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After how badly the raid went, Harry was feeling like absolute rubbish. Draco tried to come home with him, wanting to commiserate and comfort each other. A pre-arranged meeting with Kingsley was the only thing stopping him from just apparating Harry home himself. Draco tried to convince him that Kingsley would understand rescheduling after how shite their night had been. Harry made the honest point that Kingsley was nowhere near as lenient with Draco as he was with Harry. Draco had made that face he does when he wants to argue but he knows Harry isn’t wrong.
In truth, Harry would love to have Draco’s comfort tonight to help him ground himself. They’d nearly lost the new recruits, shiny from training and ready to be broken in. Unfortunately, the collapsing charms left on the building had simply left them broken. And Harry blamed himself. He was feeling vulnerable and anxious in a way that only one thing can fix. And as much as he would love to have Draco, he knew he couldn’t, not for this. And he was grateful to use Kingsley as a valid excuse. The hard-edged hurt in Draco’s eyes before they parted told Harry that he was going to hear about it later.
Later he could handle it.
Now he could not.
Harry barely registered how he got home, clearly years of habit serving him well. He made his way through the halls of Grimmauld Place, barely registering anything around him. He had magically cleaned a great deal of the darkness from his inherited home but when he was feeling the darkness of his failure clawing at his skin, the dregs of dark magic tried to dig into the wounds. He made his way quickly but blindly to one of the two rooms in the house that was always locked. Even Draco was not allowed in this one.
The first room was Sirius’ bedroom, held as a shrine to Harry’s deceased godfather. Draco and he had sat on the floor of the room, talking about all of their shared darkness one night when they moved from casually seeing each other outside of work, hooking up occasionally to burn adrenaline, and began actually dating. The other was Harry’s current destination. He had difficulty calling it what it was even in his own head but there was no denying it.
This was Harry’s playroom.
No other person had ever seen this space and it took Harry a good year or two to build it once he finally put his mind to it. But now it was perfect. Well, almost. Harry wish he could share it with a caregiver but he didn’t trust anyone enough for this. Harry closed the door behind himself, feeling the specialized wards kick in, the magical paint on the walls taking over the door to make the walls one continuous forest scene. It didn’t hold the darkness of the Forbidden Forest but was patterned after the woods of Washington state in America. After attending a conference in Seattle there, Harry had taken time to explore and fell in love with the comforting energy of the Pacific Northwest. He recreated it here, with magical auras that will change the lighting depending on time of day or Harry’s needs. Tonight, it was a soft sunset.
He took several deep breaths, his forehead pressed against the wood before he turned blindly to the wardrobe. His glasses were safely tucked away and a pacifier was tucked between his teeth before he systematically shed his adult responsibilities and changed into soft pyjamas with puppy paws all over. Harry had hoped, for a brief moment, that Padfoot might be able to be a caretaker to him in more ways than one. Unfortunately, they had promised to discuss it more come summer, possibly exploring more when Harry turned sixteen. Bellatrix Lestrange took that away from him. But he couldn’t help the influence of Padfoot in the child accessories that he crafted and collected.
He cast a long term warming charm at the blankets that built a nest in the large crib in the opposite corner of the room and tucked his wand away with his glasses. Closing the wardrobe held a finality that let Harry begin the slow, difficult process of separating his mind from anything that existed outside this room. A deep breath and Harry dropped to his knees, crawling to the crib. No more responsibilities. No more adulthood. No more harshness. Only the softness of his blankets, the comfort of the paci, and the security Harry felt from closing the bars of the crib behind him. He curled up in the nest of blankets and stuffies, letting himself begin to drift, taking comfort from this safe place. As he felt himself float away, he could almost recall the memory of his mother cooing at him through the bars.
Despite finally feeling safe, a tear still slipped down Harry’s cheek as the echoing loneliness settled beside him.
*
It was hours later when Harry heard a buzzing sound that pulled him from his softness, the aggressive noise scraping against his fuzzy bubble. It took a moment before the buzzing stopped, only to start again. Finally, Harry was able to pull enough awareness back to recognize the sound for what it was. His mobile. As much as Harry wanted to leave it outside, like his wand, he knew he couldn’t.
One of the struggles of trying to find comfort in his playroom alone meant working with the stress of his job needing to contact him. A patronus couldn’t enter this room but cell signal could. And if he’s being called multiple times, something is wrong. If he had a caretaker, like a Daddy, perhaps he could completely let go, knowing someone could support his return to adulthood and buffer unnecessary interference… But Harry couldn’t let himself think about that, lest he start hoping.
He sighed around the paci still held in his mouth. He felt a bit less anxious but still dreaded unearthing himself from his next. His mobile had just begun to vibrate its third call when Harry finally grabbed it, stopping the aggravating buzzing. He finally pulled the paci from his mouth, keeping it tucked in his hand as he answered, “Potter.”
“Finally! I was beginning to think you’d splinched yourself on your way home!”
Harry pulled the phone from his ear, seeing his partner and boyfriend’s name on the caller ID. He should have thought to check. As much as he wanted to sink, Harry had to shake the headspace. Draco had no idea about Harry’s… need. And Harry planned to keep it that way. So he put the other on speaker phone and set the phone down to change into a teeshirt and boxers. He didn’t want to wear his uniform but he always kept an extra set of adult clothes just in case. The children’s clothes never left the playroom. Ever.
“Sorry, Draco. I was taking a nap so I didn’t initially hear my phone,” Harry answered finally. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. How did the meeting with Kingsley go?”
“Fine,” Draco replied, sounding stiff, even over the phone. “It really could have been rescheduled. Even Shackelbolt said so. I was calling to see if you’d eaten. I know it’s late but…”
But Harry sometimes forgot to eat when he was highly anxious or feeling self destructive. Harry wasn’t sure if it troubled him or warmed his heart that Draco knew him that well. Retrieving his glasses and wand, Harry left the playroom, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to return to it anymore that night. As it sealed, he admitted, “You’re not wrong. I hadn’t. I just… laid down. What time is it, anyway?”
“Half midnight,” Draco responds, sounding only slightly exasperated. “I can pick up some takeaway and come over, if you’d like.”
Harry thought seriously about it. He would like to see Draco. But he knew the other would want to talk and he’s still not up for that. “Nah. It was a rough day for both of us. Get some sleep. We’ll do takeaway tomorrow, yeah?”
“Harry…” Draco sounded as if he wanted to protest but thought better. “Yes, alright. But please eat something. Okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry says softly but teasingly. “I’ll see you at work.”
Before Draco could say anything more, Harry hung up the call. He really didn’t want to eat anything but he knew Draco would ask and he couldn’t lie to him. With a shoulder-heaving sigh, Harry made his way downstairs. At least he could make himself a peanut butter and jam sandwich. It wasn’t the best but it was something to hold him over until morning. He would likely be able to eat something better for breakfast. It was only when he got to the kitchen that he realized he still had the paci in his hand. He seriously considered taking it right back upstairs but paused. Having it out in the rest of the house made him anxious but he was already anxious.
After a long minute of staring at it, Harry popped it into his mouth, determined not to think about it and just taking comfort from the pacifier while he made his sandwich. He pulled it out to eat but immediately stuck it back in when he headed up to bed. He continued to suckle on it while falling asleep, taking the minute bit of comfort even though he was now in his regular bed, the one he periodically shared with his boyfriend. If he didn’t think about it too hard, the thought of having Draco here, holding him, while he sucked on the pacifier and snoozed in adult clothes felt like a specific kind of comfort that Harry couldn’t put his finger on. And with that comfort, he fell back asleep.
*
When his alarm began screaming the next morning, Harry was more disoriented than usual. He’d fallen asleep with the wolf paw pacifier in his mouth the night before and it was still between his lips. He had to fight the initial impulse to slip back into little space. He didn’t normally slip so easily but he also never took his little toys out of the play room. He’d have to put it away before leaving for work.
Clawing his way out of bed, Harry cast a tempus and immediately swore. He must have slept through his initial alarm. It wasn’t louder because he was tired; it was louder because it was the third alarm. Forgetting all about the pacifier, Harry dropped it and immediately bolted for the shower. As awful as it sounded, he thanked the survivor techniques of growing up with his abusive family when it came to getting ready quickly. He forgot to grab food but was out the door in only ten minutes. He could grab something from the tea room.
He was only five minutes late to the Ministry but Draco was an absolute stickler for being on time. He normally gave Harry an absolute earful. Since they started dating, that earful was usually accompanied by a perfect cup of tea. This morning, Draco just watched Harry shuffle in, releasing the warming charm on the cup on his desk without a word. Taking the reprieve, Harry sighed, sipping the still too hot tea.
“Alright, let’s have it,” Harry sighed.
Draco leaned forward, still wearing that vaguely concerned look. “Are you alright, Harry? Do you need to take the day off?”
Harry startled but set the tea down before he could drop it, looking more closely at Draco. He looked only mildly concerned to anyone else but the closer Harry looked, the more concerned he really appeared. Working with Draco for a few years had helped Harry to fine-tune what he understood about Draco’s mannerisms. And he was exhausted and worried.
“I’m fine,” Harry responds slowly. “A bit tired but nothing a little tea and maybe a coffee won’t fix.”
Harry and Draco had a long running battle on how coffee should be taken–black as death for Harry and flavored and sweetened to the point of cavities for Draco–and Harry fully expected his partner to pick up the usual debate. He did not. Draco simply continued to look at Harry. It was actually quite disconcerting. Harry almost worried he had the outline of the paci pressed into his face but he had checked the mirror after his shower. His face was fine. So what was Draco staring at.
“Er, Draco? You okay?” Harry finally asked.
Draco shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “Fine,” he replied, tone clipped. “I came in early and got the paperwork for last night’s raid squared away. We don’t really have anything lined up at the moment. I still haven’t heard back from the records department on the history of the Crowley estate and I figure you won’t hear from the Italian international office until at least next week so we’re still at a halt on the Thelema case. What do you say we go grab some breakfast?”
This time Harry was so startled he actually twitched. “Who are you and what have you done with my partner?”
Draco rolled his eyes, pushing back from his desk and going to the wardrobe he insisted they cram into their little office. He shed his Auror robes, shrinking and tucking them into his pocket, and retrieving a long peacoat that would blend into muggle areas better. Harry still wasn’t used to this shift in Draco’s wardrobe. “Come on, you wanker. I’m not eating the rubbish they have in the tea room. Let’s get something actually palatable.”
When Harry still hadn’t moved by the time he made it to the door, Draco rolled his eyes more dramatically, approaching Harry to remove him physically from his chair. Harry squawked in indignation but found his own feet, following the other man.
Tugging his robes back into place, Harry asked, “So where are we going, captain?”
“You have a real thing for authority lately,” Draco quipped, flicking his wand at Harry to transfigure his robes into a muggle overcoat. “I was thinking the little bistro two blocks down. I’m craving eggs and a mimosa.”
“Alcohol on the job? Now I know you’ve murdered my boyfriend,” Harry mutters just loud enough for Draco to hear the words and the smirk in his voice. Draco’s near snort makes it worth the strange look Harry gets for being crowded against Draco’s shoulder while trying to walk.
“Hush, you,” Draco responds, still looking ahead as they approach the lifts. “If you were running late, I know you didn’t have breakfast. And odds are you didn’t eat much or anything last night. So I need to make sure you’re fed. Properly.”
Draco added the last when Harry began to protest that he had eaten last night. He swallowed down his words, instead resting in the warm feeling of Draco wanting to take care of him. It began to round out the satisfaction he hadn’t quite been able to achieve the night before. Leaving Draco to lead the way, Harry simply smiled to himself and followed his partner out of the Ministry and down the block. The bistro was mostly empty, currently between the pre-work breakfast rush and the lunch crowd. There was someone in the corner with a laptop and headphones but that was it other than the staff.
Harry hated mornings that he slept in. Just because he could get ready quickly didn’t mean he liked it. He preferred to start slower, ease himself into the waking world. He wasn’t able to do that at home but the peace of the bistro and grounding energy of his boyfriend eased Harry back into that ease. He turned his attention back to the counter only to find Draco had ordered for them both and was turning to usher him towards a table in the opposite corner.
Harry valued his freedom and ability to choose after the Dursley’s just left him with whatever for the first eleven years of his life. Normally he would kick up a stink, bothered by the audacity of someone deciding for him, the headstrongness that made him a good leader and Auror. But right now, with Draco sliding into the booth across from him, knowing he didn’t have to think or make decisions, Harry felt safe.
“Don’t hurt yourself there.”
Harry was pulled from his rumination to see Draco smirking at him fondly.
“What?”
Draco shook his head. “You’re thinking too hard. Take it easy. It’s too early and nothing is pressing. Save the brain cells for the next emergency.”
“Hey now,” Harry finally responded. “I’m just trying to wake up. It was a long night.”
Draco hummed, suddenly more somber. “That it was.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring it down.”
“No. You’re right,” Draco quickly added. “Did you sleep alright? I know you said I woke you up last night but did you actually rest?”
Harry sighed, looking over to the kitchen where the staff were laughing and bantering as they prepared their breakfast. Still looking away, he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever really rested in my whole life. I’ll probably rest when I’m dead. Next time, anyway.”
“Harry, that’s not funny,” Draco insisted, leaning forward and taking Harry’s hand from where it rested on the table. They were close to work but far enough back to not be immediately noticeable from the door. It didn’t stop Harry from tensing slightly, concerned about getting Draco in trouble at the DMLE. Harry knew they couldn’t and wouldn’t move against him but Draco was another question. Years of a flawless record as one of the department’s best Aurors and he still had to be on his best behavior. And dating your partner isn’t best behavior.
Feeling the tension, Draco wandlessly cast a notice-me-not focused at the front of the bistro so it wouldn’t affect the staff but would dissuade anyone coming in from paying them any mind. Harry forced the tension to bleed from his frame, starting with his hand to make Draco feel better. “Sorry,” he muttered, glancing back at Draco.
“Don’t be,” Draco replied, waving off the apology with his free hand. “Seriously, though, Harry. I’ve been worried about you for a while. You’ve been on edge.”
“I can still do my job,” Harry immediately insisted, meeting the other’s stormy eyes.
Draco huffed. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying life isn’t only work and I feel like work is the only thing you’re focusing on right now. And that’s not healthy. You seem more stressed away from the office and that’s not normally how that works.”
Harry couldn’t hold eye contact anymore and looked down at their joined hands. He wasn’t wrong. There was a short time that Harry had a caregiver, sworn to silence, but then Charlie went back to Romania. He was only here on sabbatical for a few months but Harry had become far too comfortable in having someone safe to share his dynamic with. Charlie was the only person who knew about Harry. Before Charlie he hadn’t understood just how deep he could fall and how much good it would do him. Having that taken away, returning to doing it alone, had Harry crawling the walls.
It was put off for a time when Draco and he began exploring dating, flirting, and sleeping with each other. It met some of the intimacy needs that were vacated by Charlie but now, half a year later, Harry felt like he was losing his mind. Charlie had encouraged Harry by letter the one time he’d reached out to open up to Draco but Harry immediately dismissed that idea. The fact that the two of them had this budding affection was already a miracle. Harry didn’t want to push it and lose the only affection he had by making it weird.
“Sorry,” Harry muttered. “I’ll try to do better.”
“No, Harry,” Draco insisted, squeezing his hand. When Harry flinched, Draco gentled his hold and tone. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m not calling you bad. I’m just worried. You don’t do things by half and I don’t want you to burn out if there’s something I can do to help you, to support you.”
Harry nodded, still looking down at their hands. Draco may not have meant it to be but Harry’s fragile mind only heard scolding. He was worrying Draco. He was doing bad. Being wrong. Just because Draco was nicer about it than Uncle Vernon ever was doesn’t mean the message isn’t the same. Harry always had been a disappointment.
The spiral tried to continue but they were interrupted by food. Draco had ordered Harry a full American breakfast. He didn’t even know he could order that here. A training program in America had taken the two of them across the pond and Harry fell in love with the obnoxiously large American breakfast platters of eggs, sausage, bacon, potatoes, pancakes, and toast. It must have taken some creative ordering to get this little British bistro to put this together. The spiral was effectively stopped and Harry felt that warmth in his gut again.
He looked up at Draco with wide eyes. “How…? Thank you.”
Draco had already begun cutting up his own fruit crepe and gestured with his fork, “Eat. You’ll feel better.”
Harry felt the love and heartbreak that flooded his chest at that statement so keenly it nearly overflowed in tears. How Draco, who used to be so prejudiced, could unknowingly quote Remus like this and capture the same strict affection genuinely baffled Harry. But he once again obeyed and dug in. Of course Draco was right. By the time Harry had annihilated the eggs, half of the sausage, and started slathering the toast in jam, he really did feel better. Which was a definite plus. He still had a full work day ahead of him and needed to get a handle on himself.
They steered away from the heavier subjects for the rest of breakfast, instead discussing weekend plans. Draco was going to come home with Harry after work, hopefully burn off some frustration the good old fashioned way. He had lunch plans with his mother on Saturday and Harry had plans to take Teddy out to a quidditch match. He invited Draco along but upon finding out it was a Canon’s game, Draco had politely turned his nose up and declined. Harry figured he would so he laughed and rolled his eyes good naturedly.
Harry felt significantly lighter when they returned to the Ministry. He brushed his hand against Draco’s and smiled at him before they went inside, a quiet reassurance that he was okay. Harry knew it wasn’t a perfect fix but it was moments like this that he realized he only knew one side of Draco in school. And this side of him was probably still growing as he became a better man. Focusing on that, Harry could ignore how he felt that he was doing the opposite.
Upon returning to their office, Robbards kept them busy for the rest of the day. It was mostly clean up duty but as the magical exposure had happened in a crowded part of London it was all hands on deck wiping memories, cleaning up magical traces, and following the traces that remained for the second person involved in the altercation. The first was locked up in a secure ward of St. Mungo’s until he could be stabilized enough from curse damage to be interrogated on who it was and who had started the altercation in the first place.
When they finally clocked off and hung up their robes for the weekend, they both agreed to simply grab take out and curl up with some shit telly. They were both exhausted and knew they had time before plans the next day. After long weeks like this, they often took it easy for the evening and one of them would wake the other up with fingers or mouths during the night or in the morning. Sometimes the delay and mystery of how it would happen was its own form of foreplay.
Sure enough, several hours of crap reality telly later, they both collapsed together into Harry’s bed, only situating enough to pass out comfortably. Tonight, Harry used Draco’s chest as his pillow, legs tangled together, and Draco had his arm around Harry’s waist, his opposite hand carding through Harry’s curls. For all the shit Draco still gave Harry about his hair, the other knew he secretly loved Harry’s hair now that he could touch it. The blond would never admit it, though and Harry was fine with that.
It wasn’t perfect but it was safe and as close to perfect as Harry knew he was going to get. He had forgotten all about the pacifier that was nestled between the blankets. And he had no idea that Draco would accidentally unearth it when getting up to take a piss in the middle of the night. He was sleeping heavily when Draco stood beside the bed, pacifier in hand, too many possibilities and questions running through his mind to count. He only sighed in his sleep when Draco slid the bedside table drawer open and placed the item inside, resolved to not think about it until morning. Harry only shifted to accommodate his partner when the other finally laid back down, still holding Harry, but wide awake until morning.
*
When Harry finally let himself wake up, he relished in the slow warmth of it. He could feel that he was still wrapped around Draco and indulged himself, rubbing his stubble against Draco’s chest. The other man made a sound of discomfort but made no move to avoid it. It made Harry smile. Now Draco knew he was awake but opted against opening his eyes. Draco didn’t prompt him to move so he simply lay in the comfort, listening to Draco’s heartbeat and breathing. In his relaxation, Harry almost didn’t notice his hand that was resting on Draco’s abs slowly moving towards his face. When his thumb grazes the skin of his lip, Harry jolted, pulling his hand away. He instead wrapped it around Draco’s opposite side. Instead of cuddling his boyfriend, Harry found himself being pulled away from the blond.
He made his own noise of protest but Draco untangled himself from Harry’s limbs anyway, muttering something about the loo. Knowing the pressure of a morning bladder, Harry relents and frees him. At least he gets to enjoy the movement of muscles under skin on Draco’s entire bare backside. The scrawny teen had filled out while still being overall slim. There is more shoulder under his pretentious robes than the average wizard would guess. Harry still marveled at the fact that he got to touch that. And the week they’d had left him hoping those strong arms would press him into the mattress. Hopefully he could tempt the other into doing so as soon as he was done.
To his surprise, when Draco exited the en suite bathroom, he didn’t return to the bed. Instead he headed for his clothes which had been dropped on the floor the night before. Harry was suddenly awake and alert, sitting up, blankets pooled in his lap. Ignoring the goosebumps on his bare shoulders, Harry asked, “Draco? What are you doing?”
“I’m going to head out early,” the blond answered stiffly. “I forgot I need to run a few errands before seeing Mother.”
Harry’s mouth dropped, trying to find words to respond. He had to try several times before he succeeded.
“Wh—? But— What about—? I thought—“ Harry wasn’t sure how to express his confusion. “I thought we were going to spend the morning together… in bed?”
Draco paused for a split second at Harry’s words before turning the sleeves of his shirt right side out so he could slip it back on. He wasn’t looking at Harry. Why wasn’t he looking at Harry? Harry felt his shoulders begin to tighten. Something was wrong. Was Draco still mad about the raid that went wrong the other day? He had tried to talk to Harry the next morning and Harry hadn’t been receptive. Should he have listened better? Clearly he did something wrong and Draco tried to give him a chance to fix it. Maybe Harry had ruined this relationship before it really got going. And he might also now lose his work partner. Draco wasn’t his first, second, or fourth Auror partner but he was his longest because they balanced each other so well. And now that might be over.
When Draco finished buttoning his top, he finally answered, “Sorry. Something came up. I’ll talk to you later.”
He still didn’t look at Harry as he threw up a lazy hand and headed for the door.
Draco couldn’t look at Harry.
At all.
Was he tired of Harry? Did he want this to end? When he felt the wards ripple with Draco’s departure he found himself gasping for air. He couldn’t breathe. What started as such a sweet, gentle morning had gone so wrong. And Harry hadn’t done anything. Had he? Did he miss something? Last night everything was okay. They were laughing, kissing, cuddling, bantering. All was as usual. But between the night before and this morning, something happened. Something went wrong.
He could feel it coming but he couldn’t stop it. Since the war, Harry had become far too familiar with panic attacks. But knowing what was happening and how to stop it was different from actually stopping it. And if he’d really hurt Draco badly enough that he’d needed to leave like that, didn’t he deserve to suffer a little himself? Just like everything else, Harry has ruined something good without even knowing how. He hadn’t been kind. He hadn’t been patient. He hadn’t been smart. And clearly Draco was just done with him. But Harry didn’t know how to handle it.
His mindhealer had put words to it but he still didn’t always think of them. PTSD. Trauma. Fear of abandonment. Was it all in his head like she said? Or was it really that Harry would never be good enough as just himself? Black spots began to swim in his vision as the lack of usable oxygen in his blood began to become too much. His breaths were too shallow. He needed to breathe. No, not that much! Now he was coughing, choking on the air he tried to drag into his lungs. He wanted so badly to dig his nails into his skin and peel it away. Make the tightness disappear.
Harry stumbled out of bed, feeling the need to escape the blankets that just minutes ago were comforting, but were now suffocating. As he felt his teeth begin to grind, he knew he needed a paci. He tried to focus on getting to his playroom but was reminded of the wolf paw paci he had the night before. He’d slept with it in his room but did he put it away before work yesterday? He hadn’t. It should be around here somewhere. And that’s when he stopped breathing completely. He still had a fucking pacifier in his room. In his adult room that he shares with his adult partner. What if Draco found it? Not sure what else to do, Harry began ripping the blankets and sheets from his bed. He’d simply dropped it the morning before and now he desperately needed to find it. Despite shaking the sheets out multiple times, Harry couldn’t find it.
He tore his room apart for fifteen minutes, looking under the furniture, in the corners, and around the mattress. The panic threatened to crawl back up his throat. Maybe he was freaking out for nothing and he had forgotten he put it back in his playroom? With his fingers buried in his hair, he stared at the bedside table, wondering if it was still there, hiding under his glasses. The logic wasn’t there but the panic was. That’s when he noticed that the drawer wasn’t shut all the way. He always closed the drawer flat. He reached out with a shaking hand and pulled the drawer open. Sure enough, there it was. Sitting as if gently placed in the center of the junk that filled the drawer. But Harry wouldn’t have put it there. Which means Draco did.
Which means Draco saw it.
Which means Draco knows.
And that’s why he was acting so odd.
He must have found it during the night and placed it there. Harry almost couldn’t bring himself to pick it up. If Draco knew then that explained his reaction this morning. He was clearly disgusted. He couldn’t look at Harry because he knew. He knew. And now it was over. He was already freaking out about potentially telling Draco about his… issue. But it looks like he didn’t have to. And Draco couldn’t look at him. It was absolutely over. And Harry knew it was because he was a freak. It was his fault in the end. He didn’t grab the paci but crumpled to the floor right where he stood. And cried.
He stayed there for hours, only moving briefly to send an apology and cancellation to Andromeda and Teddy. He couldn’t pretend to be okay, to be the happy godfather today. He couldn’t find it in himself to return to bed. That was where Draco left him. He couldn’t find it in himself to retreat to his playroom. That was why Draco left him. He needed to talk to someone but he didn’t know who. Very few people knew about him and Draco. No one knew about his… issue. Except now Draco. And Charlie.
Charlie.
Clinging to the hope that Charlie would still be a shoulder to lean on as he had since he kindly called Harry out on being… a little. He didn’t even like thinking the word but he couldn’t deny its accuracy. Harry hauled himself to his feet and stumbled to the study down the hall. He penned a simple letter, hoping Charlie would be able to understand but no one else, even if someone else read it.
Leelee,
He hates me now.
You were wrong.
I’m all alone.
Leelee was the nickname Harry had given Charlie while in littlespace one day and it stuck. He didn’t sign the letter because no one else called him Leelee. He would know it was Harry. So he sent off the simple note with his barn owl, Artemis. It was a long way so he didn’t expect Charlie would respond for a few days but it felt better to have it written down. Even if it was heartbreaking and made him ache, it was put out there. And that would have to be good enough for now.
*
To Harry’s utter shock, there was a patterned knock on his front door later that night. Harry wanted to ignore it and continue his sulking, staring into a fire that didn’t really warm him. He didn’t get the opportunity when a silvery dragon fledgling came bounding into his drawing room. It bounded in a full circle around Harry before plopping beside him and Charlie’s voice echoed out, “I know you’re in there, darling. Let me in.”
“Leelee? What are you doing here?” Harry croaked out, his throat sore from hours of sobbing on and off. Harry knew the patronus could only carry a message, not open two way communication. Harry ran his fingers down the misty creature’s ridged spine before it dissipated. He sniffed one last time, pulling the knitted blanket from Hermione around his shoulders tighter and stumbled to the door. He pulled it open, still somehow relieved to see Charlie standing on his stoop. Some small part of him expected that he wouldn’t be there. But he felt a sliver of calm seeing his old Daddy in front of him. Sniffling harder, Harry cried and fell into Charlie’s arms, “Leelee!”
“Aw, darling,” Charlie cooed, wrapping Harry in his strong arms immediately. “I’m here, honey. I’m here.”
Charlie gently coaxed Harry inside, out of the cold night. The light fussing of the shorter Weasley pulling the blanket tighter around him brought Harry to the start of softness. Harry buried his face in Charlie’s neck, unbothered by bending down to the shorter man. Charlie slid his wand out of his sleeve and cast a weightlessness charm on Harry, allowing him to carry the taller man in his arms as if he really was a child. He allowed Harry to stay buried in his neck until they made it to the playroom, knowing he needed Harry to unlock it. Once Harry unlocked the playroom, he let himself completely let go. He knew Charlie would take care of him and give him what he needed.
The rest of the night passed in a blur of softness, lullabies, rocking in Charlie’s lap, and leaving behind the stress of higher adult thought. The world became small and soft, fuzzy around the edges. Harry felt loved and secure in a way he hadn’t since Charlie had left. There had been close moments with Draco but he left too. The thought of Draco leaving slithered back into Harry’s mind and he no longer had any ability to limit or control the hurt. So he cried. He fussed. He asked Leelee where Draco was and why he wasn’t there. Charlie’s face looked so broken as he tried to find the words to explain to Harry’s limited mindset.
“Draco just needs some space. It’s okay, darling. I’m here for now. We’ll go find Draco later, okay?” Charlie offered, unsure if he could hold to that.
“Does he… does he not want me?” Harry asked, feeling far too small for the emotions that were trying to suffocate him.
“There’s no way anyone could not want you,” Charlie answered, avoiding the actual question. “Now. I haven’t gotten to play with Little Harry in too long. Do you wanna play a game? Take a bath? Have a snack?”
“Can… can you make me feel good?” Harry asked shyly.
In the past, their ageplay was mostly nonsexual but when Harry got extremely pent up he would ask for sexual ageplay. Charlie was okay with it after talking to Harry outside of play after the first time. But he vowed to never bring it up. It only entered their play space when Harry asked for it. If he couldn’t ask for it or it didn’t occur to his younger mind then it was absolutely off the table. It was Charlie’s way of protecting and limiting Harry’s need to find the safety of childhood with his needs from an affectionate partner. They’d worked out a fairly good balance but then Charlie left.
“Are you sure that’s what you want, sweetheart?” Charlie asked, not wanting to upset the boy but concerned about where the request could be coming from this time. “Don’t you want to wait for Draco?”
Suddenly Harry’s face twisted and he began to sniffle again. Harry was hurting so much that Charlie wasn’t sure if he could handle it. “Dra-Draco left me. He dn’t want me. Woul’n’t look at me. ‘m no good.”
Charlie immediately began hushing the boy, pulling him in tight and tucking his face against his neck—one of Harry’s favorite places to hide. As Charlie ran his hand up and down Harry’s back, he offered, “How about we get you in a nice warm bubble bath. Get you nice and clean and then I’ll make you feel good and put you down for a nap. Does that sound good?”
Harry didn’t move from his hiding spot but nodded against Charlie’s shoulder. The older man nodded as well and shifted Harry to comfortably carry him to the guest bathroom. Harry insisted anything like bath time happen in the bathroom he attached to the playroom. He didn’t want to overlap with his adult room (as he’d now seen how wrong that could go with one slip up) and needed the ritual of leaving the playroom to stay that, a ritual. So Charlie entered the bathroom, Harry cradled on his hip (with a bit of magic to avoid aggravating his dragon wrangling injuries with the larger man’s weight), and began filling the tub with warm water. Just like the crib and rocking chair, the tub was magically enlarged to fit two grown men with ease. Harry liked to feel physically small when he felt mentally small. Sure, Charlie became a bit physically small as well but he was mentally big and in control of his magic. Harry never used magic when small.
Once the tub was full, the bubbles were foamy, and Charlie deemed it a good temperature, he stepped carefully into the tub and sat down, bringing Harry along to sit right on his lap. Since he was aiming to relax first, Charlie had the boy sitting sideways in his lap. Once the water started to work its proverbial magic, Harry turned away from Charlie, sitting between his legs to play with the bubbles. Charlie just watched, knowing he had missed this. He didn’t want human children but he was a caretaker by nature. Usually his dragons were his kids but there was something special about seeing Harry feel safe and carefree. And being the one to provide that space. Perhaps if things didn’t work out with Malfoy, Charlie would make a point of regular trips to have playdates. Clearly Harry needed it. He’d actually intended to surprise Harry at the Burrow for Sunday dinner the next night, having only arrived in England a few hours earlier. However, the nature of Harry’s letter didn’t let him stay away that long. And he was glad he could be here to support the boy.
Ron may have been Harry’s first friend in the wizarding world and the reason Charlie and the rest of his family got to know Harry but that didn’t mean the rest of the Weasley’s loved Harry any less. Well, Percy had been distant for a while there but the twins adopted Harry as another brother at Hogwarts almost as fast as Ron did. Ginny and Harry of course tried dating but were still kind to each other. Bill became a rock for Harry’s group during the war when they were on the run. But Charlie. Charlie came to know Harry later than the rest of his family but understood him in a way that none of the others could. Well, maybe his mum could but she was a proper mum. Sometimes Harry needed a different kind of caretaker. And finding that bond with Harry was special, even if they didn’t fit as a romantic couple.
The bubbles finally died down to a light, latte like foam and Charlie dove in to scrub the boy clean. He wanted to think of Harry as his boy but he knew that wasn’t right. Harry needed someone who was available all the time. Someone he could share his adult life with. Charlie wasn’t that person. They were friends outside of this space but no more. They had both considered it but Charlie was a Daddy, not a boyfriend. And they were both okay with that at the time. Now Harry clearly needed more. Once the boy was squeaky clean, Charlie tapped him on the nose, eliciting giggles from Harry, and asked, “Now, do you want to face away from me so I can have my arms around you or face me so you can touch?”
Harry bit his lip. Little Harry did better with either or options and best with straight direction. But maybe Harry wouldn’t be able to make any kind of choices today. He might need all decisions made for him to help him really know that someone was caring for him. After several long, conflicted seconds, Charlie kissed Harry’s cheek and maneuvered him to face away. If Charlie was reading him right, he needed to be held more than he needed to interact with someone. Gentle kisses on Harry’s neck and shoulder with fingers brushing along his belly and thighs elicited shivers that told Charlie he was right. Sliding his lips along the shell of Harry’s ear, Charlie whispered, “Let me take care of you, darling. Just let go and float there like a good boy.”
Harry whimpered but nodded sluggishly. Charlie may not be around often but he always remembered Harry’s softest places and how to make him feel safe. It was easy for Harry to sink back against Charlie’s chest, letting the older man’s arm cradle his sides, calloused fingers running up his thighs. When short nails scraped across his abdomen, Harry didn’t bother to hold in the whimper that echoed through the bathroom.
“That’s it, honey. Just let me take care of you,” Charlie whispered in his ear, scraping the shell with his lips and then teeth. “Such a good boy,” he breathed.
The words dripped down Harry’s spine like warm honey. This is what he was missing when he took himself to his playroom. This was the security that could only be provided by someone else. Someone safe. Something Harry rarely got to have or keep for long in his life. As that fleeting thought crossed his mind, he shoved it away. He knew he would begin to panic if he let that thought in. Instead, he nuzzled his head back against Charlie’s collarbone, earning himself a kiss to his hair.
As if rewarding his softness, Charlie shifted his right hand to ease along his slowly plumping cock. Harry’s hips began to hitch but the redhead quickly put a stop to it, his opposite hand pressing gently against Harry’s abdomen. He sighed, rolling his head against Charlie’s shoulder. He wasn’t aware that he was repeatedly whispering “please” as he did so. Charlie shushed him and took the boy in hand fully, easing him to full hardness. The pleasure eased through his limbs as steadily as the flannel that Charlie had run over his skin just a bit earlier.
Harry almost had to remind himself to stop trying to think but he couldn’t hold on to any thoughts for more than a split second. As the soft waves of pleasure began to spark, even the fleeting thoughts, both good and bad, were gone. His whines became louder and the water splashing against the sides of the tub filled his ears until everything crested. Harry cried out and then began to cry. He was overwhelmed suddenly by the stress and the pleasure and the loneliness and the comfort all crashing together. Charlie held him through it all.
He didn’t comment on Harry’s sudden emotional outburst. He held the boy until the cries quieted to sniffles and then set about cleaning him up again, carefully coaxing him out of the tub to dry off. Harry didn’t speak about why he started crying again and Charlie didn’t ask. After a cup of warm milk, Charlie tucked the two of them into the oversized crib in the playroom. Harry wouldn’t sleep alone and Charlie didn’t mind. They drifted off to sleep, Harry bundled in Charlie’s arms, as the soft night light danced in patterns on the ceiling.
He could deal with everything later. Right now, he felt safe and loved.
If only for a moment.
*
Harry would have skipped Sunday brunch at the Weasley’s if not for Charlie putting him together and dragging him out of the house. He shut down every protest Harry made, finally settling on, “You need to be around family. You need to remember you’re loved.” Harry couldn’t argue with that so he gave up trying.
And Charlie was right. Which Harry admitted aloud to Charlie’s ears only. Like he always was, was the follow up thought he kept to himself. The smirk Charlie sent over his mother’s head as she hugged him told Harry he knew it anyway. So Harry let himself be loved and coddled by his adopted family. He might be an adult here but he was also a son and a brother, even if he didn’t have the signature red hair or pasty skin. Which was where Harry left the metaphor alone lest his blush give away how unbrotherly his night with Charlie was and others asked.
Harry was able to forget about his heartbreak, spending the entire day at the Burrow. They had brunch in the mid morning, played quidditch until dinner, and then played silly games in the living room until the majority of the group tapped out for sleep. Only then did Harry finally go home with promises–or threats– from Charlie to check in after work the next day. After that reminder, Harry shoved all thoughts of work aside, making rare use of a vial of dreamless sleep to drop off before he could remember.
When Harry got to the Ministry the next morning, he finally couldn’t ignore the situation anymore. He wasn’t sure if he was going to enter his office to find an empty desk, a new partner, or a major fight before the other two inevitably happened. A sinister voice in his mind whispered the possibility of Draco spreading his secret to Robards, or worse, amongst the whole Auror department. He tried his best to silence that whisper like he did with the whispers of Voldemort back in school.
He followed his feet which knew the routine. From the floos, to the lift, through the bullpen, to his office he shared with Auror Malfoy. The door was closed but that was usually the case first thing in the morning. Draco was a morning person but that didn’t mean he was a people person first thing. He was barely a people person the rest of the day as far as the department was concerned. It gave Harry one last chance to pause and take a steeling breath. It also gave him a chance to bolt. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, however, he pushed the door open.
If he hadn’t been looking for it, he would have missed it. Draco tensed before forcing the tension from his form. He didn’t look up from the form he was filling out or greet Harry but there was a cup of tea under a stasis charm on his desk. While the cold shoulder hurt, the tea gave Harry hope. Maybe there was a chance that Draco could listen to him. He didn’t have to be part of that side of Harry’s life. But he really hoped he hadn’t lost the other completely over it.
“Morning,” Harry greeted simply, hanging his cloak and sliding into his seat.
A file slid onto Harry’s desk from Draco’s, just missing the cup of tea. “Robbards wants us to go through these shipping manifests from our last bust. Suspects there’s going to be more wares moved and reckons we can find a pattern in these files.”
Draco was often straightforward but hadn’t been this blunt since their first month working together. Harry swallowed his grief and nodded, not that Draco was looking at him. He gulped the perfectly made tea and settled in for what he knew would be a mind-numbing day of numbers and locations. He would try to talk to Draco later. For the moment, he was happy that Draco hadn’t demanded a reassignment.
They worked silently for the rest of the day, taking separate notes for the morning and switching to double check each other’s work after lunch. Harry had attempted to talk to Draco briefly at lunch but the other insisted he was chasing the tail of something promising and wanted to work through lunch. A trade of notes told Harry it wasn’t true but he didn’t push the point. Perhaps he could catch Draco after work.
*
In hindsight, Harry might have been a bit too optimistic after seeing the tea on his desk because the instant the clock hit day’s end, Draco swept up his things and bolted. It took Harry by such surprise that he almost got left behind. Draco sure knew how to cover ground when he wanted to. Luckily, a whole childhood of running from Dudley and his gang meant Harry at least had a fighting chance of catching up, despite Draco’s head start.
It was sheer dumb luck that Harry managed to squeeze himself past the people exiting the lift to get on with Draco. They were the only two in the lift, in fact. Which was probably the best possible scenario for talking so Harry did his best to drag up that Gryffindor bravery that Draco always teased him about. Before he could actually say anything, though, the lift came to a jerking halt, causing both of them to stumble.
Draco released a truly rainbow assortment of curses as he stared at the floor display, frozen around the Department of Magical Games. Harry couldn’t decide if this was horrible luck as claustrophobia tried to claw up his spine or perfect luck as now it was just the two of them and Draco couldn’t run any further. Opting for the later, Harry shoved his claustrophobia aside and focused on Draco.
“Please! Draco, can we just talk about this?” Harry begged, holding himself back from reaching out. He knew if he actually touched the other man before they got some kind of traction on the conversation, he would find a way to disappear.
“What is there to talk about, Potter?” Draco snapped, glaring at Harry who flinched at the use of his last name. “You lied to me. I found out. What is there to say? Sorry doesn’t cut it and knowing the truth doesn’t change the fact that you lied.”
“I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how,” Harry insisted, pressing himself back into the corner.
“Oh, did you? Or are you just regretting not telling me because I found out?” Draco hissed, pressing himself into his own corner. He would glance in Harry’s direction but never meet his eye. “How did you think this was going to go? Did you just expect I would never find out?”
“No! No, of course not,” Harry said, his arms wrapping around himself defensively.
“Clearly you weren’t all that serious then if you kept something so important from me,” Draco added softly.
Harry whined at the implication. “Draco, please. I am serious about you. So serious it scares me. I didn’t want to tell you about this because I was scared of this exact reaction. I don’t want to lose you. I… I can change, okay? I can be better.”
“This isn’t something you can change, Harry!” Draco yelled, seeming to surprise himself with the burst of emotion. He paused, letting the silence ring, Harry unable to say anything in the face of Draco’s volume. Dark memories began to creep over the back of his mind but he fought to stay present. The blond closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself. “I don’t know why you felt you couldn’t tell me. And a child isn’t something you can just hide or get rid of. They deserve better than that. And I thought… I thought you would be the kind of man who knew that. I’m frankly surprised to be so wrong.”
“A chi–They de–What are you talking about?” Harry asked, almost tripping over his words as they tried to rush out all at once. “Hang on, hang on. Draco, what do you think you know?”
Draco’s glare leveled on Harry for the first time since the lift stopped and the venom almost made Harry flinch. “Are you pulling my leg, Potter? The child you’re hiding from me? Clearly you had a kid with someone, maybe Ginerva, and you seem to think you can’t tell me about it. What do you think I’m going to do? Harm them? I can’t believe you think so lowly of me.”
Harry was shaking his head well before Draco stopped talking. In fact, the blond seemed to be working himself up into a full rant. Harry had to cut him off. He had it all wrong. “You’ve got it all wrong! I don’t have any kids! Secret or otherwise.”
“Wait, what?” Draco asked, finally halting his rant. He shook his head now, his face twisting in confusion. “But… I saw… Why…”
Harry realized the new corner he had painted himself into. He could let Draco believe this untruth he’d concluded. He could insist it wasn’t true but not explain, leaving Draco’s trust completely broken. Or… Or he could draw on every word of confidence and comfort Leelee had given him about this whole mess and tell Draco the truth. It was the only reasonable way to go if Harry wanted to at least try to save his partnership with Draco, his relationship might be a lost cause. But at least Harry owed Draco the truth now.
Now Harry took his own deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to gather up that old Gryffindor courage he was known for. Luckily, Draco seemed to be patiently waiting for Harry to explain. When Harry opened his eyes, he finally met Draco’s. “I’ll tell you. I was hiding something but it wasn’t a kid. But not here. Come home with me? I promise I will explain everything and then… then you can leave me, whether for the night or forever is up to you. But will you come with me and… and hear me out?”
Draco bit his lip, staring at Harry, clearly analyzing his face, his body, trying to understand Harry. It hurt to think about but he was probably trying to decide if he could trust Harry. The lift finally jolted, continuing its ascent to the atrium. Draco and Harry both looked up, following the lift’s resumed movement. When Draco met Harry’s eyes again, he gave a hesitant nod.
“Okay. But I expect the full truth.”
Harry nodded in response.
“Okay.”
*
The atrium was a mess of noise and people. Clearly they weren’t the only lift to get stuck. It seemed some experimental work had escaped the Department of Mysteries and caused havoc in the transportation charms before they could contain it. No further damage was done but it locked up all of the lifts and sent the Ministry into chaos. It was made worse by the anti-apparition wards keeping everyone stuck until the charms could be recast. At least enough to get the lifts to the atrium and emptied of their occupants.
When they reached the floos, Harry grabbed Draco’s sleeve, making sure he had his attention but didn’t restrain him too much. In his own mind, it was an awfully little gesture but Draco didn’t know that so he tried to banish the thought. He verified that Draco would floo to Grimmauld Place right after Harry instead of going home or anywhere else. Draco almost seemed insulted he would do something so underhanded but must have seen something in Harry’s face that made him pause and quietly reassure Harry he would be there.
With another nod, mostly to himself, Harry flooed home.
It was a stressful five minutes between Harry arriving, brushing soot from his robes, before Draco joined him. Harry spent every second of those five minutes trying to figure out how to go about this conversation. It was going to be weird, no halfway about that. If this was something Draco was into, like how he found out Charlie was into it, he probably would have recognized the pacifier as one made for an adult but he didn’t. So how was Harry going to broach the subject? "I enjoy pretending I’m a baby or a toddler because my aunt and uncle left me severely traumatized and this is the only way I can feel safe!" Yeah. That would go over well. Then again, if there was anything Draco could probably understand, it was trauma.
Harry’s pacing had left him facing away from the fireplace when Draco arrived but he paused when he saw the green light and the telltale whooshing sound. It took a slow, calming breath for Harry to turn around to face his partner. Draco himself hadn’t stepped any farther into the room than was necessary to exit the magical flames. He looked uneasy, almost more so than the first time he visited nearly a year ago. He seemed to be looking around the room like it was totally new. Probably looking for evidence of a kid that didn’t exist.
“Would you…” Harry started, feeling uneasy himself. “Would you like to sit?”
Draco looked as if he was going to decline but paused. Then nodded. He perched himself lightly on the closest armchair, not giving Harry the space to sit beside him like the couch would. Harry knew what he was doing and why but it still hurt. Everything hurt. And it was going to continue to hurt until Harry earned Draco’s trust again or recovered from his loss. Harry nodded to himself, taking the end of the couch closest to the other man. He didn’t try to perch like Draco had but he could feel himself do it anyway. Damned tension.
“Y’know, I had thought about how this conversation would go hundreds of times and I never came to any kind of conclusion. Lee–er–Charlie told me to just get it over with but this seems to be the one part of my life where that Gryffindor courage you love to tease me about vanishes,” Harry started, vaguely aware that he was rambling. But it really was rambling or silence and Draco deserved some kind of answer.
“Charlie? Charlie Weasley? He knows and I don’t?” Draco spat. Harry cringed from the venom but he now knew Draco well enough to know the attack was really a defense.
“Before Charlie, no one who knew me knew,” Harry answered in a roundabout way. “It’s not something I can talk to people about. It would be embarrassing enough if I was just some average bloke with problems but I’m not. I’m the bloody chosen one.”
“You’re talking in circles, Potter. Just spit it out.”
“I’m trying to,” Harry grumbled, frustrated with himself. “Do you–no. Have you ever heard of– Fuck! Okay. What do you know about kink?”
Draco’s eyebrows shot into his hairline faster than Harry had possibly ever seen. The dumbfounded look on his face would have been hilarious had the whole situation not been a mess. He finally repeated, slowly, “What do I know… about kink…”
“Yeah,” Harry said unnecessarily, nodding again. “I mean, not the normal stuff like bondage and spanking. I mean like… the weird stuff?”
Draco had to open and close his mouth a couple of times before responding, “The weird stuff. Potter, do you realize how broad the world of kink and BDSM is? ‘The weird stuff’ is a pretty broad descriptor. I’m going to need you to be a bit more specific than that.”
Harry groaned, shoving his fingers into his hair, pulling slightly to ground himself. After another deep breath, he looked at Draco again to see him wearing an odd expression. Like he was thinking. It was the look he got when he thought he found a lead but it wasn’t solid enough to tug on yet so he watched, waiting for confirmation. It both gave Harry hope and made him feel psychoanalyzed.
“Alright, more specific… How about power dynamics?” Harry tried again. “Is that something you’ve ever… played with?”
“I have,” Draco breathed. He cleared his throat before repeating himself. “I have. Both in healthy and… unhealthy ways. So I’m going to ask you again to be more specific.”
Draco’s tone dropped at the end of his sentence, sending shivers throughout Harry’s body. Okay. This was a good sign. If not a Daddy or a caretaker, Draco might very well be a Dom. That was a start. Maybe Draco would be nice enough to say, ‘Sorry, Harry. Not my kink. But I can put you in your place, if you’d like?’ Yeah, that would be something. But somehow, that sliver of hope only blossomed to feel like all or nothing.
“I’ve got… a thing. It’s an uncommon thing but… but it’s just me. Which is really hard, sometimes.” Great. Now Harry was talking in circles again. However, this time, that calculated look on Draco’s face only sharpened like it did when he finally caught a thread. As his face shifted, so did his posture. Draco’s shoulders dropped and he slid slowly to the back of the armchair, properly taking up space. He no longer looked like he wanted to bolt. He looked in control. And Harry felt his stomach drop pleasantly in reaction.
“I want to hear you say it, Harry,” Draco finally replied, studying Harry. Harry himself felt his shoulders hunch further in response. He felt naked and he hadn’t even actually told Draco anything yet. “I believe I know where this is going, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I need to hear you say it.”
“I’m–er, I–” Harry still had trouble with the words inside his head and now he had to say it out loud? Merlin, this was even harder than he expected. But Draco seemed to be in no hurry to say anything more. He was giving Harry his space but he wasn’t going to let Harry escape. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating and comforting. However, it didn’t totally stop the fear and anxiety that were creepy up Harry’s spine.
As if seeing it, Draco leaned forward, one elbow on each knee as he stared at Harry. His voice barely above a whisper as he said again, “Say it.”
It was as if they were the words of an enchantment because as soon as Harry heard the words, he said, “I’m a little.”
Draco nodded, his face unchanging, as he softly said, “Show me.”
Harry wasn’t entirely sure what Draco meant by that but he figured, in for a knut, in for a galleon. Draco had already heard the worst and didn’t even blink. So Harry shakily pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door to the rest of the house. He looked back to see if Draco was following and was shocked to find the other man right behind him. He jumped slightly but Draco simply paused, holding a hand out to indicate that Harry should continue. With another nod to himself, Harry did.
Draco silently followed him down the hall and up the stairs. His footsteps were soft but sure. Upon reaching the third floor where his bedroom was, Harry felt the trembling begin again. He still had the chance to turn into his bedroom and pull out the pacifier that he’d left untouched in his side drawer. He was sure Draco would take that and the admission that it belonged to Harry, not his offspring, as admission enough. But for all the anxiety and fear, Harry knew if he was going to do this, it was all or nothing. So he passed his bedroom and continued to the door across from the guest bedroom Hermione and Ron used to call their own right after the war. Once he reached the door to the playroom, he found himself stuck, staring at the sealed wood. This was his last chance to back out.
“I always wondered what this room was,” Draco breathed, causing Harry to nearly jump out of his skin. He looked at the other man who was staring at the door himself. “After that first night I slept over in the guest room. I went looking for a bathroom. I figured this would be it but it was locked. I assumed there were some rooms in this house that couldn’t be restored, better off left locked up.”
Harry swallowed the saliva that was pooling in his mouth, nodding.
“It almost was. I basically tore this room down to nothing. Only after it was stripped bare, cleansed, and left empty for months did the dark magic in the house finally recede. It became the perfect room.”
Draco dropped his eyes from the door, looking closely at Harry again. He had a contemplative look on his face as he just stared for a moment. Harry began to fidget with the sleeve of his robe (belatedly embarrassed to realize they were both still wearing their Auror robes). After another moment, Draco again softly said, “Show me.”
This time, Harry was able to pull strength from Draco standing beside him, a steady presence when Harry just wanted to fall apart. So he took an audibly deep breath, steeled his nerves, and pressed his hand to the door. Draco’s eyes flickered briefly to the wave of magic before returning to Harry’s face. Even after Harry turned the handle and pushed the door open, Draco still watched him. He must have seen something because he made a soft humming noise and finally turned to take in the nursery.
Admittedly, if Harry had wanted to have kids, he likely would have made them a nursery something like this. The night sky with constellations accurate to his birthday were painted on the ceiling, charmed to twinkle like real stars when the lights were off. To the immediate right of the door was a bookcase filled with toys down low and children’s books higher up. Several floor pillows and an enlarged rocking chair sat beside it. Beyond the bookcase you could see the painted forest on the walls. Harry was very careful when painting it to be the kind of forest he saw in happy fairy tale books, not like the Dark Forest. An oversized crib the size of a twin bed sat in the far right corner. A counter holding a kitchenette was directly across from them. And then the door to the magically enhanced bathroom and the wardrobe were along the left wall.
Draco took this all in, not actually crossing the threshold of the room. Harry fidgeted all the while, taking in the room as he might imagine a stranger would. He’d never shown a new person this room completed. Charlie had helped him to set it up in the first place and Harry had not shared this with anyone since Charlie. He found himself nervous in an entirely different way now. Less concerned that he, a fully grown adult, was showing his boyfriend, also a fully grown adult, the room where he liked to pretend he was a child. Now he more hoped that Draco actually liked it, enough to maybe want to spend time here. With Harry.
Harry could feel his cheeks heating up at the thought. He was clearly getting carried away with himself. Just because Draco hadn’t shown outright disgust didn’t mean he was interested. But he hadn’t walked away yet either. Why hadn’t he walked away? He didn’t go inside either. Why was he just standing there? Harry finally built up a bit of courage and looked at Draco. He was startled to find the blond looking at him, not the nursery. Harry’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to ask… something but Draco beat him to it.
“Would you show me around?”
Now Harry visibly startled. Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. But he closed his mouth, nodded, and stepped into the nursery. He started broadly, showing Draco the en suite bathroom, the kitchenette loaded with snacks, his books and toys. By the time he was showing Draco his wardrobe where he had a special place to put away his adult clothes out of sight and the soft made-for-adults toddler clothes and pacis and other soft items he had, he was holding the other man’s hand, pulling him around like an excited child might actually show their room to an adult.
When he got to the spot where the paw print paci should be, he remembered it was still in his room. He whined, unhappy that it wasn’t there. He wanted to go get it and put it back but he didn’t want to leave Draco. His fingers tightened on Draco’s as he found himself torn. He’d been so proud of the particular set it came from that to show it to Draco with the set incomplete just wouldn’t do. He huffed and felt himself begin to pout when a hand came up and dropped onto his head, sliding into his unruly curls. Harry looked up in surprise. Somehow having forgotten about Draco despite his presence being the entire point. His cheeks must have been red with how hot his face felt.
“You don’t usually take anything from this room into the rest of the house, eh?” Draco asked kindly. Harry shook his head, adult thoughts of shame trying to crowd their way back in. “Well, shall we go retrieve that paci so your set can be complete again?” Harry nodded, completely oblivious to sticking his free thumb in his mouth but unwilling to remove it once it was there. Draco smiled softly. “Alright. Is it still in the side drawer?” Harry nodded again. “Well then, let’s go get it.”
Draco led Harry from the nursery, seeming completely fine with having his grown boyfriend clutching onto him and sucking his thumb. In Harry’s adult room, Draco went to the drawer and retrieved the paw print pacifier. He seemed to be looking at it differently now. The fears of judgment and rejection almost made Harry drop Draco’s hand but he didn’t get the chance before Draco was tugging him back to the nursery. He didn’t stop at the wardrobe to drop the pacifier off like Harry expected but instead went to the kitchenette’s sink. He untangled Harry’s hand from his, shifting his hand to grip Draco’s robe before Harry could even fully vocalize his whine. Harry cut off when he realized Draco wasn’t letting him go, just freeing his hands to wash the pacifier. Once it was set in the drying rack, Draco dried his hands and took Harry’s again.
Now, standing in the middle of the nursery, Draco turned his entire body and attention back to Harry. Somehow, it felt like judgment time. But Harry wasn’t quite as scared about it. All the little gestures of the last half hour had lulled Harry’s fears. The question now was simple: Was Draco simply kind and accepting? Or was Draco interested and accepting? It seemed a dramatic breakup and vehement disgust were no longer expected reactions so Harry’s nerves had eased slightly. Although, that might be in part the Pavlovian reaction to being in this room. Harry felt himself becoming smaller the longer they were in here. And Draco’s kind actions and reactions only egged it on.
Draco still looked at Harry but his gaze softened, his free hand came up to cup Harry’s cheek. The gesture was familiar but somehow altogether new. Harry’s eyes closed for a brief moment as he leaned into that touch before opening them to look at Draco again. He still needed something more from Draco to really tell him this was okay, to tell him what he thought of it all. Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long.
“You’ve been so stressed out, haven’t you, little one?” Draco said softly, less of a question and more of an observation. “I think I understand a little better now. I see why you didn’t tell me. I wish you did but I understand. It’s okay.”
Harry felt more than heard himself whining into his thumb. This was far too perfect. Draco shushed his whining, pulling him closer to press their foreheads together. Harry let his eyes close and kept them closed as he relished in the warmth of the other man. Maybe this would all work out after all.
“Come here, mon chere,” Draco breathed, pulling Harry into a one armed hug that buried Harry’s face in Draco’s chest. Their left and right hands were still clasped but Draco used his free hand to rub across Harry’s shoulders and down his back. The touch was comforting. Harry hummed his contentment. “I’m so sorry you were so scared. I see now. But it’s alright. I’m here.”
Those last two words struck a strong chord in Harry and he freed both of his hands to wrap around Draco’s back, clutching at his robe as he tried to burrow his face deeper into Draco’s chest. He was sure his glasses were going to be smudged something awful after this but he didn’t care. The closeness and safety of being held, especially by Draco, was all he needed.
It was some time later (time that Harry was unable to quantify in the soft place he found his mind) that Draco pulled back to look at Harry in the eye. He kept a firm hand on the back of his neck and used the other to cup his cheek again. “Now, love. We have options. Do you think you can do options right now?”
Only later looking back would Harry realize that Draco did understand the little headspace better than possibly even Harry himself did with just that question. In the moment, Harry nodded, although it was sluggish.
“It’s been a big day with big emotions. So I’m going to give you three options and I want you to listen to them all before trying to decide, okay?” Another slow nod. “Option one, we leave it here. We say good night, I go home, we both rest, and I’ll see you in the morning. Hey now!” Draco softly chided when Harry began to whine already. “Hear me out. Option two, I help bring you up, we order in, and have a conversation about what this means for you and for us. Option three, you keep the safe space you’re in right now and I can indulge you tonight but we need to talk later. I won’t do more than cuddles, maybe a book, without talking about this in big space, alright?”
Harry felt his face scrunch up. There were too many words. But now that his anxiety had soothed, he was able to think a little better and understood the choices. Draco chuckled while he thought and pulled off his glasses, setting them on the counter near the paw print paci. The gesture made Harry smile. Removing his glasses often let his headspace shrink but the familiar gesture of his boyfriend did the opposite in that moment.
A deep, far too adult sigh wound its way out of Harry’s chest before he answered, “Talk.”
Now it was Draco’s turn to nod. He picked up Harry’s glasses, slipping them into his pocket, and pulled the brunet towards the nursery door. He didn’t drag Harry through it but he clearly recognized the barrier for what it was. By staging near the door, it signaled to Harry’s mind, no matter the age space, that they were leaving little behind for now. They stood silently with their foreheads pressed together, breathing in sync, as Harry felt himself settle. It wasn’t a full drop but he felt the complexities of adult thinking slowly return. After several minutes it was Harry who straightened up, holding Draco’s eye straight on for the first time possibly all day.
Draco smiled and took Harry by the hand, leading him downstairs, so differently from how he’d led him before despite the similar gesture. They ordered in and drank tea. They talked. Harry shared how he’d found the lifestyle by accident and couldn’t loosen it from his brain once it was there. Draco shared how it was actually fairly common in Slytherin house to have various dynamic kinks, often born out of toxic home situations. Harry shared how Charlie–or rather, Leelee–was the only caretaker he’d really had. Draco shared how he knew about ddlb but had never actually engaged in it directly. He did however indulge in a lot of online reading courtesy of Pansy and her muggle mobile. That had made Harry laugh.
There were also questions. Did Draco want to be involved in… this? Yes, Harry. I’d be honored to be your Daddy if you’ll have me. Was it ever a sexual dynamic for Harry? Sometimes. It really depended on the day. For all he knew, their dynamic would be something new. Were there any hard limits to discuss? Oh yes. On both sides. Even without getting deep into why Harry felt he’d never really gotten to be a child after his parents passed or Draco’s aversion to the word Father, but didn’t mind Daddy, they knew enough of each other to have a surface understanding. They would get there eventually. Just not yet.
They went to bed curled together in Harry’s bed like they had many times before but it felt different this time. There was a new layer of security and comfort. If Draco was a bit more tender with Harry than usual, neither of them felt the need to acknowledge it. There were still more conversations to be had but at least Harry hadn’t lost Draco. In fact, he had him more than ever now. And that was a freeing thought. He fell asleep, tucked under Draco’s arm, with thoughts of all they could do now floating through his mind. Like clouds, they were soft, beautiful, and didn’t stay for long. It was the best sleep Harry had gotten in longer than he could remember.
The next day, Harry sent Charlie a short note. It once again wouldn’t make sense to anyone but the two of them but this time it wasn’t encoded out of a need for secrecy. There just weren’t many words needed for what Harry needed to say.
Leelee,
You were right.