Author's notes: Thank's for reading! This is my first ever published Fanfiction story and I'll try to keep it update regularly, depends where the plot bunnies take me.

Hello - Normal Text

"Hello" - Speech

Hello - Dream or Flashback

'hello' - Thoughts

$hello$ - Parseltongue

Prologue

Harry opened the door to his apartment and slammed it behind him, pulling his red and gold Gryffindor scarf off to tie it around the coat stand alongside the long black coat and green scarf that already resided there.

From in the other room the scent of tomato sauce and meatballs wafted through to his nose and his mouth lifted up into a smile, instantly brightening his day.

He walked slowly into the room, his Auror regulation shoes made very little noise on the floor making them perfect for covert operations. He crept up behind the familiar body standing in front of the stove and wrapped his arms around the slightly shorter male, resting his chin on the mans' shoulder and breathing in the scent of honey in his blond hair.

"You're home early"

He reached over and dipped his finger in the pasta sauce that the man had been stirring and licked it off. "Shacklebolt let me off early after I finished my paperwork. You made my favourite."

Draco smiled warmly, "You made mine last night, so I thought I'd return the favour. There's wine open on the side if you want to get a glass."

He drifted over to the other side of the kitchen and found the bottle of red win uncorked and sitting next to two sparkling clean glasses. He poured the crimson nectar and lifted up the bottle for closer examination, he recognised it as a gift he'd given Draco for their anniversary about a month ago. "Are we celebrating something?"

He looked over to see Draco plating the spaghetti and putting both plates on the table either side of an old candelabra they'd salvaged from Godric's Hollow. They'd visited a few years back on Halloween, "For closure" his husband had said, and in between crying they'd managed to commandeer some of his parents' old things for keepsakes. The candelabra took pride of place in the kitchen, much like the painting of the stag over his mantelpiece.

"Yes actually. I've been promoted in the Unspeakables, turns out my research into the origin of magic were very useful and much appreciated."

Harry took a long sip of the wine and smiled at his husband fondly, "The squib-muggleborn theory, right?" He received a nod. "My husbands a genius".

Draco's features took on a snooty air that wouldn't look out of place on any of his Slytherin ancestors, "Malfoy's are always geniuses Potter. You shouldn't expect anything less".

"And Malfoy-Potter's?"

Draco smirked slyly, "Reckless over-emotional geniuses with hero complexes." He snorted in his food, "I suppose that applies to you too then?"

The blond raised an eyebrow, "You live with a person for 6 years and you pick up on some of their mannerisms. You've brain washed me Potter, you'll be hearing from my lawyer I expect. I imagine the reporters would have a field day with this". His voice took on a tone similar to that of a stereotypical news reader, "Breaking News, Man-Who-Conquered: Sexy Stallion or Love Potion Connoisseur? Rita Skeeter tells all."

Harry smiled, "And anybody who went to Hogwarts would tell them I'm absolutely shit at potions, I wouldn't exactly call myself an expert".

"Don't pretend you haven't read all of my books". "You have no proof."

Draco smirked, "You make notes, all over the margins. People would know it was your writing from a mile away, nobody else in the world is that useless with a quill."

"You try writing with a biro for 7 years then being handed a feather. It isn't all that easy".

He was given a blank stare, "You've been in the wizarding world for 15 years. It doesn't take that long to learn how to write with a…feather…"

Harry took another bite from his dinner, "Can't teach an old dog new tricks".

It was later in the evening, Harry and Draco were curled up on the sofa together watching a movie on the muggle TV. The young Malfoy had been reluctant to install it at first but soon came to love the device, often being found in his pyjamas late at night watching Dramas and Soap Operas.

Right now, they'd just finished watching titanic, a favourited of theirs and were finishing off what was left of the popcorn. The plates from earlier were resting in the sink and the leftover food in the pan was still on the side. They'd sort it out in the morning, for now it was time to relax.

Harry was studying the wedding ring on his finger intently, it was a simple golden band with green and silver gems. At first, he's complained a bit when seeing the strictly Slytherin colours but after recognising them to be the exact same shade as both of their eyes, he'd promptly fell in love. The stunning emerald green of his mother and the shining moonlight silver that he'd fallen so deeply in love with. The perfect representation of both his past and his future. It was truly beautiful.

"Can you remember our wedding day?"

Draco looked back at him with a mix between confusion and fondness, "How could I forget?"

Harry tangled his fingers in the soft blond hair and messed with it in a way that was sure would piss the man off when he went through his nightly ablutions later on, "I remember everything. Your robes, the way your eyes looked, the way you smiled. The colour of the flowers and the music. It was the happiest day of my life. But..."

The blond stilled beneath his hands and shifted round to face him, a scowl adorned his handsome features, "But what Harry? If this is the point where you tell me you regret this, I don't want to hear it."

He grasped the boy's face; his hands cupping his cheeks and pressed a soft kiss to the other man's mouth, trying to convey all of his feeling accurately. "It's nothing like that love. I just can't help that wish that…I wish our families were there. I wish my Dad and Sirius could've made jokes and played pranks. Mum could've taken pictures and Narcissa would've fussed over all of the organisation and the flower combinations. Remus would be there with Tonks and Teddy. And Fred…he'd be laughing and smiling with George as if nothing had happened. As if his twin's soul hadn't been broken in two alongside his own".

He looked up through his now wet eyelashes to see his husband in a similar state. "I would've loved that too. You're right, Mother would've been fussed way too much. She always took an active role in the Yule Gala's, I imagine she'd be much worse on her only son's wedding day."

They both wrapped their arms around each other for comfort. Draco smiled sadly, "It's all in the past. We both had to get through it and I'm glad we could do it together, to be honest I'm not sure I could've without you".

"Me neither".

Draco took a deep breath, "I've made far too many mistakes in my lifetime Harry…" he looks down at his left forearm where the Dark Mark was concealed by his long blue shirt. "Sometimes I wish I'd been smarter back then. That we'd both been smarter…"

Harry was lying awake that night staring at the ceiling.

It was about 2am and the window was open letting in a steady draft, to his right was the familiar lean body of his husband wrapped around his side. He smiled down at the man, so peaceful in his sleep, something that he barely ever achieved when awake in the aftermath of the war.

He couldn't stop thinking over their conversation earlier. He had many regrets over the war, the deaths taking up a large portion of them. Would he change it if he could? He looked down again at his husband. Every moment in both of their lives was leading up to this, to both of them lying her tonight. He couldn't forfeit that, could he?

Bang. Bang. Bang.

That was the noise Harry woke up to. The sound of banging wood reverberating around the room. In a second his Auror instincts kicked in and he reached for his wand where it was placed on the bedside table. His fingers met thin air and he tumbled forward from the shock. He was upon his feet again instantly, his body going into full blown panic. He was prepared to use wandless magic if necessary, it wasn't always reliable, but he could do quite a few things with it when concentrated. Ranging from small things like a lumos to and expelliarmus if he was desperate enough. He'd also mastered his native element, something that all wizards and witches had but few could learn to control in their lifetime. His was fire and Draco's was water. Opposites but complimentary.

He froze. Draco.

He glanced backwards, expecting to see the familiar double bed with its navy-blue sheets and silver trim. Instead he was met by the sight of a small, rickety single bed that looked as if it had been haphazardly put together at a scrap yard.

He looked around panicked as if waiting for his love to pop out of anywhere. But no. Draco was nowhere to be seen.

Something inside of him broke and he let out a sob. Was he dead? Had somebody taken him? What kind of sick joke was this?

Then his brain began to work properly, and he looked around the room slowly as if seeing it for the first time. Except this wasn't the first time. No, he'd seen this room a hundred times before. He recognised the wardrobe. The Chudley Cannons poster he'd received off Ron sometime at the end of his second year. His school books splayed haphazardly over the floor. In the corner of the room was a silver perch and on it sat a familiar silver perch and on it sat an owl.

A snowy white owl with golden eyes. Hedwig.

This was Privet Drive. He remembers his Hogwarts letter. The smallest bedroom… He stumbled his way towards the wardrobe and opened it up, stepping out the way as a couple of coat hangers tumbled out. Then he stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection.

He was shorter. A lot shorter. Not scrawny like when he was a kid, definitely puberty age he'd probably had a growth spurt since then, but it was a far cry from the tall muscled body his Auror training had gained him. His eyes as well were shocking. His sight was abysmal, he'd had it fixed at least 4 years ago to help his observation skills. Now he was wearing his old circular, wire framed glasses. The ones that were so poorly prescribed he still had to squint to read. It was at this point that the gravity of the situation truly began to sink in.

He was a child again.

'Well shit.'