Chapter Text
TWELVE YEARS LATER...
...
The scent of his magic was green.
Evergreen.
Raw and wild, a flicker of yellow lightning blending seamlessly to a midnight blue sky; and as soft as silk, fronds of plush summer grass slick with rainwater and dew.
The scent of his magic was alive, and Harry basked in the thrum of it… Just for a moment.
Lost to thoughts older and memories still bright against the wandering of his daydreaming, Harry watched that green magic twine around his fingers. Playful, intentional, like the errant scamper of a rabbit, before he sent it into the ruins of a window to his right with a flick of his wrist.
It had been an enchanted window, and those were a damn sight harder to repair than the clear, standard ones that lined the hundreds and hundreds of hallways of Hogwarts.
Harry watched the shards of lilac pulse angrily against the hold of his magic, like the grumpy shaking of an old, stubborn creature’s head, before it relented with a sigh beneath his wagging finger, and the sections of what had once been an immaculately sculpted piece of art slotted slowly into place. Violets bloomed with the reconstruction, Harry almost tasting the wild scent of the glass flowers as his magic faded into the walls around it to blend out what few cracks remained.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with an arm devoid of cloth, the sleeve of his white shirt twisted up above his elbow with the balmy heat both inside and out.
This room was proving to be a particularly difficult one to mend, but then, Harry knew that it would be.
He cast his eyes up towards the incredibly high roof of the library, Hogwarts herself seeming to give an unforgivable huff as a summer breeze battled its way passed an open window somewhere in the section that had once housed books on gnomes and other garden creatures. The dust of destroyed books shifted by his feet, and Harry grimaced as he bent to trace his fingertips through it.
He wondered if he would ever fully clear the castle of the remnants that had once almost thoroughly destroyed her.
“Tommy! Greg!”
His voice heralded a sudden grunt of affirmation from a nearby aisle, Greg’s groan as he was hoisted to his feet drawing a smile from him as he stood to brush his hands off his black trousers.
It was Tommy that rounded the corner first, the man’s hands still clutching the sparse few tomes he and Greg had managed to salvage from the slowly reforming chaos. His cheeks were streaked with the black dust that threw itself into a fury each time they entered the restricted section, but beneath it all his smile was wide. The blonde heaved his books onto one hip as he lifted a hand, fingers moving to sign:
You beckoned?
“I do not beckon,” Harry scowled, his own hand lifting to sign the offending word back at his friend and his lips twitching in a smile at the huff of near-silent laughter Tommy offered in reply. The band of scarring on his throat was on show for a fraction of a moment, where once it had been lined with scales, before those dark eyes were looking back at him. Harry shook his head.
“Go take a break,” He held up a hand at Tommy’s tut of annoyance, “No, the books will wait. They’ve been waiting long enough, they’re not gonna get up and walk out now. You’ve been at it all morning, go ask Molly for something to drink. I’m sure she’s still parked outside that camping table she set up this morning.”
“Her and Arthur both from what I could see when I passed an hour ago.”
Gregory Goyle’s massive form looked bizarre and yet oddly in place amidst the narrow hallways of the empty, wooden shelves. He slung an arm over Tommy’s shoulder to grab the blonde’s hand when the Beta again tried to barter more time, bringing those tense fingers up for a kiss that did more than enough to placate the Beta. "I'm starving, and so are you."
Tommy relented with a roll of his eyes and a flush to his pale cheeks, bright even beneath the layer of dust.
Harry shooed them off with a grin, stopping short of where they hurried out of the main archway to stop and survey the room behind him. Walls now stood, where there had once been cracks and holes and nothing but sky and cindered forest. Yes, they were bare and their texture, solid beneath his calloused fingers, was a fraction rougher than the old stone had ever been…
But there were walls.
Ceilings.
Windows.
Harry canted his chin up towards the candles that glimmered in the high hallways as he passed beneath them, the thrum of their magic familiar and eerily docile around him as he walked. It had taken years for him to convince the Council and the Ministry both to allow him this project… And that had been with both Altair and Madam Prince so heavily on his side that they had practically been leaning on him.
And it would take years… decades still before it would ever be finished.
If it would ever be finished.
He tipped an ear to the sounds of laughter in another room, dipping his head in to find two identical blonde heads ear to ear as they peered over the ledge of a broken window and into the grounds below. Harry watched Antares pull a third man in to see whatever it was that had grabbed their attention, his chin resting on dark curls as he held the other close.
“What are we looking at?”
Harry could hardly stop himself from whispering into Alniyat’s ear as he snuck in behind the trio, delighting in the absolute bark of fright the man let loose as he swivelled to swipe at the space where Harry had been.
“Harry, you louse!” Alniyat cast a dramatic hand to his throat, his eyes wide as he growled down at the younger man, “what have I told you about sneaking up on an old man! Master of Death though you might be, I mean for you not to take me before my hundredth birthday, at the very least.”
Harry groaned at the title, his body sagging to lean far too heavily on the older blonde as Alniyat growled under the weight of him.
“Stop calling me that, Al! It was a one-time deal, I gave the stuff back, didn’t I?” He said nothing of the cloak stashed safely at his home, though from the smirk the older Peverell offered him, it was nothing more than a badly kept secret between just about everyone he considered friend or family.
“Master of Death has such a better ring to it than That Peverell Boy The Family Lost And Then Found Again Through His Weird Descendant A Thousand Years Later Who Just So Happened To Come From Another Reality. Don't you think?”
“Don’t you start,” Harry glowered at Antares, but the blonde only smiled, his eyes slipping shut as he rubbed his chin over the top of the head of the Beta in his clutches. “How’s the shop, Blaise?”
Dark eyes flitted to him, Blaise Zabini’s smile soft and sincere as he let himself be coddled, his lanky frame looking oddly eclipsed by the older blonde. “Surprisingly, it is doing well. Daphne runs a business as only a dictator can and Theo remains as alarmingly deft with a needle and thread as he was when Marie was first born. It was a fantastic idea of Astoria's, actually, to turn Daph’s side project into an actual store. Her sense of style is immensely better than her mother’s.”
The shudder Blaise gave was imperceptible, if only for the gentle tightening of Antares’ hold over the Incubus. Harry glanced out the window as he spoke, his eyes catching on what it was that had caused their laughter in the first place. He felt his lips twitch despite himself at the sight of his mother chasing what appeared to be a black dog and a giant stag bearing the small shape of two very happy children.
“How is Marie?”
Blaise’ entire face lit up and Antares crooned a soft little sound that drew a chuckle from his brother beside him.
“As beautiful as her Mum, and as proud as her Sire. I am loathe to see her grow up as quickly as she is… And desperate to know who she might become. She’s wonderful, Harry… But her classes get longer every year and I just… I miss holding her when she was tiny.”
The sound was wistful and Harry arched a brow just as Alniyat did, the blonde peering down at the Incubus.
“You heard him, Antares, hurry up with that Heat and give your brood another babe to dote on.”
Harry left the room snickering still at the sound of Alniyat being suddenly tackled by his brother, the smaller blonde’s shrill laughter following him as Blaise heaved a sigh and moved back to the work they had been doing. He was grateful for the Beta’s volunteering to help if nothing else, because Harry doubted a lick of work got done when Antares and Alniyat were put in a room together.
As elusive as the two Omegas were in regard to their age, Harry was doubtful in thinking they would ever be old enough to actually act their age.
Then again, that seemed to be a running theme with most twins.
He patted the pocket of his pants, feeling the edges of a letter he had received only that morning from a set of other twins that nestled just as close to his heart as his long-lost cousins. Fred and George had written the letter together, the ink overlapping and splotching in so many places that Harry had been near breathless with laughter as he read of their escapades as they travelled across Europe with their Alphas.
He had envisioned them one atop the other, fighting both for parchment space and ink as they told him of their journeys, of the time together with Angelina and Lee in ways that had had his cheeks heating, as he skimmed over the parts written just because one of the idiots had known he would blush to the roots of his hair while reading it.
A strange and formidable magic… Was the magic between twins.
Harry stretched his arms as he sauntered down a flight of stairs, dodging a step that leaned oddly to one side. It was a stubborn protrusion, one that had yet to relent under even his magic but he would not be bested by it and Harry gave it a sour look as it shifted beneath his careful step, regardless, and sent him teetering down the final few steps.
“Ooft!”
Harry felt arms wrap around him as his knee buckled, the familiar scent drawing a smile from him despite the pain.
“Reg! I didn’t know you were coming to help out this week!”
Regulus Black straightened him with a smile that was far too pretty. His handsome face seemed as timeless in Harry’s eyes as Sirius’ own had been that morning. Black hair was pulled back into a high knot as the older man dragged Harry in for a sidelong hug.
“We weren’t, but Sev is doing battle with a rejuvenating potion for a witch who, I'm positive, predates the trials of Salem and I managed to convince him to take a break before he burned our house to the ground in a temper.”
The Omega’s voice was as soft as Sirius’ was loud, sure and charming as he grinned down at Harry with one black eye and one a milky white.
“This is a break?” Harry grimaced, waving a hand about a giant crack still visible in the nearby wall, as Regulus chuckled and steered them towards the Great Hall.
“It absolutely is. This is its own work, don’t get me wrong; but at least here I can shove Sev into the forest if he’s about to have a meltdown.”
Harry felt his smile soften. “Not sure how Tom would feel about something else setting his forest ablaze.”
The Ashwinder was a near unmistakably presence in the Forbidden Forest now; or as Remus had begun to call it: The Fire Forest. Whatever power the creature seemed to be thriving off of from both the bond he had with Harry and being brought back to the place of his birth had had a rather remarkable outcome in regards to the withered trees and husk of nature.
Where once there had been decay and cinders now thrived a sanctuary of flora.
The soil was blackened still, thick with ash and dusted with old bark, but it was plush and fertile enough to give birth to thousands upon thousands of volcanic plants. Remus had even begun a catalogue of them, safe beneath a canopy of blackened trees now littered with leaves a smouldering shade of orange and red along the edges of a frayed and up and coming ecosystem. It was often that the werewolf could be found sitting between rows of mountain orchids a rich and vibrant purple, of lilies a mind-fracturing shade of yellow, and of passionflowers an immaculate white that snapped beneath his reaching fingers and grew as tall as house elves.
It had been an unexpected occurrence, in the years that trailed their repair of the castle, but one that Harry had rubbed Tom proudly on the head for nonetheless.
“I hear Molly has set up camp again, perhaps she can tempt him to calm down with a homemade stew.” Harry whispered in Regulus’ ear and grinned with the older Omega paused in thought as the massive stone doors of the Great Hall slid open to grant them entrance.
“Now that is an idea,” Regulus hummed, glancing up at the ceiling that perfectly mirrored the blue sky outside, fluffy white clouds soft and delicate against the edges. “If nothing else, at least, it will give me an opportunity to ask about Hermione.”
Harry perked, flicking a hand towards one of the many scattered benches to drag it over and sit down. His knee crunched with the bend and Harry ignored it as he clapped his hands together. “Oh, I can tell you that! She’s about ready to pop, her words, not mine,” Harry grinned as he held his hands up. “Gabriel is running around like a headless chicken, Rory and Viktor are patiently waiting on her hand and foot and Charlie is doing everything else in his power to keep the home calm and clean and make sure they all just... Take a breath. Honestly, if the floo call we had this morning was even a slight indication of the mayhem that is about to unfold in that house, Merlin help them.”
Harry grinned as Regulus barked a laugh, the Omega shaking his head. “And Ron and Pansy?”
“Ugh, don’t mention the war,” Harry dragged a hand down his face despite the bubble of warmth in his stomach. “Molly just about pitched a fit when the two of them pushed off their Bonding Ceremony to go help ‘Mione. I’ve never seen her so proud and infuriated with a son in all the time I’ve known her. Personally, I think she’s secretly chuffed. I mean, this is her first grandson on the way and she is... Well... Molly, so her holding off on going over there herself and berating the lot of them is a win.”
Regulus hummed, his eyes softening. “I will be sure to let Narcissa know, she will delight in the mayhem as she so often does.”
Harry grimaced, his mouth tightening. “How’s Bella?”
With the heavy sigh, Harry knew that the news would be as it had been for the past several months.
“She is there, but not. Fading, but… Happy, I think, in her more lucid moments. It was a good idea, Harry, for Cissy to take her to the house in France. The sea air helps to keep her calm from what we can see.”
Harry was nodding, his heart giving a sad little twinge in his chest, before there was a figure beckoning to Regulus and himself suddenly from the open doorway.
“Come on, the pair of you and stop straggling! Molly says if one spoon of her lunch goes to waste she’s going to feed the next pot to Tom!”
Harry arched a brow at his father as James grinned at him, the scar above his brow pink even from a distance. “You say that as if she doesn’t bring him a pot of his own anyway. She does realise she can’t sneak him food, right? I can talk to him...”
Regulus chuckled as Harry grumbled, taking off after James with a small wave back at Harry as the younger man stretched his legs out before him.
He was not getting any younger.
The old sentiment made him smile, his face still as it once was all those years before when he so much as glanced in a passing mirror.
“Harry?”
The unexpected voice pulled him softly from his daydreaming, and Harry glanced up at the freckled white magic that dissipated around the woman that had, quite literally, walked through the side of Hogwarts wall.
“Luna.”
Harry stood with a smile that stretched wide across his face, his hands dipping out to catch the taller woman around the middle just as she wrapped her silver-runed arms around his back and pulled him in close. He felt his heart steady as he inhaled her rose-heavy scent, pulling back just enough to find her pale blue eyes peering down at him.
“I haven’t seen you in so long, Luna, how are you? How is Altair? And Berron?”
Luna hummed, her fingers lifting from his back to drag instead through his wild curls as she pressed her forehead to his in a gentle greeting that seemed almost more intimate than the hug.
“My friend… I am well. Altair, though he is weary from work, is well and happy. And our boy is as beautiful and strong in his twelfth year of life as he was in his first. You smell sad, Harry.”
He felt his head dip, a meagre attempt to hide the truth in her words with his own concealed grimace. Still, when he lifted his chin, it was with a smile. He waved a hand out as he took a step back from the Fae, casting a sad glance up at the endless sky above.
“This place… It broke my heart to see it ruined, but I’ve a terrible feeling it’s going to tear me apart to see it as it was.”
Luna peered up with him, before her bright eyes caught on the four scarred and battered tables still pressed against the roughened walls.
“As you knew it… But never again the same.”
“No,” Harry felt a lump lodge in his throat, “I suppose not…”
Luna hummed again, and the sound that left her throat was decidedly happier despite the tone of conversation, her fingers flicking out absently to close the stone doors to the cavernous room and sealing them both in for the moment.
“I came to give you a gift.”
Harry quirked a brow in her direction, his hands folding across his front as he grinned at her. “Is that so? And what have I done to deserve a gift from the Queen of the Fae?”
Luna threw him a withering glance, and Harry snorted as she flicked enough magic at his feet to send him careening back a step or two.
“Let’s not start with titles, Lord of Death, shall we?”
Harry held his hands up in defeat, his nose wrinkling as the Fae strolled around him, the skirt of her pale blue robes sweeping at the layer of dust that still decorated the stone floor.
“But, to answer your question: A lot. You’ve done a lot. You know I’ve been bartering with Hogwarts and her magic since your father first introduced us, and I have been all the more determined to find the perfect gift in thanks for all the help you’ve given our world… And I’ve finally found it.”
Harry felt a skitter of unease shiver down his spine. “Found what?”
Luna smiled, and the smile was as perfectly sad as the melancholy feeling of fixing Hogwarts had made Harry in all the years he had done it. “I’ve learned a way to let you say goodbye, Harry.”
He frowned.
“Goodbye?”
The word was a whisper, confused and unsure, as Luna’s arms began to glow with that subtle magic that was so very precious to her and her people. She nodded gently, as she spread her palms wide, her gaze locked on Harry where he stood in the centre of the room. “I can’t offer you very long, and I can never offer it to you again after this moment. Whatever you say, whoever you meet, just make sure that your words free you all a little, alright?”
Harry felt his eyes pop, his heart lodging in his throat as his hands fell to his sides. “No… Wait, I’m not… I can’t…”
“You can.” Luna offered with a smile, and Harry felt his fingers snap out with his own nerves as his next blink left him not with a vision of his friend, in the universe he had come to call home, but…
He felt his sigh get caught in his throat.
His breath stuttered, one hand lifting to cup his open mouth as the scent of home clung so viciously to his surroundings that his eyes flooded with tears.
The Great Hall was empty, and so very, very full.
Tables polished to perfection sprawled out on either side of him, decked in colours of green and red and yellow and blue. He spun slowly, the sky above thick with cloud and sweetly warm, as though the heat of the sun itself filtered through the layers of unthreatened magic. Candles floated above, lit for nothing but decoration as Harry took in the dark expanse of the professor’s table.
Calm.
Peaceful.
The air around him was still with the scent of tranquillity and ease, and Harry felt a burden he had not even begun to realise he had been carrying, suddenly loosen the tense line of his shoulders.
He blew out a breath with it, one hand lifting to brace shakily on his hip as he scrubbed the other through his dark hair.
Well.
This was…
This was something.
He tilted his chin up, swiping at the tears tracking down his cheeks as he glanced around. How long did he have? How far a distance could he go… Harry chanced a step forward, fingers tapping on his hip as the pull of Luna’s magic tickled the nape of his neck, cautious and curious.
“You can see this too, right?” Harry said to her as the touch of her whispered against his skin, his own magic picking up in response. “You see what I mean? Look at what it was! Look at what it can be…”
Luna’s discordant hum of delight echoed in his ear like a tickle and Harry laughed with it, batting the sensation away.
“Excuse me, but how is it… You… P-Potter?”
The voice sent a jolt up Harry’s spine and he turned slowly towards the wooden door that had opened behind the staff table. It swung shut behind the man with a bang, hardly drawing a blink from wide, grey eyes as Draco Malfoy watched him as though he were a ghost.
Well…
He supposed he was. A bit.
And though he knew it was not his Draco… That this man could never be his Draco, Harry felt his heart quicken in his chest. This Draco looked the thirty years he had lived, every second of it on that handsome, perfect face. In the bags beneath his eyes and the almost imperceptible blonde stubble that marred his cheeks and chin.
He wore it in the short cut of his hair, swept to one side as he stared down at Harry from the platform, his black shirt and black pants well fitted over a body well formed.
Harry felt his head tilt gently to one side.
“Draco…”
It should have taken him more than a second, maybe, to understand why the man’s name on his lips drew a jolt of surprise from the blonde. The last Draco Malfoy had seen of Harry had been placidly amicable at best, and suddenly here he stood… Looking for all the world as if he had not aged a day past his eighteenth birthday. He flushed.
“Sorry, it’s just… You, ah, you look good?” Harry grimaced, his eyes flitting to the wand Draco’s fingers inched toward, those grey eyes beyond confused. “I didn’t mean it like that, I mean, no I’m like married so… Oh Merlin. I’m sorry I’m kind of cocking this up, aren’t I?”
Draco watched him a fraction longer, before his head was suddenly shaking, and the man was turning to glance around, as if someone was playing some monumental joke.
“What in the name of… It’s you, isn’t it?” He laughed, but there was little humour in the bewildered bark of it. “Of course it is, of course it’s you. You always come back. You never die, you just… Defy the laws of nature, you…”
Harry watched Draco Malfoy stop, the man holding his hands out before taking a deep breath that he seemed to pull from his very toes. Harry grinned at him, incredibly endeared as he leaned in closer.
“Technically, I didn’t die this time.”
“What happened to you?” Draco snapped the words, flinching when he seemed to hear the tone for himself and stepping closer all the same, as if his eyes were drawn to Harry despite the wary streak that lived in him. “You just… Vanished, Potter. I... They looked for you.”
He stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing suddenly pink. “They looked for you, for years.”
Harry felt his lips clamp down tight over a whimper, his hands lifting before he could think better of it. Luna’s magic was tugging gently on his spine, like the seconds of a clock ticking down to oblivion. To the inevitable end.
“I had to go.” He whispered, as he cupped Draco’s face between his hands. The man went exceptionally still in his hold, his eyes wide. “You’ll show them this memory, won’t you, Draco? Tell them…” Harry sniffed.
“Tell them I love them, that if I could have said Goodbye a thousand times, I would have. That if I could have brought them with me, I would have. Tell them I wish them nothing but happiness and love and peace for the rest of their lives. Tell them I’m alright, won’t you? Tell them they can stop looking…”
He swiped his thumb against the man’s stubble, taking in that strange, familiar-unfamiliar parchment and ink and potion scent as Luna’s magic tugged again, swift and beckoning.
“You can stop looking.”
Draco seemed to crumple, his face uncertain and pale and Harry was saved swooping in and kissing that terribly relieved furrow from his brow by the sound of the door slamming open behind them.
“Dad, I know you told me to stay put, but what was- Oh! Uhm… H-Hello.”
Harry’s eyes slid over Draco’s shoulder, to the boy that was looking as though he wanted nothing more than to melt into the wooden door that had shut closed behind him. His hair was blindingly white in the sunlight, pale and sleek and cut to his chin in a styled bob as he tipped a nervous chin in Harry’s direction.
“Hello s-sir… Uhm, I am sorry for intruding but my Father thought he heard a noise and, well, I mean, he was gone a bit and so I thought I might be able to help and, uh…”
Harry watched that pointed chin tip up defiantly, that little face no more than eleven years of age and a near carbon copy of his Sire. He watched the bob of the youth’s throat as his pale green eyes flicked to his Father who had straightened with a flush to his cheeks. The smile that split Harry's lips was bright as he shook his head.
“Hello Scorpius, sweetheart.”
The youth fidgeted with his fingers as Draco turned to look at Harry sharply, his eyes narrowing as the smaller man poked him in the chest with a grin. "How did you know...?"
“Because he's your Heir and you only ever had one name for him. Who’s his Mother?”
The arch of that familiar brow was enough for Harry to ignore the near constant tug of Luna’s magic as he watched them both.
“Astoria Greengrass… It was an… Amicable affair, while it lasted.”
Harry hummed, his grin softening when he looked back at those pale, unfamiliar eyes. The only difference. He had met the woman only a handful of times in Daphne’s new store. “That explains the green eyes then… What age are you now, Scorpius, eleven? Remember something for me, love, will you? Remember that your father loves you, even when he’s being an arse.”
Scorpius seemed to delight in that piece of sudden information, the boy’s hands stifling the sweet sound of his chuckles as Draco tutted down at Harry.
“You come back for Merlin knows how long, after years of being gone, to call me names to my son’s face. Potter, do bugger off back to wherever you came from.” The tone was amused despite the bite in the words, and Harry felt his cheeks heat at that pointed grey stare as the blonde leaned in towards him.
“It suits you.”
Whatever he might have said in return was stilted by a set of lips on his, the kiss soft and sweet, strange and familiar and fleeting as Luna’s magic wrapped around his waist like the woman herself had come to take him back. He felt his eyes slide shut as the scent of home swept past him and he landed back in the room he had been in with a jolt.
Harry opened his eyes to dust and stone and… Nothing.
Luna was gone, the heady scent of her magic lingering in the air as she offered Harry a fraction of time to come back to himself.
To them.
His chest heaved, lips still warm with the trace of another’s as he lifted a shaking hand to them.
“Da?”
“Da! Nana Molly said get your butt-side outside!”
Harry jolted with the sound of voices, his eyes snapping up to find the doors to the Great Hall open once more, as two figures spilled in like tiny, snapping dragons.
“She didn’t, Jamie, she didn’t! She said backside, not butt-side, you said a naughty word!”
Harry felt his lips clamp over a smile, his hands on his hips as he peered down at the tiny pair of six year olds. Jamie growled at his brother, snapping his teeth and pushing back his curly black hair from his scarlet eyes.
“Yes, well, if I did then so did you, Albus!”
Albus seemed to wither, his bottom lip jutting out as his sleek, straight black hair whipped about his little face in sharp denial. Those identical blood-red eyes peered up at Harry through a sheen of tears.
“I didn’t mean to, Da! Jamie tricked me!”
Harry crooned, the sound pouring from his chest as he pulled the twins in close, his hands slipping into their smooth hair.
“Oh my little dragons, what has you both so upset, hmm?” Harry kissed them both, a kiss to each forehead that had the tears vanishing from Albus’ eyes just as it had the scowl slipping from Jamie’s furrowed little brow. Harry grinned, before gasping and staring down at them.
“Uh oh… You guys didn’t leave your food out there, did you? All by itself?” Harry clapped a hand over his mouth as they peered up at him, red eyes widening with delight at the sudden game as Harry leaned down to whisper…
“With Padfoot?”
The sudden shrill screaming was enough to drag a cackle from Harry as they almost fell over one another to scamper towards the door, identical black wings flapping furiously as they fought to save their precious food. Harry followed them slowly, watching them disappear through the main hall as his smile grew soft.
“Are you alright, Da?”
Harry hummed, hardly needed to turn to reach out and pull his eldest son in. He clutched the boy close, pressing a kiss to that white-blonde head of sleek, straight hair that slid down the eleven-year-old’s front. Little curls trailed the ends, and Harry played with one idly as Scorpius glanced up at him with dark green eyes and a confused, little smile.
“I’m good, sweetheart. Go find your brothers before they tear apart your Uncle Sirius, will you?”
The younger Omega nodded, his nose dipping in to snuffle at Harry’s throat in an endearing little gesture before he was off, tall frame disappearing around a corner with a single swish of delicate, snow-white wings.
Harry sighed, his head tipping back as arms wrapped around his waist from behind.
The silence of the hall became a hum beneath the gentle purr of his Alpha, as Draco nuzzled a kiss into Harry’s neck. The scent of him, heady black tea and copper filled Harry’s senses as he leaned back, his eyes sliding closed as Draco’s lips traced a pattern across his jaw. Cool fingers tilted his chin back gently, until the Vampire went suddenly still above his lips, his mouth huffing a confused sound.
“What have you been doing, Harry, you smell like you kissed a dozen old books… A dozen old potions books.”
Harry felt his laugh spill out of him as Draco arched a brow down, those scarlet eyes more amused than anything else as he rolled his eyes and slanted his mouth across his Mate’s.
Harry felt his fingers clench in that pale hair as he turned, his body blissfully relaxed against the man he had loved, and would love, and did love so fiercely that his heart seemed to beat for it. His magic flickered, overpowered just for the moment but the scent of him… Of love and lust and family and a mind wrapped around his own, bound so tightly that Draco Malfoy existed in his very blood.
If Harry's magic smelled of evergreen and wilderness...
Then Draco Malfoy's would forever smell like Home.
Harry’s mouth parted beneath the swipe of Draco’s tongue, and he whimpered.
He was Home.