Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry, past Draco/Astoria and Harry/Ginny, background Ron/Hermione, James Sirius/Teddy
Word Count: ~1,600/21,000
Content/Warnings: past relationship, wanking, sexual fantasy, anal fingering, anal sex, tattoos
Summary: Twenty-five years later, Harry and Draco find their way back to one another.
Read on AO3
The shrill sound of Harry's alarm woke him. His wand vibrated furiously on his bedside table, letting him know the alarm had been going off for some time before it had penetrated through the thick fog of his sleep. He reached out groggily and waved his wand to shut it off. With a heavy sigh, Harry rolled onto his back, attempting to blink the sleep out of his eyes.
There was a canopy of deep, blood-red above him, and it took Harry longer than it should have to shake off the disorientation at the unfamiliar sight. He'd been staying at Grimmauld Place for a couple of months now; he should be used to the dark mahogany and rich red of the bed in the master suite. Apparently two months of sleeping in this room wasn't enough to erase the previous twenty years' worth of memories waking up in an entirely different bed. Of sharing a different bed.
Thinking of his wife reminded him of why he'd set his alarm in the first place, and he grimaced as he pulled himself out of bed. She wouldn't be his wife for much longer, not officially anyway. Unofficially, she'd stopped being Harry's wife awhile ago, though they'd both turned a blind eye to the changing relationship between them for far too long. Longer than either of them had wanted to admit.
It took him a while to rummage through the drawers in his wardrobe to find something suitable to wear. He hadn't been paying much attention to where he was putting his clothes when he'd unpacked his belongings at Grimmauld Place. Harry had had other, more pressing matters on his mind.
It had been years since Harry had properly been back in this house for more than just a spot of maintenance. He'd spent his whole marriage avoiding the place, unwilling to sell such a tangible link to Sirius, but unable to stomach all the memories it carried. More than anywhere else, this had been his and Draco's place—as ridiculous as that was. They hadn't even properly dated, but back at the beginning, this was where they'd come together, where they'd talked and laughed and fucked.
When he'd started dating Ginny again, they'd always went out or met at her flat. Harry hadn't even realised he was avoiding Grimmauld Place until Ginny had brought it up after Harry's proposal. He hadn't told her the whole truth, but when he'd said that the place was too full of memories, and that he wanted them to start their life together somewhere fresh and free of the past, well, that had been true enough. It seemed unfaithful, somehow, the idea of bringing Ginny to live somewhere he had shared so intimately with another. Though, unfaithful to whom exactly, Harry had never really been sure.
He paid a Squib couple that lived in London a handsome fee to come in and check on the house every month and perform basic upkeep and maintenance, so the place wasn't in complete shambles. It was actually rather untouched by time, every piece of furniture and all the little knick-knacks exactly where he'd left them when he'd walked away for good all those years ago. Harry had dropped by a few times over the years, of course, with Ron or his children, never alone, and he'd never lingered long, never really let himself look and remember. It was a little spooky staying here now, feeling very old in surroundings that hadn't aged a day.
Harry shook the strange thoughts off as he looked himself over in the mirror. He tried not to scowl at his reflection. Most days, he didn't mind the crinkles around his eyes and the slight softness of his belly, but the last time he'd been in Grimmauld Place he'd been barely more than a teenager, and it was difficult not to see all the unfavourable ways his body had changed in the intervening years. Of course, it didn't help matters that he'd had a rough night of it, his nerves wailing over his meeting this morning. The bags under his bloodshot eyes were heavy and dark, and his salt and pepper hair was even more unkempt than usual.
He smoothed out the dark purple (aubergine, Lily always corrected him) jumper that his daughter had given him for Father's Day. She was always lamenting his wardrobe, and claimed that this colour, and the fact that it actually fit properly, made him look distinguished. Harry still wasn't sure about the colour, but he did love the cut of it.
Over the course of the move, Harry had ended up with a much-diminished wardrobe. As he'd been packing his clothing, he'd realised just how little he actually liked his jumpers and trousers and robes. For some reason, everything struck him as terribly dull and drab, and he'd ended up vanishing half the lot in a strange fit of...something. He still wasn't sure what had come over him, but the end result was a very limited selection. Maybe Lily would like to go shopping with him and help him pick some replacements. Shopping for clothes was not exactly Harry's idea of a good time, but it would be significantly more bearable with his daughter there to do the heavy lifting. Besides, despite his children's insistences that they were fine with the divorce, Harry still worried about how they were taking things. An excuse to spend quality time with Lily might be just the thing to settle him.
Feeling somewhat better about the day now that he had a plan of sorts, Harry headed down the stairs towards the Floo. He took a deep breath as he grabbed a handful of powder, bracing himself as he called out for his solicitor's office.
The official signing was just as painful and awkward as Harry had feared it would be. He hadn't seen Ginny in weeks—not since Christmas dinner at the Burrow. She looked just as tired as Harry felt. She still looked good though, her hair cut in a stylish bob that was drastically different from her usual long-haired ponytail. Different, Harry was beginning to accept, might be a good thing, even if there were a few bumps and bruises on the way.
Harry had come there that day ready to sign the papers. He and Ginny had been separated for months now, ever since that fateful conversation with Draco had forced Harry to take a look at his life. It hadn't been long after that that Harry had realised just how much he'd been ignoring, and once Harry had woken from his complacent stupor, Ginny had swiftly followed. It had been hard, but Harry had had plenty of time since to reconcile himself to the fact that his marriage was over. His signature on the dotted line was just a formality, really.
Which didn't quite explain the almost overwhelming wave of sadness that crashed over him as he scrawled his name down with a flourish of his quill. He'd known things were over, sure, but there was something so final in this last act, in the irrevocable dissolution of his and Ginny's marriage bond. For over twenty years, Ginny had been his wife and partner. They'd built a family together, a home and a life that had sustained Harry for half his lifetime. She given him her love and strength, bore him three beautiful children, and helped raise them to become remarkable young adults. No matter what difficulties they'd faced in the past few years, no matter what was ahead for them, Harry would always love her for that. Letting her go was indescribably hard. He still loved her, still saw so much goodness in her, but he knew that they weren't right for each other any more. They'd been a team for so long though, and Harry felt a little bereft as he used ink and feather to sever the last frayed string that tethered them together.
He couldn't resist pulling her into an awkward hug as they made to leave the office, their work finally done.
"Oh, Harry," Ginny murmured into his shoulder, her slim arms squeezing him back just as desperately.
"I'm sorry, Gin. It's just—I miss you already."
Ginny laughed, a damp, hollow sound against the fabric of Harry's shirt. "I miss you, too. But this is the right thing to do for us, and for the kids. We'll all get through this."
"I know." Harry pulled back reluctantly. "Take care of yourself, okay?"
Ginny smirked, a little tired around the edge, but it still made something quiet inside of Harry. "You know me. I can take care of myself."
"I'll see you around, Gin."
She sighed. "Yeah, Harry, I suppose you will."
With a puff of green flame, she was gone, calling out for their home. Her home, now. Not theirs. Not anymore. Harry stared at the empty Floo in a daze, until the receptionist finally asked if he needed anything in a not-so-subtle attempt to get him to clear out of the lobby.
Harry flashed a sheepish smile, and grabbed a fistful of Floo powder. In a clear voice he shouted out Grimmauld Place, letting the flames pull him into the distantly familiar living room.
This was his home now.