And so there they were. Standing just inside the gate on the long, winding drive to the manor. Draco could barely contain his excitement. How long had it been now? Four, five years? He hadn't really been back to the manor since becoming a Death Eater, since he was sixteen. He had been on the run since then and once Voldemort was no more and the Ministry got a hold of him, the manor had been sold in restitution for all the Malfoys had inflicted on the Wizarding population. As if mere money could make up for it. But Draco realized that the Ministry had wanted to take something from him. They'd wanted his hide, but Dumbledore had talked them out of it. Making him a Muggle and a pauper seemed little enough compensation.

He looked at Harry whose head was down as he trudged up the gravel drive. Harry had done this for Draco. He had bought Malfoy Manor back. For him, even though he could tell how much Harry loathed being here, owning it, staying in it. Such a Gryffindor. How he loved that man! He suddenly grabbed him, sending him off balance and nearly tossed the both of them into the dirt.

"Watch it, Malfoy!"

He kissed Harry soundly. "Do you know how very much I love you?"

Harry blushed and shook his head. "If I'd known this was going to be your reaction I would have bought it for you first thing."

"You are going to be so shagged tonight," whispered Draco in his ear and then released him.

Draco led the way up the drive. They finally cleared the trees and there it was.

A hard lump filled his throat. Lights blazed in the windows as they used to do. It looked the same from the outside, but he knew there would be no loving greeting from his mother; no hearty handclasp from his father. The house would be empty of them. How could he stand to be there? How could he not?

He climbed the steps and reached the door before he looked back at Harry. "What about the wards?"

"I've made sure they will open for you."

He gave a shuddering sigh and gazed longingly at his spouse before he turned back to the oaken doors. He lifted the key. "Open," he told the doors, and gave a relieved breath when they complied.

He stepped into the foyer and noticed how stark it was. So. Some things had been taken. He supposed it was unavoidable. Anything Dark was naturally gone and anything valuable that could be sold, likewise. Anything that wasn't hexed to stay in place, in fact, had been removed. Only a round table remained in the center of the parquet floor and a chandelier that he didn't recognize hung above it. Harry's addition, no doubt.

"I tried to get back as much furniture as possible. There wasn't much left. Dobby helped me put it where it belonged."

"You've done so much, Harry. I'm so grateful."

"It's because I love you, you know." Harry took his hand.

"Can I give you a tour?"

Harry nodded. "Sure."

They walked through the foyer and took a left into an oak-paneled room with tall windows framed by scrollwork. "This is the drawing room. It used to have a harpsichord in that corner. My mother played it. I think it belonged to her mother. It was enchanted, of course, to play by itself. And over there above the fireplace hung a portrait of my great, great grandfather, but I guess they've taken it because it was imbued with a particularly nasty hex for anyone who insulted it." He drew Harry's hand into the crook of his arm, comforted by the feel of it against his side. "There used to be a bust of my grandmother Black right there, but it had a very bad jinx on it." Draco slowly rotated, looking at the room for any signs of the familiar when his eyes finally lighted on a small chair. "Oh!" He rushed over to it, Harry still in tow. "That's mine! When I was a little boy! Father had it made just for me so that I could sit by the fire while he sat in his great chair." It was a perfect miniature of a wingchair, only child-sized. Draco ran his hand over the worn edges. "I was so unhappy when I grew out of this but Father told me that I was now ready to sit in his chair." He looked around. "But I see…it's gone too."

He didn't mean to do it. He thought he could hold it in. But he suddenly burst into tears. Harry embraced him in an instant, almost before he lost it. Of course Harry would know, was so attuned to him. He leaned his forehead into Harry's shoulder and wept great awful sobs. He cried for his parents, he cried for his lost years, he cried for Snape who had protected him, he cried for the mementos of his life that were gone forever.

Harry rubbed his back in small, soothing circles, occasionally kissing his temple. Harry. If it weren't for Harry he wouldn't be able to do this at all. He rose from his shoulder and stepped back, wiping his face. "I'm all right now. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Let's see what's left of the library." He led the way back across the foyer to another archway. The library was there with a few oaken tables, one sofa, and floor to ceiling wooden shelves, all empty when they were once filled. "Of course," he said resignedly. Weren't most of the books in the library of Dark magic?

"Shall we go upstairs? I'll show you my suite."

"Your suite?" Harry chuckled. "Shall I take you to Privet Drive someday and I'll show you my 'suite' under the stairs."

"You mean that's not just a rumor? That was really true?"

"I'm afraid it is."

"Prats. My fondest wish is to hex them some day."

"I think you'd have to stand in line."

They climbed the stairs and he noticed Harry looking up into the high, vaulted ceiling with its vivid painting of the sky with soaring dragons. The winged dragons moved, diving through swirling clouds glazed in perpetual twilight. Draco loved that ceiling. They had it painted the year he was born and, of course, it was always referred to as Draco's ceiling.

They reached the landing and Draco stopped dead. He threw back a hand to stop Harry from reaching the top and he proceeded on alone.

Taking up the breadth and height of the wall before him in a life-size frame, was a portrait of his parents. He merely stared at them for almost a full minute. They were beautiful. There was simply no other way to describe them. Both with long white-blond hair, both dressed and posed elegantly, with aristocratic noses and pale eyes. If the Wizarding world did have royalty, those two would have been it.

And then they moved.

Narcissa looked down first. "Draco! Oh my precious boy! It has been ages!"

The lump in his throat grew. "Mother."

Then Lucius turned his eye toward him and his proud face could not conceal his delight. "My dragon! Why has it been so long?" His brows furrowed. "There were people here. In our home. People who didn't belong and they were taking away our things."

"I know Father," he said, trying to regain his voice. "It…it couldn't be helped. Voldemort was defeated. It was the Ministry taking our things. It…it had to be done."

"Vile Ministry Half-bloods and Mudbloods taking our private property? Why didn't you stop them!"

"I couldn't, Father. I had no say in the matter."

"But this is your house-"

"Not any more, Father. At least, not until recently."

"You see!" said Narcissa, a proud note to her voice. "I told you he would get it back. He is a true Malfoy. We had nothing to fear."

Lucius didn't look entirely convinced but he turned a curious expression on him. "Since we are talking to you, I must assume that the both of us are…dead."

Draco swallowed. "Yes."

Lucius looked at his wife and curled his arm about her protectively. "Did we die valiantly in battle, son?"

Draco took a deep breath and wondered if he should tell the truth. With a sigh, he supposed the time for lies was long over. "No, Father. You both died at the hands of the Dark Lord."

Narcissa gasped and covered her mouth. "But surely not!" she cried.

Draco nodded, wondering just when this portrait was painted. Those in the portrait only remembered events up until the day the painting was finished. "Yes. I watched it happen both times. He…he made me."

Lucius' jaw worked. Draco could tell he was trying to spin this in a good way, but failed. "You say that the Dark Lord is defeated? You're sure?"

"Very sure. I saw him die too." He raised his chin. "And I was glad."

"Hmpf." Lucius Malfoy didn't seem to know what else to say to that. Draco could tell by the sparkle in his painted eye that he was probably just as glad.

"I have some other news, Mother, Father. I'm a teacher at Hogwarts now."

"A teacher?" Lucius leaned so close Draco was certain he'd fall out of the painting. But of course this was impossible. Still, the portrait was very life-like and it had been so successfully hexed that it could not be removed from the premises nor damaged. That must have fried those in the Ministry that wanted to erase all evidence that the Malfoys ever existed. "Under Dumbledore? How could you?"

"Everything is different now, Father. And haven't you always taught me to take every advantage of every situation? It was the best possible situation for me. I am trusted. I am respected. Well…mostly."

"What are you teaching?" Lucius seemed afraid to ask.

"Potions. I'm also head of Slytherin."

Narcissa beamed at that.

"Isn't Snape Potions Master and head of Slytherin?" he asked cautiously.

"He's dead," he said simply. No need to elaborate. His father could extrapolate all he needed to know for himself.

"I see. And you are now teaching it. How old are you now, boy?"

"Twenty-one, Father."

"Twenty-one and now Potions Master. Well." He squared his shoulders. "That is something, isn't it?"

"Yes, Father, it is. And…there's something else."

They watched him hesitate and it was Narcissa this time who leaned toward him. How he longed for the comfort of her arms. "What is it, Mon petit dragon? You have had to tell us so much. Surely you can say more."

He swallowed and then blurted out, "I'm gay!" There didn't seem to be any other way to say it. He cringed, looking from one to the other. Perhaps because they were only paintings it was easier. But it was hard to believe they were only paintings when his father wore such a convincing sneer and his mother that delicate look to her eyes.

Narcissa and Lucius looked at one another and slowly returned their gazes to Draco. "We know, little one," said Narcissa.

"What? What do you mean you know? I didn't even know until a year ago!"

Lucius made an impatient sigh, his lip snarling slightly. "Really, Draco. It was patently obvious to anyone with eyes. We simply thought you were firmly ensconced in the closet, afraid to tell us."

He couldn't believe this! "No! I just…really didn't know. So much going on…and all."

Narcissa shook her head and set her long tapered fingers to her lips. "We laid such a heavy burden on you at so young an age. Can you ever forgive us, little one?"

"Of course! I…I love you both, you know that!"

His father did not seem of the same mind as his wife and said nothing.

"So…I'm also married now."

"Married?" Lucius glared. "To a woman? Or…?" It didn't look as if his father could quite actually say it.

"A man, Father. And…and he's here. I'd like to introduce you. But you have to promise me not to get angry."

This, of course, made Lucius immediately suspicious. "Why?"

"Because he's not what you'd expect."

"Is he Pureblood?"

"N-n-o-o. But his pedigree is-"

"Not a Muggle!"

"Oh no, sir! Never a Muggle!"

"Very well, then."

"He's a Half-blood, but as I said, he's very good for the family name…once you get used to the idea, that is."

Now Narcissa was having her doubts. "He is here, you say?"

"Yes. In fact, it was he who bought Malfoy Manor back. For me."

"That was a splendid gesture of love," said Narcissa, nudging Lucius.

"Yes. Splendid," he said distractedly. Draco could tell he was trying to guess who this man could possibly be.

"Now…you won't get mad, right? You'll meet him calmly?"

"Do we know him?" asked Lucius warily.

"Well…yes, actually."

Now the gears furiously turned in their heads.

"Oh sod it!" grumbled Draco. He motioned for Harry. The Gryffindor made the slow walk up the stairs as if he was on his way to the gallows. His stark, pale face told that he'd heard it all. He crested the last riser and nervously looked at the stunned portrait. "Mother, Father. Meet my husband: Harry Potter."

"POTTER!"

Draco pleaded with his father. "You promised, Father. No scenes." He glanced desperately at Harry. "He destroyed Voldemort and set us free. It was the right thing to do. If I could have, I would have killed the bastard myself."

"DRACO!" cried Lucius.

"It's true! I saw Voldemort kill you both! He didn't care! He killed Mother in cold blood! And he killed you just for spite. And he made me watch! Because he enjoyed it! And Harry killed him. And I love him for that! And…and for so many other things as well. We…we both teach at Hogwarts now. He teaches Defense Against-"

"Don't say anything more," said Lucius. He glared at Harry. "You let this…this Half-blood into my home! Into your bedroom? Gods! Have you no shame?"

"Now look!" said Harry pressing forward. "That's enough out of you! You don't know what hell he's gone through, and all because of your stupid schemes. So just let it go. We're in love and we're married and there's nothing you can do about it. You're only a painting, after all."

"Listen, Potter. I refuse to allow you to desecrate my house-"

"It isn't your house anymore!" said Draco, voice shaky. "It's mine. Actually, it's ours. Harry's and mine. I would have lost it forever if it hadn't been for him. You're going to have to get used to the idea of it, all right? I've changed. The world has changed. Maybe it's time you did, too. Voldemort is dead, really dead this time. So there's nothing to fear."

"As you have so succinctly pointed out," said Narcissa, her cool expression on Harry, "we are also dead. And so. Many changes." She slipped her arm within her husband's. He was on the verge of leaving the portrait and disappearing behind the frame, but she held him back and turned once again to Harry with a tight expression. "You must forgive him," she said in an unforgiving tone of her own. "This is a great shock to him. And to me."

"I'm…sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy. But everything Draco said is true."

She straightened her shoulders and stared down her nose at him. "Do you love my son?"

"Yes, I do. There is nothing I wouldn't do for his happiness."

She nudged Lucius again. He refused to look at them. Finally she shrugged. "It is a moot point. You own the house, we are dead and can do nothing, as you said. You are here to move in, I presume."

"Well no," said Harry too quickly for Draco. "We're just here for our…" Harry turned to Draco. He couldn't quite say it in front of his in-laws.

"Our honeymoon," finished Draco.

Lucius head snapped toward his son. "Your honeymoon!" His lips curled viciously around the word.

"Yes, Father!" he said louder. "Our bloody honeymoon! We'd just like to finish it out in peace, okay? Not just in a hotel in Provence."

"Hotel?" said Lucius.

"Provence?" breathed Narcissa.

Draco's face softened. "Yes, Mother. The hotel, the one we liked so much. It's just the same. It was lovely."

"So pleasant to have time for niceties," sneered Lucius. "While the Dark Lord reigned, there was very little time for niceties. The Dark Lord insisted on my time, and whatever the Dark Lord insisted…well. It was best to do."

"Well he's not insisting anything anymore," said Harry, with just a touch of pride.

Lucius scowled. "So the prophecy was true. You killed him."

"I did. And I had lots of help. And I didn't have to intimidate anyone or threaten them to do it or put a bloody Dark Mark on their arm. Do you know why? Because Love is the strongest magic there is."

"I suppose that old fool Dumbledore told you this."

"Don't call him that!" yelled Harry and Draco at the same time.

Lucius was taken aback.

Harry looked at Draco. "Well anyway. He did tell me, but it was proven true time and time again. It's far stronger than hate," and he looked at Draco purposefully. "And in the end, it was stronger than Voldemort. That's why I won. Because of love, loyalty, and friendship. That's why I'll always win and your kind will always lose."

Lucius put on his best sneer. It looked remarkably like the one Draco always used.

"I see. Well, Potter. You think you have won it all. Despoiled the Malfoy name by buying the property, marrying my son, and no doubt it was you who forced him into this unholy alliance with Albus Dumbledore. You've taken it all from me. We'll see who wins, Potter. We will just see." He stomped out of the portrait and disappeared. Narcissa looked after him with a shrug.

"You must give him time, my dragon. It's all…" She looked pointedly at Harry. "A shock."

Harry reddened and lowered his face. Draco took his arm. "We'll see you later, Mother." He took Harry down the carpeted gallery to a large door at the end. "That went well," he said under his breath.

Harry looked up at him. "I didn't know about the painting. I just had a look around downstairs and only the one time. The Ministry agent neglected to mention it."

"You really should learn to read the fine print, Harry. Though…it actually went better than I thought it would." He opened the door and found his suite almost exactly how he left it some five years ago. "Oh!" A large bed, twice as wide as a normal bed, even bigger than their own at Hogwarts, graced the center of the room. The bed curtains swept up to a gilt crown hanging from the ceiling above the bed decorated with more winged dragons. There were squashy chairs in green velvet and around a corner a full dining table.

Harry squeezed his arm. "Wow!" He stepped in and looked around. "This is your room? It's bigger than the Dursleys' entire house!"

"Home sweet home."

Harry shook his head in amazement and said in a distracted voice as he peered into alcoves, "Dobby found just about everything. I'll have you know that your personal things drew quite a price. More so than your parent's things. It seems you're sort of a celebrity."

"Oh really?" He wasn't amused. And then he began to wonder how much Harry had actually spent on all this. "We're not broke, are we?"

"Very nearly."

"I don't suppose I can expect any more Christmas presents."

"Not until 2035, at least."

Harry was smiling. He was probably joking, but Draco felt guilty all the same. He turned to him. "You really shouldn't have done all this. It's too much. And…and really. The Ministry took all this away for a reason. I was to be punished. You shouldn't have bought it back."

"Now he tells me. Seriously, Draco, you know I don't give a damn what the Ministry wants to do. Dumbledore and I both agreed that you had been punished enough. You don't think they wanted you to have a wand again, did you?"

"Well…I never thought much about it. Just thought Dumbledore…"

"Actually it was me this time. Trotted out my 'Hero of the Wizarding World' title and all; whined about how they'd said I could have anything I wanted. I told them I wanted you at Hogwarts. Course I didn't know you'd be offered the Potions Master job."

"That was really you?"

Harry had an odd expression on his face. Embarrassed mostly, but something else Draco couldn't identify. "You don't owe me anything, okay? It was just time for it to end."

Draco managed a Slytherin smile. "Because you wanted me, you ponce."

Harry smiled back. "Maybe."

Draco grabbed Harry's robes and slowly drew him in. His mouth met Harry's and raked along his warm lips. Draco licked his mouth before slipping his tongue in and took it in a fiery kiss. Harry responded with a soft hum of pleasure. Then he felt Harry's fingers at the fastenings of his robes and they slipped over his shoulders with just a little encouragement. Harry pressed closer, his hips against Draco's, and the Slytherin moaned at the feeling of hardness against him. He let Harry unbutton his shirt and peel it off his arms, leaving it hanging at his waist. And all the while Harry's lips never left Draco's. Their tongues slid over one another's in the warm heat, breaths mingling, soft moans shared. Harry's fingers dragged sensuously up Draco's ribcage and up the naked skin of his back. He felt himself tugged into Harry's chest and drew his arms around him.

"POTTER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SON!"

Harry threw himself back in shock.

Another portrait? Draco didn't remember another portrait of Lucius in this wing. And then he turned.

The blood drained from Draco's face, his head, his heart. There, standing before him was his father, a silvery, transparent image, wavering in the air.

A ghost.


On to Chapter Five
"Lucius Malfoy's Problem"

Back to Chapter Three
"Harry Potter and the Seven Horcruxes"

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