draco’s way – and that Draco would have the self-control to stay out of his.

* * *

When Harry Potter had gotten together with Draco Malfoy, the wizarding world had collectively gasped in shock. It had been during eighth year, and Harry had never felt more alone. Yes, he had Ron and Hermione, and he knew that he always would. In fact, all of the Weasleys, Neville, Luna – they were all there for him, he knew they had not betrayed him, but somehow they all had each other, and Harry was alone.

Alone, and unable to stop thinking about how it had felt to have Draco Malfoy pressed against him when they had escaped the Fiendfyre. The whole tragedy that was the war, and that was the only sensation Harry could remember other than fear and desperate grief. Harry had removed himself and become withdrawn from his friends, spending more time alone, not feeling part of the group, needing something more.

Draco had found him at his lowest point, and somehow, after sniping had led to several weeks of angry furious sex, Draco had become Harry’s everything. How Harry wished now that he had listened to Ron’s warnings and Hermione’s concerns about Draco. Harry’s arguments that Draco had changed had fallen on deaf ears; and it had taken his marrying Draco two months after his nineteenth birthday before his friends would truly accept Draco as his partner. Not that Draco met with them often. He liked Harry all to himself, and early on, Harry had wanted nothing more than to be just with Draco. He had still made an effort with his friends, but when he fell pregnant – a total shock because he hadn’t even known wizards could have babies – Draco’s protectiveness, or as Hermione and Ron referred to it, his possessiveness, increased tenfold, and Harry became a virtual prisoner of Malfoy Manor.

His pregnancy had been the beginning of the end.

* * *

That evening, shaken more than he realised, Draco made sure to eat his evening meal with his son. He knew he didn’t spend as much time as he could with Gabe. He knew he could be a better father. Gabe was all he had. His mother was terminally ill, Lucius had died in Azkaban, and Harry- Pansy took care of Gabe during the day and at times when Draco was working away. Draco knew she loved the little boy; she, Theo and Blaise were his best friends. Even they didn’t know how deeply he grieved for Harry. They lived at the manor now, but at the time of his marriage to Harry, they had been travelling the world with Blaise and Daphne Greengrass.

Draco was glad for it. No one else knew what had happened between himself and Harry, not really, not even his mother. Granger and Weasley might know something, but if they did, Granger never said anything on the times she came and took Gabe for the day. Draco had made sure that Granger and Weasley kept contact with Gabe after Harry had died; they were Harry’s best friends, the closest he’d ever had to family other than Draco; he wanted Gabe to know them.

Gabe was a beautiful child, and Draco knew he wasn’t just being an oblivious parent when he thought that. The little boy was the spitting image of Harry, bar the scar and the glasses. He proudly wore a shock of dark hair atop a serious face that was always lost in concentration; Gabe liked to learn. Draco saw his future as a Ravenclaw and that suited him just fine. Gabe’s eyes were a piercing green, and it was this, more than anything else, that made Draco struggle to look at his son. When he looked into those eyes he saw Harry.

"Father, can we go flying?" Gabe asked him over their meal. "Pansy says that you was the best at Hog- school and that nobody flew as good as you."

"Were the best, Gabe," Draco corrected automatically, silently cursing Pansy for her bias towards him. "No, Gabe, I was good but your daddy was better. He was the youngest Seeker the school had ever known. He was amazing in the air."

Gabe pouted. "Can we look at the pictures of Daddy after dinner?"

Draco hesitated. He wasn’t in a place yet where he could look at the moving wizarding photographs of Harry and not want to break down. Usually it had been Narcissa who had shown Gabe what his daddy had been like. "Not tonight, Gabe, I’ve got work to do. How about we get you a training broom at the weekend and I’ll show you how to fly?"

So now he was distracting his son with gifts. Draco really was a terrible father. Watching Gabe’s face light up in delight made up for it though. "’Kay," he said happily. "Then after, we can look at pictures of Daddy."

Draco revised his opinion; his son was clearly a Slytherin in the making. He watched with pride and a lump in his throat as Gabe talked joyfully about his day with Pansy, how they’d read together, then done some gardening and Gabe had helped Pansy make lunch.

His son was a happy child. He’d been too young to understand about Harry; he didn’t remember him other than through the photos and the memories from others. When the time was right, Draco would show Gabe some of his memories of Harry, ones where they were happy, old ones of school, of Harry playing Quidditch and beating dragons on broomsticks.

They enjoyed a game of Exploding Snap after their meal, and Draco didn’t even have to let Gabe win, he was naturally quick. After the third game, he began to flag and Draco gathered him in his arms and carried him up to bed, tucking his sleepy form beneath his covers and brushing the hair off his face to kiss his forehead.

"I love you, Father," Gabe muttered, his tiny arms lifting to hug Draco around his neck. "I love Daddy, too," he added drowsily, his arms falling away.

"I love you, too," Draco whispered, just making it to the other side of the door in time to throw up a rapid silencing spell to block out the sound of his sobbing from his son’s young ears.

He sank to the floor, his back to the door, dropping his head to his hands.

He was still there when Theo found him two hours later, his face blotchy and his head throbbing. He went to bed after taking Dreamless Sleep and a large glass of Firewhisky. It was his only chance of sleep.

* * *

"He asked me to dinner, Hermione," Harry snorted, leaning against the kitchen counter as Hermione stirred the pots on the hob. "Draco Malfoy asked me to dinner! I’d heard that he’s become a bit of a player, but I never thought he would look at me: at Ewen Johnson." Over twenty-four hours had passed since the ‘incident’, and Harry had carefully planned his visit to Narcissa today to make sure he missed running into his beloved ‘husband’.

"Why not, Harry? Ewen’s very attractive in a librarian sort of way." Hermione wiped her hands on her apron and approached Harry, pulling him into a hug. "Have you considered that on some level, deep down, he recognises you?"

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded, pulling out of her arms. "That’s what I’m afraid of. The magic that keeps this," he swept a hand down the length of his body, "permanently in place, and my voice and magical signature is disguised, but what about non-magical intuition? Like the one that tells me he’s near me even when I haven’t heard him or smelled him?"

"Harry-"

"What if he finds out I’m alive? He’d have to know that you and Ron are in on this. He’d stop you seeing Gabe, which when Narcissa dies will be the only time I’ll ever get to see him. I can’t live the rest of my life never seeing my baby, Hermione, I can’t." Harry’s voice cracked as the tears threatened to spill.

"Harry, calm down, please," Hermione pleaded, touching Harry’s arm. Ewen’s arm. "He won’t find out. As long as you keep doing what you’ve been doing, you will be fine. Malfoy probably just wanted to try his luck with you. You know him, he won’t try again; one rejection is enough."

Harry relaxed slightly, the fear abating slightly. "I know you’re right, I just- I can’t go through it again. Everything I put in place so I could come back and do this – this is my only chance. Draco’s accepted that Ewen bumped into you and Ron whilst you were at the manor picking up Gabe and renewed a childhood friendship with Ron, so it won’t look odd that I’m around when you have him over. Another new identity wouldn’t work."

A whooshing noise signalled Ron’s arrival from the Ministry and he stepped out of the Floo. "Harry!" He strode over, kissed Hermione’s cheek and hugged Harry. "How are you?"

"You’re both going to have to try to call me Ewen," Harry chastised. "One slip up and the cat could be out of the bag."

"Sorry, mate, it’s not easy," Ron apologised. He sniffed the air. "What’s for dinner?"

"Veggie chilli and rice," Hermione replied. "It’s ready, so you two set the table."

Ron rolled his eyes but complied. Harry grinned. Ron and Hermione were his anchors. They’d kept him sane when his life had gone to shit, stuck by him through everything; they were his secret keepers now, albeit slightly reluctantly when it came to letting everyone think Harry Potter had died. Yet, they had offered to take an Unbreakable Vow to protect him; as had Narcissa. Harry had refused Hermione’s and Ron’s offers, but taken Narcissa’s. Her love for Draco might lead to her saying something out of turn, she understood that, as did Harry.

"So, Ron, how’s work?" Harry asked as they set the table. Ron was an Auror, and loved his job, but at times it did wear him out.

"There’s been another Muggle kidnapping," Ron replied. "Third one this year. If the parents don’t pay up, they say they’ll kill the kid. They killed the second one when the parents couldn’t get the money together. It’s a bloody nightmare as the kidnappers are wizards, so we’re having to work with the Muggle police – special branch, you know, the ones who know we’re here."

They sat down to eat and Ron talked about the case some more, Hermione told them about her latest assignment in her training to become a lawyer, and Harry, well, he talked about Narcissa and then about his plans to write. Since his marriage, and subsequent ‘death’, Harry had learnt to enjoy his own company more. It wasn’t as though he had friends anymore, while everyone thought he was dead. He was a new person, he was Ewen Johnson. Ewen Johnson wasn’t anybody.

No, all that mattered to Harry was that he see his son grow up. Anything else was window dressing.

* * *

Narcissa held on for three long weeks of suffering before passing away in her sleep, alone. When Hanny came to tell him that Mistress Narcissa was dead, Draco felt numb. It was just him and Gabe now; just the two of them against the world, which is how it had to be. The world did not like Malfoys, and it had gotten worse since Harry’s death. Draco knew the only thing that kept the press from crucifying him was his and Harry’s son and their fascination with trying to get a photograph of him; wanting to compare Gabe’s baby looks to both of his parents to see who he took after.

Draco was grateful that Gabe followed Harry; it might bode better for him in the future if he was seen as the son of Harry Potter rather than the son of Draco Malfoy. He was already burdened by the name; Malfoy-Potter.

Draco’s heart tightened and he almost keeled over. Harry. How was someone supposed to get over losing their soul mate? It was like he lived and breathed this grief, like it consumed him; and now his mother had left him, too.

The funeral was on a depressingly sunny day. Draco had hoped for rain and gloom; it seemed more fitting somehow. Gabe, held tightly against Draco’s chest during the ceremony, seemed to realise the seriousness of the occasion and kept his usual inquisitive chatter to himself. Draco had explained that Grandma had gone away, but the little boy still didn’t really understand the concept of death.

Gabe still occasionally asked Draco when his daddy was coming back. He was too young to understand that Harry was gone forever.

Recent years had seen Narcissa rebuild her old friendships and rekindle her relationship with her sister, Andromeda. Draco supposed that both Andromeda and Teddy were the nearest he did have to family. Teddy wasn’t much older than Gabe; maybe that was a relationship that could be built up, for Gabe’s sake. Draco had grown up without any siblings or close relations, and he wanted better than that for Gabe.

The wake was held in the manor; Draco wanted to poke his own eyes out when he realised that he was watching every move Ewen Johnson made. He couldn’t take his eyes off the man as he mingled with other mourners, made a fuss of Teddy and when Gabe shouted, "Wen!" and toddled over to him, Draco seized his opportunity.

Ewen had swept the child into his arms, whispering softly to him as the little boy giggled. Draco frowned. Gabe was a shy child, normally shying away from strangers, yet from a few meetings with Ewen at his mother’s cottage he had seemingly built up a trust with this strange man who was responsible for such a varied gamut of emotions inside of Draco.

"How are you today, Mr. Johnson?" Draco asked, coming to stand at Ewen’s elbow.

"Well, thank you, Mr. Malfoy," Ewen replied stiffly. "Please accept my condolences for your mother’s death. She’s been a good friend to me; I’ll miss her."

Draco nodded solemnly, knowing that in Ewen’s case, the words were not empty platitudes. "Thank you."

"I was just talking to young Gabe here about flying; he tells me he’s got his first broomstick," Ewen turned his attention back to the child who was staring at him adoringly. Draco’s expression tightened. "I think you’ll be a shoe-in for the Quidditch team at Hogwarts, like your father was."

"What do you know about my school Quidditch career? I hear you were home schooled?"

Ewen blinked. "I was, but Ron and Hermione have told me-"

"You’re friends with the We- Weasley and Granger?"

Ewen seemed surprised. "Yes, I ran into them here when Hermione picked up Gabe one time – I grew up not far from the Weasleys, I’ve known Ron all my life."

A horrible feeling of déja vu tickled Draco’s senses. Harry had been one third of the Golden Trio, and now Ewen Johnson was slotting into his place? He didn’t like it. At all.

"Father, can Wen come flying?" Gabe asked innocently, his green eyes melting Draco’s resolve before he even realised that he had any.

Draco smiled tightly, and it was Ewen who answered, "I might not be around very much now that your Grandmother has gone away, Gabe."

Gabe pouted and his eyes welled up. Draco opened his mouth to appease his son, but Ewen said, "Why don’t you go and find Pansy, Gabe?" He pointed to the fireplace where Pansy was leaning on the mantle talking to Blaise. "I need to have a word with your father." He bent his head and placed a kiss to the boy’s forehead.

Gabe sniffed but nodded and Ewen lowered his tiny frame to the floor and watched him toddle off before snapping his attention back to Draco. Draco realised his entire focus had been on Ewen watching his son, rather than the child.

"Have you any idea why I have been asked to stay for the reading of Narcissa’s will?" Ewen snapped, his demeanour totally changed now that Gabe was across the room and being fussed over by Pansy.

"I think so," Draco replied. "However, I do not wish to speculate at this time. We’ll all know for certain in a couple of hours’ time."

"In which case, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a bit of a headache. I’ll take a quick stroll around the grounds if that is alright with you?"

Draco nodded. It would seem churlish to refuse.

"Might I ask Gabe to join me?"

Draco found himself nodding again, surprising himself. He was very wary of whom he let take care of his son, yet he was handing him over to this almost stranger.

He watched as Ewen thanked him and crossed the room, dropping to his haunches to talk to Gabe, seeing his son’s face light up as he took Ewen’s hand was his answer. Gabe’s happiness meant everything now. He kept his eyes on them until they rounded the corner before he exhaled.

Smoothing down his robes, he went to speak to his aunt. With Gabe’s happiness on his mind, perhaps she would agree to a play date with Teddy?

* * *

Harry sat down on the banks of the lake with a contented sigh, and immediately felt guilty. What right did he have to be content when this was Narcissa’s funeral? Yet, he only had to take a look at his son as he sat between Harry’s legs, talking nineteen to the dozen about the fish in the lake and how his father had promised to take him to the island in the middle on a boat. How could he feel anything but joy to be this close to his boy, to have him all to himself, even if it were just for these few precious minutes?

Harry had no way of knowing when he would get to spend time with Gabe again.

With that thought, his pleasure began to evaporate.

Harry closed his eyes and buried his face in Gabe’s baby soft hair; fighting back the tears that threatened to fall if he only relented at allowed it. He didn’t know how long he was there, he only snapped out of his semi-trance when he heard Draco’s voice behind him.

"Mr. Johnson, the lawyer is ready for us now," he said, coming to stand beside Harry, his face softening at the sight of the sleeping three year old in Harry’s embrace. "I see you have worn my son out."

"I think he wore himself out," Harry replied, rousing himself to stand, letting Draco lift Gabe into his own arms. "He’s a talkative little chap."

Surprise flickered across Draco’s face before he quickly masked it with the blank expression Harry had lived with for the later months of their association.

"Yes, he takes after his other father for that," Draco said quietly. "Come – my mother’s final wishes need to be read and I need to put Gabe to bed first."

Draco set off towards the house, and Harry followed at his side.

They walked in companionable silence, for want of a better phrase, the presence of their son the glue that bound them together, even if Harry was the only one who knew it. His palms hurt and he had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to will away this feeling; because, it wouldn’t do to ever relax in Draco Malfoy’s company.

* * *

The Gryffindor in Harry wanted to protest; the father in him wouldn’t allow it.

Narcissa’s bequest to him was her cottage on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, or more precisely, the right to live in the cottage for as long as he wished. The rights of residency would die when he did.

She had come through for him, even in death. Narcissa had made sure that Harry could be near Gabe until the boy was grown, he could know his son as much as he could ever hope to given his circumstances.

"You don’t seem surprised, Mr. Malfoy," he said to Draco after the reading was over and the lawyer was gathering his papers together. "Did Narcissa mention this to you?"

"She did. However, I was unsure whether she would leave you anything else. She mentioned several times how you had little money. I had thought she might leave some to you."

Harry smiled fondly, love for Narcissa shining through everything else in this moment. "I don’t need her money. She knew, though, how I long for peace and quiet in order to write, and that is something that does come with a price tag far beyond my budget." This wasn’t a lie; it was merely Harry’s secondary reason for wanting to live in a cottage on Draco Malfoy’s property. This was a blessing and a curse. "Are you going to challenge this?" It was a bitter afterthought.

"No. Not only was it something my mother wanted, the bequest is sealed in ancient magic. Only you can break it by refusing the bequest."

"I won’t be doing that."

"Somehow, I didn’t think you would."

Draco sounded so sad, he looked so broken, that Harry felt the old pang again, the one that saw him wanting to comfort Draco, to pull him into his arms and pull him close. It was a moment, and Harry had to force himself to remember who this was before him, and what he had done. Harry had had to change his name, become a different person; all because of this man before him.

"Right," he said, standing up and loosening his shoulders of the stiffness that had settled due to the tension of the day. "I have to be getting back. I’ll owl you my moving in date."

Draco nodded, his face still impassive.

Harry approached the Floo and propelled himself towards the tiny flat that had been his home since his ‘return’. Not for much longer though. Despite the fact that Draco would be his neighbour, Harry couldn’t wait to get out of there.

* * *

A week later, Ewen Johnson took residence in the cottage. He had asked that all of the current furniture be removed and he arrived with his own furniture, shrunken Muggle-looking items that had seen better days that he proceeded to set out around the tiny cottage. When he was done, Draco had to admit that the place held a certain cosy charm, and that perhaps less formal furniture was more fitting for a cottage such as this.

He stood on the threshold of the cottage, the door of which he had found wide open, and called inside for Ewen to announce his presence. When there was no reply, Draco hesitantly stepped inside and called for him again.

With a clatter, Ewen came flying out of the Floo and barrelling into Draco, knocking him to the floor and landing squarely on top of him. Both winded for a moment, Ewen blinked down at him, his cheeks flushing pink before collecting himself and jumping to his feet and holding his hand down for Draco.

"Um, sorry about that," he said when Draco was upright again and trying to will down the start of an erection, sure his own cheeks were flushing crimson. "I’d forgotten something, um, important that I’d left over at Ron’s and Hermione’s, so I just popped over there to get it; I was only gone a minute." He rammed his hands into his pockets, and Draco saw that his fist was clenched around something. He itched to ask what it was. "Did you need something?"

Ah, yes, the purpose for Draco’s visit. "Yes, why don’t we take a seat at the table?" He indicated the tiny two-seater table that Ewen had set in the bay window that looked down onto the lake and the open countryside beyond.

Ewen padded over and sat himself awkwardly in his chair, looking expectantly at Draco.

Draco coughed and took a deep breath. "Ewen, you and I, we got off on the wrong foot. For whatever reason that may be, I think we should start again. You’re going to be living here; I think this is a reasonable request."

Draco watched the emotions chase across Ewen’s face, shocked when he registered a brief flicker of fear. How could that be? Did Ewen think that Draco was humouring him, that he was just biding his time before he evicted him from his property?

"Whilst you are living on the Manor, you will have full access to the entire grounds, the stables, the Quidditch pitch, the gear and the boathouse." Ewen shifted uncomfortably. "The house will not be warded against you; however I ask that you do not enter without an invite."

"You don’t have to worry about that," Ewen replied, his jaw setting, not quite meeting Draco’s eyes. "I have no desire to- I don’t foresee any reason why I would wish to visit the manor. Mr. Malfoy, I merely want a quiet life, to be left to my writing. You will barely know I am here."

Draco, his unwanted erection finally subsided, knew that was an untruth, because his cock seemed to be tuned to Ewen like a compass seeking North. His unwanted, guilty attraction, to this unresponsive man only seemed to be growing, not abating as he would like.

"There are a few caveats to your freedom of the Manor," Draco added. "I have warded the cottage so that you may have visitors via the Floo, who may join you inside the cottage and on the cottage’s terrace, however, they will not be able to go any further without permission. I have my son’s safety to consider, you understand?"

Ewen looked annoyed, his lips tightening as he nodded his agreement. Draco felt an unwelcome twinge of jealousy at the thought of who might visit Ewen; did he have a girlfriend, or boyfriend? Was there a lover hiding in the shadows?

"Granger and Weasley are exceptions; I trust them with Gabe, and if they visit, they will have the same access as you."

Ewen brightened slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," he said, finally meeting Draco’s eyes. "A fresh start sounds good."

Something in Ewen’s expression made Draco want to reach across the table and take his hand, tell him everything would be okay. That he didn’t know what ‘everything’ was didn’t matter. Ewen had a vulnerability about him that spoke to him. Harry had had it, too.

Draco shot to his feet at that reminder. Harry. "Well, I’m glad that’s settled," he said, hoping his mask was in place and that his distress didn’t show. "Though, just one more thing; please, call me Draco."

* * *

Harry waited for Draco to leave before his face fell and he muttered to himself, "Call me Draco," he mocked under his breath to himself. He was staring at the still open door Draco had left through far longer than was healthy. He pulled it to and took the stairs two by two until he reached his bedroom.

He had chosen to sleep in the second bedroom, and use the one Narcissa had used as his study. It had better views and light. His bedroom was only for sleeping. It didn’t need great light or epic views. No one else would be sleeping there. Harry was done with love.

He pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled out the tiny frame he had stowed there, the one he had left behind in the room he had been using at Ron’s and Hermione’s last night when his place was all packed up and he couldn’t move into the cottage yet. Reverently he placed the frame on the dressing table and enlarged it wandlessly.

It was a photograph of himself and Gabe, the baby just hours old, his black hair sticking out in identical tufts to Harry’s. Harry was smiling in the picture, and talking up to the photographer, before leaning down to kiss the baby’s head. This was the only picture he’d had of his son, he used to keep it in his diary, when Draco had thrown him out, and over the long months of his banishment and then his ‘death,’ it had been all Harry had had to prove to himself that he wasn’t crazy, that he was doing this for a reason. For Gabe.

Draco had been the photographer. Harry preferred not to think about that; but that did not mean that he didn’t. Sometimes he couldn’t help it; those memories were part of him.

It had been Draco who had worked out that Harry was pregnant before Harry had even the slightest inkling. Male pregnancy was beyond rare among wizards, so much so that Harry hadn’t even been aware that it was possible, and why would he, when he had been raised amongst Muggles who held a hatred for all things magical and all things homosexual.

Hadn’t they drawn the short straw when they had been landed with Harry?

Harry had thought he had a stomach bug. Why else would he be queasy and throwing up every morning for a week? What other reason might there be for his retching at the smell of bacon? Ron had tentatively broached the possibility of pregnancy to Harry and Harry had - understandably in Harry's opinion - totally freaked out and taken himself off somewhere for a few days - without telling anyone where he was going or why.

He'd gone to Andromeda, stayed in her spare bedroom, spent a lot of time with Teddy whilst gazing at him in wonder that there might be a baby inside of him. His own child. When he'd finally confessed his fears to Andromeda, she'd called in a Healer friend, someone discreet who could keep the Boy Who Lived's status as 'mother-to-be’ to himself. The pregnancy had been confirmed and Harry had panicked; his blood pressure had risen and he'd passed out.

When he had woken, he had been in St Mungo's and Draco had been there, furious with him for putting the baby at risk. That had been the first time Harry had felt as though he were merely a vessel for the Malfoy heir; that Draco cared more about the child than he did about Harry.

That had been the first major crack in their marriage, although the pressure had been on them way before that. Draco's possessiveness had been almost stifling at times. Harry had been in love with him, so much it had hurt to be away from him, but that didn't stop him from wanting to stay in touch with his friends, the people who had been there for him since he was eleven years old and had laid down their lives for him. They were something Harry was not willing to give up, and if Draco was uncomfortable with visiting them, then Harry was fine with going alone. He would have preferred Draco to be there, he wanted the man he loved to be accepted by his friends - but if that wasn't to be, then the time he spent with his friends would have to be the time they spent apart.

Spending time apart was healthy anyway. It wasn't good for a person to be in the company of one other person day in day out, no matter how much they loved that person and how they ached when they were apart from them. Harry needed his friends.

Most of those friends thought he was dead now. Neville, Ginny, George- They were all in ignorance of Harry still being alive. Harry didn't like it, but their knowing would be too risky. If Draco were to find out, then that would be it for Harry. It would be Game Over.

* * *

Draco put Gabe to bed that evening, kissing his son gently on the forehead as his eyes closed before Draco had even covered him with the quilt. He sat on the edge of Gabe's bed and watched the little boy as he slept, admiring the way his lashes fanned his cheeks and how his soft baby features were changing into those of a little man. Draco had never known there could be a love like this, and only now did he understand why his mother had acted the way she had during the war: to protect him.

Unfortunately, his father had been too far in the thrall of Voldemort to be much of a father.

Gabe was so like Harry. It physically hurt to look at him sometimes and Draco was ashamed to admit that when he had first heard that Harry had died, he hadn't been able to truly look at Gabe for a long time - not really look at him, because if he had, he knew he would have broken down. It had taken Draco weeks before he’d been able to cry; he hadn’t wanted to allow himself to move past the numb feeling that had become his entire existence in those early days.

Tears streamed down his face now, dripping off his chin and onto his shirt. He stuffed his hand in his mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to make itself heard. Oh Merlin, Harry. How had Draco so spectacularly fucked up the only relationship in his life that came from someone liking him for him, not because they were his parent, or because he was a Malfoy, but because he was Draco?

Draco had no doubt now that Harry had liked him as a good friend and enjoyed his company; at least at first, before Draco had driven him away with his own fear and insecurities. How ironic was it that his fear that Harry might leave him was in fact the driving force behind his behaviour and the reason in the end that he had lost Harry? He had tipped the first domino and sat back and watched the path of destruction as it wound its way through their lives until it was too late.

Why had he never told Harry he loved him, for Merlin's sake? Why hadn't he been able to say those three words? He'd thought Harry knew, Draco showed him how much with everything he did, every breath he had taken; but in the end, it hadn't been enough.

How could Draco now have this attraction to Ewen Johnson? It was a betrayal of Harry in the worst way. Yet, Draco couldn't stop the way his heart skipped a beat when the other man was present, or how his body had reacted to his touch earlier today. It was happening again. Draco had thought no one else could ever touch him the way Harry could, that no one could make him burn again. Apparently there was someone else that could invoke this response.

Why this man? Why now? Draco had both men and women throwing themselves at him regularly, and he had never once been tempted - not before Harry and certainly not after him. What was it about Ewen Johnson that made his blood sing and his pulse race?

Draco wanted him. He wasn’t, however, going to allow himself to have him. Even if Ewen responded to Draco's want for him, Draco knew he would never survive if he fell in love again and lost. Not that anyone would ever come close to Harry; Harry was a once in a lifetime love. Still, many people married again - found love again - and Draco had to wonder if he could find it with Ewen Johnson if he allowed himself.

He was not going to allow himself.

He pressed a tearful kiss to Gabe's cheek and slipped from the room, leaning back against the door with a heavy sigh. He needed a strong drink and some easy distraction. With that in mind, he headed for his study and fire called Blaise. Blaise was always up for a few drinks. Draco intended to get absolutely hammered; he wanted to forget his own name tonight.

* * *

Harry spent his first evening in the cottage nursing a glass of Firewhisky and staring unseeingly into the fire. He raised a lonely toast to Narcissa and said unto the air, "To a lovely lady and a great friend - thank you for doing this for me - I only hope that your plan works." It would be just Harry's luck that Draco would feel the need to get away from the Manor and all the memories it held for him - his childhood, Voldemort, his failed marriage, his mother's illness - which would leave Harry back in the same position as before; estranged from his son and living a life without meaning.

He knew he was going to have to be as pleasant to Draco as he could stand without getting too friendly. Friendly was too close. Just because Draco's nearness still had the ability to make his palms ache and made him want to run his hands through his silken hair before raining feather kisses over his-

No. This train of thought was not happening. Ever. Draco was out of bounds; Harry hated the man anyway, even if he did want Draco to fuck him senseless the way he used to. That was just hormones and chemicals, it didn’t mean anything.

No one could ever have accused Harry and Draco of having a boring sex life. At least until Harry got pregnant that was; then it all but stopped because Draco had been afraid it would hurt the baby. He had even taken to sleeping in another bed much of the time and only occasionally coming to Harry for some kind of release.

Harry's pregnant body had repulsed Draco, and once the baby had been born, Draco hadn't touched him once. He supposed his duty had been done, and that Draco could no longer see him as someone sexual but as the man who had borne his son.

Draco hadn't wanted to talk about it when Harry brought up the subject of their marriage. Harry had been left feeling lonely and paranoid. Even having Gabe hadn't taken the pain away; because sometimes he had found it difficult to get access to him - Draco had an army of house-elves catering for his every need, and when Harry had protested, Draco had said that Harry should be grateful for the amount of help he received with the baby.

Harry had been at the end of his tether and planning to force Draco to have the conversation if it was the last thing he did. He loved Draco, and if Draco no longer wanted him then Harry couldn't stay and watch those grey eyes shine with boredom or hatred for Harry – that was backwards, like going back to their early years of animosity. He wanted to sit down with Draco and really talk it out; maybe get to the bottom of the problem and go back to where they had been before.

Draco had avoided Harry's invite to join him for lunch that day, so - hurt and confused - Harry had gone to Ron and Hermione's for some advice. Instead of his two best friends, he had found Charlie Weasley and he had poured out his fears to the older man who had pulled him into a comforting hug just as Draco had stepped out of the Floo and immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion.

That had been the last time Harry had seen Draco as his real self; and until Narcissa found him and let him back into the manor, Harry had not seen his son in that time either.

It seemed Draco had wanted a wrong conclusion to jump to so that he would have an excuse to banish Harry from his life.

Harry hated Draco now. If Harry really were dead, then it would be Draco who had his blood on his hands.

* * *

Harry's first few days in the cottage were spent getting the place straight and feeling like home. He planned on living there for a long time, at least until Gabe left home, and it was important that it felt comfortable – that it felt like his. He’d never really had a place of his own, leaving Hogwarts and moving straight in with Draco, then after the accident, a poky bedsit that he barely spent any time in. This place, although technically not his, would be his first home where he made the choices.

That was one thing to look forward to in the dreary existence that his life had become.

There were no sightings of Draco in that time and his only visitor was Ron who dropped in through the Floo for a quick cup of tea before heading home again. Ron was uncomfortable being with Harry on Draco's ‘turf’ as he called it, and Harry knew it was because he was worried that he would mess up and call him Harry instead of Ewen.

If Harry were honest, that was something he was nervous about himself, but tried not to dwell upon it, remembering some of Luna's advice - that if you think negative thoughts, you attract that which you don't want. Harry never thought he’d miss Luna Lovegood of all people.

His first free day, once unpacking and settling in was over, fell on a Thursday and Harry was pleased to see that it was a pleasant day, the sun was out, and there was barely a cloud in the sky. Perfect weather for sitting out on the patio with his Muggle laptop and getting some work done on his book. Ewen Johnson was now a newly published author of Muggle fiction. His second book was in the planning stages, and that was what Harry planned to work on now. This was his bread and butter; he had to make a success of it as his new persona couldn’t really get a job as he didn’t really exist. The last thing he needed was people poking around in his business. As an author, it was expected that pen names be used, it was safe.

He was a couple of hours in when he heard the footsteps coming from the path that led to the cottage. He was half expecting Draco to appear, but to his surprise, his son popped his head around the gatepost and said, "Hello!"

"Hello, Gabe," Harry greet the child tentatively, immediately aching to pick up his son and hug him. Gabe barely knew him though, and Harry didn’t want to scare him. "What are you doing here?" He glanced behind him for Draco, or even Pansy and Theo but Gabe seemed to be alone.

"I wanted to play," Gabe said bouncing over to Harry and lifting his arms for Harry to pick him up, which Harry did immediately.

"That's very nice of you, Gabe," Harry replied, his heart swelling with joy that even though Gabe had no idea who he really was, he sought him out anyway. "Does your father know you are here?"

Gabe's long lashes fanned over his cheeks as he refused to meet Harry's eyes, which to Harry was a sign of guilt. "Well then, I'm going to have to take you back to the house. Your daddy will worry."

Gabe shook his head and said, "My Daddy is in Heaven." Harry's heart simultaneously went out to Gabe and stuck in his throat.

"I know, sweetheart," Harry whispered, hugging his son closer. "I meant your father - Draco - does he know you have come to visit me?"

Gabe shook his head. "Pansy said I could play outside. She's in the parlour with Eddie."

Eddie Carmichael was the head gardener at the manor, and in Harry's opinion, a complete stereotype, in that he was some sort of Adonis hunk that wouldn't be out of place in a Muggle movie playing the fit young gardener seducing bored housewives. He decided not to dwell on what might be going on in the parlour with the gardener whilst Pansy was in command of an empty house.

"Is Dr- your father at work?"

Gabe squirmed to be put down, "Yes."

Harry lowered him to the floor. "I suppose I'd better send him an owl then, tell him you're here with me and that you're safe." As much as Harry disliked Draco, he knew he couldn’t keep Gabe here without letting the man know.

"Can we make sandcastles?" Gabe said excitedly, and as Harry was about to explain that they weren't at the seaside he remember that hardly mattered to a wizard.

"Of course we can," he promised and wandlessly conjured the corner of the lawn into a sandpit. "Just let me owl Draco first."

* * *

What followed were a couple of hours of pure joy for Harry. Alone with his son, getting covered in sand and water and making a mess of themselves - and laughing, so much laughing - Harry wondered how he had survived so long without laughter in his life. The innocence of a child brought a joy like none other, the company of his son kept Harry smiling even when Gabe's face turned serious as he tried to concentrate on building a castle with his bare hands and the Muggle bucket that Harry had made out of a stray plant pot he'd found behind the shed.

He couldn’t take his eyes off him. His son. Harry had never known it was possible to love someone this much and this unconditionally. This was what he was doing this for, the reason he had clung to life when it had so nearly slipped away from him.

Their joyful companionship shattered in an instant as Draco burst through the gate behind Harry, his face drawn and paler than usual. When his eyes landed on Gabe he said, "Oh thank Merlin, Gabe - what are you doing here?" Draco turned accusing eyes on Harry and scooped Gabe up into his arms. The little boy didn’t notice his father’s anger, merely wrapped his arms around his neck and pressed his face into his hair. "What the hell do you think you're playing at, Johnson? How long has he been here?"

Harry gaped, trying to gather himself. "Maybe two hours?" he guessed, having lost track of time in his son's company. It might be more like four judging by the changes in the light. He got to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

"Gabe, don't ever, ever run away from Pansy like that again," Draco's voice was thick with emotion. He pressed his lips to Gabe's head and glared back at Harry, his eyes furious. "My son wanders down here and you don't think that he might be missed?"

"Gabe informed me that Pansy was in the parlour with the gardener and had told him to 'go and play'," Harry spat back. "He sought me out - what was I supposed to do - take him back to the house when Pansy is obviously otherwise occupied?"

Draco's eyes showed surprised before the fury returned. "I don’t think I like what you’re implying! Besides, I've an army of house-elves, all of whom could take care of Gabe if Pansy were tied up," he countered, then flushed when he realised what he’d just said.

"I'm aware of how much you palm your son off on other people and on the elves, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said coldly. "He wanted to play in the sand, I thought it would be fun to indulge him. I sent you an owl-"

"Mr. Johnson, do you have any children?" Draco asked. Harry felt fear creeping into his pores and decided not to reply, because he didn't want to be caught in a lie. Omission was always the best option if he could get away with it.

Draco took his silence as his answer, "No, I didn't think you did. If you had, you would understand, perhaps, how I felt when Pansy Flooed to say Gabe was missing, and what went through my mind at that time!" Harry could barely remember a time he’d seen Draco so angry. When they were married, even at the end, Draco had never shown anger, just icy indifference. "Come on, Gabe, it’s time for your tea."

Draco was headed for the gate with Gabe in his arms and disappearing from Harry’s sight before Harry could gather his thoughts. He heard Gabe saying, "Bye Wen!" as he was swept away.

"Bastard," Harry muttered to the space where Draco had just been standing. He waved a hand at the sandpit and turned it back into grass and stomped back into the cottage.

* * *

It was early evening the following day when Pansy Parkinson knocked on the front door, offering Harry a rueful smile and proffering a bottle of Firewhisky. Harry had to pretend he wasn’t entirely sure who she was due to only meeting her once before as Ewen, which was difficult because this was the woman who had tried to hand him over to Voldemort once upon a time, and although during his marriage to Draco they had drawn a line under that, he wouldn’t exactly have called them friends. Harry had always felt that Pansy tolerated him for Draco’s sake.

"Hello? Can I help you?" Harry asked when he found her on the doorstep. He smiled politely and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Mr. Johnson, I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced," she said with a smile. "I’m Pansy Parkinson-Nott. I live at the house with Draco and my husband, Theo. I’ve brought a house-warming gift." She held aloft the Firewhisky.

"Well, how can I turn down such a generous offering?" Harry smiled and opened the door to allow her inside. "Would you like to join me for a shot?"

Pansy smiled and stepped past Harry into the house, "I was hoping you would say that."

Harry collected a couple of glasses from the kitchen and taking the bottle off Pansy, poured them a measure each. He then sat down in an armchair and indicated that Pansy should sit on the sofa.

"Mr. Johnson-"

"Please, call me Ewen," Harry said. It was confusing enough getting used to having to respond to a different name, Ewen, but adding ‘Mr. Johnson’ into the mix threw him even more.

Pansy laughed, "Alright, I will. Ewen, I wanted to apologise about yesterday – about Gabe I mean. We’ve found out that when Draco changed the wards to allow your free movement around the estate it interfered with the one that doesn’t allow Gabe to leave the immediate garden."

Harry took a sip of his drink and nodded, "I shouldn’t worry about it – may I call you Pansy?"

Pansy nodded, "Of course."

"It was a pleasure to spend time with Gabe, he’s an enchanting child."

Pansy sighed. "I’m sorry you got an earful from Draco. When we couldn’t find Gabe, I panicked and called Draco immediately. I’m afraid he thought the worst. He’s had several threats of kidnapping since Harry died from those who don’t believe a Malfoy should have custody of the son of the great Harry Potter."

Oh Merlin, Harry hadn’t known about this and Narcissa had never mentioned anything. No wonder Draco had been so angry. He couldn’t have received Harry’s owl. It probably crossed with his worried trip back home. "Fuck- I mean, I’m so sorry – I never thought – I mean I didn’t know." He scanned Pansy’s face before saying, "I didn’t realise the wizarding public felt like that about Draco."

Pansy snorted. "You must have been living in a box," she said bitterly. "It was bad enough for Draco when Potter was alive, but when they broke up and – and Potter died, it’s been hell for him. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t get at least one Howler extolling his sins for daring to live when Potter has gone, or for having the audacity to keep custody of his son when there’s an army of Weasleys who would love to take him."

"I can’t blame him for being so angry with me," Harry said, and had to admit that armed with this new knowledge that Draco’s behaviour had indeed been very reserved compared to how he must’ve been feeling about Gabe’s vanishing act. Hell, Harry knew how he would’ve felt. "Is he at the house? I ought to apologise."

Pansy shook her head. "He’s had to go to America on a business trip for a few days. He had to postpone his Portkey yesterday when this happened."

Harry’s sympathy for his ex-husband evaporated. So he’d left his son behind again? His grip tightened on his glass and the action reminded him that he still held the drink. He brought the glass to his lips and tossed back the remaining amber liquid. Merlin, he’d needed that.

"I see you don’t approve?" Pansy said, and it wasn’t really a question, more an observation.

"It’s none of my business where Mr. Malfoy spends his time." He reached to the coffee table and picked up the Firewhisky and poured himself another measure, offering one to Pansy, who held out her glass in acceptance. "However, if Gabe were my son, I don’t know if I could bear to be away from him so often." Harry knew from what Narcissa had told him that Draco’s trips abroad had increased in the months following his ‘death’ and that she and Draco had had many arguments about it. She hadn’t approved either, believing he should be at home with the little boy.

Pansy sipped her drink and sighed. "I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but Firewhisky loosens my tongue," she rubbed her fingers to her temple. "He goes away because being here reminds him too much of Harry and he can’t bear the memories."

Dizziness spun through Harry’s mind at that. Draco couldn’t bear the memories? Had being with Harry really been that awful by the end? Had he hated Harry that much? "Poor Harry Potter," he whispered.

"I-" Pansy started and was cut off when the fire roared to life and Theo Nott’s head appeared in the grate.

"Mr. Johnson, I’m sorry to interrupt you, I’m looking for my wife – oh, Pansy, and there you are!" Harry half expected anger from Nott upon finding her in his living room enjoying a drink with another man but there was no such vibe emanating from Harry’s old school year mate. "I need to speak with you, love, could you come home?"

Harry watched Pansy carefully, only now remembering Gabe’s statement that Pansy was with Eddie Carmichael yesterday and the conclusions he had drawn at the time about that. Perhaps it was Harry’s own cynicism reading more into that than there was. She may genuinely have been giving him instruction about the garden.

"Of course, Theo. I’ll be there in five minutes."

Theo seemed pleased with the response. "Wonderful." To Harry he added, "Mr. Johnson." He was gone as soon as he’d arrived.

"I suppose I’d better be going," Pansy tipped her head and drank the remaining Firewhisky and stood. She turned to Harry and held out her hand. "Ewen, this has been pleasant. Would you object if I visited again? It must get lonely here on your own."

Harry found himself genuinely pleased at the idea of Pansy visiting. Whether the isolation was getting to him already or if it was the connection to news of Draco and Gabe that attracted him, Harry couldn’t say. "That’d be nice," he smiled and shook her hand. "If you want to drop down in the day with Gabe when he’s in your care it would be nice to see him, too."

Harry knew he couldn’t outright request that she leave Gabe solely in his care; that was something that he would have to build up to as the trust built, and it would have to be Draco’s decision as well. However, the Sorting Hat had suggested he would make a good Slytherin, and being married to Draco had honed his skills in that area.

He was not above being crafty about engineering time with Gabe.

Pansy’s grip was firm and cool. She held his hand for what Harry considered to be a moment too long, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she regarded him and for a moment he thought that she’d figured out who he was from a mere touch. She let out a hiss of air and shook her head slightly. Releasing his grip she said, "Ewen, I think you have a deal – Gabe hasn’t stopped talking about you since his afternoon with you. You’ve made a fan there."

Harry tried not to look overly pleased at the thought that he had made a lasting impression on his son. It wouldn’t do to be over enthusiastic where Gabe was concerned, he could not afford to raise suspicion. He shrugged and joked, "Kids like me. Similar mental age."

Pansy laughed and headed for the door, glancing in the direction of the Floo. "I’ll walk back, clear my head. See you soon, Ewen."

"See you, Pansy," Harry said and closed the door behind her retreating figure, sagging back against it as he did so. Who would have thought that salvation might come in the form of Pansy Parkinson? When she didn’t see him as Harry Potter, she was actually a pleasant person to be around, which was good – because if she hadn’t been, he would have faked it anyway for the sake of Gabe, but this way was so much easier.

* * *

Draco felt every minute he was in San Francisco like it was an hour. Time dragged impossibly slow and each meeting was as long and dull as the last. To make matters worse, he wasn’t sleeping, not even that half sleep that allowed the body to rest. When he tried to relax at the end of each endlessly boring day, after his daily check-in with Pansy regarding Gabe’s wellbeing, he found that he was suddenly wide awake with his head full of thoughts of Ewen Johnson.

Of course, the way he’d left it with Ewen hadn’t been good, but Draco had been so angry and so worried that something had happened to his son that when he’d found him at the cottage with Ewen he’d been furious at the man’s apparent disregard for his feelings – hadn’t the man even thought that it was odd that Gabe had come to him unattended? The boy was three years old for Merlin’s sake! Ewen had then made a snide remark about Draco’s suggesting the elves could take care of Gabe and Draco had had to leave before he did something he regretted.

Ewen’s owl had found him just as he was preparing to leave for his rescheduled Portkey and Draco hadn’t had time to go and see the man to apologise. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted to. For some reason, no matter what he did, Ewen was determined he wasn’t going to give Draco a chance.

Even though Draco told himself over and over that that was for the best, that even if Ewen were interested, he really should not be playing that game, he simply could not stop thinking about the other man.

He wanted him like he’d never wanted anyone else before – save for Harry. Always Harry. Yet Draco couldn’t even really explain why. There was just something about him. Yes, he was good looking, but it wasn’t even that. Men far better looking and far more eligible threw themselves at Draco on a regular basis. Apparently he was still considered eligible, possibly the Malfoy name still held some meaning in some circles, Draco wasn’t sure. Despite the general tirade of vitriol that also found its way in his direction regularly for daring to have outlived Harry Potter, for causing the demise of Harry Potter, for having custody of his own son, for being the son of a Death Eater and daring to have even thought about the great Harry Potter and any number of combinations of these. So no, Draco couldn’t say what attracted him to Ewen; all he knew was that he couldn’t stop thinking about him.

This would not do.

So with one day of meetings left before he could return back to England, Draco found his way into a Muggle bar on Castro Street, determined to find someone to take his mind off this unwanted infatuation. When he was flattened against a wall in a dark corner of the room with a hot young Muggle on his knees at his feet and Draco’s hands in his hair as he fed his cock in and out of the slick warmth he could only admit to feeling mildly interested until Ewen’s face flashed into his mind, and from then on, the exercise in forgetting Ewen became one in using his image to get off.

When Draco left, the dissatisfaction remained. His orgasm had been intense, but only for the thoughts of his unwanted guest and not in any real way related to the wet tongue that had licked him clean. It could have been any tongue in any city around the world; it would still have been Ewen Johnson’s likeness that brought him to the brink.

What Draco didn’t understand was why.

* * *

That night as he lay there wishing again that he’d smuggled sleeping draught into the country – for some reason it was illegal in California – his thoughts turned to Ewen again, and from there the guilt rose and thoughts of Harry filtered out of the box he tried to keep them in. He still could not believe that Harry was dead, couldn’t really accept that he would never see Harry again. His head began to pound as his efforts to both sleep and not to let the tears fall began to take their toll on him.

What did it matter if he cried? He was alone in a hotel room on the other side of the world from his home. There was no one there to see his weakness.

Draco Malfoy’s weakness had always been Harry Potter. At age eleven, he’d been desperate to befriend him and had somehow spectacularly screwed that up, and only years later had he really realised why, and that had been because Harry had told him the story of their first encounters from his own eyes. That desire to be Harry Potter’s friend had morphed into a desire to torment him, to hurt him like he had hurt Draco, which in time had morphed into real hatred. Looking back now though, he knew he had never really hated Harry; it had all been a defence mechanism, just another way of being in Harry’s orbit when being his friend had been off the table. Now he could pinpoint the exact moment when he’d realised that all of the energy he put into hating Harry Potter had been so much more and that no matter what he did or where he went, Harry Potter was his everything.

How had it all gone to shit? Harry was dead because of Draco, and he would never forgive himself for that. He dreaded the day that Gabe realised it and hated him too.

Draco closed his eyes and thought back to that first kiss with Harry, the moment of no return in their relationship. Merlin, they’d shocked everyone to the core. To Draco, that kiss had been as natural as breathing and he couldn’t have stopped himself for all the gold in Gringotts. It had happened after his trial, when Harry had stood before the Wizengamot and given his case as to why Draco should not go to Azkaban, and he’d given both pensieve memories and testimony under Veritaserum and he’d proved once and for all that Draco had been coerced.

Lucius had already been dead by this point, and Narcissa had saved Harry from certain death in the final battle, which went in her favour at her trial. Her punishment for her involvement in the war had been house arrest. That had been when she’d moved into the cottage on the manor grounds; she hadn’t been able to face living in the manor after Voldemort’s occupation and all that had happened there, the cottage was her only other option.

Harry had said his part and had left straight after the verdict. Draco had gone after him, fighting through the press that wanted a piece of both of them, and had caught up with him on the street just outside of the Ministry. "Can I have a word, Potter?"

Harry had stopped and turned, his intense green eyes searching Draco’s face for the hostility Draco knew he had to be expecting to see, and when he found none he’d agreed and somehow they had ended up in a small booth in a Muggle pub in one of the side streets, Draco with a large measure of Irish whisky for courage, Potter with a pint of stout.

"What did you want to say to me?" Harry said warily, taking a swig of his pint which resulted in foam on the corner of his mouth. "What’s funny?"

"You have some-" Draco had rubbed the corner of his own mouth to indicate what he was trying to say, but Potter merely looked perplexed, so Draco had reached out and wiped away the offending substance with the pad of his thumb. "There, all gone."

Harry’s eyes had become saucers and his tongue had appeared and swept over the spot Draco had just touched. That had been it for Draco; the build-up of years of whatever this was he felt for Harry. He’d leant forward across the narrow table and he’d pressed his lips to Harry’s, never wanting anything more than he wanted Harry’s lips on his in that moment, never more nervous that Harry would reject him.

In those first few seconds Harry did not respond, an embarrassed Draco had started to pull back, the sound of his thundering heart loud in his ears and the iron fist clenching his heart physically hurting him. With a soft gasp, Harry’s hands had threaded into his hair and he had pulled Draco back in, tracing his tongue along the seam of Draco’s lips. Draco had opened for him, and that had been the start, barely standing to be apart from each other even then.

They had gone back to Hogwarts for eighth year as a couple and even in the face of the adversity they had encountered they had been inseparable. Harry had been everything Draco had imagined and more. Harry was his, and if Draco was slightly possessive over him, it was because everyone else thought that they owned a piece of him because of what he had done.

Harry couldn’t go anywhere without his movements being reported; and the press had gone wild upon the announcement of Harry’s relationship with Draco, and Draco had suffered through accusations that he had Harry under a spell, under Imperius, that he was blackmailing Harry, paying Harry, manipulating Harry… Never once was he genuinely in love with Harry, because Malfoys couldn’t have feelings could they? Not that Draco ever categorised his feelings for Harry, he never felt that he had to. Malfoys never showed their hand and they never showed any weakness. For Draco to give an interview disputing the claims against him and telling the world that he loved Harry would be showing vulnerability. Harry knew he loved him and that was all that mattered.

They had bonded straight out of school, and soon after that Harry had been pregnant with Gabe. A little over a year later and Harry was dead and Draco had wanted to follow him to the grave, and if it hadn’t been for their son – the one good thing to come out of the hell that their marriage had become – Draco knew he would have.

Life meant nothing without Harry. This was why these feelings for Ewen Johnson were so…wrong. Harry had been ‘the one’, Draco had promised him always and forever, and he’d meant it. Harry’s death couldn’t change that.

* * *

Draco’s return to England was a welcome relief. He’d missed Gabe. When the time finally arrived and he could take his Portkey, he felt so bone weary that he wanted nothing more than to get home to the manor, cuddle his son and fall into bed. His temper was on the edge; grief, lack of sleep and guilt had taken their toll on him.

So when he Flooed into the manor to find everyone he knew and several more that he didn’t assembled to welcome him with an enthusiastic cry of ‘surprise!’ it was all he could do not to hex every last one of them. Fuck. It was his birthday and he hadn’t even realised. Birthdays were just another day to Draco now. A way to measure another year that he had lived through without Harry.

He forced a smile and his eyes scanned the crowd for the only person he knew who could be responsible for this; Pansy. When their eyes met, her face fell, and she rushed forward to hug him, whispering into his ear, "Sorry, Draco – I thought it might cheer you up." From the tone of her voice it was clear she had realised her mistake.

Draco pulled back, "It’s alright Pans," he lied. "It’s been a long week, that’s all." He smiled again, this time managing to dredge up some real affection. To the crowd he said in a louder voice – "I’m just going to go and freshen up and I’ll be back with you."

Towards the back of the room he spotted Ewen Johnson and his heart flipped. Throwing the man a glare, he turned and headed for the stairs. The first stop was going to be his son’s bedroom; he’d come back down and pretend he gave a shit that it was his birthday when he was good and ready.

* * *

Harry recoiled when Draco glared at him. He was still angry about the other day then. This was good. Draco disliking him was far preferable to the way he had been with Harry before that. If Draco wanted nothing to do with Ewen, then that was a good thing. There was less chance of discovery.

"So, you’re the new resident of the cottage," said a silky smooth voice from his left. "If I’d known you were this gorgeous I’d have been sure to visit sooner."

Harry couldn’t help his smile from bursting forth at the familiar timbre. Blaise Zabini was a shameless flirt and a ruthless lothario. He had also been a good friend to Harry when he’d been with Draco. Of course, his alter ego had never met Blaise, so it was with his manners that Harry turned towards his old friend and said with reciprocal flirtation, "And who might you be?"

Blaise held out a hand and Harry took it. "Blaise Zabini at your service, can I get you a drink?"

Harry’s mood lifted. "Ewen Johnson, and yes please, a drink would be lovely."

* * *

Draco's first stop was Gabe's bedroom. It was in semi-darkness, the curtains drawn to block out the remaining daylight and a nightlight charm hovering in the corner above the little boy's bed; Gabe was nervous of the dark and Draco indulged him in a way his own father had not allowed of him when he had been the same age.

Draco sat on the edge of Gabe's bed and stroked the fringe out of his son’s eyes. The child huffed and turned onto his side at Draco's touch, wriggling his tiny body under the covers. Draco's heart settled in his throat. This child was everything. Draco’s raison d'etre. He'd been so scared the other day that something might have happened to him; that someone could take his son from him as Harry had been taken from him…Draco's life would lose all of its remaining meaning.

Stray laughter from the party downstairs drifted upwards and Draco gritted his teeth in frustration. He didn't want this. A party was the last thing he felt like enjoying right now, but for propriety's sake he had to paste a smile onto his face and go down and at least make a show of enjoying himself. He figured he could legitimately plead tiredness after a couple of hours, and surely his drawn face reflected that? He could cast a quick glamour and cover up the bags under his eyes, but why should he? He didn't care if he looked as rough as he felt; he wanted his unwelcome guests to see his exhaustion and hopefully then they would leave sooner rather than later.

Kissing his sleeping son goodnight he padded down the hall to his bedroom where he quickly stripped and cast a cleansing charm – there was no time now for a shower. He then dressed in formal trousers and a blue button down shirt with a black tie. He didn't bother with a jacket; it was an evening too warm for that kind of formality in his own home.

He cast a quick glance at himself in the in the mirror and with a wave of his hand his hair fell into his preferred style. His hair was now almost shoulder length and loose, although a small charm ensured that it stayed that way and didn't curl up as it was wont to do without his styling products.

Harry had preferred him with his hair like this; he'd said it made him look like an angel.

Some fucking angel.

He set off back downstairs with an image in his head of Harry standing in front of him at the mirror, running his fingers through the soft strands of Draco's hair and arranging it to his satisfaction with twinkling eyes and an amused twist to his lips. On their wedding day.

Fuck. Draco really needed to stop thinking like this. Harry was dead; he was never coming back, never.

He followed the sounds of the party, back to the drawing room and old feasting hall that Pansy had chosen to hold the party in. The door was open, so he stepped inside, hoping his entrance would be unobserved, but apparently that was not something that one could do at a party where one was the guest of honour.

Draco fixed the smile to his face and began mingling. As he made his way through the crowd, making small talk and laughing on cue at bad jokes, or jokes that simply were not funny due to his current mood when something – some long dormant instinct - made him turn his head and his fake laughter died in his throat. Standing by the fireplace, talking to Blaise Zabini with his back to Draco stood Harry. The world tilted on its axis, Draco's head span and the increased speed of his heart made him sway. He reached out to steady himself by grabbing Theo's arm.

"Draco? What's the matter?" Theo's pale features were drawn together with concern, and Draco tried to speak but his throat was dry. "Here, drink this." Theo handed Draco his glass of Firewhisky, and although Draco would've preferred water at this point, any liquid would do.

He knocked it back in a single gulp, returning his gaze to where Harry stood, laughing, as though he hadn't just returned from the dead to send Draco there in his place, Blaise Zabini's hand on his forearm - Blaise Zabini touching his Harry!

Draco thrust the glass back at Theo and crossed the distance between Harry and Blaise. His vision was blurred red. Harry-

It wasn't Harry. Of course it wasn’t. Draco must be more sleep deprived than he’d realised if he was hallucinating like this. It was Ewen Johnson standing before him with a confused look on his face at Draco's sudden appearance. Ewen Johnson who was being held possessively by Blaise Zabini. Not Harry. Ewen. Draco's heartbeat began to slow as the realisation dawned. Of course, what the fuck was he thinking? Harry was dead and Ewen was - what was Ewen?

It had been a trick of the light, of course it had. Ewen and Harry were of similar build, and in the early evening half-light that was feeding in through the window and the floating candles that didn't really do much for visibility, of course it was easy to mistake this man for his dead husband. It wasn't as though he hadn't found Harry and Blaise in a similar situation in the past.

Blaise had always flirted with Harry, and Draco had hated it.

He glared at Blaise now. "Zabini," he drawled. "What a pleasant surprise. I see you've met my new tenant, Ewen. "

Blaise's hand dropped off Ewen's arm as though burned. "What have I done now to warrant being called 'Zabini', Draco?" He turned to Ewen with a raised eyebrow. "He only calls me Zabini when he's annoyed with me."

Draco scowled at him. He was trying desperately not to look at Ewen Johnson even though every nerve of his being was leading him that way. "I'm not annoyed," Draco covered. Try confused. "It's just been a very long few days and I haven't had much sleep."

Blaise smirked, "Been enjoying the delights of Castro Street eh, Draco? Can't say as I blame you; gay capital of the world – it’d be rude not to."

Draco felt his cheeks flush pink.

"Ah, you can't get anything past me," Blaise crowed. He nudged Ewen with a conspiratorial wink. "You never could go long without getting some, Draco."

Draco couldn't formulate his usual quick response. He felt- having this aired in front of Ewen felt wrong, like he was cheating on him somehow, which was ridiculous, especially considering how the other man had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Draco. "Fuck you, Zabini," he finally managed to formulate, even as his brain was screaming, 'smooth, Draco, real smooth'. A moment of weakness and he gave in and turned his eyes to Ewen, almost gasping - Harry. He blinked. No, not Harry. Ewen. How many times did he have to tell himself the same thing this evening?

What the hell was wrong with him? He needed sleep. All of him ached with weariness.

"How are you, Mr. Johnson?" he asked, determined to brush everything else under the carpet.

"Ewen. And I'm well, thank you, Draco. "

"Are you settling in okay?"

"Yes, I'm all unpacked now – I don’t have a lot of stuff. I just need to go shopping for a few bits and pieces I need." Ewen smiled and glanced at Blaise. "Blaise here has offered to escort me to the nearest Muggle town next week."

Of course he had, and if Blaise had his way he’d be escorting Ewen into his bed as well. "That's nice of him," Draco lied. "How thoughtful." Draco wanted to punch his lifelong friend in the face. He tucked his hands behind his back.

"Yes, I thought we might get a spot of lunch while we're out, get to know one another a little better seeing as he's going to be living here with you now."

"You make it sound as though Ewen is living in the manor, which he most certainly is not." Draco also had no intention of inviting Blaise over again if this is what happened when he did. It was Harry all over again.

"Draco-" Pansy interrupted. "There's someone I'd like you to meet if you wouldn't mind?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course I don't mind, Pansy dear. There's nothing I love more than being introduced to strangers at my own birthday party in my own house." He nodded at Ewen and Blaise. "Excuse me."

In actual fact, it was a relief to get away from them. Unfortunately, the jealous niggle remained.

Draco did not like the thought of Blaise getting friendly with Ewen. Not one bit.

* * *

Harry watched Draco get drawn away by Pansy and released the breath he had been holding. Something in Draco's eyes when he'd approached... It was how Draco had used to look at him - before it had all gone wrong, when they only had eyes for each other and everything else was background noise.

To see that in Draco’s expression again, even for just a moment, scared the hell out of him. He was not Harry Potter anymore, and Draco Malfoy should not be looking at him like that.

"So, when would you like to go shopping?" Blaise was asking, his brown eyes boring seductively into Harry’s. It was on the tip of his tongue to say that perhaps it wasn't such a good idea after all, but he found he didn’t want to say that, he wanted this friendship; maybe he needed it. He knew Blaise would try to get into his pants if the opportunity arose - that was just Blaise and it was an insult if he didn't try! Harry needed a friend, someone who could be Ewen's friend and not know that underneath the glamour and the complicated magic he was really Harry Potter. Someone uncomplicated.

"You tell me," he replied, making sure to keep the flirtatious tone for now. "I'm not exactly inundated with offers; I can fit in with you."

"Thursday then," Blaise said. "Block out the whole day, we'll go sight-seeing as well."

Harry perked up. One day in the endless calendar of his empty life with something pencilled in. It was encouraging; maybe he didn’t have to live as a total recluse, even if he did have to avoid romantic relationships. It was a step towards as normal a life as a person could reasonably expect to have when they were secretly Harry Potter.

* * *

Another hour into the party and Harry had mingled as much as he thought he could manage, made small talk with numerous people who he had been vaguely acquainted with via Draco in his old life, had a lengthy conversation about defensive spells with a man named Kyle Lambourne who was the new DADA professor at Hogwarts. Now he just wanted to leave. He had never liked parties, and this was no exception.

He knew that it was bad manners to simply sidle out of the side door and make his escape across the lawns to his cottage, but Pansy and Draco were huddled together whispering furiously, and Harry was loath to interrupt them. The door was open to counter the stifling heat and all he would have to do is slip outside. He took a shifty step in its direction, and Draco must have felt his eyes upon him because he looked up then, his pale grey eyes locking on Harry's and sending that old familiar jolt of electricity through him. Bugger. Harry forced a smile, twitched his head in the direction of the door and gave an apologetic wave. Surely that would suffice? He hadn't wanted to come to the damned party in the first place, but Pansy had insisted, and he had found himself agreeing on the off chance that Gabe might make an appearance.

His son had not shown up, and over an hour later than anticipated, Draco had arrived and it had been immediately apparent to Harry that this party was the last thing he wanted to be suffering. This meant to Harry that Draco was tired and in need of solitude. On occasions such as this, Harry had always been able to anticipate Draco's moods. It had been his feelings and emotions that he'd failed to get a grip on. Yes, for Draco not to welcome a party - for Draco had loved parties - then he must be out of sorts.

As he waved, Draco held up a staying hand and Harry suppressed a sigh. What a pathetic effort on his part to make a quick escape. Draco said something to Pansy, who glanced over at Harry before saying something in reply to Draco. Draco then crossed the space between them and said, "I'll walk you back to the cottage."

"No - that's not necessary, I can find my own way," Harry said immediately, desperately not wanting to be alone with his ex-husband. Ex or not, Draco's close proximity did things to him that he hated giving a name to. Blaise's words from earlier came back to him - Draco had been shagging his way around San Francisco whilst away on business.

That shouldn’t bother Harry, but it did. Other men with their hands all over the acres of pale skin that had once belonged to him... The thought of it made him almost queasy. It could never be more than a memory - never, and to think of how they used to be together was just pointless torture. Draco was free to fuck whoever he liked, whenever he liked, and it had nothing whatsoever to with Harry.

"No, I insist," Draco said, placing a hand on Harry's lower back and steering him out of the door. Silently Harry allowed himself to be led by Draco into the darkness of the spring evening, not noticing the smell of blossom in the air, aware only of the hand that touched him over at least three layers of clothing yet which burned. "I wanted to apologise to you anyway."

"Oh?" Harry asked, twisting away from Draco's touch and stopping to face him with folded arms.

"I was irrationally rude to you the other day, and there was no need for it. Your owl arrived after I had seen you; evidently it had missed me at the office and had followed me home." Draco's expression was sincere and Harry had to keep his arms resolutely folded so as not to reach out and place a hand over his in a sympathetic gesture.

"No, it's my fault. I should have given it more thought, and sending an owl was an ill thought out gesture. I should have Flooed, I'm sorry." Harry took a deep breath. "Pansy told me about the constant threats you receive against yourself and Gabe, I didn't realise - had I known I would never have acted so irresponsibly."

Harry unfolded his arms and began to walk again, needing some movement to concentrate on. Draco's pale face should not have this sort of effect on him. He hated the bastard. He couldn't feel anything other than a reasonable sympathy for the man, one that he would feel for anyone in Draco's place. He couldn't get personal.

"How was San Francisco?" he asked in an attempt to change the subject to something more neutral. "From what Blaise said, it wasn't just business."

Draco snorted. "Blaise needs to learn some discretion." He paused as and Harry knew from old he was searching for the right words in an attempt not to react in the manner in which he once had as a teenager. "It's not as it sounds. I went out one night, and regretted it immediately."

Jealousy stabbed at Harry at Draco's confession and he attempted to school his features to neutral. One would think that with a glamour it would be easier to do, but the glamour was tailored to follow his every natural expression and to change organically with Harry's mood. It was a complicated charm, far more difficult to achieve that the simple glamour a wizard might cast to cover up a hangover or a bad haircut.

Draco stopped walking when they reached the cottage front door and Harry, too deep in thought, bumped into him. When Draco's hand shot out to steady him, closing around his wrist, Harry gasped in shock. Glamours did nothing to alter how it felt to have your ex-husband’s touch on your bare flesh for the first time since - well, for a long, long time. Too long an unwanted voice in his head said tauntingly.

Both men froze and Draco's gaze dropped to where his hand was wrapped around Harry's wrist before the grey lifted and their eyes clashed.

Harry couldn't say who moved first. Their lips met and Harry's head crashed back against the solid wood of the door as he opened his mouth to Draco, allowed the drag of his tongue over his lips and his own tongue tangled with his. Merlin, how could he have lived without this touch? Draco pinned his hands above his head and aligned his body with Harry's, and Harry could feel his erection pressing into his hipbone and bucked his own to meet it. His head span with pure need and as he tilted his head to allow Draco access to his neck he heard Draco mutter, "Harry," and still, before pushing himself back with a shocked gasp, putting distance between himself and Harry. "No!" he said again, his breathing heavy as he stared at Harry in horror.

Draco's removing himself from Harry's proximity was all that Harry needed to breathe some sense into himself. Draco had called him Harry! Did he recognise him? Had there been something about that kiss that had triggered something, some innate recognition that couldn't be cloaked by magic?

What the hell had he been thinking, kissing Draco like that? This was the one person he must never allow himself to be intimate with!

"Why did you call me Harry?" he asked tentatively, hardly daring to look at Draco, afraid of the answer.

"I- Oh Merlin - I-" Draco struggled to regain his composure. "Not again, please, not again. How can this be?" He shook his head and took another step back, holding up a staying hand as if to warn Harry not to come any closer.

"Well, what a stunning compliment," Harry sniped nastily, his anger rising from nowhere. "It just warms me to the bottom of my heart to be compared to someone you loathed!" He turned the door handle and pushed open the cottage door.

"Don't you dare talk about Harry like that! Don't you dare to speak his name! You didn't know him. I'm the only one who ever really did. Don't presume to know how I felt!" Draco's pale complexion was red with anger, his grey eyes almost black.

"What I know is that you’re incapable of loving anyone or anything!" Harry was furious now, and even knowing it was borne of his fear of discovery he couldn’t stop the tirade of words towards Draco. "You’re a cold, cruel man, Malfoy. You wouldn’t know love if it was staring you in the face."

Harry had once believed that Draco was a better man than the boy he had once been, but the man he had fallen in love with was just an illusion. The real Draco was the man who had cast him out without a fair trial.

Draco shook his head, "You don’t understand. No one ever understood, not even him." He raised stricken eyes to Harry’s. "For a moment there – you reminded me of him – when we kissed I-"

"I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch me again," Harry said. "I’m not him. Harry Potter is dead." Harry backed into his cottage, stumbling slightly on the threshold. Once inside he said, "Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy," and he closed the door.

Once the barrier had gone up, Harry sank to the floor with his head on his knees. What the hell had just happened?

* * *

Draco Apparated himself back to his bedroom, stripping off his clothes and crawling under the covers. He was going mad, he was certain off it. It had to be from lack of sleep and a little too much Firewhisky. He was losing it! Firstly, thinking Ewen was Harry when he saw him talking to Blaise, then when he kissed him…

The feeling that had soared through him when Ewen’s lips had touched his – Draco had only ever felt like that with Harry. If he hadn’t known better- He had tasted like Harry had. Harry had been his husband, his bonded, his mate, and a person could only ever have one of those in a lifetime, so how could this be happening again?

His skin was crawling all over; whether from tiredness or something else Draco wasn’t sure. He burrowed under the covers and begged the ether for sleep, and when none came because his mind was whirring too frantically – Harry – Ewen – Harry – Harry – Ewen – he gave up, and pulling on some boxer shorts, went down the corridor to Gabe’s room and crawled into bed beside his son. Only then did his mind calm down, the rhythmic breathing of another body in bed beside him settling him, and he fell asleep.

* * *

"Father, wake up!" A tiny voice whispered in his ear and a small hand shook his shoulder. "Father!"

Draco groaned and rolled onto his back, snagging his son against him with one arm and tickling his stomach with the other. "What’s the hurry, young man?" he asked, loving how Gabe wriggled against him, giggling uncontrollably as Draco moved to his armpit.

The knock on the door was unwelcome, and Pansy walked in without Draco summoning her inside. "Draco, sorry to disturb you – Jamieson’s just Flooed and he says you’re needed at the office immediately – apparently something has come up with a case you’re working on-?"

"F-Blimey Pansy, it’s Saturday!" Draco complained, propping himself up on one elbow, keeping hold of Gabe with his other arm. "Can you look after this monster?" He tickled Gabe’s tummy again and the little boy screamed in laughter.

Pansy shook her head, "No can do, it’s my parents’ big anniversary bash; if Theo and I don’t leave soon we’ll miss the Portkey." She held up a hand as Draco began to panic. "Don’t worry, I’ve Flooed Ewen, he’s happy to take Gabe for a few hours – I know how you hate leaving him with house-elves."

Well, wasn’t that just what Draco needed this morning? "Pans, I don’t think-"

"Wen!" Gabe squirmed in Draco’s arms and Draco released his hold and watched in horror as his son ran towards Ewen Johnson who had just appeared behind Pansy in the doorway. "Father tickled me!"

"Yes, I heard," Ewen said affectionately, bending down to pick up Gabe as he ambled towards with his arms raised. "Sounds like a lot of fun."

Draco missed his son’s reply as he realised he was still lying half naked in bed with the man he had both kissed and then called by his dead husband’s name standing in the doorway. Ewen wasn’t looking at him, he had eyes only for Gabe, but Draco still had to extricate himself and get to his room to shower and change before he could leave for the office.

He pulled the quilt up over his naked chest and said, "Thank you for helping out with Gabe, Mr. – Ewen," he said pleasantly, trying to beg him with his eyes not to mention last night in front of Pansy.

Ewen caught on, and said, "It’s a pleasure. We’re gonna have some fun today, eh, Gabe?"

"Father come too?" Gabe asked, turning his bottomless green eyes on Draco. Pansy muttered something about her Portkey and slipped away and for a moment Draco was lost for words; something about the idea of spending the day with both Ewen and his son... Almost as though they were a family. Nausea rose in his throat.

"No, Gabe, I have to work. Ewen will take care of you today by himself-" he turned to Ewen. "There won’t be any guests at the cottage today will there?" His thoughts went to Blaise. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his friend around his son, but he certainly did not trust him around Ewen.

"Not likely – Hermione and Ron did say they might pop over this afternoon, but I can always ask them not to."

"No – I’ve told you they are welcome. Gabe knows them, it’s fine." He began to feel awkward, hiding away beneath the covers. "Er – would you mind…"

"Oh – no – of course. I’ll take Gabe downstairs for his breakfast, and then we’ll get him dressed and to the cottage." Ewen backed out of the room and Draco felt his muscles relax. He waited until he heard footsteps on the stairs before rolling out of bed and rushing down to his bedroom. He’d have to get to the office pronto – for Jamieson to request his presence on a Saturday there must be a serious problem. It was inconvenient, but that was the nature of his job.

When he’d dressed and found his way down to the breakfast room, he found Ewen and Gabe chattering away as though Ewen had always been in his son’s life. The child had taken to the other man incredibly well.

Draco wasn’t sure he approved of this attachment, but now was not the time to be worrying about it. He hovered in the doorway and watched them unnoticed for a couple of minutes before noisily sweeping in and swiping a piece of toast. He took a bite, kissed Gabe on the forehead and said, "I shouldn’t be home late. I’ll come and pick him up when I’m back later."

"There’s no rush," Ewen said, not quite meeting Draco’s eyes.

Draco forced a smile and with a nod, left the room to use the Floo in the drawing room. He swallowed down the lump in his throat that the small scene of domesticity had engendered in him and throwing the powder into the grate he called, "Malfoy Industries" and calmly stepped out the other side, his business smile plastered on.

Everything was fine.

* * *

When Draco finally escaped from the office, he had been there the best part of eight hours, and now he was hungry and past annoyed. He only had the weekends to spend with his son, and with him having been away for a few days, he had been hoping to spend today with him. Instead, Gabe was in the care of a virtual stranger and Draco had been trapped in an airless office all day, poring over dull legal papers looking for a loophole.

He had to deal with the private investigators, his mind not really on the task. When he Flooed Bevins, the investigator he used most frequently, he almost gave into the desire to ask him to investigate Ewen Johnson. Yet, he'd already had Bevins run a basic check on him back when he'd first shown up and his mother had started treating him like a second son, and he'd come up clean. Draco could get Bevins to do the full check: every stone upturned, every skeleton, every person Ewen had as much as thought about kissing, all of the things he wanted to know but didn’t think he would ever get out of the man himself.

Something changed his mind, a tiny voice belonging to his conscience perhaps. He'd finished the conversation with Bevins without a pause and moved on with the rest of the day. This did not stop Draco from thinking about Ewen’s past and wondering why he was in the position he was in – he was too young to be such a recluse - and why he’d been someone his mother favoured. The son of an old friend, okay, Draco could buy that, but still, something didn’t ring true. He also knew he wouldn't be thinking like this if he didn't feel the need to be close to the other man. It was inexplicable.

He was about to leave for the day when on a whim, annoyed with himself for being unable to think of anything else, he sent Bevins an owl with instructions to do a full investigation on Ewen Johnson, as long as he did so after he’d completed all the work Draco had just given him.

He’d already forgotten about it when he tumbled through the Floo at Ewen’s cottage, not bothering to stop at the house first to freshen up. What he found when he arrived in Ewen's sitting room stopped his heart. Ewen Johnson, lying on his back on the sofa, his eyes closed, whilst Gabe was curled up on top of him, sleeping. It was such a domestic scene. Draco's felt a pang of something he could never have as he brushed himself down and sat in the armchair to observe. He wanted to crawl onto the sofa beside Ewen and curl up with them. That would feel right - Merlin, so right.

After a few minutes, when they still didn't stir, Draco padded quietly over to the kitchen area and began the preparations for a pot of tea. He almost didn't want to wake them, but he needed to get Gabe back to the house soon and into his own bed for the night.

As he clattered gently with the teapot, he heard Ewen stretch and yawn, "Draco?" he said in a sleepy voice, warm and inviting and one that went straight to Draco's cock.

"I'm just making a pot of tea," Draco squeaked, suddenly self-conscious that he was making himself at home in what was essentially someone else's home without permission, and that he was half hard. "Would you like some?"

Ewen stood up, mesmerising Draco with the slow stretching movements of his body, picking up Gabe and carefully laying him on the spot he had just vacated. Ewen yawned and said, "Love some, thanks." He scratched his belly button on the strip of tanned skin exposed by his sleep-rumpled state before pulling down his t-shirt. Draco hastily looked away and busied himself with tea bags. "Long day?"

"Very," Draco replied, adding the magically heated water to the teapot and putting on the lid. "Long and boring. How about you?" He glanced at his sleeping son. "You’ve worn someone out."

Ewen laughed affectionately. "Yeah, it's mutual."

Draco's jaw tightened at this man's obvious affection for his son, but none whatsoever for the father. He broke eye contact and looked around for a tea towel. He didn't need one, but it gave him something to do before he said, "Look, about last night. I'm not sorry I kissed you. I want you. I am sorry I called you Harry."

Ewen looked surprised at Draco's confession. "Well, I'm sorry I was so lacking in understanding. I was married once too, you know. I understand what it's like to have someone in your life like that, to live with them and- and to have it all taken away. Whatever the reasons, it's none of my business." The intensity of his gaze forced Draco to meet it, and for another brief second his instincts screamed 'Harry' before he overrode them and waited for Ewen to continue. "The kiss was nice, but it can't happen again."

"Why not?" Draco asked. "Are you still in love with your wife?" He knew he was fishing here, trying to determine if Ewen had been married to a man or a woman. He couldn't explain why he was waiting to hear Ewen say 'woman', as though the other man being married to a woman was somehow less significant than if it had been another man.

Ewen shook his head. "I was hurt, badly. I'm not ready for another relationship; I don't know if I ever will be."

Ah, the ambiguous answer. No mention of a husband or a wife. Just that he had been hurt. Draco could understand that. He was still waiting for his own hurt to abate even slightly; it only seemed to when he was talking to the man before him, which produced confusion.

Draco Malfoy was a very unsettled person at this point in time.

He was distracted by his son waking up, stretching and yawning as Ewen had before him, "Wen?" Annoyance shocked through Draco that his son's first word at waking was not 'Father'.

"I'm here, Gabe," Ewen said, dropping to his haunches and ruffling the child's hair with a grin. "Look who’s home." He nodded in the direction of Draco and Gabe's head spun, his face lighting up, "Father!" He clambered off the sofa and bounded over to Draco, wrapping his small arms around his legs.

Draco carded a hand through his son's dark locks and smiled up at Ewen who was watching them with an expression that seemed to Draco very much like wonder. He met Draco's stare, his eyes clouding over and his expression returning to neutral. "I'll pour the tea shall I?" he said, moving over to the kitchen and selecting some tea cups from the cupboard. "You two take a seat."

* * *

Harry didn't know what made him say that about being married. When he started pouring the tea, he said, "My spouse didn't understand me." Shut up-! "We should never have got together really, but I loved him, so much. I'll never have that again, so I don't see any reason why I would ever consider another relationship. I’ve realised I’m better off by myself."

That, and I'm legally dead. Oh, and my estranged husband is you, and you broke my heart so thoroughly that I never want to go back for more, with you or anyone else.

Harry added milk and sugar to the tea and handed it to Draco, who took it from him and then asked, "How did you know I took three sugars?" Damn. Harry really needed to be more careful. "I've got a good memory. I saw you adding sugar to your tea at Narcissa's funeral and-" He fell flat. He hoped Draco would believe that lie. He was sure he'd seen Draco with a cup of tea and hoped that he had added his own sugar.

His mother's name seemed to distract Draco from the topic anyway. "I miss her," he said, perching on the edge of the armchair, the tea in his hands. "Do you think she'd be pleased that we're here together like this?"

Harry knew she would be over the moon. Despite knowing what had happened between them, Harry knew she'd never stopped hoping that Harry - the real Harry and not Ewen - would find his way back to Draco and Gabe. He assumed that part of her reasoning behind her bequest to Harry had been for that reason, the other part being her love for Harry and her understanding of his need to be near to Gabe.

"I don't know." Harry added milk to his cup of tea and took a sip. "We're hardly 'together', Draco. I've been looking after Gabe, you've been at work. Now here we are."

Draco stared into his tea, "Sounds like married life."

Harry's stomach twisted with hatred. "I wouldn't know. My marriage was over before I had chance to experience such things." That wasn't exactly true, but Draco didn't need to know that.

* * *

Draco felt drunk. All this talk of marriage must be making him maudlin. He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his spare hand. He was sure Ewen didn't want to hear this, but he felt compelled to tell him anyway. "I loved Harry," he started, seeing Ewen eyes' narrow at his words. "No - you don't understand - I loved him more than life. Not one day goes by when I don't miss him, and wish I had done things differently. But, things are what they are now. I never thought I would feel an attraction for anyone again. Yet, here we are - Ewen - I feel something for you."

There it was, he'd put it out there, laid himself on the line. Ewen was staring at him as though he'd just announced he was the new Dark Lord.

"I'm not suggesting-"

Ewen shook his head and nodded towards Gabe who was happily playing with an old pack of playing cards on the rug by the hearth. "This isn't an appropriate conversation to be having at the moment," he said reasonably. "Perhaps you could come back later?"

* * *

He was right. The little boy was paying no attention to either of them at that moment, but with a child his age, that could change any moment. "You're right," Draco smiled tightly. "I ought to be getting him to bed anyway. He’s had tea here?"

"Yes, we ate an hour or so ago."

Draco placed his tea cup on the coffee table and stood, "Come on, Gabe, say goodbye to Ewen." Gabe stopped trying to make piles out of the cards and looked up at Draco and then turned to Ewen. "Can I come and play again?"

Ewen smiled sadly, tugging on Draco's heartstrings. "That all depends on your father, Gabe."

"Can I, Father?"

"We'll see," Draco said, bending down to scoop Gabe into his arms. "Thank you again, Ewen. It's seems you have a fan for life here."

"My pleasure," Ewen said. He stepped forward and kissed Gabe’s forehead. "See you soon, kiddo."

* * *

Draco put Gabe to bed, the little boy talking excitedly about all of the things he had done that day with Ewen. Ewen this, Ewen that - fucking Ewen! Draco knew he was being unreasonable when he only stopped to peck Gabe on the cheek before leaving him to go to his own room and shower the day away, this unexpected anger scaring him.

He'd confessed to Ewen that he wanted him and Ewen had dismissed him. Draco knew it wasn't something they should be discussing with Gabe present, not really, but the child had felt like a shield against the rejection Draco was now convinced was on the tip of Ewen's tongue. Ewen apparently had enough sense about him not to reject Draco in front of a three year old!

When Ewen had said 'later', Draco knew that meant 'never'. He summoned Hanny and asked for some sandwiches to be ready for him when he'd finished in the shower, dragged all of his clothes off and chucked them in the hamper. He stomped into the bathroom. Once there, his shoulders sagged and he dropped his forehead against the cold tiles. What was happening to him? He felt like he was losing his mind!

* * *

Draco lay on top of his quilt that night, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he once again prayed for sleep. He didn't want to resort to going next door and crawling into bed with Gabe, but he feared he might have to. The events of the day circled in his mind on a repetitive loop. Seeing Ewen sleeping with his son cuddled into him, Merlin, it felt like coming home, like family. How he missed that. He'd only had it for a few short weeks before it was snatched away from him, and much of that time had been anxiety filled with the pain of knowing Harry was slipping away from him with every passing day. He'd been losing his mate, and he didn't know what to do to keep him.

He remembered another time when coming home from work via the Floo; tired and hungry, missing Harry as he always did when he'd been away with work for a few days, this time to Chicago. The American side of the business was on the up and Draco had to be available to make the meetings, it would be rude to send a representative in his place. Being apart from Harry had always felt wrong, even when it was for legitimate reasons such as work. He just wanted to sit down for a late supper with his bonded, talk over the day, spend some time with their baby son, then retire to bed with Harry and make long, slow love to him before falling into an exhausted sleep. The following day was Saturday, and Draco had plans of picnicking by the lake with Harry and Gabe in the warmth of the sun.

Instead he'd barrelled out of the Floo and found Harry sitting in the drawing room with Blaise Zabini, the two of them laughing hysterically over something Blaise was saying, so much so that it was a few moments before either of them had registered that Draco was even in the room.

"Draco!" Harry had shot to his feet, laughter still in his eyes. "Blaise was just telling me about that time you and he set a trip wire for Filch and- What's wrong?" The laughter had died abruptly and Harry's face had fallen.

Draco had ignored Harry, turning instead to his friend. "Lovely though it is to see you, Blaise, I'm sure you'll understand that I've had a long day and that I'd like to spend some time with my husband - alone."

Blaise's eyes had sparked, but he'd said, "Of course I understand. I'll take my leave. I'd only stopped by to invite the two of you - and Gabe - to a garden party tomorrow. A last minute thing, but the weather's been so clear that it seems a shame to waste it."

"Right. Well, thank you Blaise, we'll be there I'm sure." The tone of his voice implied, now leave.

"Wonderful," Blaise said, edging towards the Floo. "Harry, feel free to invite Hermione and Ron if they're free. The more the merrier."

"I will," Harry said, his voice strained. "Nice to see you, Blaise."

"You too, Harry. Draco," Blaise inclined his head, took a handful of Floo powder and disappeared into the fireplace.

Harry watched his departure before turning to Draco and saying, "What the fuck was that? You're acting like a possessive, jealous idiot! Blaise was only-"

"I know what he was 'only' doing! He's always sniffing around you. I don't like it."

"He does not 'sniff around me'! We're friends. Why is that so hard for you understand. F-R-I-E-N-D-S. Friends!"

"Harry-"

"I'm going to bed," Harry declared, backing towards the door. "You do what you like." He opened the door and left the room, slamming it behind him.

Draco's breath was ragged, his head spinning. Harry was pulling away from him and Draco had no idea how to pull him back. He'd tried everything he could think of, but Harry was becoming more and more distant. Draco didn't know what to say to him anymore. Well, one thing was for certain, he wasn't leaving it like this! He wrenched open the door and followed Harry out into the hallway, catching up with him on the sweeping staircase that graced the entrance hall, the focal point of the room.

"Harry!" he said, his hand closing on Harry's shoulder and spinning him around. "Don't walk away from me."

"You're impossible lately, Draco. Where did all this jealousy come from? Everything I do, anyone I see, you think I'm up to something. I don't understand, you didn't use to be like this-"

Yes, well, until recently Draco hadn't been in possession of the knowledge he now had of their situation. His confidence had been knocked to hell, and his worst fears had been confirmed. Harry didn't love him, not really. Harry might think he did, but one day he'd wake up and the realisation would dawn that he was with Draco under false pretences.

Draco was so scared of when that day would arrive. Life without Harry was unimaginable.

He didn't know how to respond to Harry's questions. He was so angry his frustration was crawling beneath his skin like a disease. He'd been away from Harry for nearly a week, he needed him, needed his touch, needed to be inside him, to hold him close. Draco's hand on Harry's shoulder pulled Harry forward and he crashed his lips against his. This. Oh yes, this. He felt Harry's initial resistance falter and die as Draco plundered his mouth, sliding a greedy hand under the hem of his t-shirt, rubbing a circle over his hipbone. He curled his other hand over Harry’s left buttock and Harry groaned into his kiss. Draco broke the kiss, raining smaller kisses over Harry's jawline, down onto his neck, biting down possessively on his exposed collarbone. Harry placed both of his hands on Draco's shoulders, and using them as leverage, lifted both of his legs and wrapped them around Draco.

Instinctively Draco backed up and sat on the third step, Harry’s legs falling to either side of him as he did so.

It wasn’t the first time they’d fucked on the stairs, more often than not they never made it as far as the bedroom. It was the first time they’d done so whilst in the middle of an argument. As they devoured one another, as Harry took control and somehow yanked down Draco’s trousers, and rid himself of his own, casting lubrication charms and impaling himself on Draco’s cock, riding him hard, Draco felt the desperation clawing at him. When he came, Harry’s name on his lips, his eyes boring into Harry’s, chasing the expressions that crossed his face as he also came, untouched, he imagined he saw a sandglass above their heads - the last grains of sand ebbing away.

The bite Draco had left on Harry’s neck had still been there, almost faded, that last time Draco had seen Harry less than two weeks later.

* * *

Draco awoke with a start, grateful for the sleep when it had taken him, less pleased with the contents of his dream. It hurt to remember. Worse, he’d woken up with his cock stiff against his stomach, leaking and begging for attention.

Draco slid a reluctant hand beneath the sheets and brought himself off.

Was this his life now? Living on dreams of his dead husband and fighting an obsession with another man who clearly had no interest in him beyond acquaintance. It was days like this that he wished he’d followed Harry, because this was no life at all.

* * *

Draco hadn’t returned that night as Harry had expected, despite his waiting up until nearly 2am.

Nearly a week passed, and Harry didn't see anything of Draco. Along with that, he didn't see his son either, but after their last conversation, Harry knew it was best to let Draco simmer and calm down on his own. Pansy and Theo were still away - Harry was certain that once Pansy returned, he would see more of Gabe. Ewen had been the first person she'd called upon when she'd needed someone to take care of the child, she clearly trusted him.

That day with his son had been fantastical. Until he'd given birth to Gabe, he'd never really understood the love a parent had for a child, and how much his mother must've loved him for her love to rebound against Voldemort. Harry knew his love for Gabe could slay a thousand Dark Lords in a heartbeat.

He now understood that Draco's love for the boy would have the same effect. Draco loved his son; Harry couldn't pretend that he didn't, even if it helped him to hold onto his hatred for the man. Harry only had to see them together to know how loved that child was. Such a shame the love hadn't extended to him when he'd needed it!

On Thursday Harry went out with Blaise armed with a short shopping list and a wallet full of Muggle money. Marlborough was the nearest town to the manor, and there was only one Wizarding establishment in the town, and even they catered mostly for Muggles by offering cream teas and cakes that made his mouth water. Blaise had to steer him past, saying that he was going to take Harry to lunch afterwards, and that the cake would only spoil his appetite. It had been a chance Harry had been willing to take, but Blaise had already manoeuvred him past. Harry vowed he would come back with Gabe and the two of them would eat cupcakes and- he sighed. If Draco allowed it, that was.

Draco fucking Malfoy - always in the way.

Harry had found the things he needed and several things he didn't, indulging in his love for Muggle clothes he'd spent a quick couple of hundred pounds in White Stuff, much to Blaise's disgust. Blaise was Draco's true friend in this way, both utterly contemptuous of Muggle fashion, preferring the more formal attire favoured by pure bloods.

Blaise took Harry for lunch at an Italian restaurant at the end of the High Street, and it was easy, Blaise was good company and made pleasant conversation. Until, that was, his hand strayed to Harry's leg, and Harry carefully lifted it off and said, "I'm not looking for anything more than friendship."

Blaise pinned him with his dark eyes then, searching his face and clearly coming up with something because he sighed and said, "No, I don't suppose you are, not with me anyway."

Harry bristled. "What do you mean?"

"Ewen, I've seen the way you look at Draco. You want him." Blaise rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking suddenly tired. "Draco's my best friend, has been since we were kids, and I love him..."

"I sense a 'but'?" Harry couldn't help asking the question, not caring that it might feed into Blaise's unfounded theory about his affections for Draco.

"But - Harry Potter," Blaise said sadly.

"He's dead," Harry said bitterly.

"Not to Draco. He never will be."

"What do you mean?"

"Draco was obsessed with Harry, always was from the first time he saw him, even if he claims otherwise, I know how he was when we talked about Potter - always alive and animated - anyway, when they finally got together it had been a long wait for Draco. His obsession turned to love in a heartbeat." Blaise shook his head. "When Harry left him, it broke Draco, and when Harry died, Draco did too. What you see there now is an empty shell that exists merely to take care of his son."

Harry couldn't help himself. He snorted. Blaise frowned, misunderstanding the source of Harry's derision. "He may find you attractive, Ewen, he might make a play for you, take you to his bed - but no one will ever take the place of Harry in his heart. Harry was his soulmate - his mate."

"No, Blaise, you misunderstand me. I've no interest in Malfoy, I assure you. I merely find your version of events difficult to swallow. From my understanding, he drove Harry away with his petty jealousies, and then upon finding him in the company of another man - an old family friend - he misread the situation and threw Harry out of the house, and somehow, Merlin knows who he bribed, he gained sole custody of their son and poor Harry Potter never saw him again." Harry exhaled heavily at the end of his tirade. "So, no, I'm not interested in being 'taken to his bed' or anywhere else. I abhor the man."

Blaise stared at Harry, surprise stamped across his handsome aristocratic features. "Ewen Johnson, I do believe I have misread you entirely. Can I take you out again?"

Harry forced a smile, still too furious to summon a real one, "Friends only?"

"I can't promise I won't keep on trying," Blaise admitted.

"That's fine," Harry said. "I admire your honesty."

* * *

On Friday evening, when Harry was relaxing with a glass of goblin wine and an episode of Buffy on his Muggle TV, the knock on the door made him jump. There were only really two people it could be - Pansy, who had returned to the manor that morning, or Draco. Harry resented his heart for skipping a beat at the thought it could be Draco at the door.

He turned off the TV, smoothed down his shirt and ran a nervous hand through his hair before answering the summons.

Draco.

"Can I come in?" he asked stiffly and Harry kept his face neutral and held open the door for the blond to pass through.

Once through, Draco began to pace in front of the fireplace, a clear indicator of his nerves.

"What can I do for you, Draco?" Harry had to fight with himself not to refer to him as Malfoy, which was a Harry habit and not one that Ewen would have.

"Is there something going on with you and Blaise?" Draco shot out and immediately cringed, as though the words had been forced from him unwillingly.

Harry surmised he must've seen Blaise leave that morning and garnered the wrong impression. Between the two of them - Draco and Blaise - they deserved an award for the number of wrong conclusions they jumped into. Blaise had come back with Harry the previous afternoon, and after some further conversation around what local sights Blaise would like to take him to see the following week, Harry had suggested a game of Scrabble. Blaise had never heard of the game, and Harry had eagerly set that omission to rights by fetching the board game out of the cupboard and challenging Blaise to a game.

Blaise hadn't won any of the three games they played, but he was getting better at it and he'd challenged Harry to a rematch for the following week. By the time they had finished playing it was late, they'd had a couple of glasses of Firewhisky and Blaise’s lids were drooping. Harry had transfigured the sofa into a bed and offered it to Blaise.

The following morning he'd made him cheese on toast and tea and Blaise had left him with a hug on the doorstep, saying that he wanted to Apparate and that the wards of the manor wouldn't allow it from the cottage.

Draco had obviously seen him leave, or Harry wouldn’t put it past Blaise to make sure that Draco saw him leave just so that he could put two and two together and come up with sixty-nine.

"What the hell does it have to do with you?" Harry spat. "I know you claim to have some feelings for me, but I’m afraid they are not reciprocated and if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave!"

"I do mind," Draco said, stopping the pacing and approaching Harry where he stood behind the sofa facing Draco. He climbed onto the sofa on his knees so he was directly in front of him. He reached out and wrapped his hands around Harry's, his eyes frantic. He looked as though the last time he had slept had been before the war, his grey eyes red rimmed and weary. "Are you telling me that you feel nothing for me, Ewen? That when I do this-" he leant forward and pressed a desperate yet soft kiss to Harry's parted lips, "- that you feel nothing?"

Harry had to struggle to collect himself. Merlin, he wished he felt nothing when Draco kissed him. How much easier life would be if that were the case. He swayed inwards; the movement did not escape Draco’s attention.

"You do want me," he crowed. Letting go of Harry's hands he cupped his face and kissed him again, one hand sliding around the back of Harry's neck to thread through the hair there, the other tracing patterns over his earlobe. Harry had a vague thought that he was fucking weak and pathetic as the sensations assuaged him and he slipped into hell. When Draco parted his lips and slid his tongue inside, tangling with Harry's, Harry moaned and cupped the back of Draco's head with one hand, his other sliding around his waist and untucking his shirt at the back, desperate to feel the smooth flesh he knew he would find there.

When Draco’s kisses moved south, and Harry had been divested of his t-shirt and Draco was fumbling with his belt, Harry knew he was a goner. Draco’s hand closed over his cock and that was him done for. Draco’s touch, even the innocent ones, had always held the ability to make him lose all sense of reality. This was no different, in fact, it was worse because it had been a long time since he’d been touched like this. This was something he never thought he would experience again.

Draco closed his mouth over the tip of Harry’s cock and it was all Harry could do not to cry out and grip his hands tightly in Draco's hair, because despite his inability to resist, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he couldn't react to Draco's ministrations in the way Harry would - which would be bunching Draco's hair in his fists and twisting - and moaning. Harry had never been a quiet lover, and Draco thrived on the pleasure pain of Harry's hands pulling his hair as he sucked his cock.

Instead, he bit his lip, and placed his hands on Draco's shoulders, responding to this as Ewen would. Merlin, Draco had not lost this talent. Untouched for so long and filled with a desperation he hadn't realised he'd felt until Draco had kissed him, Harry was spilling down Draco's throat in a few short minutes, watching in awe as Draco raised himself to his full height from his knees upwards and fisted his own long pale cock into orgasm and came moments after, long ropes of white come hitting Harry's stomach. Harry noticed Draco was biting his own lip as he came. Unable to stop himself, he pulled him close for a kiss, both of them falling down from the orgasmic high slowly. Harry pulled his jeans back up and spelled away the come on his stomach, ignoring the desire to scoop it up with his fingers and clean his hand with his tongue. That was something Harry did, not Ewen.

Harry decided that Ewen was more inhibited than Harry. He climbed over the back of the sofa and sat with his back to the arm, his legs folded up in front of him, sated. Draco got to his feet and Harry dropped his legs to full stretch, looking up at Draco who was looking everywhere but at him.

"Draco?"

Draco, pulling up his trousers and tucking himself in replied, "Hmmm?" and still did not look at Harry.

Harry patted the space he'd just created between his legs. "Come here," he said, and Draco looked at him then, his face an odd mixture of relief and guilt. Harry liked him like this, real, expressive - when he forgot his Malfoy behaviour and the mask fell away. When they'd been married he'd had to grow used to the famous impervious mask more often than not. Draco gave him an uncomfortable smile and settled himself back against Harry.

"I thought you didn't feel anything for me," Draco said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

"I don't," Harry lied. At least, Ewen Johnson felt nothing for Draco. Harry's feelings were complicated and ever changing, and as Harry was dead they hardly mattered anyway. "But I'm only human, and you're difficult to resist. It is what it is." He shrugged. He wasn't going to panic about what had happened. Draco had had his cock in his mouth and hadn't pulled away gasping that Ewen was a fraud in some moment of clarity based in the taste of his come. Maybe Harry could do this. Just sex. That was all. He was strong enough. Harry or Ewen, Malfoy’s touch was irresistible.

He wrapped an arm around Draco and pulled him close, feeling him relax against him, which made him relax and close his eyes. He felt contented. He’d never thought he’d get this again. He didn’t know what ‘this’ was, it could never be anything, but would it hurt if he let himself enjoy if for now? Draco would get bored of him soon enough. Ewen Johnson was just a nobody. Malfoys didn’t have relationships with nobodies.

He could do this. He could.

* * *

Draco tried to concentrate on the business meeting he was currently in the middle of; it was worth a lot of Galleons and he knew he really should be paying closer attention than he was.

Instead his mind drifted to the previous weekend, and Ewen Johnson. His lover? Draco wanted to say the words out loud, because when he said them in his head it was as though they weren’t real. His lover. That was what they were now. Put another name on it and turn it around on its head and the facts remained. Their relationship had shifted on its axis.

Draco had never had a lover before, other than Harry that was, and he and Harry had never enjoyed that label, going from enemies to completely inseparable in what had felt like a heartbeat and skipped the ‘lovers’ stage in favour of boyfriend, bonded, husband... Ewen was not his boyfriend. Draco was certain that although Ewen wanted him physically, he most certainly did not like him as a person. Draco hated to admit that that knowledge rankled.

Of course, Draco had slept with other people, a few before Harry, a few since, but only ever once. Ewen was already a more than one time affair, for Draco this was something. Ewen Johnson was an enigma and Draco Malfoy was in serious danger. He knew this, yet he couldn’t – no – he wouldn’t stop.

But I'm only human, and you're difficult to resist.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Jamieson’s voice cut into Draco’s thoughts, startling him out of his ill-timed reverie.

"Wh-Yes?" Draco tried to shove thoughts of his love life out of his head and get back into business mode, at least while he had an boardroom full of employees.

Jamieson narrowed his eyes minutely at Draco, indicating his displeasure, but he made no comment about Draco’s distraction, instead he said, "The contract? I’m happy that it’s sound, legal has looked it over – all it needs is your signature and we can owl it over-"

"No!" Draco interrupted. "My apologies, I admit I’ve been a little distracted. Give me an hour to run over the finer details and I’ll let you know my decision by close of play today."

Jamieson nodded tensely, gathering up the papers and handing them to Draco. "Certainly. I’ll owl Hanover’s and tell them that they’ll have a decision by the end of the day then?"

"Yes, do that. Thank you, Jamieson." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. This wouldn’t do. Daydreaming in the middle of meetings was not on; Draco was a professional.

He’d taken over Malfoy Industries when he’d left Hogwarts, wanting to do something by the way of a career but knowing that the options were limited for someone with his family background. His great-grandfather had founded the firm, and by the time it came to Draco the company was a major player in both Wizarding and Muggle business. Lucius had had little to do with the business, preferring to leave it in the hands of managers and he would merely sweep in to the important meetings to sign things as required, before undoubtedly sweeping back out again. Draco preferred a hands-on approach. He still relied greatly on his management, especially for the Muggle side of the business; Draco had had no idea what a footsie was, or who Bill Gates might be, and although a few years down the line he was much better placed to answer those questions, he knew for the sake of the business that he’d do better on the wizarding side of things.

Draco was a billionaire many times over in Muggle terms, and in wizarding speak – his vault at Gringotts was vast.

Draco waited for Jamieson and the other meeting attendees to file out of the boardroom before retreating to his own office and throwing up a locking charm and a silencing spell. Before he read through anything, he needed to deal with the erection he’d been fighting since his mind had slipped to re-run the weekend’s events.

* * *

"What do you mean, Hanover’s wants a meeting? Why can’t they come here?" Draco was tired. The detail of the contract was more complicated than he’d anticipated, and now the unexpected delay had given Hanover’s the jitters. "I really don’t have the time or inclination to go to Germany." Even as the words left his lips he knew he was going to have to go. They would expect to see him, the man in charge, and not one of his delegates.

Jamieson merely fixed Draco with the disapproving glare that Draco had become so familiar with in the years since he’d taken over. The man was supercilious and patronising; but he also knew this business back to front and Draco knew he needed him.

"Fine," Draco huffed, resigned. "When?"

* * *

Draco put Gabe to bed that night and walked down to the cottage to see Ewen. His welcome from the other was frosty, but Ewen let him in nevertheless and offered him a drink. Draco chose tea, deciding it was wise to stay away from the Firewhisky when he was around Ewen.

Firewhisky and lack of sleep worked against Draco and made him see things that weren’t there. Like the other night when he’d been convinced that Ewen was Harry. It was like a fog lifting that showed him the way to his darkest desires. Draco couldn’t afford to blur the lines. He had to be fully aware that Ewen was who he was; a somewhat mysterious character, a writer, a friend to his mother, Draco’s lover. Harry had been- Harry had been Harry; there was no comparison and Draco didn’t want to make one. Ewen had been very clear that it is what it is.

Draco sat down on the armchair, crossing his ankle over his knee. "I’ve got to go to Germany for a few days."

Ewen shrugged looking unconcerned. "Good luck with that."

Draco sighed, "If I said I’d miss you, what would you say?"

"I’d say you shouldn’t have any problem getting laid in Germany."

Draco ought to have known he’d get a response like that. He was a fool for hoping otherwise. "I’d like to get laid here," he said and Ewen smiled. "I mean, I’d like to suck you again." They hadn’t done any more than this yet, since that first night it had been this and their hands, frantic touches and insistent fingers. Draco wanted more, and when they touched it was electric – but Ewen seemed reluctant to go any further, and Draco took what he could get. It would be enough for now.

"Now, that I can manage," Ewen said. "Come here."

* * *

Knowing that Draco was in Germany was a sigh of relief for Harry. His absence was much needed breathing space for him to analyse what the hell he thought he was doing by doing what he was with Draco. It was unbelievably risky. Yet, Harry's resistance was pathetically weak and it always had been around Draco. Touching him again felt so frighteningly right, and he'd let himself get drawn into Draco's web for the second time in his lifetime.

Harry had only ever been with one other person, before he'd got together with Draco and before he'd admitted to himself that he was (a) gay and (b) in love with his enemy. He would never confess this to another soul, and only one person knew of it and that was the person he'd been with. Hermione. The woman his best friend was in love with.

Harry still carried a lot of guilt about that.

When Ron had left them alone, back when they were searching for Horcruxes, when their morale had been so low they couldn't ever see a way out of the hole they had been sinking in, Harry and Hermione had turned to one another for comfort. It had lasted as long as it had taken for Ron to return, and Harry had stepped aside without a qualm. Hermione loved Ron, and Harry did not want to be in the way of that. He loved them both, and although he had enjoyed the intimacy with Hermione, his love for her had not been of the romantic sort. Their time as lovers had been time limited and it was their secret. Even Draco hadn't known about it. With hindsight, there were many things he hadn’t told his bonded.

Harry hadn’t seen the urgency, he had assumed they had their whole lives for details.

So, Harry was not sexually experienced and he sometimes wondered if he had been then his fascination for Draco Malfoy might diminish. Perhaps Draco's touch wasn't the be all and end all? Perhaps there was someone else out there that could make him feel the way he did when he was in Draco's sphere.

Perhaps. Merlin, who was he trying to fool?

"Hey, where did you go?" Blaise nudged Harry with his foot. Harry, who should have been paying attention to his companion and not thinking about Draco, looked up into friendly brown eyes and smiled warmly.

"Sorry, Blaise, just daydreaming again." They were in the Wizarding tearooms in Marlborough and Harry was enjoying one of the scrummy cakes that he'd missed out on last time, before doing some sightseeing. "Where are you taking me first?"

Blaise crossed his arms and pretended to be annoyed. "I wish you'd tell me what you're thinking when you do that," he complained, and Harry knew that the statement was more serious than Blaise was admitting.

Harry shrugged, unwilling to share what had happened with him and Draco with Blaise even in the context of his being Ewen, not Harry. "I'm a writer, Blaise. I do this a lot."

Blaise swigged the dregs of his coffee and sighed. "Can I read your book?"

Harry beamed, pleased that Blaise would ask. "Of course you can, I've got a copy back at the cottage." He nudged Blaise again. "You didn't answer my question - where are we going first?"

"I thought Avebury. It's close by. I want to see if you get any magical vibes off the stones. I'm convinced their origins are wizarding and not Muggle, but Draco thinks otherwise. I’d like a second opinion."

* * *

Harry flopped down onto the sofa and gave an exhausted sigh. After Avebury they'd walked across the fields to Silbury Hill and up to West Kennet long barrow. It was a wonderfully sunny day, and Harry was happily exhausted. He had been fascinated by each new site and promised himself to come back for a better look with the view to including them in one of his books, ideas floating in his head about Muggle myths versus magical facts.

They'd gone to the pub after the long barrow and waited it out until dusk before Apparating to Stonehenge and viewing the ancient stones without the encumberment of a few hundred of Muggle tourists, under a Disillusionment Charm.

Harry had immediately felt the magic of the site. It had to be wizarding, or early magic - how else would they have transported stones of that size from Wales?

After an hour of that, they Apparated back to the cottage and Harry sank gratefully onto the sofa.

"Thanks for a great day, Blaise," Harry said. "You're a good tour guide."

Blaise looked pleased and sat himself down next to Harry and put his hand on his knee. "I'm glad you had fun." Harry was about to brush the hand away when Blaise, in an unexpected manoeuvre, straddled Harry’s thighs, and Harry found himself being kissed.

His first instinct was to pull away, this felt wrong. Yet, he remembered his thoughts of that morning about Draco, and his musings about if he could feel as he did with Draco with someone else, and with that thought, he kissed Blaise back.

It wasn't awful. Harry would go as far as say it was nice. Blaise groaned hungrily and pushed his tongue into Harry's mouth. No, this was wrong. No! He lifted his hands to Blaise’s chest to push him away when both men were distracted by the Floo roaring to life and Pansy almost falling out of it onto the hearth rug.

She took in the scene in front of her with little interest, which to Harry was a clear indicator that something was wrong before she said, "Something terrible has happened!" she cried, the distress in her voice clear. "Someone's taken Gabe!"

Harry's blood ran cold. He wriggled out from beneath Blaise and tried to stand, ignoring the dizzying panic that was already shunting through his nervous system. "What do you mean 'someone's’ taken him'?"

"He's gone! I went to check on him as I always do when Draco's away, before going to bed myself, and he wasn't there!" Pansy’s face was pale, her eyes wide and water-logged. "I don’t know why I’ve come, I just – don’t know what to do…"

"Could he have wandered off?" Blaise asked sensibly. "He is three after all; he's at that curious age."

"No - I found this on his bed," Pansy held up a scroll. "It says they want ten million Muggle pounds or they'll kill him!"

"Oh Merlin," Harry felt himself swoon. Someone had his baby. Someone had his baby! He grabbed hold of Blaise to steady himself.

"Have you got hold of Draco?"

"Theo's trying now. Gabe's not here is he?" Pansy glanced around the room optimistically then back at Harry and Blaise before saying, "No, of course not, you two were- And you would have said. Of course. Ransom note. Sorry, I'm just-"

It appeared that Blaise was good in a crisis. His strong voice was calming, "Come on Pans, let’s get you back to the house. Ewen and I will do everything we can." He turned to Harry. "Right, Ewen?"

Harry heard him talk, but his false name didn't register. He was too busy drawing on his old DA training and trying to think of ways they could track where someone might have taken Gabe. When he found them, they were going to meet the wrath of the man who killed Voldemort! No one touched his baby... What if they hurt him? His little boy would be so scared.

"Ewen?"

"What? Right, yes. Just let me grab a couple of things and I'll meet you up at the house." Harry had quite the collection of books on defensive spells, and a whole tome on rare tracking spells. He kept them shrunken in his bedside drawer. He’d used to carry them on him, not sure why but just in case. He always had since his DA days, even as the collection grew. Only now he had to be careful not to let anyone - namely Draco - see them because some of the books were one offs and Draco knew that Harry had owned them.

Blaise and Pansy Flooed back to the house and Harry ran upstairs to change out of his muddy jeans, before shoving a few things, including the books, into a rucksack and following them to the manor.

* * *

When Harry arrived at the house, he followed his ears and found Blaise and Pansy in the kitchen. Pansy had worked herself into even more of a panic. Harry's own heart was pounding in his chest; he was so scared for Gabe. This could go two ways for him now, he could join Pansy in the panicking, or he could take control of the situation. Personally he preferred the latter option. But his head was pounding and the fear was pumping adrenalin through his body at a rate of knots he hadn’t felt since his face-down with Voldemort.

He was scared.

"Has anyone contacted the Ministry?" he asked, taking a deep breath. He could do this. He had to do this. His son's life was at stake here.

"The note says not to," Blaise said, offering the note to Harry who read it carefully before nodding in agreement and resisting the urge to Incendio the fucking thing.

"I'm calling Ron," Harry said decisively. Ron was a trained Auror. "If we can't do this through the official channels, I want Ron's help. We can’t wait for Draco to come back to approve, we don’t know how long he’s going to be gone."

Neither Pansy nor Blaise objected.

"I'll be right back," Harry said, grabbing some Floo powder and disappearing through the fireplace to Ron and Hermione's.

There was no sign of his friends when he arrived at the other end with an inelegant stumble into their kitchen, which meant they were either out or in bed. "Ron!" Harry called desperately. "Ron, it's me, Harry!"

He heard a thunk from upstairs which was presumably Ron getting out of bed. "Harry?" The voice came from the top of the stairs.

Shit. Harry really needed to get used to calling himself Ewen, even to his best friends. There were footsteps on the stairs and Ron appeared, his ginger hair sticking out all over the place, rubbing his eyes blearily.

"Mate, it's late."

"Someone's kidnapped Gabe," Harry said without preamble. "I need your help."

"Shit, Harry-" Ron paled instantly. "We need to report-"

"No, Ron, nothing official. The note says not to and I can't risk it."

"What's going on?" Hermione appeared in the doorway, her hair even more disarrayed than Ron's.

"Someone's kidnapped Gabe," Ron said. He turned to Harry. "Give me a minute to get dressed, and I'll come back to the manor with you." He shuffled back towards the door, slapping his cheek to wake himself up.

"Oh my God, Harry. How are you? How's Draco?" Hermione asked with concern. Hermione had remained neutral towards Malfoy when his and Harry’s relationship had hit the rocks, claiming it was for Gabe's sake – she and Ron were his Godparents - and although it had been difficult for Harry to see, he was glad of it now, it had helped him back into his son’s life.

"I don't know; he's in Germany on business. Theo's gone to track him down." Harry's voice cracked. "'Mione, if anything happens to that child-"

Hermione stepped closer and pulled Harry into a hug. He buried his nose in her hair and sobbed, trying desperately to regain the control.

"I'll get dressed and come over to the Manor, too," she promised. "You get back there and we'll be along in a few minutes, okay?"

Harry nodded, pulling out of her arms. "Thanks, ‘Mione." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Could you-?" He gestured to his eyes, and Hermione took his wand from him and muttered a quick spell. The evidence of his upset vanished, and taking back his wand, Harry returned to the manor.

* * *

Ron and Hermione arrived at Malfoy Manor five minutes later, and Harry was already sinking fast. His son was missing, but he couldn't let on that Gabe was his son, or show how incredibly shit scared he was. All he could do was pace in front of the fireplace, more than relieved when his friends arrived.

Ron immediately inspected the ransom note and said, "I'd put a million Galleons on this being someone Malfoy knows."

Pansy, sitting on the sofa with her arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes red rimmed from crying asked, "How?"

"The wards," both Harry and Ron said in unison. Ron smiled ruefully, and Harry back at him; it was a reminder of how Fred and George had used to be when they always spoke in tandem. Ron continued, "This is Malfoy Manor. Malfoy's a paranoid individual. No one gets in here without his permission. Hermione, can you run some diagnostics on the wards and see if they've been breached, just to be sure that this theory is correct before we chase up false leads."

Hermione nodded and left the room with her wand clutched tightly in her hand. Harry knew that without Draco's presence she would really only be able to do some perfunctory checks, but Ron was right, it should be enough to know if the wards had been breached at all.

"So, who knows who has access to the manor?" Ron Accioed some parchment from the writing desk in the corner of the room and sat down next to Pansy. "Has anyone got a Muggle biro?"

Pansy and Blaise looked blankly at him, Harry pulled one out of his pocket and handed it to his friend.

"Right," Ron began. "Hermione and I have access. Ewen, Pansy, Theo, Draco - obviously. Zabini, I assume that as you're here you're tuned in?" Blaise nodded.

"Can you think of anyone else?"

Pansy shook her head and Blaise said, "Draco's a paranoid Slytherin, like you said."

"Could the wards still be set to allow visitors that perhaps Narcissa or Lucius approved of, but who would no longer be welcome?"

"Draco completely reset the wards after Lucius died," Pansy sniffed. "He didn't want to take the risk that some of his father's less savoury friends would turn up uninvited."

"He changed them recently for me," Harry pointed out, remembering the reason why Gabe had been able to wander down to his cottage the other week. "He forgot to reset the wards around the garden that kept Gabe in - remember Pansy?"

Ron chewed on the end of Harry's biro. "Is there a chance he might have missed something, left them vulnerable to-"

Hermione stumbled back into the room then, "The wards hold as far as I can tell, which means that no one has gotten in here without being keyed in. I can’t tell if someone who was allowed in has been because Ron and I have been in since." She looked apologetic at that, even though Harry knew that was his fault.

"We need Draco," Harry said, hating to say the words but knowing it was true. "What the hell is keeping him?"

"It's only been half an hour," Blaise said, wrapping his arm around Harry and pulling him to his side. "Try not to worry."

Harry jerked away. "Try not to worry! My b- There's a little boy missing - kidnapped by Merlin knows what kind of maniac and you're telling me not to worry!" As Harry's anger rose, the room began to shake.

"Um - Ewen - I think you should step outside into some fresh air for a couple of minutes," Hermione said pointedly, placing a calming hand on Harry's arm and leading him into the corridor and hastily pushing him out of the nearest exit. "Harry - your glamour, it's wavering, you need to calm down."

"Fuck," Harry held up his hands in front of his face. The slight dent in his left hand where his wedding ring used to be was visible. "I was warned that incidents of extreme stress could put the glamour off centre. Right now though, ‘Mione, I don't know if the façade is worth maintaining, not when Gabe's life is at risk."

"Harry, if anyone can find that child, it's you, you know that," she brushed the stray hair off Harry's forehead fondly. "With that in mind, I think the last thing Draco is going to need to deal with on top of Gabe's disappearance is the resurrection of Harry Potter."

Harry’s head dropped in defeat. She was right.

"Hermione, I don't know what to do. Gabe is my son, and I have to pretend like he's the child of...someone I know and nothing to me! I want to tear this place apart brick by fucking brick looking for a clue - any clue - that might lead me to him! If anything happens to him, I might as well have died in that crash, because it's all been for nothing."

"So think as Harry, because underneath it all, you are still the boy who vanquished the most powerful wizard in the world, who fought a different monster every year for seven years, who never backed down from a fight no matter what the risk - what would Harry Potter do?"

The answer slipped off Harry's tongue like butter. "He'd stop at nothing to get the little boy back." Sometimes, life permanently under the glamour pretending to be someone else meant that Harry forgot what it was like to be him. "He'd use his magic and- I know! Hermione - it's so fucking obvious! Damn, why didn't I think of it sooner?"

Hermione widened her eyes and looked expectantly at Harry. "No time to explain, Hermione -" Harry was still speaking as he Disapparated.

* * *

When Theo found him, Draco was in the middle of an exceedingly uninspiring business dinner with a group of self-important German wizards who wanted to talk about anything and everything except for actual business at hand. Like the wizarding war, the European Ministry, the British Muggle government - all non-business related and all even duller than the business talk Draco had anticipated. He didn't even know why he was still there; other than Herr Lindemann seemed very keen that Draco should meet his daughter the following evening. Without having to see her, Draco knew she would probably make Millicent Bulstrode look attractive.

"Draco!" Theo came bursting into the private dining area of the Muggle restaurant that was secreted away, the door to which, to a Muggle, merely looked like a brick wall with an antique map of Berlin adorning it. "Draco, thank fuck!"

The Germans all stared at Theo with their mouths hanging wide open. "What is the meaning of this?" Herr Lindemann spat. "Herr Malfoy?"

Theo ignored Lindemann, looking at Draco who was filled with a rapid sense of dread.

"Draco, you have to come now, it's Gabe - someone's taken him!"

Draco felt all the blood rush from his head and stars appear, "What?" he whispered. "Taken him where?" His vision began to blur.

"Someone's kidnapped him!"

Draco fainted.

* * *

When Draco came to, he was already at the International Portkey Office, slumped against an anxious Theo, who held a ticket in his left hand reading, '19'. His right hand was on Draco's shoulder where his arm was wrapped around him, holding him steady.

"Theo," Draco mumbled. "Tell me I dreamt that."

"Sorry, Draco. I came as quick as I could. Damned Portkey officials."

Draco felt his life force return to him, along with a molten sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"What's happened?"

"Pansy put Gabe to bed, and when she went to check on him before she turned in, he was gone."

A cold feeling of dread swirled inside of Draco. "Are you sure he hadn't just wandered somewhere, he's quite active these days, maybe he got in the wardrobe and fell asleep or-"

"No," Theo said. "There was a note."

"What do they want?" Draco whispered, willing to empty his entire vault at Gringotts and sign over the manor if it meant that his son was alive and well.

"Ten million Muggle pounds."

Draco's head cleared, and his first thought was, "How the fuck did they get in?"

* * *

When they made it back to the manor, three hours had passed since Theo had first gone to find Draco, which for a two way Portkey wasn't that bad, but when you had a missing child, it was nothing short of torture. Theo had greased a lot of palms that evening to get his slots moved to the front of the queue.

Granger, Weasley and Pansy were sitting at the dining table, all pale faced - Granger was poring over a book, Weasley was tapping his wand impatiently against the table and Pansy was silently sobbing.

"Draco!" Granger exclaimed when he came through the door. To his surprise, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "I'm so sorry! I've been looking at tracking spells to see if there's some way-"

"What are you doing here, Granger?" Draco asked, instantly on the defensive, friendly hug or not. Harry's best friends had always brought this out in him, even when he had been trying to be civil during their marriage. He knew they had never approved of him as Harry's partner. They had been right not to welcome him with open arms after all, he might as well have flung the killing curse at his husband himself.

"Oh - Ewen came and asked us for help." She picked up some parchment off the table beside her and held it out for him. "The note said no ministry, and Ewen thought with Ron being an Auror-"

Draco nodded curtly, his eyes rapidly scanning the note. It gave nothing away. Someone had taken his child and wanted money for his return. There were no further instructions. "Did you check the note for any hidden text?" he asked the room in general.

"I did," Weasley said. "Nothing."

Draco's spirits plummeted. "You said Ewen asked you to come - where is he?" The fact that Ewen was here provided a little comfort to Draco, the other man was clearly fond of Gabe and after what had happened between them, Draco hoped he was warming to him, too.

"Um - he said he had an idea - and he Apparated away and I haven't seen him since. Blaise went to the cottage a few minutes ago to see if he was there, he should be back in a minute." Hermione didn’t look at Draco as she spoke, but now was not the time to read anything into it that probably wasn’t even there anyway. Nothing else mattered other than him getting his son back.

"Weasley, tell me what to do? Have we got to wait for this person to make contact again before we can do anything? I can't just sit here and wait. I have to do something."

Draco started when the door opened, only for his heart to slow again when he realised it was Blaise. Blaise caught his eye and flushed before saying, "Ewen's not at the cottage. I don't know where he might have gone."

"What if it was Ewen?" The notion came to Draco on a whisper. "Maybe this has been his plan all along? Who is he anyway, he just turns up out of the blue and he's suddenly Mother's best friend. He gets bequeathed the cottage, but Mother never told me why. He must have been planning this all along! He's got access to the wards-" Draco cut himself off, realising he'd found Ewen guilty without trial. The same man he'd been obsessing over for weeks. His lover.

"No!" Weasley protested, loudly. "Not Ewen, he's as honest as they come. I've known him since we were kids - this isn't him, Malfoy."

Draco shook his head, "No, this makes perfect sense! It has to be him. He's taken Gabe, and now he's disappeared himself." Draco heard his own voice become shriller; the bitter taste of betrayal and heartbreak swelling in his throat.

"Don't be ridiculous, Draco," Pansy said, her voice small and thick with tears. "He was at the cottage with Blaise when I went to find him! Ewen told me he was going sightseeing today with Blaise. They'd been together all day, right Blaise?"

Draco's jealous eyes flew to Blaise, who blushed and lowered his gaze. He’d known that Ewen had been shopping with Blaise the other day, but now they were going out bloody sightseeing? Draco felt his recent dizziness return before he gathered himself and told himself to focus. He would not think about this now. He wouldn't. This didn't matter, not when his son was missing.

How could one part of his brain be condemning the man for kidnapping his son and the other be so incredibly jealous that he wanted to hex Blaise’s balls off?

"Alright, if it's not Ewen - and I'm not convinced that it's not - then where is my son?"

"I was working on a list of who the manor's wards allow in," Weasley said, picking up some paper covered in some scrawl from the table in front of him. "Here's the list so far. Is there anyone else who has access into the manor that is not on here?"

Draco took the list, straining his eyes to read the words written in a Muggle pen, the kind Harry had favoured. He scanned the list, "No, I think this list covers it. No – wait, there is-"

A huge crash from the hallway stopped him. Everyone who had been sitting, other than Pansy, leapt to their feet and ran to the door, but it flung open before they reached it to reveal Ewen Johnson clutching an unconscious yet obviously unharmed three year old to his chest.

"Thank Merlin," Draco cried, the relief unfathomable, reaching out to take his son out of Ewen's arms. His eyes met Ewen’s in gratitude. "What - where -?" Ewen reluctantly gave up his hold on the little boy and Draco walked him over to an armchair and sat down with his son in his lap, checking his pulse and surmising that he was merely sleeping. "Should we take him to St. Mungo’s?"

"He's been given Dreamless Sleep," Ewen said, shaking his head, walking over to Draco and dropping to his haunches. He placed a hand on Gabe's forehead. "He's fine. The person I found him in the 'care' of didn't fare so well. You'd better come with me - I don't know how long the spell I cast to bind him is going to hold."

"I'd better come, too," Weasley said. "We can get him straight into custody."

"Hermione, keep an eye on Gabe," Ewen said, and Hermione stepped forward. Draco kissed his son and handed him over to Granger. He stood and held onto Ewen’s arm to Apparate.

When they materialised at their destination, Draco glanced around him and gasped. "The North tower?" This room had been the domain of his father during his lifetime and Draco had sealed it off upon his death. This had been where Lucius would summon him as a child, where his punishments would take place. He hated it in here and had hoped to never see the place again.

Slumped in the corner, against one of his father's now empty bookcases, lay an unconscious man. Draco stepped closer and gasped. Jamieson!

"It's Jamieson," he admitted to the room. "He works for me at Malfoy Industries. Why would he do this?"

* * *

The following few hours passed in a blur. Ron took the unconscious kidnapper - had Draco called him Jamieson? - to the Ministry to be locked away until he regained consciousness and could answer their questions. Ron also said that he and whichever Auror team were assigned to the case would return in the morning once everyone had had a chance to get some sleep.

Harry felt sick. He didn't know how he had pulled it off. The theory he had come up with that might lead him to Gabe had worked. He could only hope that his methods were not put into question. If they were, then he might be found out as Harry Potter, and despite his earlier hiccup, that couldn’t be allowed to happen.

Once Ron had left, Hermione kissed his cheek, and went home. Blaise had mumbled something about 'being in touch soon' and had Flooed away. Pansy had hugged Draco and Gabe, sobbing uncontrollably - this time from joy - before she too went to bed. That left Harry, Draco and their son. The grey eyes fixed on Harry over the top of a mop of soft black hair. "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me," Harry said, wishing more than anything that at this moment they weren't Ewen and Draco but Harry and Draco. He wanted to take the other man in his arms and offer him some comfort, yet he couldn't. Despite the recent developments in their 'relationship', it wasn't one of comfort and companionship, it was one of mutual gratification and lust; one that would burn itself out as surely as the sun rose in the east. "I'd better be getting back. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

He didn’t want to leave Gabe; he wanted to go to sleep with the little boy breathing soundly beside him. Instead he smiled at Draco with a politeness he didn’t feel and turned to the door.

He had rescued his son, and immediately had to hand him over to Draco, like he wasn't part of Harry, like Harry didn't have a right to take care of him after his ordeal; to tuck him into bed, keep him safe. Ewen didn't have that right. Harry hadn't either thanks to Draco.

Draco nodded, his gaze following him as he left the room and let himself out of a side door to make his way down to the cottage. Once there, he stripped and got into bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He knew he should feel something, some joy that his son was safe and well and alive and not in the hands of some money hungry maniac. Of course he was glad about that, but now that Gabe was safe, the loneliness came crashing down over Harry and he felt in that moment that he might suffocate from the weight of it. He hadn't felt like this since the early days, before his 'death', after he had come to realise that Draco would never let him near himself or his son again - and for why? - some paranoid delusion that Harry was shagging someone else?

He wondered if Draco still believed that of him - of Harry. Did he have any idea exactly how Harry had felt about him? A small part of him hoped that he never would. Draco didn't deserve to know how loved he had been. Fuck. Harry needed to get a grip! With one thought he was resisting hugging and comforting Draco, the next he was wishing him ill will. He needed to put his barriers back in place. This was it, where it had to stop and stay, so close yet so far.

What was he even thinking of, getting into a sexual relationship with Draco? It could only end badly. Harry was here for his son, not to get his cock sucked by his ex-husband. It would need to end. It would end. The next time they were alone together, when Draco tried to touch him, Harry would stop him and say that whilst it had been nice it wasn't something that could continue.

Harry only realised he was silently weeping when he tasted the salt of his own tears as they bled into his mouth.

* * *

In the morning Harry, who hadn't slept a wink anyway, owled Ron and asked that if possible, any questioning from the Aurors be kept away from the subject of how Harry had found Gabe, ending the note with, 'You can probably guess how I did it. Malfoy can't know, you understand why."

He walked up to the manor after a quick piece of toast and a couple of strong mugs of coffee. He knew the Aurors wouldn't be there yet, but he also knew that Draco wouldn't know he knew that. Harry needed to see his son, awake and well.

Draco and Gabe were in the dining room, the little boy in Draco's lap, crying his heart out, shaking his head and refusing to eat the cereal Draco was trying to feed him. When he saw Harry enter, the crying stopped and his green eyes widened and followed Harry's passage into the room. He held up his arms and Harry flicked a questioning look at Draco. Draco nodded.

Harry took Gabe from him and ruffled the child's hair. "What's the matter here then? Don't you like porridge?" Gabe sniffed and buried his face in Harry's chest. Harry looked at Draco and shrugged. "Your son doesn't like porridge."

He noticed then how weary Draco looked. His face was drawn, his skin paler than ever with dark circles under his eyes. "How observant," he joked feebly.

Despite himself, Harry felt his heart squeeze. "Didn't sleep much then?"

Draco shook his head. "I can't stop thinking about why he would do this to me - to us. Jamieson, I mean. He's worked for me from the start, and for my father before me. He practically ran the place before I took over!" He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "The bastard obviously sent me to that pointless business trip in Germany on purpose - to get me out of the way! I can't believe I fell for it."

"You can't blame yourself. How were you supposed to know that was what he had planned?" Harry edged the bowl of porridge towards himself began to stir it with his free hand. "You have to look at the positives here. He got caught, Gabe is safe."

Harry spooned up some porridge and offered it to Gabe, who eyed it suspiciously before opening his mouth and taking a mouthful.

"How did you do it?" Draco asked.

"I think he's just realised he's hungry," Harry said, filling the spoon with more porridge.

"No - not that," Draco said with an amused snort. "I mean how did you find him?"

Oh, that. "Instinct," he said, which was the truth, even if only a small part of the truth. "I tried to think like a kidnapper." He offered an answer that gave away absolutely nothing.

Draco was staring at him and Harry could almost hear the cogs turning. Harry fed Gabe another spoonful of porridge. "I thought it was you for a while," Draco said quietly, looking down at his hands. "I thought you'd wormed your way in here to pull this off, luring me into a false sense of security. What do I know about you really? It could so easily have been you."

"I'm pleased to hear you think so highly of me," Harry said, surprised by how much the admission hurt. It had to be the lack of sleep and the depressing thoughts that had tormented him during the night, it couldn't be anything else that made his head pound and the unshed tears of the last few hours suddenly seem to be pressing the back of his eyelids. He stood up, lifting Gabe with him and handing him back to Draco who took him automatically. "I think I'll wait at the cottage. Tell the Aurors they can find me there if they want to speak to me."

"Ewen-"

"I'll see you later, Draco," Harry said, and instead of following his usual route through the grounds back to his cottage, he walked outside to bypass the house's wards and Apparated. He couldn't look at Draco and he didn't know why. Draco had done so much worse to him over the years. Perhaps it was that Draco suspected his alter ego of wishing harm on Gabe? That maybe Draco would ask Ewen to leave the cottage or stop him from having any contact with his son. He couldn't let himself get angry with Draco, because if that happened, Harry didn't know what he would do.

* * *

As it was, Harry didn't have to return to the house for his interview. Ron was leading the investigation team, which was a definite relief to Harry. He explained to Ron and his partner Gregory Holmes that he'd used his instincts in thinking that the kidnapper couldn't have taken Gabe out of the manor following their discussion about the wards. Gregory had started to probe deeper, and Ron, bless him, had interrupted saying he thought that they had everything they needed as the perpetrator was in custody.

"Do you know yet why he did it?" Harry asked, trying to sound conversational for the benefit of Gregory.

Ron nodded. "He claims Malfoy owed him for all the years and hard work he's put into Malfoy Industries and been taken for granted. Apparently, according to him, it was him who kept the place afloat during the Lucius years."

"It didn't occur to him to ask Draco for a pay rise?" Harry asked.

"Like someone like Malfoy gives a fuck about the minions who work for him!" Gregory spat. He was red in the face and he looked furious. Harry shot Ron a concerned look and shoved his own fists into his pockets as the desire to defend Draco jerked through him. Harry knew for a fact that Draco did care. He might not show it in the same way as the average person might, but he'd made a lot of changes at the business to make life easier for the employees.

"Holmes, you can keep your opinions to yourself," Ron barked at the other man. To Harry he said, "We'll be getting back to the office now. I'll speak with you later about the other matter."

Harry nodded. "I was thinking of visiting Hermione today," he said. "I'll meet you at yours later?"

Ron nodded and he and Gregory Apparated and left Harry in the echoing silence of the cottage's living room. He sat on the sofa with a thud and dropped his head into his hands.

* * *

"I don't know if I can keep this up, Hermione," Harry said wearily. Ron was still at work and Harry was sitting at their kitchen table watching her as she busied herself preparing dinner. "I've messed things up so much already. I don't know why I let him get to me. It's like he's a drug and I'm an addict. He draws me in; even after everything that happened and everything I promised myself - he only had to touch me and- Well, you know."

"I think I can guess," Hermione said with faint exasperation. "You never could stay away from him. You're soul mates."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I believe that you and Draco will end up together one way or another, yes."

"You still think that?"

"Look how he's drawn to you; even though he doesn't know it's you on a conscious level, his subconscious knows," Hermione placed the lid on the pot and came to sit at the table opposite Harry. "You feel the same - don't you?"

Harry bit his lip. Did he? "I know very well who Draco is," he said feebly.

"No, I mean that you're drawn to him again, despite everything; he broke your heart, he ruined your life, yet you've gone back for more. You could have kept your distance, yet here you are, Narcissa’s barely cold in her grave and you’ve already started a relationship with Draco!"

"It's not a relationship!" Harry protested. "It's just sex."

"Harry..."

"Hermione?"

Hermione's small hand crossed the table and covered Harry's. "Harry, I'm merely suggesting you think long and hard about what you're doing. You've been through hell in the last couple of years and I've supported you all the way - I always will - I love you, Ron loves you - but I wouldn't be your friend if I didn't warn you that I think this is a risk too far. If Draco finds out- Harry - you may never see Gabe again."

"I know," Harry whispered. "I was planning on stopping it anyway. You're right. You always are."

* * *

Harry stayed that night at Ron and Hermione's, curled on his side in their spare room, sleep evading him again as his mind turned over the situation with Draco. You may never see Gabe again. That was not an option.

He'd told Hermione and Ron how he'd found Gabe and the kidnapper. The link he'd shared with Voldemort all those years ago had been based on their shared emotional experience from when Harry was a one year old and Voldemort had killed his parents. When Harry had been apart from his son, desperate with longing to hold him, he'd spent hours and hours researching the link he'd had with Voldemort and wondering if that was something that could be recreated with Gabe - it had been one of the most emotional experiences of his life when he'd given birth to his son. Surely that counted for something? It had taken weeks, but he'd done it. The result had been that Harry could sense his son. If he lay back, closed his eyes and really relaxed and opened himself up then it was like he was there with him - it was faint the further away he was, but it had been enough. It had kept him going over the months they had been apart, and it had saved Gabe last night. Harry had been able to sense that he was close. He hadn’t used it since he’d moved to the cottage; he hadn’t felt he’d needed to.

This was something Draco would never understand about Ewen Johnson, something that would give him away as Harry Potter. Draco could not know.

After a lingering breakfast with his best friends, Harry Flooed back home, resolve strong in his stomach. He spent the morning cleaning the cottage from top to bottom before taking a long bath. He thought about seeking Draco out and setting things straight immediately, but something was stopping him. He would wait until Draco came to him. If he went to Draco it was making an assumption that Draco actually wanted to continue this 'thing' they had started. Draco might not be interested and Harry would be making a mess of something that needn't be messy.

In the late afternoon, when Harry was sitting on the patio with his laptop and willing inspiration to come, Pansy appeared, walking slowly down the path from the house with Gabe holding her hand and toddling along with her. Harry forgot about everything else and concentrated on his son. When Gabe saw Harry his face broke into a grin and he wrenched his hand from Pansy's and toddled towards him. Harry ran to greet him, sweeping him up and kissing the crown of his head. He smiled a greeting at Pansy, who said, "Gabe kept asking about you so I thought we'd come down and see if you wanted some company for tea."

"I'd love some," Harry said, beaming. "Won't Draco mind?"

"Draco's had to go to work - with Jamieson's betrayal he's got a lot to do." She didn't elaborate and Harry was glad. He hadn't given any thought to what would happen with Draco's business now. Undoubtedly there was a lot to organise.

"I don't know how he can bear to leave Gabe," he said, unwittingly, wanting to kick himself when he'd said it.

Pansy didn't seem to notice Harry's foot entering his mouth. "He didn't want to, but we've reset the wards, no one is getting out with Gabe unless it's Draco or one of us."

Harry's eyes widened. "Does 'one of us' include me?"

"Of course, you're the one who saved Gabe. I think it's only reasonable that Draco put some trust in you."

Harry gently put Gabe down and took his small hand in his, "Let’s see what we can find for tea, shall we?"

The three of them ate beans on toast with lemonade and Earl Grey tea on the patio. Gabe happily chattered away about wanting to go on a boat on the lake, flying and all the varying thoughts that populated his excited three year old mind. Harry and Pansy indulged him.

"So," Pansy said when Gabe had run out of steam and was playing with a bouncy ball Harry had conjured for him on the lawn. "You and Blaise?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "I know what it looked like, but he had just kissed me and I was pulling away when you arrived." He didn’t know why, but it was important that Pansy knew that.

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "That's not what it looked like from my vantage point. I know I was thinking of other things, but even I wasn't so out of it that I would miss Blaise straddling you, Ewen!"

Harry felt himself blush. It had looked bad, and before Pansy had arrived, he had kissed him back. "I do like Blaise," he admitted and was about to add, 'but only as a friend' when they heard someone coming through the Floo inside the cottage and Draco's voice calling out in greeting.

"Out here!" Pansy called.

Harry just about had time to say to Pansy, "Let's drop the subject for now," before Draco walked out of the front door, his eyes scanning both of them before he smiled wanly and sat down besides Pansy.

Harry couldn't help but note he still looked exhausted.

Harry found his voice, "Can I get you a drink, Draco, another glass of lemonade, Pansy?"

Pansy handed Harry her glass for a refill, and he topped it up and handed it back to her as Draco said, "I'd love a cup of tea."

Harry went inside and busied himself making more tea. Had Draco known that Pansy was here with Gabe, or had he come looking for Ewen and happened to find them there? He wanted to go outside and ask, but if he did that, Draco might think that he wanted him to be seeking him out, which he absolutely did not.

When he went back outside with the tea tray, Pansy was asking Draco about his day at work.

"Well, the good news is that we think Jamieson was working alone," Draco said, rubbing his eyes. "But he's left a huge gap; and I'll be the first to admit that Jamieson may have had a point about being undervalued. I only wish he'd dealt with it in a more orthodox manner, such as talking to me. I dread to think what could have happened to Gabe if he'd not been stopped."

Ron had told Harry that Jamieson had been admitted to the secure section of the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's. By all accounts, he'd had a breakdown, and a man in that state of mind could easily have taken his grudge out on Gabe.

"Father!" Gabe came running over to Draco holding two flowers that he'd obviously just picked. "Look what I've got. One for you." He handed one to Draco and toddled over to Harry. "One for Wen." He offered the second flower to Harry, who felt ridiculous when he had to fight back a tear.

"Don't forget one for Pansy," Draco chided gently as Harry ruffled Gabe's hair and thanked him.

"Pansy had flowers today already," Gabe said. "Eddie gave her purple ones."

Both Harry and Draco turned to look questioningly at a blushing Pansy. "It's not what you think," she said.

"I'm thinking a lot of things," Draco said sarcastically. "Could it be one of those?"

"Not now, Draco," Pansy said stiffly and cast a Tempus charm before getting to her feet. "I should be getting back, Theo will be home soon. Gabe, come on, it's your bedtime. Give your father a kiss."

A couple of tense minutes followed as the little boy bade his goodnight to Draco and Harry.

Harry returned her awkward nod of goodbye and watched her and Gabe disappear into the cottage to Floo back to the house, remembering that first time Gabe had visited him and how he'd said that Pansy was with Eddie then.

"Well, that was awkward," he said to Draco when she'd gone. "I don't think I want to know."

"Merlin, I really hope she's not playing around on Theo," Draco said. "When Harry- When it happened to me I'd never-"

Harry couldn't believe the turn the conversation had taken. One minute they were enjoying tea in the garden whilst their son played on the lawn, the next Draco was reminiscing about finding Harry with another man - with Charlie Weasley in fact - the incident that had been the final nail in their relationship.

"You really believe he cheated on you?" Harry said in a low voice, his control barely there.

Draco nodded, his face flushed. "I caught him. He didn't even try to deny it."

Because Draco hadn't given him a chance! He'd taken one look at his friendly hug - because that was all it had been - and vanished. "Did you give him a chance to?"

"I didn't need to!"

"Right, so you fucked away the supposed love of your life on what exactly?"

Draco's flush intensified. "I'm not talking about Harry with you, Ewen," he said, clearly struggling to remain calm.

"You're the one who mentioned it," Harry spat, getting to his feet and pushing back his chair. "I'm going to bed. You can see yourself back to the manor."

Harry couldn't look at Draco. He wanted as much distance between them as possible and as soon as possible. If he didn't he couldn't be held responsible for his actions.

"Ewen, wait!" Draco was almost upon Harry. "What's this about? Did your ex cheat on you? No, wait, was it you who was unfaithful? Is that why you're being like this? Were you caught in flagrante?"

Harry stopped dead and turned on Draco, one hand shooting out and pushing him back against the cold stone of the cottage wall. "Shut the fuck up, Malfoy. You don't know anything about me."

"Maybe not," Draco said, quietly, his eyes searching out Harry's. "But I want to."

Draco's closeness was affecting Harry in ways he'd promised himself he wouldn't allow again; couple that with Draco's words; I want to and Harry's anger evaporated and was replaced with something else entirely. "You arrogant bastard," he whispered and licked his lips, one quick swipe of his tongue that Draco followed intently, stifling a gasp. "I hate that I want you." He was already more than half hard when he pressed himself into Draco and closed his mouth over his. He hated that he wanted him, hated that he had no control whatsoever over his reactions when he was near to Draco. Hated himself for being so weak.

Draco groaned into the kiss, his hands closing over Harry's hips and flipping him, so that it was Harry with his back against the wall with Draco's body flush against his, Draco's who had taken control of the kiss. Draco. Always him. Harry knew where this would lead and he couldn't let it, even if his blood was on fire for his mate. He mustered all the strength he could find and shoved Draco forcefully.

"Get the fuck off me," he breathed. "I hate you."

* * *

Sometimes Draco wondered what made him tick. I hate that I want you. Draco heard Ewen’s words, but they barely registered as something inside him was rejoicing at having Ewen in his arms, something that was screaming how right this was.

"No," Draco said when Ewen told him to get off him. "I don't think I will." He leant forward and took Ewen's mouth in a punishing kiss. Ewen pushed at his chest, trying to twist his mouth away. Draco slid a hand around the small of Ewen's back, slipping lower and sliding his hand under the waistband of his trousers. He cupped his palm over Ewen's arse. "I want you," he whispered, breaking the kiss and going for Ewen's collarbone, nibbling at the soft skin he found there.

Ewen stopped fighting, one hand mirroring Draco's, the other gripping his chin and pulling him back up for a kiss. Protestations forgotten, it was fast, wet and incredibly erotic. Draco's cock was trapped uncomfortably inside his trousers, "Ewen," he muttered.

Ewen tipped his head into the nape of Draco's neck and Draco felt the unmistakable pull of Apparition, finding himself upstairs in the cottage, in Ewen's bedroom. Ewen stepped back from Draco then, searching his face. Draco closed the distance again, his hands making light work of Ewen's belt and pushing his trousers to the floor, kissing him as he stepped out of them and kicked off his shoes. Draco tore off his own clothing and pushed Ewen back on the bed. The sight of Ewen's long red cock making him salivate with the need to taste it. He made room for himself between Ewen's thighs, nuzzling his nose in the dark curls he found there before taking the dripping head into his mouth. Swirling his tongue over the slit he looked up the flat expanse of Ewen's torso and, sitting back on his haunches he said, "I want to be inside you."

From the moment he'd uttered the words it was as though the floodgates had opened. They were on each other like wild animals, fighting for control, Draco winning and pinning Ewen on the bed. He Accioed the lube that he knew had to be in the room somewhere and it flew into his hand. With a sigh of pure pleasure he breached Ewen's entrance, one finger, two, three and then they were ready, Ewen a gorgeous panting mess beneath him. Ewen slid his hands under his knees and raised his legs up. Draco groaned and traced the tip of his cock around the pink hole that was inviting him in. "Come on," Ewen demanded. "Come on." Draco bit his lip and pushed inside, allowing Ewen a moment to get used to the intrusion before starting to move.

This was what he was born to do.

As he moved inside Ewen, his barrier between fantasy and reality began to blur again with old memories of Harry coming to the fore. For a dangerous moment, as he thrust ruthlessly into the man beneath him, his ears straining to pick up the soft moans that were escaping Ewen's lips even though he was biting down hard to silence himself, the realities shifted and it was Harry beneath him, Harry whose legs were on his shoulders, who was close to coming from Draco's cock inside him. Harry. Ewen tasted like Harry, smelled like Harry, fucked like Harry. Harry had his hand on his own cock and was pumping himself as Draco filled him, his head thrown back, his breathing ragged. Oh Merlin, Harry. Draco felt his balls tighten and his seed spill out of him. He closed his eyes in the last moment, utterly overwhelmed, and when he opened them again, the body beneath him was spasming in orgasm, crying out in release. Draco met the eyes of the man who had just come apart beneath him. Ewen Johnson. Of course it was. He allowed himself a brief moment of disappointment before his senses refused to protest along with him, telling him that this was right, that this man was his.

Draco’s senses were obviously malfunctioning.

* * *

Harry woke up and was surprised that he had actually managed to fall asleep in the first place. His body was aching in places he'd almost forgotten could ache, and he was held in a cocooned embrace that he had never forgotten but had thought that he would never feel again.

Draco was lying on his side behind Harry, a possessive arm wrapped around Harry's stomach, one leg inserted between Harry's. His sleeping face was buried in the crook of Harry's neck and his morning erection was snugly resting in the crack of Harry's arse. Harry was trapped.

He squeezed his eyes shut in the vague hope that this was all a dream and it might go away any moment now. With his eyes closed the awareness of the body behind him and the cock nestled there heightened. Fuck. Arousal shot through him, and what he really wanted to do was wriggle out of Draco's embrace, push him onto his back and ride him until they both came. That would be perfect. Behind him Draco stirred and shifted even closer to Harry, the arm around his middle splaying across his lower abdomen, his little finger brushing the tip of Harry's own erection.

That was all it took. Harry, weak and foolish and unable to stay away from Draco Malfoy no matter what the cost, acted upon his thoughts of thirty seconds earlier, and was out of Draco's embrace, and straddling him before Draco had the chance to wake up and smile indulgently up at him with a sleepy, "Morning." Harry growled and wrapped his palm around Draco's erection and in an instant the sleep was gone from Draco's eyes and the predator was back. "Merlin, yesss." He reached out and placed a palm on Harry's chest, his eyes a grey furnace of need.

"Your wand," Harry ordered hoarsely, too far gone to even think where his wand might be and too turned on to wait for the traditional method of preparation. Draco reached to the bedside table and picked up his wand, seeming to instinctively know what Harry wanted. He waved it once and muttered the spell. Harry grinned down at him and firming his grip on Draco's cock, he pumped it twice before raising himself on his haunches and aligning himself. In one slow movement he plunged downwards, filling himself with Draco's prick, a satisfied moan escaping his lips. He needed this, he needed it like breathing. They'd been apart so long, and now, finally, he had Draco back in his arms, and he intended to make the most of it. The almost wary dance they had been doing around one other since they became sexually involved a few days before had merely been a taster, Harry too aware of what they really were to one another to really let go. Now though, in this moment, as he had last night, he wanted to let go. This was where he belonged, where he'd always belonged. This was Draco, his mate.

Harry rose up and then down again, impaling himself again, and Draco's eyes fluttered closed for a second and Harry allowed himself that moment to really see him, and fuck, Draco Malfoy was the only person he would ever love. This could never happen again. The grey eyes flew open again, and without losing eye contact, Harry rode Draco hard, fast and with a passion he knew could never be mirrored with anyone else. This was the last time.

Draco reached out and wrapped a smooth palm around Harry’s cock, and Harry unfurled his fingers and threaded his hand through Draco's, doing the same with the other. He wanted to come from Draco's cock alone. He wanted to remember this moment, for this would soon only be another memory.

When his orgasm came it was startling in its intensity and for a moment Harry knew of nothing else other than the feeling of Draco inside him and the exorbitant pleasure that was pulsing out of him. As Draco followed him over the precipice, Harry bit his lip to stop himself from expressing his love for Draco. If Draco ever found out he wasn't Ewen Johnson - the consequences didn't bear thinking about. He let himself fall forward, his left ear against Draco's heart, listening to the erratic pulse slowly calm down. Draco's hands fed into Harry's hair and- no, Ewen's hair.

Harry came down from the high with an almighty thump. "Fuck, Ewen," Draco said breathlessly. "I never thought-"

Harry didn't want to hear it, he couldn't. With a well-orchestrated twist he managed to roll off Draco and onto his back at his side. "Don’t say anything," he said coldly, the warm bubble of the last twelve hours finally bursting. This sex marathon they'd enjoyed had been triggered by Draco talking about Harry cheating on him! Nothing had changed. Draco Malfoy was still someone Harry had to hate; even if being with him these last few hours made him realise that the hate he felt was merely the love he felt for this man in negative; both the same entity.

It was the hate Harry drew on now when he said, "I think you should go."

* * *

"Jamieson would like to see you," Weasley said without preamble when he met with Draco at his office with an update on the kidnapping case. "He says he wants to explain why he did it in person."

"I thought he already said that he was taken for granted," Draco replied, thinking that the last thing he wanted to do right now was meet up with the man who had tried to take his son from him - who had taken his son from him. If things had worked out differently, Draco may well have been having a completely different conversation with Weasley right now. "What else could he possibly have to tell me?"

"We don't know," Weasley replied, and the tone of his voice had Draco's hackles rising and he thought he knew what was coming next. "We can't force you to meet with him, but if you could, it could help the case for the prosecution. He's claiming diminished responsibility but we believe that he knew very well what he was doing. If you were to talk to him he might not be able to resist giving himself away."

Draco had been right about Weasley’s intentions; he just wasn't sure he could come face to face with the man and not end up in Azkaban himself for murder. On the other hand, how could he not agree? They’d said they thought Jamieson was working alone, but that might not be the case, there could be others out there just lying in wait for a chance to take Gabe again, or hit at Draco in another way. He couldn’t take the risk.

He sighed and nodded. "Make the arrangements," he said, feeling suddenly weary. "I'll do it."

Weasley stood and said, "It'll take a few days; the protocol for interviewing patients in the Thickey Secure Ward are a nightmare to get through, even when the prisoner has requested the visit." He paused at the door. "How's Gabe?"

Draco smiled his first genuine smile since Weasley had arrived. "He's fine; he seems to have completely forgotten what happened. Ewen's looking after him today; I think I have a rival for my son's affection there." His smile faded as quickly as it had arrived. Ewen's affections for the little boy were clear. His affections for Draco were less so.

"Well, give Ewen my regards, tell him Hermione still expects him for dinner on Thursday."

"I will." Thursday night had been the night that Harry always used to dine with the Weasleys as well. Draco rubbed his eyes and tried not to close them lest he fall asleep. He was bone weary.

Weasley left to Floo back to the Ministry via the office's central Floo, and Draco called out to his assistant for his mail. Millicent bustled in with a pile of parchment and began to lay it in front of him, "Urgent, could do with looking at in the next day or so, and the rest." She stood, hands on hips observing intently Draco before saying, "Tea?"

Draco glanced up at her and smiled tightly, "Please." He felt like something stronger, but he had work to be getting on with.

He turned his attention to the mail, and was half way through his cup of tea before he found the note from Bevins, the PI, asking for an urgent meeting. He added it to the pile of letters that need replying to today, before preparing his notes to meet with the dreary Germans who had made their way to London to seal the deal that had been interrupted the week before.

* * *

Ewen was in the garden with Gabe when Draco got home from work and walked down to the cottage to fetch his son home for the evening. He didn't bother with stealth, merely stepping up behind Ewen and wrapping his arms around his waist to kiss him on the cheek. Ewen stilled briefly before saying, "Hello Draco," and relaxing against him. Draco felt the relief course through him. Every time they met he was on his guard for the rejection that he was sure was coming.

When Ewen had told him to go the other night, Draco very nearly had as he had bid - but he'd made it to the door and was even fully dressed before he realised what he was giving up if he walked through it. He'd already lost Harry. He wasn't about to lose Ewen as well. Yes, the man was prickly and difficult to get to know, and maybe in the long run it wouldn't work out, but Draco wasn't giving up yet. His instincts insisted that Ewen belonged in his arms, his son adored him and he was sure his mother had a reason for placing the man in his path again and again.

Besides, he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys got what they wanted.

He'd stopped in the doorway and said, "I'll go now and give you some breathing space; but I will be back later and we are going to talk." He'd walked back over to the bed, tipped Ewen's chin and kissed him, hard.

When he'd returned later that day, Ewen had been cold and reluctant, but he hadn’t asked him to leave again and Draco had persisted until Ewen had admitted that of course he was attracted to Draco – as if the recent spates of fucking hadn’t given that away already - but he didn't want anything serious and that for that reason he didn't think they should continue sleeping together. Draco had said that was fine by him, that he liked Ewen and wanted to get to know him, but that if that was all Ewen could offer right now then he would take it. Ewen had been obviously conflicted, Draco could see the emotions chase across his face as he mulled it over.

Eventually Draco had taken his hand and kissed him, and Ewen had responded with a groan. They'd made love again, and afterwards Ewen said, "This is what it is," and Draco had nodded, staring blankly at the ceiling. It was what it was until it was something else. He could take that. He had every intention of it becoming something else.

Now, as he kissed Ewen's cheek, he felt the fear crawl over him that he felt every time he met with his lover. The fear that screamed of loneliness; until the moment Ewen relaxed against him and the fear retreated, and Draco felt the rightness return. He had only just begun to get to know this man - he was very private and guarded - but Draco could find his way in through the cracks given time, he knew he could. He'd made it through Harry's, and the bad feeling between them had been intense.

His only worry was that his senses, his instincts made no distinction between Ewen Johnson and Harry. Draco wondered how this was possible, how there could be two people in the world that could make him feel like this-

"Gabe's made you a present," Ewen said, cutting through Draco's train of thought. "Gabe - show your father what we made today."

Gabe ran into the cottage and reappeared moments later proudly proffering Draco a small wooden boat that had been whittled - probably mostly by Ewen - and then carefully sanded to make the hull smooth. He took it from the small outstretched hand and admired it. "You made this for me?" he asked, impressed.

Gabe nodded, "Ewen helped." Draco noticed he'd begun pronouncing Ewen's name correctly these last couple of days. His heart swelled with pride.

"I love it," he said, taking his arms from around Ewen's waist and hunkering down to his son's level. "Thank you." he held his arms out and Gabe hugged him back. Draco felt happier in that moment than he had since- Well, since before Harry's death.

* * *

Weasley Flooed over that evening, ostensibly to visit with Ewen, but it was clear that he had hoped to find Draco there when he said as Ewen was making a pot of tea and between mouthfuls of biscuits, "We've got in to see Jamieson on Friday," followed by, "You can make that, can’t you?"

Draco agreed that yes, he could, and no more was said on the matter, as though there was an unspoken agreement that it wouldn't be discussed in front of Ewen.

After Weasley had gone, Draco went back to the manor to put Gabe to bed and returned afterwards alone. He had invited Ewen to join him at the Manor for the evening but he had refused, and Draco knew that if he wanted to spend time with him he would have to do so on his terms for now at least. When he came back, they watched a Muggle TV show that Ewen claimed he was watching for 'research' for his next book - a thoroughly disgusting show with a woman going around a Muggle hotel and pointing out all the faults and trying to make the place into somewhere people would want to stay. Draco could only imagine how stupid a Muggle would have to be to go on such a show, as who would stay at that hotel now, even if thoroughly improved after seeing the bad attitude of the owner? He said as much to Ewen who said that this hotel was nothing compared to some on previous episodes.

Draco did not enjoy the show, but he did enjoy watching Ewen enjoy watching it. He wondered again what he saw in him, for Ewen Johnson was not his type. If he had a type; which he wasn’t sure he did, but if he had- Ewen was good looking in a plain sort of a way, there was nothing distinctive about him, nothing that stood out - his hair was light brown, his physique strong. He was someone that a person would walk past on the street and not look twice at. The total opposite of Harry who had been striking in every way, and yet, yet Draco wanted him.

When the show finished, Draco took the remote from Ewen's hand and turned off the TV, reaching out and running his thumb over his lower lip. The man might be average to look at, but he didn't feel average. He replaced his thumb with his mouth, and was in Ewen's lap almost immediately. They didn't make it to the bedroom, falling upon one another at the bottom of the stairs, and afterwards, Draco didn't stay over. Since the other day when they had woken up together, Draco had always gone home afterwards. He was trying to play things how Ewen wanted them.

He hated not being in control.

* * *

Bevins had returned Draco's owl and agreed to meet him on Friday morning, an hour before Weasley came to collect him to go to the Thickey Ward to visit Jamieson. There were a lot of cases that Draco needed tying up and he hoped that Bevins had the answers he required. Without Jamieson at his side, the last thing he needed to worry about was errant cases. He was busy reviewing the resumes of the employees that worked at Malfoy Industries and re-organising the staff. Perhaps that was way overdue anyway. He needed someone he could trust, who could take the helm from him at a moment’s notice. He wanted to be able to spend time at home with his son - and more time with Ewen. He needed to get to know him. It was time he stopped letting work control his life.

Millicent appeared in the doorway. "Bevins is here, shall I show him in?"

Draco nodded and said, "Could you bring us some tea?"

Bevins sat down and pulled a sheaf of folders from his briefcase, spending half an hour giving Draco the information he needed to track down the people he needed to find. "Now," he said when they were finished with the caseload and leaning forward conspiratorially. "This Ewen Johnson you asked me to look at-"

A chill ran down Draco's spine. He had forgotten he had asked Bevins to look at him; and now, as much as he wanted to know more about Ewen, he wanted to hear it from the man's own lips and not from a private investigator. "I won't be requiring that information," he said, shaking his head as he spoke. "I no longer-"

"Are you sure?" Bevins raised an eyebrow. "Because what I have found is very curious indeed and if this is someone who works for you then I think you need to be concerned."

"I-" Draco's refusal died on his lips as alarm bells trilled in his head. "What do mean?"

Bevins grinned and opened the file. "Ewen Johnson doesn't exist," he said. "Oh, there's some powerful magic in place to make it seem like he does, and upon first look it all appears legit, but dig a little deeper, like you asked me to, and it's all a cover. There is no such person as Ewen Johnson."

The blood rushed from Draco's head and he had to grip tightly on the edge of the desk to stop him from sliding under the table. "What...do you mean – no such person?"

"He's using a false identity." Bevins spoke as though talking to a small child. "The only thing I have yet to ascertain is who he actually is; he’s covered his tracks very well."

* * *

"I suppose you think this is hilarious," Harry accused, his lips twitching when he realised where Blaise had brought him. He supposed it was on the list of places they had planned to visit, but Harry had not expected to be seeing it from this angle.

Blaise smirked and busied himself spreading a picnic blanket onto the grass and placing a basket on top of it. Harry could see his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"We can’t sit here!" he protested as Blaise settled himself onto the blanket and crooked his finger at Harry. "Please tell me you've Disillusioned us?"

"Of course I have, what do you take me for?" Blaise grinned up at Harry and Harry gave up the fight and sat down on the other side of the picnic basket.

"I wish you could see your face," Blaise teased and began rummaging in the basket before producing a bottle of white wine. "Of course, you realise what this spot does for a person's fertility?"

Harry's amusement died. Old magical lore dictated that a couple making love on this spot would result in a child. "I've told you that you and I are just friends," he said quietly. He thought of Draco that morning, how Harry had gone up to the house to return some clothes Gabe had left behind and had found himself in Draco's bed yet again. "What do I want with fertility anyway?"

"I've always wanted children," Blaise said wistfully, ignoring Harry's words. "What about you? I can tell you're fond of Gabe. Have you ever wanted any of your own?"

Harry bent his head, suddenly wishing he'd paid heed to his instincts that said he should have refused Blaise's invite to a walk and a picnic. He'd just felt so cooped up at the cottage, and the invite had come at the right time, when he couldn't concentrate for all the over analysing that was going on in his head. "I do like kids, but I don’t want any," he said, and that was a half-truth, because of course he already had a child. He just knew he couldn't go through it again. To love someone so completely and unconditionally and to find that person torn from you - no - he couldn't have another child.

Harry glanced at Blaise who was staring intently at him, "That's not the answer I expected from you," he said. "You're so good with Gabe."

"It's the way I feel," Harry said sadly.

"Hey," Blaise said, reaching out and tipped Harry's chin to meet his eyes. He leant forward and kissed Harry softly, soft gentle kisses that rained over Harry's face, mopping up the tears Harry hadn't realised had fallen. Harry didn't respond, but didn't push Blaise away either. He needed the comfort. Blaise pulled back and said. "Have you already got children?"

The truth must have been reflected in Harry's eyes, because Blaise’s expression changed into one of barely concealed shock and he said, "I'm right aren't I?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm sorry." Blaise's brown eyes searched Harry's face for long moments before he sat back on his heels and said, "Come on, let's eat."

* * *

"He took you where?" Hermione gasped, as Neville snickered. Harry grinned. He'd Flooed over to see Hermione after Blaise had dropped him back after a very strange afternoon whereby Blaise had become very quiet and the conversation had resorted to inconsequential small talk and no further attempts at kissing were attempted.

"You heard me the first time," Harry smiled, his spirits perked by Neville's presence, even if his old friend didn't know that he was Harry Potter and saw Ewen Johnson instead, it was good to see him. He often visited Ron and Hermione and Harry encountered him every now and then, grateful for the opportunity to spend time with him.

"Wait until Ron hears about it," Neville laughed, catching his breath. "You had a picnic on the tip of a giant cock!"

Harry rolled his eyes. The Cerne Abbas Giant had been around long before them and would be there long afterwards. "You can laugh," Harry invited, "but you and Luna might want to pay it a visit - magical lore says if you - you know - there then a baby will result."

Neville blushed and for a moment Harry worried he'd gone a step too far; Ewen shouldn't know Neville as well as Harry did. "Um, she did suggest it actually," Neville said. "I just-" He paused and coloured even further. "I promised I'd wait before I said anything but this seems like the right time - there's no need for a visit to Cerne Abbas - Luna's pregnant!"

"Oh, Neville, that's wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, getting up and hugging Neville. "You'll be a fantastic father, won't he H-Ewen?" Hermione faltered and shot Harry an apologetic glance. Neville didn't notice his face alight with joy.

"Congratulations, Neville!" Harry said, sitting on his hands quickly. His alter ego wasn't close enough to Neville for hugging. He felt genuine pleasure on behalf of his friend. He and Luna had been trying for a baby as for as long as they had been married, which had been a few weeks after Harry had married Draco.

Neville beamed. "They say that pregnancies come in threes." He winked at Hermione who blushed.

"Ron and I aren’t in any rush," she replied, staring at the floor. "Besides, that’s superstitious nonsense about ‘coming in threes’!"

"Not for wizards, Hermione," Neville shook his head. "Remember when Harry was pregnant with Gabe and almost straight away Lavender was pregnant, then straight after her, Padma! I tell you, it’s a real phenomenon."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes and call Neville out on what could only be coincidences, but Ewen wouldn’t do that to Neville so he bit his lip.

"Anyway, I hope I won't be treading on yours and Ron's toes," Neville said quietly, the humour dying from his eyes. "But, um, we want to call the baby Harry - even if it's a girl."

Harry felt the press of tears behind his eyes again and blinked, unable to look at Hermione.

"I think that's a lovely idea," she agreed. "I think Harry would have been honoured."

"I'm glad you think so," Neville said. "I miss him."

Harry jumped to his feet. "Look at the time!" He almost ran to the Floo. "I have to be getting back. See you soon, Hermione - and again, congratulations, Neville!" He grabbed some Floo powder and almost dived into the fireplace, falling onto his knees at the other end and staying there, his head in his hands as he sobbed. The sooner this day was over, the happier he would be.

* * *

Although he and Draco had made no arrangement, Harry had half expected to see him that night. When he didn’t arrive, Harry told himself it was for the best and settled down to watch his favourite Muggle TV show: Supernatural. He found it fascinating how many ‘mythical’ magical beings made an appearance in the show and had long since been convinced that there had to be a wizard in the writing team.

He fell asleep on the sofa after two episodes and woke to the cold silent darkness, the DVD player having turned itself off at some point. He shivered and cast a tempus: 1.19am. Draco definitely wasn’t coming then. He rolled himself off the sofa and padded despondently to bed, stopping for a brief dousing under the shower to wash away the long day. When he stumbled out and into the bedroom, Draco was in the armchair by the window, the bedside lamp the only light in the room, silently watching Harry was he rubbed his neck with a towel, the rest of him completely naked.

He internally gave thanks that this glamour he wore was pretty much permanent. Save for the one blip the other day there had been no problems with it. "Draco, what are you doing here?" he asked, tying the towel around his waist and trying desperately to tamp down the twinges of arousal that Draco's presence could awaken.

Draco didn't speak, his face blank as he dragged his eyes over Harry, top to toe. Harry felt a spark of fear. Had the glamour slipped? Had his eyes changed back to green or his hair back to black?

"Draco?"

"I've had a long day," Draco said and his voice was unexpectedly low, slightly hoarse and raspy. "I hoped you would still be up and I saw the light on," he stood up and stepped up to Harry, toe to toe and dropped his forehead to Harry’s.

"Can I stay here tonight?" he asked. "I just want to sleep in your arms."

Confused, Harry nodded and pulled back the quilt on the bed. He wanted that too, his own day had been trying and the small comfort he had garnered from Blaise earlier on was long forgotten under more recent stressors; such as Neville naming his baby after his not-really-dead friend, or his own abject loneliness when he'd realised at once that Draco wasn't coming, and that he wasn't as happy about it as he should have been. In fact, he was wretched.

He turned back to Draco and slid his coat from his shoulders, helping him remove his shirt and trousers until he was clad only in his boxers. Harry stepped back and climbed into bed. Draco got in beside him and lay on his back. Harry turned onto his side and wrapped an arm over Draco's middle as Draco's arm slid around his shoulders.

This was bliss. Harry closed his eyes and snuggled into his husband. There had been no divorce - so technically this was a true statement. Draco's arm tightened around him possessively and soft lips kissed his forehead.

Harry was asleep in minutes.

* * *

Draco waited until the breathing of his bed partner slipped into slumber before reaching for his wand on the bedside cabinet and casting Lumos. Once there was light he searched the features of the man sleeping his arms for a clue, anything that he has missed that might have indicated the fact that Ewen Johnson wasn't who he said he was.

He was Harry Potter!

Merlin, he was Harry Potter. Harry wasn't dead. Harry was here, in his arms.

Draco didn't know how to feel. When Bevins had first said that Ewen Johnson was an imposter, Draco had felt a cold curl of dread invading his blood. He had been sleeping with, making love to someone who wasn't who he said he was. Someone who he has begun to trust with his son. Someone who he had started to imagine a future with.

His mind had raced with possibilities - Ewen was in cahoots with Jamieson after all, and the first kidnapping was a test run or a ruse to get Draco to trust him with Gabe, and then he would take Gabe from him, just slip him out of the manor because the wards would allow it because he had been fool enough to trust someone again; or Ewen was after his money. He'd taken the file from Bevins, paid him and sworn him to secrecy.

Bevins had left and Weasley had arrived seconds later. Draco had almost forgotten he had promised to visit with his ex-employee so had quickly shoved the folder into a drawer and cast a locking charm on it. What was he supposed to make of Weasley now - and Granger? Weasley had claimed an old friendship with Ewen and - Merlin - so had his mother! Had Ewen had them all under some kind of spell that created false memories? All Draco wanted to do was lock himself in his office and pour over the file, looking for some kind of evidence that Bevins was wrong, that Ewen was who he said he was and Draco's feelings for him weren't based on a lie. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so confused.

Instead he'd been thrown into a whirlwind of Apparition to St Mungo's, administration to admit him and Weasley into the secure ward, and an overly long waiting period during which he had desperately tried not to hex Weasley for his annoying inane chatter, and failed miserably when he tried to think of anything but possible scenarios for who Ewen Johnson was.

Never once had he even considered the truth.

Finally they'd been allowed to see Jamieson, who had immediately demanded that Weasley leave him alone with Draco. Weasley had protested but Draco had allowed it; he just wanted it over with so he could go and get the file, take it home and search for answers.

"Do you have any questions for me?" Jamieson had said calmly, looking every inch the efficient and collected man that Draco had worked with these past years.

"Yes," Draco said. "Why did you do it? Why didn't you simply ask me for a pay rise? I would have granted you that."

Jamieson sneered, the polite veneer cracking. "Do you think a pay rise would be enough recompense for all that I've done for you over the years?"

"I'm sorry you feel that way. Running the business has been a learning curve for me," Draco began, flinching away from the sneer. "I looked to you as a mentor; you should have told me if you thought I was being neglectful of employees’ needs. I was eighteen when I took over. My father was dead and soon after that I had a child on the way, everything was happening at once. You should have said something."

Jamieson didn’t react. His unblinking brown eyes fixed on Draco coldly.

"You asked me if I had any questions," Draco finally said. "Yet you have not answered the most important one; why did you do it?" All Draco wanted was for the man to say whatever it was he wanted to say so he could get out of there and go home to Ewen and find out what the hell was going on. This kidnapping was in the past and with Jamieson behind bars, unlikely to happen again – at least not from this direction.

Jamieson’s mask fell. The pleasant veneer replaced by sheer malevolence. "You don’t even want to be here! I can see it in your eyes; you’ve dismissed me as irrelevant in that way that you have! Do you even know you do it?"

"I – what?"

"I needed the money," Jamieson said then, deflating. "My wife has cancer. No amount of magic can stop that when it takes hold and there’s a Muggle operation that gives her a chance. We’ve got six children! I didn’t want to leave them motherless, and now all I’ve done is ensure they have no parents at all. Louise will die and I’ll be in Azkaban!" He dropped his head to his hands and pulled on his hair.

Instantly Draco felt pity. No one deserved to lose the person they loved.

"I’ll see she gets the treatment she needs," Draco said, meaning it. He’d met Louise and she was a lovely woman. It didn’t mean he forgave Jamieson for what he’d tried to do, but it did mean that he understood it better and could put himself in his shoes. "I’m sorry she’s suffering."

Jamieson’s demeanour relaxed and he lurched forwards and tried to hug Draco, but the guards pulled him back immediately and started to drag him from the room, "No! I have to tell him something."

The guards looked questioningly at Draco who nodded. They did not release their hold but the taller guard said, "Be quick about it."

"I wasn’t going to tell you this, but- Ask yourself how your heroic rescuer found his way into my hiding place when I had cast a spell that meant only someone related to the child by parental blood could enter," Jamieson’s eyes brightened, as though he had all the answers suddenly. "It was meant to be you who came for him, you who – I had laid a trail for you to find me but he beat you to it – I was going to take the money and Obliviate you so you wouldn’t remember it was me!"

Something cold and sharp and uncomfortable filtered into Draco’s blood and he felt himself begin to sway before everything went black.

When he woke up, Jamieson was gone and Weasley was bending over him. "What the fuck did he tell you?"

Draco took Weasley’s hand and staggered to his feet. He looked at Weasley, and knew he couldn’t have been using surveillance as this new information couldn’t ever be something that would be irrelevant to him – whether he already knew about it or not.

It could only mean one thing. Ewen Johnson was real. He’d always been real to Draco. Ewen was Harry.

Ewen was Harry.

* * *

Now, hours later, after blowing up everything in his bedroom, throwing things, screaming in anger and pain that Harry had done this, he had calmed down some and had started pacing a dent in the floor of the drawing room. His son was playing on the rug beside him, his fierce green eyes reflecting back his intelligence, a miniature Harry in every way. Draco struggled to wrap his thoughts around this truth. That Harry was alive. That Harry was here. That Harry was pretending to be someone else to avoid Draco finding out who he was.

He felt the anger rise within him again, the betrayal almost stifling him; but the relaxing presence of Gabe pulled him back.

Ewen had tried to avoid Draco, shown him animosity at every turn – and when Draco had pushed the physical side, had refused to step back, Ewen had become his reluctant lover with a forcibly extracted promise that they were not exclusive, that this didn’t mean anything, it was just sex.

If one thing has remained consistent for him and Harry it had been that the sex had always been amazingly intense. He should have realised sooner – the way Ewen made him feel – the way it only compared to Harry. His subconscious had known Ewen was Harry even if his incredibly dense conscious self did not.

Harry must really hate Draco to hide like this. Draco couldn’t fool himself that Harry was doing this for him. It was clearly all for their son.

After hours of pacing and raging to himself, of wanting to storm down to the cottage and confront Ewen, Draco’s fury slowly abated and he had slipped into despondency. How could Harry have let Draco believe he was dead? How could he have put him through the pain of losing his mate, his one true love?

When Theo had found him, and unable to keep this awful yet wonderful secret to himself, Draco had spilled the whole story to his friend, his anger overwhelming him, the pain almost too much – Theo had stayed his wayward thoughts with a simple, "This is your second chance, Draco. You can make things right with him, be a family again."

Draco had stilled for a moment. Theo was right. Harry was alive. The semantics of it should not matter. Harry still felt something for him otherwise he wouldn’t be sharing his bed as Ewen, would he? Even though he had clearly been trying to have nothing to do with Draco outside the necessary, he hadn’t been able to say no to him physically.

And hadn’t that always been the problem? The reason why Draco had always been so unsure of Harry’s love for him. Harry had never loved him, he was compelled to want Draco, but love – that had been one-sided to Draco.

Now that Draco knew that Harry wore a glamour, even one as complicated as this one, Draco only had to whisper a few words and the shield faded away to reveal the real person underneath; the long dark lashes kissing olive skinned cheeks, a mop of shaggy dark hair that could never be tamed – and the most tell-tale of all – the jagged scar on Harry’s forehead. Draco brushed the hair out the way and stared down at Harry’s sleeping face.

Harry. Draco tightened his arms around his husband and sobbed silently into his hair.

* * *

"I’ve got something to tell you," Hermione said quietly, glancing beneath her lashes at Harry as though what she had to tell him was really bad news. "I’m pregnant."

"Hermione – that’s fantastic news!" Harry jumped out of his chair and threw his arms around his best friend before holding out an arm to include Ron who was hovering nervously by the door. "So why do you look as though you’ve just been told that someone killed your puppy?"

"It’s just, when Neville said Luna was pregnant the other week – you looked so sad when you thought no one was looking. I figured it reminded you of things you didn’t want to be thinking about."

"It does remind me, and having Gabe was the best thing that ever happened to me – even now – and I never want to forget that feeling. If I looked sad it was because I wanted to hug Neville and tell him how pleased I am for the both of them, but I can’t because I’m supposed to be Ewen Johnson, and Ewen doesn’t know Neville like Harry does."

"Sorry, Harry, that didn’t occur to me," Hermione apologised, kissing Harry’s cheek and stepping back.

"Don’t worry about it, it’s perfectly understandable that you would think I was upset; my life hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing these last few years has it? Now, come, tell me – when’s the baby due?"

Harry watched as his two best friends launched into the details, and from his viewpoint, they were so happy together, even though he was genuinely pleased for them, as he had been for Neville and Luna, he couldn’t help the bitter stab of jealousy that he would never have that again; never be so close to someone that he could share the contented glances with, the little touches that gave away their closeness.

When he’d woken up in Draco’s arms the other morning, when he had come to him and asked if he could stay the night, in that first moment, the one half conscious state before waking, he’d forgotten that they weren’t Draco and Harry anymore, and had burrowed into him, his husband, and it was only when Draco murmured something in his sleep that Harry tumbled back to the present and remembered. Even as he’d tried to extract himself from Draco’s embrace, waking Draco in turn and succumbing to a slow gentle fuck, he’d been in inner turmoil.

How quickly he’d slipped back into this Draco-centric pattern. How was he going to feel when Draco moved on? As Ewen, Draco might find him attractive, but to the rest of the world, Ewen wasn’t Harry Potter and it had been his very Harry Potter-ness that had attracted Draco to him in the first place. If he couldn’t hold Draco’s affections as Harry Potter, then as Ewen Johnson he had no chance at all.

He didn’t think he could live through that again. Yet, here he was, counting down the minutes until Draco came round later, after he’d finished his meal with Hermione and Ron and Gabe was in bed. Either way this was going to hurt – he could end it himself, as he had planned, and not give in to Draco’s persuasions this time, or he could simply go with it and wait for Draco to eventually break it off.

He never wanted the inevitable to happen though, he wanted to keep on doing what he was doing – he had his son in his life and the love of his life in his bed. What could be better than that?

"Don’t worry, Harry," Hermione was saying. "We won’t be naming the baby after you!"

Harry laughed. "Thank goodness for that. Fred’s a good name though?"

Yes, Fred was a great name. They all agreed on that, but too painful to contemplate just yet. "I was thinking Rose if it’s a girl, but I have no idea if we have a boy," said Ron. "That’s a good strong name, what do you think? Harry, how did you choose Gabe’s name?"

Draco had let Harry chose their baby’s name and he’d given it a lot of thought, wanting it to mean something. "Rose is a lovely name, Ron," Harry agreed. "Draco wanted to name our baby after a star constellation, but I just couldn’t find one that I liked that hadn’t already been used by someone in his family and I wanted a unique name for him."

Harry had expected Draco to fight him on the name he did choose and had been pleasantly surprised when he had said that he liked it, and didn’t even demur when Gabriel had immediately been shortened to Gabe a few days after the name had been chosen.

Harry had half expected that the full name of Gabriel would have made a return in his absence as it was a name more befitting of a Malfoy than Gabe was. He had been wrong about that – what else had he been mistaken about?

* * *

"Gabe and I would like to invite you to spend the day with both of us, isn’t that right, Gabe?" Draco nudged his son who was sitting on Harry’s knee, giggling happily as Harry tickled him.

"Yes," Gabe said between giggles. "We’re going on the boat!"

"That sounds lovely," Harry said, going for Gabe’s armpits. "Will there be a picnic?" Gabe loved picnics.

"Of course," Draco replied. "We’ll eat on the island in the middle of the lake."

"Shall we bring the fishing net?" Harry queried and Gabe immediately sobered and turned to Draco.

"Father – please can we bring the fishing net?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I don’t see why not." He smiled at his son and then met Harry’s gaze with a smile. Draco had taken an open-ended amount of time off work and all of the candidates who had been vying for Jamieson’s old job were being tested in his absence. Not that Draco could even bring himself to care about that right now, but his decision to take time off couldn’t come at a better time. He wasn’t merely looking for a replacement for Jamieson anymore; he was looking for someone to run the whole show whilst he took a backseat and spent time with Harry.

How he played this now was of the utmost importance and for the last four weeks, he had been trying to act as he had before so as not to raise Harry’s suspicions. If he told Harry that he had figured out the truth, then there was a risk that Harry would up and leave him again, and Draco couldn’t bear the thought of that. He might even try to take Gabe with him. Draco knew that as things stood, he could trust him not to try anything with Gabe – if Harry had planned on taking Gabe and disappearing, then he’d had plenty of chances before now. No – he had to get Harry to trust him again before he could tell him that he realised who he was.

Letting Harry spend time with him and Gabe like a family was a start.

"Can I wear my arm bands?" Gabe asked, jumping down off Harry’s knee excitedly. Draco smiled indulgently. Their magic meant that Gabe wouldn’t need arm bands in their presence, but with a three year old, who knew when they might run off and jump in the lake by themselves?

* * *

By the time they had manually rowed to the island and allowed Gabe to ‘row’ from their laps and subsequently arrived and enjoyed the picnic of peanut butter sandwiches, Gabe’s absolute favourite, and chocolate cake, Gabe fell asleep on his corner of the blanket, his tiny body curling on itself as he lost himself to his nap.

Draco glanced at Harry and carefully said, "Gabe is the spitting image of Harry."

For a moment he received no reply and if he hadn’t known that this was Harry sitting there beside him he wouldn’t have known to look for the way his mouth tightened slightly as he looked at the sleeping child. "It must be awful to be reminded all the time," he said finally, not looking at Draco as he spoke. "Your split from your husband was extremely acrimonious, and seeing his face reflected back at you every day-"

Had this been someone else, such as ‘Ewen Johnson’ saying this, then Draco would have cut him dead with a few choice words about how this was none of his business; lovers or not, as he had done in the past. Every time Draco had said something scathing about Harry - that time they had had that argument when Draco had said that Harry had cheated on him, and ‘Ewen’ had retaliated – which at the time had led Draco to believe that perhaps Ewen’s marriage had been broken down as a result of his own infidelity – he had been referring to his marriage to Draco the whole time.

Draco had long since reconciled himself to the fact that he forgave Harry for whatever had been going on with Charlie Weasley – whether a one off or a longer term affair. If it meant he could have Harry back, he could forgive him anything; he loved him that much. If he could go back now, he would have handled things so differently, and if Harry no longer wanted to be with him then he would have let him go – but the truth was that he hadn’t given Harry a chance to explain himself – ‘Ewen’ had been right about that but – after all, Harry’s defection was nothing he hadn’t predicted would happen at some point, when the spell wore off and Harry realised he wasn’t in love with him after all. It was inevitable as the sun rising. He would rather have known that Harry was alive and well and somewhere else in the world than dead and gone forever.

This was his second chance. He couldn’t blow this.

"Actually, the fact that Gabe looks like Harry is something that gives me great comfort. I know that you are under the illusion that I didn’t love Harry, Ewen, but I assure you that nothing is further from the truth." He watched Harry carefully for a reaction, but there was none, other than that the other man was listening very intently. "I wonder where your interest in this stems from though. You’ve made it clear that this thing we have between us is nothing more than sex, even though I said I want more. Does your reluctance stem from your perceptions of what happened between me and Harry?"

Harry flushed. He fixed his attention on Draco then and said, "I’m nobody. He was Harry Potter. Everyone wanted a piece of him! Ron and Hermione told me he hated the attention, but nevertheless, you got him. He was with you."

"So what are you saying? That I was only with Harry for the kudos of being the one who managed to ‘get him’?" Did Harry really think this? Merlin, how had Draco got everything so wrong? What had he said or done that would have made Harry think that there was even a tiny shred of truth in that? Draco had been obsessed with Harry Potter, one way or another, since he was eleven years old.

"That’s what I thought, yes." His face had turned pale and he was rubbing his temple.

"You’re wrong."

"I-" Harry’s pale face had turned puce. "Excuse me!" He leapt to his feet and ran to a nearby tree, retching violently and parting with his lunch.

Draco stood and hovered nearby in case he was needed, "Are you okay?"

"I don’t know. It might be the olives." The glamour flickered minutely, and if Draco had not known it was there he would have attributed it to 'Ewen’s' sickness. "I need to lay down-" Harry ducked behind the tree and vomited a second time.

"Tippy!" Draco called and in an instant the elf was in front of him. "Mr. Johnson is feeling unwell; please take him back to the cottage and see that he gets straight to bed. I’ll follow as soon as I’ve taken Gabe back to the house."

Harry looked as though he was about to protest until another wave of nausea rocked through him. Once he was standing again he said, "Thanks, Draco," and held out his arm for the elf to Apparate him away.

Draco Vanished the mess Harry had made and muttered under his breath about poor timing. He’d just found out something about Harry’s perceptions of their relationship, and frankly he was shocked. He thought Harry had known how Draco had felt, and that it had been Harry’s own growing disinterest in Draco that had torn them apart. To find out now that Harry had been under the illusion that Draco hadn’t really loved him anyway…

There was more work to be done to get Harry back for good than he had previously realised.

* * *

Harry lay in the cool of his bedroom with the curtains closed and an icepack on his head, as insisted upon by the house-elf. His head was pounding, but as a side effect from the sudden sickness that had come upon him. He wanted nothing more than to slip into the oblivion of sleep as he didn’t want to be thinking right now. His thoughts were leading him down a path that he didn’t want to go down.

"How’s the patient?" Draco’s voice permeated the fog in Harry’s brain, and he managed to open his eyes to see the genuine concern stamped over his face. He forced a smile.

"Not as bad as I look," he lied, not wanting Draco to know how terrible he actually felt. "My head hurts, I think this is one of those bugs – I was at Ron and Hermione’s last night, maybe I picked it up there."

Draco sat on the edge of the bed and took Harry’s hand. "Is there anything I can do?"

Harry shook his head, "I just need to get some sleep – I’ve drunk a load of water – I just have to wait it out. You probably don’t want to be here."

Draco did not look convinced. "I’ll send Tippy down to check on you later then?" Harry nodded weakly. "If you need anything sooner, just call her and she’ll alert me. You don’t even need to leave the bed."

Draco leant down and kissed his forehead. Harry wanted to ask him to stay, to lie beside him and keep him company in his sickness. Instead he closed his eyes. When he heard Draco say, "I love you," Harry knew he had to be falling asleep and dreaming; Draco had never said that to him, not even on their wedding day. After that, he slept for a good few hours.

When he woke the sickness was gone – for now – and in its place was the cold fear of what the sickness really meant. He’d been that sick once before, back when he’d been married to Draco. Draco had been away on business and hadn’t seen it. It had been when Harry realised he was pregnant with Gabe.

They’d said it couldn’t happen again. What the fuck was he going to do?

He heard Neville’s voice saying, ‘They say that pregnancies come in threes’ and he remembered his picnic with Blaise at Cerne Abbas barely hours after he'd made love with Draco and he groaned.

* * *

"I’m afraid that your fears are correct, Harry, you’re pregnant," Healer Katie Bell confirmed a few days later. "I take it from your expression that you’re not happy about this news?"

Harry shook his head despairingly. Merlin, he was a fool. He’d thought he could play with fire, but he’d been wrong. Now he was pregnant for the second time with Draco’s child. Katie sighed and placed a comforting hand over Harry’s. Harry accepted it without complaint. Katie was the Healer who had helped him after his ‘death’ – she had cast the glamour that Harry’s magic maintained as a constant, and was under and Unbreakable Vow to protect Harry’s secret, even upon Harry’s death. Harry had insisted on the vow, even though Katie had said that she would willingly do this for Harry without it. Harry had wanted to believe her, but his trust in everyone had been at an all-time low.

"Harry, if you don’t want this baby, there are things that can be done – you’re quite early on in the pregnancy – just a few weeks."

"No!" Harry recoiled. He could never do that, he could never hurt his unborn child, never kill it. "I couldn’t, Katie." He could wish that this had never happened in the first place, he could wish that he hadn’t been so stupid, but he couldn’t wish the baby dead.

"I thought you would say that," she replied fondly. "The thing is, Harry, that in a couple of weeks, maybe less, the baby is going to be drawing on more of your magic and you won’t be able to sustain the glamour."

Harry had suspected as much. He hung his head, trying desperately to gather his thoughts, figure out what he was going to do now.

"You’re welcome to stay in my guest room overnight, Harry," Katie offered, her voice soft as she removed her hand from his. "I think you’ve got a few important decisions to make, and maybe some space will do you good?"

"Thank you, Katie, that’s kind of you," Harry said with a weak smile. "Oliver's away?"

"Yes, he’s in Bavaria, so you don’t have to worry that you’ll encounter him whilst you’re here. Shall I remove the glamour for you?"

"Yes, please," Harry said, feeling the invisible weight lift from him as she waved her wand and muttered the incantation.

"I’ll just go and make up the bed," Katie said, and left the room, leaving Harry staring at his own reflection in the window as the sun sank over the horizon and darkness began to fall.

"Look at you," he said to himself; his own green eyes staring back at him for the first time no months. "You couldn’t just leave well alone could you? Now look at you – you’ve fucked up everything that you had. You’re an idiot."

He placed a possessive hand over his abdomen and felt a surge of his magic as it surrounded the foetus with its protection. He sank down onto Katie’s sofa with his head in his hands. What was he going to do?

* * *

It didn’t take him long to pack his things. It was a case of shrinking everything and shoving it into a box – he was leaving the furniture for later use, he only needed his personal effects. He didn’t even know where he was going, he only knew that he had to go and the sooner the better. Already he could feel the draw on his magic from the baby, and the glamour would have to be packed away into a metaphorical box along with all his skinny jeans until after the baby was born.

He was going to have to move out of the cottage and find a safe place that he could hide until that baby came. Then, once he was no longer pregnant, he could use the cottage as a ‘holiday home’ and leave the baby with Hermione and Ron whilst he came here and spent time with Gabe. Or he could spend time at Hermione and Ron’s when they had Gabe over. It wasn’t what he had planned – but he couldn’t risk Draco finding out and taking this baby off him as well – and this time Harry had no doubt that there would be no second chances. If Draco found out who he really was, he would throw Harry out on his ear and take the baby; he’d managed to get full custody of Gabe before and Harry knew that after faking his own death and impersonating someone else, the Ministry would have no qualms in giving Draco custody of their second child as well and Harry would likely be sent to the Janus Thickey ward.

It shouldn’t be a choice between one child and another, but Harry could see no other option. Coming clean to Draco was simply not viable.

So now all he had to do was say his goodbyes. It was going to break his heart to leave Gabe again. He was just getting to know the little boy as he grew into his personality. And Draco – he already knew something was wrong – the way Harry had been these last few days, not letting Draco touch him as he had been. Draco more than likely thought that Ewen was having second thoughts about this ‘thing’ that they had going on.

Draco would get over it; after all, he had no heart to break. Harry had to believe that or he would never find it in himself to do this – all that talk that day on the island about how much he'd loved Harry – it was just that - talk. Practically, he knew he had to do this; emotionally he wanted to tell Draco the truth and stay with him. That was all well and good in theory, but the Draco of reality would never react in the way the Draco of Harry’s fantasy would and Harry couldn’t go through it again.

There was no other way.

When everything was packed and Harry was gearing himself up for going to the manor and joining Draco for the meal he had been invited there to enjoy, when the Floo burst to life and Blaise stepped out.

Harry felt a surge of annoyance, this was the last thing he needed right now. In fact, in the confusion of the last few days, Harry had forgotten about his friendship with Blaise and had not included him in his list of people to say goodbye to. He supposed that now was as good as any time.

"Blaise," he greeted. "What a pleasant surprise."

Blaise grinned and Harry was swept into a tight hug. "Have you been avoiding me, Ewen?" he accused, but when he stepped back, there was a smile on his face. "You’re a difficult man to woo!"

"You’ve been trying to woo me?" Harry said then cringed. Picnics, trying to hold Harry’s hand – kissing him – most likely counted as wooing in Blaise’s eyes. Harry had been so caught up with Gabe and Draco that the time he spent with Blaise had been a simple stress reliever, he hadn’t given any real thought to what might be going on in Blaise’s head once he’d laid down the initial rules that they were just friends.

Blaise pouted and folded his arms over his chest. "You’re not very good for my ego, but it's fine, really. I know you only have eyes for Draco." He smiled widely and shrugged. "Win some, lose some."

"Oh." Harry wasn't sure what to make of that, but he was pleased for the lack of awkwardness. "As a matter of fact, Blaise, I’m actually leaving here for a while. It’s not working out as I had planned."

Blaise’s face fell. "Where are you going? For how long?"

"I don’t know yet and just – away."

Blaise sighed heavily, his brown eyes downcast. "Will you stay in touch? I’d like to know that you’re alright."

It couldn’t hurt for Ewen to send Blaise the occasional owl in the name of friendship, Blaise had been good to him these last months, and he’d needed a friend that only saw Ewen and nothing else. "Of course I will." Harry stepped in and hugged Blaise again.

"What’s going on here?" came Draco’s voice from the doorway, and if Harry hadn’t been supported by Blaise’s arms he might have swayed from the force of the déja vu that rocked him in that moment. He stepped back from Blaise and turned unsteadily to face the blond, gearing himself up for the inevitable scene. Draco didn’t take well to people he was involved with hugging other people; he tended to think it meant more than it was.

"I was just on my way up to the manor to meet you when Blaise popped in," Harry said hastily, hoping to delay any histrionics, thinking that perhaps Draco had learnt from past mistakes. To his surprise, Draco looked between the two of them and nodded.

"Blaise is always welcome here."

"I’ll come up with you now, shall I?" Harry turned to Blaise. "I’ll be in touch soon, I promise." He wanted Blaise gone before he said anything about his impending departure to Draco.

Blaise must’ve seen the plea in his eyes because he said, "Sure. Look after yourself, Ewen." He stepped back into the Floo and Harry felt a pang of loss – he didn’t know when he might see his friend again, if ever, and that wasn’t something he welcomed. Being ‘dead’ was a lonely existence.

He turned to Draco. "After you," he invited his voice almost a challenge for Draco to say something about Blaise’s presence and the hug. He knew he was testing him; but then again, he supposed that the conditions of the experiment were different – Draco only saw Ewen Johnson when he looked at him now, and naturally wouldn’t have the same reaction as he would have had he been looking at Harry Potter in Blaise’s embrace.

"Is Gabe joining us?" he asked hopefully. This was likely the last time he would see his son in a long time. He felt his eyes prick with tears; how could he go through with this after everything he had been through to bring his son back into his life?

* * *

"No," Draco said, taking Harry’s hand in his and threading their fingers together. "He’s ready for bed and when I told him you were coming, he asked if you could read him his story." Draco thought it was uncanny the way their son seemed to have taken to Harry in a way he didn’t take to other people, as though he unconsciously recognised him as his ‘Daddy’.

"Oh," Harry said. "I’d love to."

Draco glanced at him then from the corner of his eyes and his heart constricted. Harry’s own face was hidden behind the glamour, but he had never seen this face look so sad and defeated. He looked utterly exhausted. Draco had been so caught up fighting off his jealousy at Blaise that he hadn’t noticed it at first. It hadn’t been easy, stifling his jealousy at their embrace, forcing himself to wave it away; he knew Harry had been spending time with Blaise and that Blaise was keen on ‘Ewen’. He wasn’t such a fool that he was going to let the same mistake separate them a second time.

"What’s wrong? Are you still feeling unwell?" Maybe that was it. Since that day on the island Harry had been behaving strangely. Draco had been trying to give him the space he needed, but it was killing him.

"No, I’m fine. I-" he stopped and paused, his hand tightening on Draco’s. "Let’s go and read this story and then we’ll talk over dinner?"

Draco could do nothing but agree. He couldn’t afford to do anything that might spook Harry at this point. He had to concentrate on winning his trust back. Letting Harry read their son his bedtime story was just another brick in the wall he was trying to build to keep Harry with him.

Gabe was clearly flagging but equally determined to stay awake to see Harry. "Have you got ‘Tales of Beedle the Bard’?" he asked and Draco nodded and summoned it from the bookcase, trying not to react to the choice, knowing how much the one story meant to Harry. Draco listened as he read the story of the three brothers to Gabe, who listened with wide eyes, all thoughts of sleep forgotten.

When Harry had finished, Gabe said, "I want a ‘visibility cloak!"

Harry ruffled his hair and said, "They’re very rare. You can’t just buy them from the shop." Harry glanced pointedly at Draco before kissing Gabe’s forehead and pulling his quilt up over him. Draco sucked in a breath. Draco had Harry’s Invisibility Cloak in the safe; and one day it would be Gabe’s. Ewen wouldn’t know that, but Harry would and that look he'd just thrown to Draco was an admission of that. Could it be that as Draco built up the wall of trust, Harry was gradually dismantling his barriers against Draco?

Draco could only hope that this wasn’t just a blip. He knelt at his son’s bed and kissed him goodnight, "See you in the morning, young man," he said softly as Gabe’s lids drooped.

"’Night, Father, ‘night, Ewen," Gabe mumbled and Draco stood and held out a hand to Harry.

"Dinner is served downstairs," he said, and Harry took his hand and they both left the room. Harry paused in the doorway, looking back at Gabe as though committing him to memory and hope surged within Draco.

He wanted his Harry back more than anything.

* * *

Harry was quiet throughout dinner, responding to Draco’s attempts at conversation with simple yes and no answers. He clearly had something on his mind.

"Something’s troubling you, is there anything I can do to help?"

His question was met with a pained look as Harry’s glamoured face bit his lip nervously before shattering all of Draco’s illusions by saying, "I’m leaving."

"You’re what?" Draco spluttered, undignified in his shock and not caring. "Why? What about-" What about us?

"I don’t belong here," Harry replied. "This place is claustrophobic. This-" He waved his hand between the two of them and refused to meet Draco’s eye. "This isn’t what I want. I don’t want to be with you, I should never have let things get as far as they did. I’m sorry."

"You’re sorry?" This couldn’t be happening! Draco had thought he was getting through to Harry. How could Harry be leaving? Draco had been sure that he would stick around for Gabe’s sake if nothing else. He had clearly gone to a lot of effort to be here, close to his son. Draco had been under no illusions that Harry had come back for him but he wasn’t above making the situation work in his favour.

"Yes, I realise that this might sting you for a while, but like I said when we started this thing, it didn’t mean anything; I have nothing to offer you." He pushed back from the table and stood up. "I think it best if I just go now."

No! Panic drew in over Draco. He wasn’t about to let Harry out of his life for a second time. He’d only just found him again. He was his life, his love, the only person he would ever love. He was his Harry. His. He’d already been through hell and back when he’d thought he had lost Harry to death. Getting this second chance had given him back his life, his hope – it had dragged him screaming out of the life of comfortable numbness he had been living in – high up in his manor house, surrounded by all the material wealth he could ever want with more money than he could ever spend – none of it had meant anything. Draco would live the rest of his life as a pauper living on bread and water and nothing else if he could do it with Harry back by his side.

"I’m not letting you go," he said with a calmness he didn’t feel. It was time to show his hand. Much earlier than he had planned, too soon by far, but faced with Harry’s imminent departure from his life, Draco knew he had no choice.

"I’m sorry, but you don’t get a say in the matter," Harry responded. His fake face was pale and there was sweat on his upper lip as though he was struggling to stand.

"I think I do. After all – I am still your husband, am I not – Harry?"

Harry gasped and stumbled backwards. "You’re mad! I’m not-"

Draco raised his wand and muttered the spell that would remove the glamour, watching with satisfaction as it fell away and he was gazing at his husband’s horrified face. "Harry, I know."

"Oh, Merlin," Harry rasped, reaching out and grabbing hold of the back of a chair to steady himself with shaking hands. "What are you going to do to me?"

* * *

This could not be happening. All his plans, everything – evaporated in a puff of smoke at the sound of those three simple words spoken from Draco’s lips; ‘Harry, I know’. His fingers tightened around the back of the chair in an effort to support himself. Draco knew. Draco knew. Draco knew. How long had he been playing him for? Had he planned this – luring Harry back in, getting him pregnant again, laying a trap for him so that he could cast him out in the cold again?

"Harry, I’m not going to do anything to you," Draco said with a calmness that Harry was sure wasn’t real. "When I found out, yes, I was angry, shocked – you put me through hell when I thought you were dead – but Harry-"

Draco’s hand was inching across the table towards him, and although Harry was standing and the hand wouldn’t get anywhere near to him, he panicked. "Back off," he threatened. "This doesn’t change anything, I was leaving anyway, and I’m still leaving." He wanted to add that Draco wasn’t getting his hands on his baby, but at least he still had one secret.

"Harry-"

"How long have you been playing me along?"

Draco’s features twisted, "How long have I been playing you along? How can you ask that when you’ve been right under my nose this whole time, pretending to be someone else, having me fall for you all over again?"

"Fall for me, Draco? You wouldn’t know love if you fell over it. I was only ever here for Gabe – remember him? The child you bent over backwards to make sure I would never see again! The only person in the whole world who is real family to me and you took him away from me. Have you any idea what that was like?"

"If Gabe’s so important to you, why are you leaving now?"

Harry’s next words were calculated. "Because, as much as I love my son, I can’t bear to be around you any longer; letting you touch me makes my flesh crawl!"

Draco’s pained gasp was fuel for Harry’s anger.

"Now that the game is up, I’ll be suing you for access to Gabe – but I never want to lay eyes on you ever again." The words spewed off his tongue, designed to hurt Draco as much as possible.

"You don’t mean that, you couldn’t be with me the way you have been these last few weeks of you really felt like that about me! If I made your ‘flesh crawl’-"

"It’s amazing what someone will do for their child, Malfoy," Harry spat.

"Harry, please, we have to talk about this," Draco said soothingly, the hurt still simmering beneath the surface evidenced by the shaking in his voice.

"No, I don’t think that we do," Harry threw back at him, and without even needing to reach for his wand now that the glamour was gone and he was in full command of his powers again, Harry wandlessly Apparated.

When he reappeared it was to find that he was not at Shell Cottage as he had planned but still in the manor’s dining room and Draco was still seated at the table, his face resigned into a blank expression.

"What-?" Harry started before remembering. "You stopped Apparition out of the manor after the kidnap." Fuck. Harry had totally forgotten about that, he had not planned on Apparating directly from here after all; he had been planning to go back to the cottage to pick up his things.

"Harry, you’re not going anywhere until we’ve talked," Draco said. "If you still want to leave afterwards then I won’t object."

A tiny glimmer of hope settled in the pit of his stomach as Draco’s earlier words sank in - fall for you all over again – could that be true? He’d already admitted to himself that he still loved Draco. What if there was a small chance that Draco wasn’t planning on casting him away again now that he knew he was Harry? What if Draco had changed and now regretted the things that had passed between the two of them in the past? What if he was willing to allow Harry access to Gabe?

Yet, how could he trust a word Draco said? There were too many 'what ifs'. Draco hadn’t listened to him before and had cast him out of both his and his son’s lives. Harry had lost his entire family in one day and had been alone. Draco and Gabe had been everything to him. Yes, Draco had been behaving oddly in their last few months together, had hated Harry going anywhere without him and had become extremely possessive, but Harry had assumed that it was due to his pregnancy and once Gabe was here, Draco’s desire to protect his family.

Harry had hated it; Draco hadn’t liked him spending time with his friends, and the more Draco had disliked it the more Harry had done it; Draco had an army of house-elves helping to care for Gabe, Harry had been feeling superfluous to requirements and as though Draco really had only wanted a son and heir out of him, and what better for a Malfoy in the post-war climate to have than child from the loins of their Saviour?

So his visits to his friends had increased. He’d spent a lot of time with Hermione and Ron; the only two people in the world he truly trusted. It had been them he’d been going to visit on spec following an argument with Draco about Merlin knew what, when he’d found Charlie there instead – and in his distress had let the older man hug him close and whisper comforting words into his hair.

That had been how Draco had found him, and that had been the last time he had seen Draco until Narcissa had invited Ewen Johnson into her home.

When the Muggle plane had crashed with Harry on board, with everyone presumed dead, it had been Narcissa and not Draco who had Portkeyed to Australia to identify his body. It had been Narcissa who had found Harry very much alive and merely suffering from a couple of broken limbs after he had Apparated out of the plane before impact and landed awkwardly near the scene.

His body had been alive, but inside Harry was very much dead. He’d lost everything he’d ever cared about and had no hope of ever getting his son back into his life. Draco must have hated him for a long time before finding him with Charlie that day if he hadn’t even been willing to see Harry to let him explain. One drop of Veritaserum and Draco could have had the truth. Harry had been blocked out of the manor and denied access to his son.

What did Harry have left worth living for? He’d told Narcissa that he had not intended to Apparate out of the plane, that he had intended to die that day. His magic had acted in self-preservation.

Narcissa had given him back his hope. Harry knew now that she had seen his despair and was concerned that he would take his life in some other way. It had been she who had let Draco and the wizarding world believe that Harry Potter had met his death that day in that accident, and it had been her who had come up with the plan for Harry’s disguise as Ewen. With the glamour on, she had said, Harry could visit her at the manor and have a chance of seeing his son.

No one had known that she herself would not live much longer, that cancer would take her. Even in death she had thought about Harry.

It was thinking of Narcissa now that made Harry nod and say to Draco, "Alright, I’ll listen." He owed her that much.

* * *

Draco let go of his breath. Thank Merlin he had changed the wards to stop Apparition out of the manor for anyone other than himself and the Notts, because if he hadn’t, Harry could be anywhere now and Draco couldn’t lose him for a second time.

"Harry, I’m not going to do anything, I promise. I only ask that you listen to me." Draco watched the warring expressions chasing over Harry’s face – the fear, the hope, the desire – and he felt bolstered. "Come, let’s talk about this in the sitting room. Pansy and Theo are both out; we’ll have comfort and privacy." The Floo was also out of use in there in case Harry had any ideas in that regard.

Draco let Harry lead the way and waited for him to perch on the edge of an armchair before sitting himself in one opposite so that he could see Harry’s face as they talked. It was so good to have Harry back as Harry again; even though he’d known for some time that Ewen was Harry, and he had been able to get used to the idea that all of his dreams had come true, that Harry was alive, actually seeing him as his true self was like a miracle.

"I want you to know, I’m not angry with you – when I first realised Ewen was really you, I was furious – but I realise that the fury was really only directed at myself. If I hadn’t acted the way I had, then none of this would ever have happened and you wouldn’t have had to resort to such measures to get access to Gabe. For that I am truly sorry."

"I hate you," Harry said. "I hate what you made me do."

Draco sighed. "I hate myself for what I did to you, Harry. I was blinded by jealousy. I was so convinced that you would leave me that in the end I made it happen, I drove you away and then made you pay."

"I don’t understand. I was so in love with you, Draco. The thought of being with someone else never occurred to me. You were the one. When I was pregnant with Gabe I was so happy, you and a family were all I ever wanted." His green eyes shot up and glared challengingly at Draco. "I don’t understand what I did wrong – why you changed so much."

Draco knew this was the time for complete honesty. He should have told Harry this when he’d first found out, instead he’d just let it fester and fester and he had convinced himself that when Harry found out he would lose him because of it. In the end, it was because he had been too scared to tell Harry that he had lost him anyway.

"Do you remember our first time together?"

Harry nodded, his expression confused. That had been when Harry was stupidly in love with Draco and convinced that he had no chance, but that first kiss had changed everything. "Of course I do."

"Well, I never told you, but I found that we were helped…along." He paused and closed his eyes. This was it. "I found out later that I was under a spell. Daphne cast it – it was to give me allure to attract the person I coveted. She thought she was helping me – she knew all about how I felt about you and she thought it might work in my favour at the trial. She said she wanted to help us along." He ran a shaking hand through his blond locks and looked beseechingly at Harry.

The surprise was reflected on Harry’s face, but not the horror Draco had expected. "I don’t understand."

"This was before you and I got together! I'd been at the Manor with Mother before the trial. I was all nerves about seeing you, scared I might go to Azkaban and that- I didn't want you to witness my downfall, yet you were my only hope! Daphne had come to visit with her mother and we'd stayed up half the night, I confessed how I felt about you and she must've thought she was doing me a favour, but-."

"So-?"

"So – the only reason you wanted me was because you were drawn in by the bloody spell! She used an old spell used by part-Veela who needed a hand attracting their mate. She knew that many generations, back I have a Veela ancestor so the spell would work for me!"

"You think that we got together because Daphne Greengrass cast some love spell on you to make me want you?"

Draco nodded.

"How long do the effects of the allure last?"

"Until the mate gives birth to their first child." Draco couldn't look at Harry as he spoke.

"You were waiting for me to realise I didn’t want you anymore?" Harry paled. "You were waiting for the axe to fall? For me to leave you?"

Draco grimaced. "After Daphne told me what she'd done – when you were pregnant with Gabe – she was so proud, like she'd done me a favour – she seemed to want a thank you for 'helping me out'!"

"So that was why you fell out with her," Harry scratched his head. "I never really bought that excuse about her parents forbidding her to stay friends with you because you had broken your father's promise that you would marry Astoria."

"No, that is true, but Daphne never was one for following the rules." Draco sighed heavily. "I couldn't forgive her. Yes, I wanted you, but I wanted you to want me because I was me, not because of some spell. Yet – I never told you because I was scared that you would leave me, I'd hoped that when the spell wore off you would stay with me anyway, that you'd fallen in love with me. But – I couldn't help but wait for the day you realised that you weren't in love with me after all."

Harry jumped to his feet, his green eyes blazing. "All those times when you were really possessive and didn’t want me to go out – why you wouldn't even let me explain about Charlie; because of some fucking spell?" Harry was shaking with anger.

"Harry-"

"I think you’ve talked enough, don’t you? I’m leaving now." Draco stood up so he was on a level with Harry; fear an iron fist around his heart.

"Please, Harry-"

"Don’t worry; I’ll stay at Ron and Hermione’s tonight. We can talk some more tomorrow. I just – I – I can’t look at you right now."

"Do I have your word that you will come back tomorrow?" Draco hated the lack of control he had over this situation. If he trusted Harry and let him go now, he might never return and where would that leave Draco?

Harry was silent for so long that Draco thought he might not answer. So Draco took the chance to say what he had been itching to say the whole time since he’d realised that Ewen was Harry.

"Harry, I have to tell you this – I love you. I can’t take back what I did, but you have to know that not a day went by when I didn’t regret it. I thought-"

Harry laughed; a hollow empty noise that chilled Draco to the bone. "You love me? Do you realise what a joke that is? You’ve just been telling me that you thought I might leave you because the spell wore off and any moment I was going to realise that I didn’t really love you!"

Draco flushed and he knew that the guilt had to be stamped across his face.

"It all makes sense now – how you were behaving. What I don't understand is why you never told me? We were married – we could have worked through it together. But the way you behaved - is it any surprise that I wanted to spend more time with my friends?"

"I know I drove you away with my jealousy and paranoia. I was so worried I would lose you that I sent you into someone else’s arms!" That had been the single most desperate moment of Draco’s life to that point – worse than facing down Dumbledore, or living in the manor during the war… Seeing Harry in the arms of another man had ripped his heart clean down the middle.

"There was never anyone but you for me. I didn't need any blasted spell-"

"So Pansy lied when she saw you kissing Blaise?" Draco said the words and then cringed. This was his first reaction to Harry telling him there had never been anyone else? He wanted to kick himself!

"What-? No, but it’s not what you think."

"I’m thinking a lot of things," Draco said. "But the main one is that I don’t care about that. I want you back regardless of any of it." He was lying of course. The thought of Harry as much as touching anyone else was like taking a bath in acid – it burned at his skin and slowly ate away at his insides, but he had to let it go. If he wanted Harry back in his life he couldn’t afford to hold onto the negatives.

"Even after everything that you did, you still expect me to come back to you with open arms?"

"I never expected anything, I just hoped."

"Draco I can’t- I have to go."

When those green eyes pleaded like that, Draco had never been able to resist.

"Do I have your word that you will return?"

"You do."

"Then the Floo in the drawing room is working."

He watched as Harry turned and left the room. Draco collapsed down onto the sofa and dropped his head in his heads. What had just happened?

* * *

"You have to tell him, Harry, he has a right to know," Hermione said gently as Harry jumped to his feet for the fifth time in ten minutes and moved agitatedly around the room. "This spell thing explains a lot. He must've let it fester away at him all that time, worried that you might come to your senses and leave him."

"What difference does it make?" snapped Harry. "Draco still put me through hell because he was expecting me to leave him, so finding me with Charlie was merely fulfilling his expectations and he never gave me the chance I deserved! He still thinks there was something going on!"

"Mate, you need to calm down, this isn’t good for the baby," Ron piped in from the armchair by the fire where he was listening with wide eyes as Harry had first imparted that he was pregnant again and had proceeded to tell them about Draco finding out he was really Harry. Harry stopped and sat down again, his left leg twitching anxiously.

"I’m just going to put the kettle on, I think we could all do with a brew," Hermione said and left the room leaving Harry and Ron alone, Harry glaring at Ron.

"Ron, what am I going to do?" Harry said despairingly, looking to his best friend for reassurance. "I can’t believe I’ve made such a mess of this."

Ron looked at his hands as he replied, "You know I don’t have a lot of time for Malfoy, but – Harry – now that it’s all out in the open – have you even told him that there was nothing going on with Charlie now that you've got the chance? Or that you’ve only ever been with him? I know you, Harry and it’s always been him, even before we knew what sex was it was always him for you; I didn’t see it at the time, but looking back it’s obvious." He paused for a breath and raised his eyes to meet Harry’s. "Bollocks to love spells and all that shit, even if it is true, what the hell does it matter? You still love him, else you wouldn’t be in this mess, and I know you seem to think he’s been fucking around these last years, but where’s your proof?"

"I-"

"Harry, he fell for you a second time without even knowing you were you – doesn’t that tell you something?"

"He took my son away from me," Harry protested feebly, knowing that it was a token argument, that Ron had a point – for once.

"He made a mistake – regardless of the whys and wherefores of this just think what was going on in his head when he found you in Charlie’s arms? All of his worst fears came true. He over reacted, sure, but you pretended to be dead! Doesn’t he deserve a second chance – don’t you?"

A second chance. Another bite of the cherry or whatever the Muggle phrase was. Could he risk it? If he went to Draco now and Ron was wrong, then Harry could lose a second child to Draco.

"You don’t have to tell him about the baby until you’re sure," Ron said, reading Harry’s mind.

"When did you become so-"

"-wise? Living with Hermione has to have some perks, mate."

Harry stood up again; suddenly sure of what he had to do.

"I’m going back to the manor," he said decisively. "I’ll Disapparate from outside."

"Good man," Ron said. "I've got a good feeling about this; but if for some reason it goes badly and you want to escape, go to the cabin – Malfoy doesn't know about it – you'll be safe there until me and Hermione come for you."

Harry nodded and took a deep breath.

* * *

When he walked from his cottage up to the manor it was past midnight and the only sounds were of the occasional owl and of the scurrying feet of nocturnal animals going about their business.

There was one light on at the manor; Draco’s bedroom. Harry wasn’t sure if the wards were set to alert Draco of his presence, but they were set to allow him entry, so he passed through and made his way to the stairs.

Draco was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall, his eyes red from apparent tears. He must have heard Harry’s arrival, but he didn’t react as Harry closed the door behind him and leant back against it.

"You misinterpreted what you saw that night with Charlie," Harry began. "I’ve never been with anyone but you. I didn't need any blasted spell to want you – I'd been in love with you since I was thirteen! That day we first kissed, I had been fantasising about that moment for four years!"

Draco continued to stare at the wall.

"I’m sorry for what I've done; I’m sorry for pretending to be someone else, sorry I let you think I was dead; but Draco, if it hadn’t been for your mother, I probably would have been not long after the crash. You couldn’t even be bothered to come and identify my body! I wanted to be dead."

He moved further into the room until he was standing less than a foot away from Draco.

"Are you listening to me?" Harry waved a hand in front of Draco’s face, and a pale hand snaked out and caught hold of it, pulling Harry down beside him.

"I didn’t go because I couldn’t bear to look at your body and know that there was nothing left of you inside. I didn’t want that to be the last memory I had of you! I knew it was entirely my fault, that I had driven you into someone else’s arms-"

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Draco squeezed his wrist.

There was a long pause before Draco continued, "What I did was horribly cruel and you don’t know how much I regret it. I was sick with jealousy and it was all I could think about for weeks; I sought sole custody of Gabe because I wanted to punish you for daring to let someone else touch you! It was the worst I have ever been, Harry. I turned into a possessive, jealous shell of a man, too proud to let you even explain what had been going on with Weasley."

Harry felt a tear escape and wind its way down to his chin.

"After a couple of months, my mother managed to get through to me, said that Gabe didn't deserve to be deprived of his father, but by then you had left for Australia and then- then you were dead." His voice cracked into a sob. "You were dead, and I had cast the curse that killed you."

They were in each other’s arms then, sobbing freely. Eventually Draco broke free and said, "Please give me a second chance."

Harry thought about the misery his last few years had been, about Draco’s cruelty and his own estrangement from his son. Gabe had taken over as the number one priority in Harry’s mind because that’s what parents did, they put their child first, but- if he hadn’t still loved Draco he wouldn’t have slept with him; and he could dress it up however he liked, but he knew deep down that he wasn’t the type for sex without love.

"I-"

Draco placed his hand over Harry’s.

"I want to," Harry said. "But I need to be sure this won’t happen again – if I want to go shopping with Blaise that I won’t be locked out of the manor when I return."

"Blaise wants you," Draco said and then clamped a hand over his mouth, his grey eyes watching Harry over the top as though he thought that this revelation would make Harry change his mind and go for Blaise instead.

"Blaise likes Ewen; he never came near the real me. Besides, he kissed me, not the other way around – it was all one-sided."

"No, he suspects you’re Harry Potter, he told me the other day, said that something you said when you went on a picnic made him think." Draco shook his head as Harry began to piece together the timeline. "No – I already knew before he said anything. What clinched it was the kidnapping – the wards around Gabe were keyed for a blood parent only. Jamieson hadn’t figured on you."

"Oh." Draco had known for longer than Harry had realised, and in all that time since then, Draco had been trying to draw him closer, spending time with him and Gabe, making Harry feel like he was family. The baby had been conceived since then; and Harry was starting to suspect it was definitely the same day as his visit to Cerne Abbas.

"Will you give me that second chance, Harry?"

Harry said, "I do love you, Draco – I loved you long before Daphne Greengrass interfered, I loved you after you broke my heart- it just is what it is."

"Is that a yes?" Draco’s voice was hopeful.

"I suppose it is."

* * *

Draco heard the words he needed to hear and felt the tension leave his body. Harry loved him. Harry was giving him a second chance.

He wrapped Harry in his arms and buried his face in his hair. "I love you, Harry. So much. I promise I'll never let you down again."

Harry moved to straddle Draco and whispered in his ear, "Show me how much you love me."

Later, after a sleepless night spent making love, talking and simply lying there on their sides just staring at each other, Harry told Draco he was pregnant again, and about how scared he had been that Draco would take this baby away from him. Draco wasn’t angry that Harry had been planning to flee, he was angry at himself for making Harry feel that way.

He didn't care about any of that because he was the happiest man alive; he had his husband back, a healthy son and another child on the way.

"Do you think that the spell had any effect at all?"

"I don't know," Harry propped his head on an elbow to look down at Draco. "Maybe it gave me the kick I needed to make that move, but it was only a matter of time – I'm a pathetic mess when I'm in your vicinity – I'm just surprised it never happened sooner."

Draco laughed. "I wanted it too; but I was sure the reason you kept pulling back was because you only saw us as friends. I told myself I was lucky to have that after everything that happened during the war." He unconsciously scratched his left arm where the faded remnants of the dark mark remained. "You were right in a way, I was dazzled by Harry Potter, but not for the reasons you might have thought. I wanted so much to be your friend the first time we met in Madame Malkin's. Your rejection hurt."

"Poor little Draco," Harry teased, startling when the bedroom door opened to reveal a sleep ruffled Gabe. Both of them froze, watching the little boy carefully as he looked from one parent to the other. This was the first time Gabe had seen Harry without the glamour and his tiny face was confused.

Draco sat up and opened his arms, "Come here," he invited and Gabe walked across the room and clambered up to his side, all the time his suspicious eyes on Harry. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

"You're Daddy," Gabe announced staring at Harry with fascinated green eyes. "You came back from Heaven."

"I wasn't really in Heaven, Gabe – I nearly was and your father thought I was, but I had to go away for a while and then when I came back I had to pretend to be Ewen first."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to make sure that you and your father still liked me before I told you who I was."

"I liked Ewen, he was fun."

Gabe clambered over Draco's middle and bounced on the small section of mattress that currently separated them. "Tell me the story of how you beat the bad man," he demanded. Harry's amused eyes met Draco's over their son's head and Harry ruffled Gabe's hair and launched into his story.

Draco settled back against the pillow and thought that Gabe had been a lot easier than he'd anticipated; but the rest of the world might not be so easy.

Whatever life threw at them; he and Harry could handle it together.

* * *

One year later

Harry stood nervously at the head of the ornate dining table in the little used Great Hall at Malfoy Manor and surveyed the group assembled before him, each person holding a flute of Zabini's Luxury Champagne. He shuffled his feet nervously. "Draco and I invited you here today to witness us renewing our bond to one another, and we're both so pleased that you decided to join us. I know that some of you are still angry with me for letting you all believe that I was dead."

Harry let his gaze sweep across the room, these were the people who had stood by him all of these years, the ones he considered real friends, who he regretted lying to more than anyone else – and some of Draco's old friends too. Luna and Neville, Molly and Arthur, George and Angelina, Bill and Fleur, Charlie and Blaise (Harry had not seen that one coming!), Ron and Hermione, Theo, Pansy and Eddie (no one had seen that coming), Ginny and Dean, Katie and Oliver, Seamus and Hannah, Hagrid – and Daphne Greengrass.

It turned out that he had never actually been declared dead thanks to some creative meddling by Narcissa, so his return had been less problematic than he had anticipated legally, however The Prophet had really gone to town, lapping up his amnesia cover story – putting to rest the weekly conspiracy theory articles. Not everyone believed their story, but the people who counted were in this room and trusted. The only worry had been Bevin's the PI, but Draco had paid him off and committed him to an Unbreakable Vow.

"I truly regret that some of you were hurt by my actions, and I can only hope that you can forgive me over time," Harry continued. Molly Weasley had given him the biggest earful before almost smothering him to death between her breasts. She had been angrier with Ron for keeping her in the dark than she had with Harry.

It had been Draco's idea to renew their marriage bond, claiming that with all that had passed it would be a clean start for them both, and Harry had been all for it. Their son had been born four months earlier, and with Molly, Arthur and George's permission, this time they had felt ready to call the baby Fred. Hermione and Luna had given birth in the preceding weeks, both having girls – Rose and Harriet. Gabe had assumed the protective older brother role to all three of them.

It hadn't been an easy year, not by a long shot; Harry had upset a lot of his friends by his deception, but ultimately they were so pleased he was alive that he may not be entirely forgiven, but he hadn't been rejected either. Harry planned on making sure he never hurt them again. All the time Draco had been at his side, and they were closer now than they ever had been before – there were no misunderstandings and no well-meant spells to cast doubt over their love for one another. It had been a year of getting to know one another again, and this time Harry had held nothing back, not even about him and Hermione during the war. Draco's eyes had almost popped out of his head at that revelation!

"If you would all like to take your seats, dinner will be served."

Harry took his seat beside Draco and slipped his hand into his husband's. Draco squeezed his hand and leant over to whisper in Harry's ear, "How long until we can be alone? I can't wait to re-consummate our bond…"

Harry shrugged, catching Hermione's eye along the side of the table and raising his glass. Out of the side of his mouth he whispered, "You're the Slytherin here; it depends how much you want it." He turned and raised a challenging eyebrow to Draco, who picked up his glass, knocked back the contents and said, "You'll see how much I want it."

It was the shortest wedding reception in wizarding history; everyone remembered enjoying themselves, but no one could remember leaving.

The End.