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I have been in love with Harry Potter for a very long time. But we were both too thick to realise it until Teddy Lupin, Harry’s adopted son and my cousin, went off to Hogwarts.
But let me go back a little bit.
The first time Harry really let his guard down with me was when Andromeda died. He fell apart. I knew his grief was partly due to losing another part of his adopted family, but the reality was that he empathised with four-year-old Teddy. We had gotten close during Auror training and then as partners, and he had opened up to me a bit about his home life before he came to Hogwarts. I had known, of course, about the people he’d lost during the first war with Voldemort, but I had no idea he’d lived for so long with his terrible relatives. Then he’d lost his godfather, my cousin Sirius Black, and later Teddy’s parents.
My heart broke thinking about Harry, at the tender age of twenty-three, becoming a father, giving up his aspirations for a career, for a life, to care for a small boy so he wouldn’t have to grow up thinking he was unwanted. I mourned Andromeda. She was my aunt, the only living relative I would claim. But in that moment, Harry’s grief far outstripped my own.
I had hoped that Harry would still want to be friends, outside of the Auror Corps, and to my surprise, he did. I knew we had moved on from our contentious younger years, but to call this man that I admired a friend—someone whose presence had been at odds with my own for so long, but who was and will always be a better man than I am—was astounding.
When Ron and Hermione would volunteer to watch Teddy, Harry and I would go out to eat in London, grab drinks in Diagon Alley, or even hit some clubs. We were still young and I didn't want him to forget that he had a life outside of being a parent.
Watching Harry dance, watching the lights catch his dark hair, the glimmer of happiness in his green eyes, was more than I could bear. I fell for him and I fell hard.
“What?” he asked once, and I hadn’t been able to answer, my mouth gone dry, the words frozen in my throat. He moved on from the moment, but it was one of the clearest moments of my life.
I’d fancied him for years, but I hadn’t let myself take the leap into deeper feelings until that night when we were twenty-four. I knew he wasn’t interested in a relationship, so instead of doing the emotionally mature thing and working through my feelings, I immediately threw myself into a relationship with someone else.
Gathii was wonderful: kind, caring, romantic, and handsome. I did love him. I don’t want to make it seem like I pined for Harry during our relationship, but I will admit that the reason I started dating him was to try and get over my feelings. And it was a wonderful relationship. I learned so many things about myself and how to be a good partner, and what to expect from a partner.
Our relationship was the first adult relationship I’d ever been in and I thrived. We were together for almost a year and parted as friends, both having cherished our time together, but knowing we weren’t the forever partner the other needed.
I grieved the loss of Gathii. He’d been an amazing partner, someone I hadn’t ever quite believed I’d deserved. I became afraid that I would never find love again, but Harry was always there to comfort me.
And then, with my relationship ended, I started to pine for Harry again. I assumed my feelings would have faded with time and because I dated another man, but a few months after Gathii and I split up, they were back in full force. Only now I knew how relationships could be and I longed for that with Harry. But I respected the fact that he was a full-time, single parent.
He, true to form, seemed oblivious about my feelings for him, but I knew if I was a good enough friend, a good enough person, that would be enough. It would have to be enough, because I was not going to get in-between him and Teddy.
Later, when he came up with the idea of Amil, the boy pirate, I knew he’d found something he could do that would challenge him both creatively and intellectually. After only a few nights of hearing Teddy’s bedtime story about the kind hearted Amil who helped others, who had a heart so close to Harry’s own, and I knew other people needed to hear the stories. I knew Harry had something else to give everyone, a gift that would be something under his complete control, but something he would want to put out into the world.
We had a minor disagreement about it—we were still Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy—but when he agreed to let me and Hermione do the behind-the-scenes work, and when we sent the stories to Luna for illustrating, he agreed. It was, as I’d predicted, a massive hit. They were a critical and commercial success in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds.
Harry seemed genuinely happy in those years, writing and caring for Teddy in his little house in Devon.
Going back to my own flat in London had become a chore that I came to dread. I could picture how seamlessly I could fit into their lives. I already loved them both. But I knew it wasn’t the time to push Harry.
Several years went by like that, until at twenty-eight, Harry lost hope as Teddy boarded the train to Hogwarts.
——
“I need to paint the shutters,” Harry mumbled as we went back to his.
I looked at him, his stooped posture, the forlorn look on his face.
“They look fine,” I reassured him. I made some glib comment about making them less Gryffindor in colour, but there was no fire in him.
“Do you want me to stay?” I finally asked. Merlin, I wanted to stay. I wanted to hold Harry and never let him go. I wanted to spoil him with treacle tart and hot tea and meat pies and all of his favourite foods. I wanted to wrap him in a blanket and let him know that Teddy loved him, that I loved him.
But he wanted some time alone. And I’ve never been able to deny Harry anything.
I went back to my cold, empty flat and wished I was with Harry. I knew Harry had bouts of depression after the war, we all did. It was to be expected. But I hadn’t thought Teddy’s leaving would hit him quite so hard.
Then Hermione and Ron started planning babies of their own and that only added to his distress. It was like watching Harry during the final battle at Hogwarts. The life had gone out of his eyes, his face was always pinched and drawn. He admitted he was jealous that they had someone to love and who loved them. I wanted to beat my chest and scream to the skies that I LOVED HIM but I knew he still wasn’t ready for that.
I did tell him in no uncertain terms, that lots of people loved him and he had a bright future in front of him and he should stop being such a stubborn idiot. That last bit, I kept it to myself, but I think he could see what I was thinking.
Watching his cheeks turn red while he spluttered was fun though.
We kept up with our weekly dinners and then had our first row that actually meant something. In the past we'd bickered—we were always going to disagree—but nothing had ever been quite so devastating. I was just so fed up and tired of seeing Harry mope at a temporary loss. Harry was still in the prime of his youth, we weren’t yet thirty for Merlin’s sake, and he was acting like he’d lost everything.
The mention of a book tour was the breaking point. I thought it would be something to get his mind off his sadness and get him back in the world. He apparently thought I meant he should neglect his duties by putting his life first.
I stormed off in a snit, my pride bruised and my feelings hurt. I’d laid myself bare in front of him and he’d stood there, his mouth agape, staring at me. My tirade came back to me in perfect detail.
“You need to get off your arse and start doing things.”
I flinched remembering how lost his face had looked.
Then worst of all, “I’m tired of watching you sit here every day, hopeless.”
He’d flinched, his eyes had started to fill with tears. Because he knew it was true and I knew, as right as I was to say it, it was still cruel.
Harry Potter had made his life all about hope and being hopeful. From horrible relatives to a school where he knew no one, knew no magic, to defeating the greatest dark wizard of the ages, Harry had always hoped for the best. He’d always tried to move forward and do the right thing. I said he was mourning and I meant it. He wasn’t just mourning Teddy being away, it felt like he was mourning his future, something that should be full of hope.
I kept my distance the rest of the week. I checked in with Hermione to make sure he wasn’t sulking too much or worse, falling into a dangerous depressive state. She assured me he was fine, just sad, that she and Ron had mentioned he needed to schedule a visit with his therapist and he’d at least made the proper noises about it.
So I stayed away.
It wasn’t easy, mind. All I wanted was to gather Harry into my arms and reassure him that things would get better, that they would finally be OK. That it was OK to not be OK for a while.
However, giving Harry space and time to deal with his grief and sorrow was probably the better choice. There was no need for him to see my face and to hear my words when they would only hurt him further. All I could do was love Harry from afar and try to be supportive when he wanted to see me again.
Thankfully, the next few days went by quickly with work. I threw myself into my caseload so I didn’t have to dwell on my feelings for Harry. The nights were long and restless, but after the first day, I was so exhausted I would fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
Then it was time for the Magpie’s first home match of the month, a long tradition of ours. I had no idea if Harry was planning on attending. I wanted him to come. I wanted to apologise for shouting at him, for telling him truths in the most unkind manner. But I mostly just wanted to see him. I wanted to see if he’d been eating, if his eyes were still so sad and tired, and try and plan how to make them brighter.
But before Harry reached my box, I had an unexpected visitor.
“Gathii!” I said as he walked in. “What are you doing in England? I thought you were still home in Kenya.”
Gathii smiled at me and my heart fluttered in my chest at having that look directed at me after so long.
“I am here to invite you to my wedding, Draco,” he said. “Her name is Makena and we are very happy.”
“Oh, Gathii,” I said, pulling him into a hug, “I’m so happy for you.”
“And you, Draco?” he asked. “How are things with you?”
I let out a sigh and looked at him. His kind face had a few extra smile lines around his eyes, but he was as beautiful as I remembered. He also looked like a trusted friend.
“I’m fighting with Harry,” I admitted. “He feels alone and abandoned.”
“But he has you!” Gathii exclaimed.
With a small smile, I nodded. “He does.” I looked down at the floor. “But I’m not sure if I’m the right thing he needs.”
“What do you mean?”
“He needs someone to be his equal, someone he can lean on when he’s sad. All I’ve done is shout at him.”
Gathii walked over to me and took my hands in his. His face was serious as he said, “Draco, we all need different things from different people. I know you and I weren’t together very long and I don’t know Harry like you do, but from what I observed when we were together, I think you and Harry are exactly what the other needs.
“If you were just a pushover, someone who let him walk all over you, he wouldn’t be happy. You both need that spark that challenges the other.” He smiled sadly. “That was the main reason we didn’t work out.”
I bit my lip, nodded. “We were great together, but there was always something missing, wasn’t there?”
“I think you will have that something with Harry,” Gathii said. He looked down at his watch and frowned a little. “I am so sorry, but I must go,” he said. “I have some other people to visit before I head back to Kenya. But I will owl you a formal invitation soon.”
“I’ll be there,” I told him. “I don’t care what else is going on, I’ll be there.”
Gathii pulled me into a hug. “I’m so glad you can come.”
Then Harry walked in. His face went cold, empty. He looked at us both and made a very concentrated effort to smile. Then he made some sort of bullshit excuse and ran.
“It seems you are not the only one with feelings,” Gathii said.
——
I stayed at the match as long as I could stand. Which only ended up being about twenty minutes. I Apparated back to my flat, fuming.
How could Harry not see that I adored him? How could he possibly think that I was still in love with Gathii when I knew I wore my love for him so clearly on my face?
I Floo called Pansy.
“Have you actually told him how you feel?” she asked after we exchanged pleasantries.
“I didn’t want to pressure him.” I sighed, feeling my anger drain in that small action. “He has so much going on in his life. I didn’t want to—”
“Didn’t want to be an inconvenience.” Pansy’s face was knowing as she spoke. “I understand Draco, I really do. But we’ve made our amends, we’ve both changed. You’re already friends with him, you can tell him you fancy him without making it weird.”
“He’s just had such a hard life already. Surely he can do better than an ex-Death Eater.”
Pansy’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t talk about my best friend like that,” she said. “Besides Ginny says she’s pretty sure he’s halfway in love with you as well.” She snickered. “He’s just too dense to realise it.”
I ran my hand through my hair in distress. “He can’t be.”
Pansy made a shoo-ing motion. “Go talk to him,” she said. “You’re just stressing me out and I don’t want any wrinkles because you can’t get your life in order.”
I rolled my eyes at her. She’d done what she set out to do, and I was smiling.
“I hate you,” I said fondly.
“I hate you too.”
Then she moved, and I was sat with my head in my hearth.
Dusting myself off, I stood up and decided there was really only one thing to do. I had to go and talk to Harry.
——
After rehearsing a few speeches and eating a small lunch, I Apparated to Harry’s. His house was empty, but I made myself comfortable in my chair in his back garden. I let my mind wander, letting all the soppy thoughts come to the forefront of my mind. Imagining what he would feel like if we kissed, how he would taste. I lost myself in picturing our future together.
After a while, my mind turned to the idea of rejection. Harry could be in love with me too, but still not be ready for a relationship. And that was something I was going to have to live with. I would support Harry in whichever way he needed, but I wanted to be by his side. My mood soured as I thought about professing my love and having him reject it, either because it was too much, I was too much, or because he didn’t love me back.
The wind blew against my back and I regretted coming over without a jacket. The once crisp afternoon turned cold as my thoughts turned to all the bad things that could happen if I professed my feelings to Harry.
Then, suddenly, he was there.
Harry seemed to be as surprised to see me as I was to see him.
We went in and he apologised for storming off. He seemed to be under the impression that Gathii and I were getting back together. I barely kept my sigh of frustration in.
“He’s getting married,” I told Harry. I left the not to me unsaid.
I will treasure the look that crossed Harry’s face for the rest of my life. Seeing his face light up made me remember the first time I’d used magic. My heart pounded, my breath caught, tears came to my eyes. I couldn't keep myself away from Harry anymore. Staring into his eyes, I waited for him to do something.
“What do you want?” I asked.
He said he wanted to be happy. My heart broke hearing that, because that’s all I’d ever wanted for Harry. I loved him and I wanted him to be happy. With me, without me, it didn’t matter. As long as he was happy, I would be happy.
I knew if he didn’t want me the way I wanted him, I would be devastated, but I would ultimately get over it. I was nothing if not resilient. But he reached up, straightened my hair, and I stopped breathing. Harry’s hand was warm and rough against my cheek. He touched me as though he was memorising my face, as though he was worshiping me. I couldn’t help but turn my face to kiss his hand.
“Didn’t think you’d want this,” Harry muttered. “How did I not notice?”
“You weren’t ready,” I said, my lips still against his palm. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” he said and I couldn’t let him finish his thought. I had to kiss him.
The sigh he let out was like music. I pulled him close and coaxed his mouth open. Rubbing my tongue against his was like coming home. All the tension in his body left in a rush and he was suddenly boneless in my arms. But that was OK. I could support him because I knew he would support me when I needed it.