Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry, past Draco/Astoria and Harry/Ginny, background Ron/Hermione, James Sirius/Teddy
Word Count: ~3,200/21,000
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
Harry took in a deep breath of crisp air, grinning to himself as he took in the familiar scents of a Quidditch game. He'd been to hundreds of games now: to support Ginny when she was playing for the Harpies, to hang out with Ron as they watched the Cannons get thrashed by whoever they were playing that week, and now, to watch his son play Chaser for Puddlemere United. Harry had gone to more professional Quidditch games than he could count, but every single one still sent a little thrill of excitement through his gut. Something about the festive atmosphere, the smell of leather and fresh grass, and the jubilant sound of excited chatter, never failed to recall those long ago memories of his first Quidditch World Cup—the good parts, at least. A World Cup was wildly different from a regular match, but Harry could still perfectly recall that feeling of wonder and pure, unadulterated happiness at seeing something so marvelous and utterly magical. Decades later, and there was little that could cheer him up half as well as the simple pleasure of watching Quidditch.
This was just a friendly mid-season match, an opportunity to shake off some of the lethargy born of too many holiday indulgences. It wouldn't affect the team's League standings, only their pride. There weren't as many people in attendance, as the game was in the middle of a workday, but there was a healthy enough turnout that Harry didn't call too much attention to himself. He was in their usual box, and for the first time that he could remember, he was alone.
It had been ages since he'd come to a game by himself, but Lily had never been a fan of Quidditch, and Albus, Teddy, and the rest of his friends and family were all at work. Part of Harry felt a little guilting for skiving off, but he almost never took a holiday, and even Harry could admit that he needed a bit of a break. Things had been...difficult lately, and he knew he was working himself a little too hard in an attempt to avoid the grim and empty interior of Grimmauld Place...and to avoid the memories contained within.
A flash of bright blond on the pitch caught his eye, and his stomach fluttered before he even fully comprehended who it was. Draco. Speak, or rather think, of the devil…
A whistle blew and the players took off, a rush of blue and brown, but Harry's eyes remained riveted on their pacing manager. Up here, alone in his box, Harry could look his fill without drawing too much attention, as he'd wanted to at so many other games. Seeing James play had always been an exercise in control, as Harry's body seemed to always be uncomfortably aware of where Draco was on the pitch at all times. He tried not to notice, not to care, but Harry hadn't had many opportunities to see Draco over the years, and being so close and still so far from him during those long matches had always been trying. Now, though, there was nobody around to notice if his gaze focused more on the pitch than on the players.
Harry gave his eyes free rein and let himself notice just how good the years had been to Draco. His body was still fit and trim, lithe as ever, but with a solidity to it that wasn't there when they were twenty. There was a broadening of his shoulders, a little more muscle packed onto his frame, and it made him seem more imposing somehow. Draco's face had aged and settled, the sharp edges of him rounding out into something more refined and less cutting. Through his omnioculars, Harry could see the finest of lines around his mouth and eyes, the tiniest concession to his age. That, and the almost imperceptible streaks of silver in Draco's pale blond hair, so much subtler than Harry's salt-and-pepper strands.
Harry couldn't pull his eyes away from him, watching avidly as he walked and talked with an air of command, confidence and certainty infused in his every movement. This was a Draco who knew who he was, who wasn't so scared of the world, not anymore. He certainly had seemed sure of himself when they'd talked in Draco's office all those months ago. That surety wasn't the blustery bravado that Draco had relied on back when they were… No, it was the kind of confidence that only came with age. The kind that made you realise how much you and everybody around you must have been faking it back when you were young.
Thinking about that conversation now, about talking to Draco for the first time in over two decades, sent heat pulsing through Harry, even as a dull ache settled in his stomach. Fantasies of Draco bending Harry over his ostentatious desk warred with the memory of Draco's expression as he told Harry that they could never be friends. Harry's gaze traveled over Draco's face, and the pang in his stomach intensified.
Harry wanted to get to know this new Draco. He wanted to know if he still liked that same expensively foul brand of wine that Harry had always made sure to keep on hand, just to see Draco's eyes go soft and fond. (Harry had found three bottles of the stuff in the drinks cabinet last week, covered in dust and cobwebs, and his hands had shaken for nearly an hour with the force of his memories.) He wanted to know if Draco still smelled like leather and lavender, if he still spent Christmas in France, if he missed Harry, even a little bit.
A cheer went up around him, and Harry frowned, realising that he'd missed the first goal of the game. He looked around guiltily, grateful that James hadn't been the one to score. Harry was here to watch a match, dammit, not to moon after some old flame who'd been more than clear about where he stood on the matter.
Harry did his best to put the silly dreams out of his head as he focused on the game. Despite his best efforts, his focus was still split between the game and Draco, but at least he managed to cheer on James's assist. By the time the Puddlemere Seeker caught the Snitch, Harry felt surprisingly worn out by the taxing divide of his attentions. He made his way down to the pitch after the game, wanting to congratulate James on his win before heading home.
James grinned when he saw Harry, and Harry felt a little bit of tension leave his body at his son's evident pleasure at seeing him.
"Dad! I didn't expect to see you here."
Harry pulled James into a quick hug, glad that he'd long since outgrown the typical teenaged embarrassment of being seen with his dad.
"Everyone at the office has been harping on all the hours I've been logging lately, so I thought ducking out early to catch your game would do everybody some good. Congrats on the win."
James smiled. "Not bad, yeah? Doesn't count for anything, but it's good to see that all of Grandma's food last month didn't slow me down too much."
Harry smiled absently, his attention suddenly caught by a flicker of white-blond in his periphery. He half-turned, muscles tensing as he realised that Draco was not ten metres away, talking animatedly to his Seeker.
Harry's lips twitched into a frown, and he turned back to James, surprised by the quiet, pensive look on James's face.
"Alright there, James?"
James stared at him strangely for another beat more, before his expression returned to its earlier joviality. "Yeah, of course. I was only wondering if you'd like to grab dinner tonight?:
That surprised a pleased smile out of Harry—it wasn't often that his children volunteered to spend time with him. He knew they loved him, and he was even relatively sure they liked him, but they were growing up and living lives of their own now; they didn't usually want to spend their free time with their old man. Harry spared a brief moment of longing for the days when they were small, and Harry was half of their entire world. Just because those worlds had expanded now, it didn't mean Harry wasn't still an important part of them.
"That would be great. Did you have somewhere in mind?"
"Why don't you pick and send me an owl with where to meet. I've got to change, and then there's a strategy meeting afterward, but I should be free around six."
Harry snuck in another quick hug as they said their goodbyes, his mind already flicking through various restaurant possibilities. He loved eating out, but his fame, and the fact that Ginny much preferred home-cooked meals to restaurants, meant he didn't have nearly as many opportunities to indulge as he'd have preferred. There was just something so wonderfully decadent about being able to eat food that he hadn't had to prepare himself. He could count the number of times he'd been taken to a restaurant as a child with the Dursley's on one hand, but each time it had been wonderful. Not wanting to be judged by the waiters, they'd been forced to allow Harry to get a proper meal. It had always been one of the most inexpensive items on the menu, but Harry had been too enchanted with the experience to worry about that. That same sense of pleasure and indulgence at dining out that he'd felt as a child had followed him into adulthood, and it was one luxury he didn't mind affording himself.
He walked off the pitch focussing on the pleasure of watching the match, and the excitement of having plans for the night that didn't involve moping about Grimmauld Place. His neck ached with the desire to scan the crowd for Draco, but he kept his eyes locked on the stadium's exit.
Draco was a part of his past, and it was high time that Harry stopped wallowing in memories, and began to focus on his future.
"Did you find the place alright?"
James huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes a little as he sat down. "Yes, dad, your instructions were very thorough."
Harry smiled sheepishly. He'd perhaps been over-zealous in his owl note, detailing where to find the hole-in-the-wall Vietnamese place that his assistant had been raving about last week. "Well, I'm glad you made it."
They took a moment to look over the menu, Harry's stomach growling appreciatively as he contemplated his options. The waiter came over and they ordered crispy spring rolls and spicy chicken pho.
"So…" James began, looking somewhat awkward. "How are you doing?"
Harry tried not to grimace. He appreciated that his son wanted to make sure he was doing alright, but he was used to being the one doing the looking after. It was a discomfiting experience being on the other end of things.
"I'm good." James's brow furrowed dubiously, and Harry added, "Really, I'm fine, you don't need to worry about me. It's been an adjustment, but I'm getting used to it. I'm planning on sprucing up Grimmauld Place in my spare time over the next few months, keep me busy."
James nodded slowly. "Alright, good. Let me know if you need any help with the renovations. I'd be happy to help, so long as I don't have a match." James grinned. "And I know Teddy would be happy to pitch in as well. I bet Al would be willing to help too, if you can manage to pull him away from his Healer textbooks long enough."
Harry grinned. "That's why I had children, you know, for all the free labour."
"Nothing's ever free when Al's involved," James snorted.
"I suppose I'll have to give you that one," Harry chuckled. "But enough about me, what's going on with you? Anything new?"
James was silent as their food arrived, but Harry could tell he was mulling something over. He let James think it through, knowing he would spit it out when he was ready.
James broke the silence after several minutes of acquainting themselves with their food.
"I've been thinking about coming out—officially."
Harry felt his eyes widen. "Wow. That's a big step. Are you sure?"
"I think so. I'm in love with Teddy, you know." Harry nodded. He'd seen the way Teddy and James had been looking at each other over Christmas. He'd be lying if he said it hadn't been an adjustment, his son dating his godson, but he couldn't deny that they were great together. James blushed as he continued. "Well, I've been mad about him for ages, and now that I have him...I don't want to hide it. I want us to last."
Something squeezed tight inside of Harry. He knew all too well what secrets could do to a relationship, how the strain of hiding could become too much to bear. There had been a few moments, back when he and Draco had been doing whatever it was that they'd been doing, that Harry had thought maybe...maybe they could have been something real. But Draco would never have gone public, and Harry had realised that he couldn't hide away forever. He'd needed to move on. There had been a thousand other reasons that he and Draco wouldn't have made it, and Harry didn't regret his decision, but things were different for James and Teddy. He didn't want to see his son and godson fracture under the heavy weight of secrecy.
"If you feel ready, then I'm proud of you for taking this step. I know it can't be easy. Have you thought about how you'll do it?"
"I'm still working all of that out. I've been talking with Puddlemere's PR team, and, of course, with Draco."
Harry's face twitched at Draco's name, mirroring the unconscious thud of his heart. James's eyes narrowed, and Harry's skin prickled.
"Dad…" The prickling intensified.
"I've got something to tell you, but—you can't be mad, okay. It was an accident."
"What was?" Harry asked warily.
"We—we saw you, a few months ago, when you came to visit Draco at the Puddlemere pitch." Harry frowned, an unpleasant suspicion washing over him as James continued to explain. "You were wearing your Auror robes, and Scorpius was freaked that you were there to arrest his dad, so we followed you. We...listened in." Harry felt the blood drain from his face. "Not the whole time, just for part of it, but..."
Harry's stomach dropped. James knew. And not just James. "Who, exactly, is we."
"Me, Teddy, Scorpius, and Al. But that's not the point.The—"
"Oh, so the point is not that you invaded both mine and Draco's privacy?" Harry was furious. Furious and embarrassed and near terrified. He wondered just how much they'd heard. If they'd still been listening in when Draco had talked about fucking Harry over his desk.
"No. I mean, I'm sorry about that. I know it was wrong. But the reason I'm telling you about it, is that I think you should go for it."
Harry was lost. "Go for it?"
"Yeah. Maybe you need some more time, and I get that. But when you're ready to move on, I think you should try to make it work with Draco."
"Try to make what work, James? Maybe you didn't listen in on the entire conversation, but Draco isn't interested."
"That's what you came away with? We all stopped listening in once you started apologising for whatever happened between you two before, but it sounded to me like Draco was still pretty into you. I don't think the issue was Draco not wanting you, Dad. I think you being married was probably a bit of a sticking point, though."
Harry winced. "It's not that simple, James."
"No, I know. I'm not trying to tell you what to do, and I know I don't know the whole story. I only...I don't want you to write Draco off yet. It's obvious that there's still something there between you two." James hesitated, as if he wasn't sure he should continue. "Draco…he told me once that, when he was younger, there was somebody he'd let get away. That he'd been too afraid to admit his feelings, and he'd always wondered what would have happened if he'd told this man how he'd felt. He was trying to convince me to tell Teddy about my feelings, or else I'd regret if for the rest of my life. And he was right, dad. I just don't want to see you make that mistake. I want you to be happy."
Harry felt the anger drain out of him. James was a good kid, and though he wasn't thrilled that he and the rest of the boys had listened in on a private conversation, he knew James only wanted what was best for Harry.
"I know, James. I know." He gave James a tired smile. "I haven't figured out what I want to do about all of that yet, but I appreciate your thoughts." Harry ruffled James's hair.
"I should get going. Teddy said he'd come round after he finished writing up his report. Don't want to keep him waiting."
James grinned, excitement sparkling in his eyes, and Harry felt a strange mixture of pleasure and yearning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen James so happy with life, so content and settled and ready to take on the world. Harry had been a little surprised when James and Teddy had turned up for Christmas together, but anything that made James light up like that was something Harry was more than happy to support. Of course, as thrilled as he was to see his eldest son glowing with the first blush of a new relationship, Harry couldn't help but be reminded of the dismal state of his own love life.
He reflected on their dinner conversation as he got himself ready for bed that night. Harry would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about dating Draco. He'd been on Harry's mind almost constantly since the divorce—since before the divorce, if Harry was being honest with himself. Harry had thought that Draco made his opinion on things clear, but maybe James had a point. Maybe Harry had a shot. It would be difficult, but all the best things always were.
Harry wasn't going to give up on getting to know this older, wiser Draco, not yet. Maybe they wouldn't have anything in common anymore, maybe Harry was just romanticising their time together, but it would drive him crazy until he knew for sure.
Now all he had to do was figure out how to convince Draco.