19

What happened now?

Dumbledore was in a white coffin, the grounds were full of people weeping. Harry wasn't weeping, Harry felt completely numb. His hand was sat on his knee, Draco's pale one over it. Glancing across at him, Harry thought that he looked bored. Bored and a little nervous.

What happened now?

This was hardly the end of term feast everyone had been looking forward to. This was watching the merpeople come up to the surface of the lake and seeing Hagrid cry. This was seeing Dumbledore's body burst into flames and feeling guilty for thinking that was so typical of Dumbledore. He couldn't just go. He had to go with a shock and surprise.

But what happened now?

The thought kept stirring around Harry's head periodically. Every five minutes his brain asked him that. He still didn't have an answer.

Ginny was sat on his other side. She hadn't cried – neither her or Luna had. Hermione's face was buried in her hands and her bushy hair was hiding her from view. Harry noticed that Ron had an awkward arm around her shoulders. His own face was screwed up tightly against the sunlight.

Cornelius Fudge was here – looking miserable. Rufus Scrimgeour too, his eyes kept trailing over to examine Harry's face. He ignored him, gritting his jaw and looking straight ahead.

What happened now?

At the end of the funeral, Draco tilted his head towards Harry to whisper in his ear, "Rita Skeeter's on the prowl."

Harry glanced around, spotting her blonde ringlets and lime green suit in the crowd instantly. He grimaced as he spotted her quick notes quill floating in the air beside her.

"Don't tell me she's been staring too," Harry murmured.

"Oh, of course."

As if she could hear the two of them, Rita turned and met Harry's gaze. She was unflinching, her eyes examining how close Draco was to him. And examining the smirk emerging on Draco's face.

"Well, trouble – do you want to make it official?" Draco asked.

"What's the worst that could happen?"

He lifted their joined hands so that Rita could see them and found himself grinning – genuinely grinning at the expression on her face. Draco laughed aloud beside him.

But what happened now?

Harry couldn't think about the consequences of letting the Daily Prophet know that he was together with Draco – he didn't care about that. He had no idea where he would be for the summer. He had no idea whether he was going to be back at Hogwarts.

Sirius – in dog form – and Lupin had sat a couple of rows behind them and they stood now, the questions on Harry's tongue – when Scrimgeour stepped in front of him.

"Harry," he said. There was an edge to his voice and he squeezed Draco's hand. "Could I have a word?"

"Dumbledore said something similar in our first year, do you remember?" Harry said to Draco. "He said, and now a few words – and just said random things."

"Yes, that was his sense of humour." Draco's tone oozed with sarcasm and he rolled his eyes.

"I know, it must be a-" Scrimgeour paused, as if he was trying to find the right word. "Devastating loss for you. I think you were his favourite student, you know-"

"Oh, we know. Everybody knew." Draco said. Harry saw Scrimgeour's eyelid twitch at the interruption and despite the anxiety gnawing at his chest and the heavy feeling in his chest, he smiled. This was just like it had been last year. When Harry and Draco had danced around teachers with their words.

It was always them against the teachers. That had been Draco's reasoning for helping Harry out. It was just meant to be the one time. Harry was glad that it had gotten out of control.

"And I know it is not the most appropriate time to ask." He was still trying, the poor man. It was almost comical, because Sirius and Lupin had evidently sensed danger and were fighting their way through the crowd towards them. The grimm was coming up behind Scrimgeour and he didn't even know it. "But I need to know if you've given any thought to the proposition I gave you at Christmas."

It was ironic – Scrimgeour was the only one treating Harry like an adult – talking to him like an adult. He hated it.

"I'm not going to be the ministry's poster boy." Harry said.

"Right. Dumbledore's man."

"Not quite." Harry's mouth flickered into a smile.

"Harry." Lupin was there, stepping around Scrimgeour and putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, his other buried in Sirius' shaggy fur. "Are you alright?"

Harry nodded. He wanted to open his mouth and say that he was just having a couple of words with the Minister. Instead, what came out was, "I want to go home now."

He sounded like a child and he hated it.

But Lupin nodded, tightening a hand on his shoulder and trying to smile. He glanced at Scrimgeour as he said, "sure. If you'll excuse us?"

A range of emotions flashed in Scrimgeour's dark eyes. But it was a public place, and people were looking at Harry and Draco as if Rita Skeeter's article had already been written.

"Of course," the Minister of Magic said, stepping aside to let them through.

Sirius growled at him and Harry pretended to frown instead of smile. "No, Grimm. Bad."

So Sirius growled at him too and Draco laughed. People stared at him.

"Harry, when you say home," Lupin said. He was still next to him, still holding onto the scruff of dog Sirius' neck. He didn't have a collar – the idea was just a bit too strange. "We need to have a talk about that."

"I know. Grimmauld Place isn't safe anymore."

"It hasn't even been that safe this year."

"We could stay at mine," Draco said. "It's not like my parents are there and no one would expect us to be so bold."

"Lucius Malfoy has probably given Voldemort permission to use it as a base." Lupin shook his head, running a hand through hair that looked almost grey in the bright sun. "No – no, I've had a chat with Sirius and we – we're thinking of using my house. Well – well, it's more of a flat, really. But it's far away from other wizarding communities, but – well, I'm afraid it's going to be a bit of a squash."

"Well, that's it, then." Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "We can't go there – I can't possibly share a bed with Potter."

A smile flickered across Lupin's face. "Try sofa bed."

That did make Draco grimace. Harry, on the other hand, just laughed. "Well it beats the cupboard under the stairs."

"That's the other thing." They were halfway across the grounds by now, and Harry desperately hoped they would be allowed to apparate at the gates. "It won't be for very long."

Even though sweat had been trickling down the collar of his neck all day, Harry felt as though he had been doused in ice.

"What do you mean?"

"Only until your birthday, Harry." Lupin's voice was quiet. "Then you'll be staying at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley insisted."

"Dumbledore insisted I stay at the Dursleys." Harry stopped short, staring at Lupin. "But I stayed with you last year."

"That was different-"

"And I'm not going anywhere without Draco."

"Draco can stay at the Burrow too."

Harry looked to Draco. He stayed silent, his hand on his mouth as he stared at the grass, seemingly lost in thought.

"You used to stay at the Burrow." Lupin was frowning. "You used to stay there a lot."

That was different. That had been when Ron and Hermione had been his whole world. It had been before Mr Weasley died.

"I want to stay with you. You and Sirius." Harry said. He glanced down at those two dark eyes half buried by matted fur. "You're my family."

"I'm not, Harry."

"You're my Godfather's boyfriend."

"Harry!" Lupin glanced around, then sighed. "We'll talk about this later."

"There's nothing to talk about," Harry said to Lupin's back. He followed him across the grounds like a child in disgrace. "Sirius will be on my side."

"Sirius will sleep outside if he is."

There were a lot of arguments. There were arguments about staying at the Burrow. It made Harry feel like a brat – that he was sticking his feet in the ground on this point. He had never been this way and he wasn't sure what had happened to make him like it now.

But he had family. He had family and he didn't want to lose them.

And he knew Sirius wanted him around too. He could see it on his face. It would have been fine if there hadn't been that sadness behind Sirius' eyes. How could he leave him?

There were arguments about him going back to Hogwarts.

"You have to get your NEWTs, Harry." That was Sirius' stance.

"What's the point in getting my NEWTs if we're all killed?"

"How will you get a job when you go to heaven?"

"Sirius."

"I am."

"Snape will be headmaster," Harry said, finally, when they were having the argument for the fifth time, sat either side of Lupin's wobbly wooden table. "What do you think that will mean for me and Draco? What kind of people do you think he'd hire."

Sirius paused then. "You survived Umbridge."

"Oh, you're right. I forgot - and I must not tell lies, after all," Harry said. He clenched his fist on the table and saw Sirius glance at the white scars.

"Harry," he took a breath, tapped his fingers on the table. "If you weren't at Hogwarts, then what would you do? You wouldn't be able to stay here the whole year."

"Why not?"

"Because everyone in the wizarding world is looking for you. No one can be trusted, do you understand? No one. Anyone could be a spy. Anyone could be tortured for information on you. The world isn't safe."

"You say that like there was a time when the it was safe-"

"And you can't stay in one place for too long. It'll be easier for them to find you."

"So I'll just stay at Hogwarts all year round?" Harry snapped. "With known Death Eaters?"

"Snape was on Dumbledore's side." Lupin's voice came from behind them. He was leaning on the battered doorframe, his hair lank over his face. It was almost the full moon.

"How can you still believe that? After all he's done?" Harry's voice was hoarse.

"I have to take his side, Moony. Snivellus has gone too far with this charade."

"So how can you say that I have to go back to Hogwarts when he's there?!" Harry rounded back on Sirius. It was easy to be angry, lately.

"Because McGonagall will be there. That woman didn't let us die when we were animagi, she wouldn't let you die." Sirius said evenly.

"She was there the night he died!"

"Be reasonable, Harry. Where else would you go?"

"To hunt the horcruxes," Harry said.

"No." Sirius and Lupin said it at the same time.

"If you hadn't gone on that fool's errand with Dumbledore, perhaps he wouldn't have been…" Lupin paused as he considered the word. "Like he was that night."

"Destroying them is the only way to win," Harry said. His voice was rising now.

"Let the Order deal with it-"

"Every time the order deals with something, someone dies!" Harry yelled. He slammed on the table because his voice hadn't been loud enough to fill the space, then pushed past Lupin at the door and slammed the door to the spare bedroom.

It was more of a cupboard really, but Harry was used to sleeping in cupboards. His and Draco's stuff was piled around and on the lumpy sofa bed, leaving no room to walk around. They had to climb through everything to get anywhere.

The ceiling was so damp that Harry watched mould spread across it as he lay there, fuming. He hated this. This was what it always was. People deciding where Harry should go and what Harry should do. People deciding what was best for him. People not listening to him. No one ever listened, so he shouted. Shouting made people listen even less.

The flat was small enough for Harry to hear every word even when he wasn't in the room.

"Well, that was handled nicely, Padfoot." Lupin said, dryly.

"Yeah, because you were so helpful."

Harry huffed at the ceiling.

But then he heard Draco's voice. He had been sat in the living room and Harry now realised that he had seen him storm through the house like a petulant child.

"If we go back to Hogwarts," Draco said, quietly. "We'll be killed."

Silence followed his statement. Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Draco continued, "It was bad enough this year. And it's only going to get worse."

Another long silence dragged out.

"What would your mother say?" Lupin asked quietly. There was a touch of guilt to his voice, Harry noticed.

"She wouldn't be happy about it." Draco was completely calm. "But hopefully she would realise that my life is worth more than my education."

"We can't just let the two of you – just wander around by yourselves looking for these bloody horcruxes." Sirius said. Harry could imagine his hand running through his hair as he said it.

"Then that's not what we'll do. We'll leave – I was thinking Paris."

"This isn't a joke, Draco."

"I'm not joking. It's out of the country and it's where my mother would go. It's where she might be." There was a vulnerability to Draco's voice now. A desperation. "I'll figure out the details later. Right now, though, I can convince Potter to go to the burrow."

"Really?" Sirius didn't sound convinced.

"Do you really doubt me?"

Harry hated how smug Draco sounded. He pulled a textbook out of his back and faced the wall, pretending to read it. He could hear tea being made and a conversation carrying on like normal. It was ridiculously hard to concentrate on potions when he was clearly in the doghouse. When every line reminded him of the Half-Blood Prince and Snape and the fact that he wasn't going back to Hogwarts. He was never going back to Hogwarts.

When had that stopped becoming a soul-crushing thought?

What was he going to tell Ron, Hermione and Ginny? He couldn't do it in a letter. They'd all individually kill him. But he couldn't do it face to face. He didn't have the heart to look them in the eyes and tell them he was running away.

That's what it felt like. It felt like he and Draco were running away. If they were at least hunting horcruxes, then he could say they were doing something important. That they were fighting in the war and helping to win it. Going away to France felt like running. Running was not what Slytherins did. It was not what Harry Potter did. Harry Potter always stayed to fight. No matter what. He was the last line of defence. He was the first line of defence in most cases. He had let that slip two years ago when Voldemort had returned and he was not about to make the same mistake again. The wizarding world wouldn't survive if he made the same mistake again.

No, he wasn't just about to run away and go to France.

The thought ran through his head as he stewed there. He had to find the horcruxes and finish what Dumbledore had started. If it wasn't Harry, then who was going to do it?

The door to the cupboard squeaked a while later. Harry scowled at the print in front of him, but it was only blurred. It only just occurred to him that he hadn't taken a single word of it in. Underneath him, the sofa bucked and kicked as Draco climbed onto it, but he remained stock-still.

"Good read, Potter?" he murmured in a low voice. His mouth buried itself under Harry's curls and pressed against his neck.

"The best," Harry replied.

Draco's teeth traced up the sensitive skin on his neck and he could feel his hot breath against his ear. He clenched his jaw and Draco placed an open mouthed kiss against it. His tongue flickered out, giving a sharp lick down his jawbone.

"You're trying to convince me to go to the Burrow." Harry said, as Draco slipped a hand underneath his shirt. His fingers were cold against his skin and he clenched his stomach.

"You heard that, huh?" Draco murmured, his lips only just touching Harry's skin.

"I've gotten really good at occlumency."

Draco gave a breathy chuckle that made Harry's stomach flip. His jaw and stomach may have been clenched, but the potions book was tugged from his hands with little resistance. Draco dropped it down the back of the sofa without any ceremony, instead turning Harry's shoulder so that he was looking up into stormy grey eyes. The hand under his t-shirt slid up, resting just below his ribs so that he felt it move with him as he breathed.

"When did you get so sarcastic?" Draco asked and Harry smiled.

"Since always," he replied. He pushed Draco's hair back, because it was easy to forget that he was angry at him when his heart was pounding and his cheeks felt warm. It was easy to forget that he was mad when Draco was talking such a soft tone of voice. "Don't worry, you haven't been a bad influence on me, Mr Malfoy."

Draco's breath hitched and he hooked his leg over Harry's waist. His fingers splayed out on his back like a flower opening and he shuddered.

"No," he said. "You've been a good influence on me." He paused, looking over Harry's face with half-lidded eyes. "Mr Potter."

Harry understood why Draco had paused a moment – hearing 'Mr Potter' – come from him made his stomach leap into his mouth. He let his hand slide down the side of Draco's face, so that his thumb could trace the outline of Draco's mouth.

"And you're not a good enough influence to get me to go to the Burrow," Harry said.

Draco hummed. His other hand was on the back of Harry's neck, his thumb rubbing circles at his hairline.

"Fine," he said, his teeth nudging Harry's thumb. "You can explain to Weasley why you won't be at his brother's wedding."

"Why we won't be."

"No. I'm still going. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"No way."

"Way." Draco leant down, kissing Harry with an open mouth. He kissed him back, finding it hard to concentrate on the conversation when Draco's tongue was almost as the back of his throat. He slipped his hands down the back of Draco's jeans, pulling him closer. Draco pulled back, his mouth still almost flush against Harry's. "You can stay here though."

"Fine, I will."

"I think Nott is going. Maybe I'll slow dance with him."

"No, you bloody won't." Harry's eye snapped open just in time to see Draco smirking.

"But you don't want to go." Draco said. He ran his tongue over Harry's bottom lip in a kitten lick.

Harry frowned at him, tugging Draco closer by his rear with enough force to make him gasp. "I'll go."

"You said no."

"You're not bloody dancing with Theodore bloody Nott."

Draco chuckled. He kissed Harry, deeply and slowly. There was a sound in the back of his throat that made Harry's grip on him tighten. He laughed again, leaning his hips into Harry's and pressing his fingers into his back harder. The contact sent a burst of warmth through the bottom of Harry's stomach and he pressed back against Draco.

Quickly, Draco's kisses began to miss Harry's mouth, peppering themselves down his neck and onto his chest. It was all warm – warm hands on warm skin and warm mouths moving clumsily against each other. Harry wasn't thinking – he was just letting his body move like it wanted to.

Then he realised that his hips had been thrusting against Draco's, and that he had been thrusting back. They were short, instinctual movements, but they sent bursts of fire through Harry's groin.

"Fuck," he whispered into Draco's hair. "My Godfathers in the next room over."

"Your Godfather, my uncle." Draco replied. He pulled away, let Harry sit up and his shirt slide back down. His pale face was flushed pink and he crossed his legs as he sat. "I think you'd better take a cold shower."

"Oh, I had better?"

"Yes, trouble." Draco leant forward and gave him a final chaste kiss, before he pulled him to his feet.

And how could Harry argue with that? He doused himself in the freezing cold water until Draco's hot breath against his skin was a just a memory. Until the heat inside him had cooled down.

He was accosted at the door of the tiny, mouldy shower room. Draco had one hand on the doorframe, leaning forward to kiss Harry when he was still just wrapped in a towel.

"So, Weasley's wedding, and then Paris?"

"Bill's wedding," Harry replied. "And that's all the promises I can make."

Paris didn't seem like such an awful idea. In fact, it sounded like a cliché. A dream. Paris with his boyfriend was an obtainable fantasy. When Harry thought about it, he thought of thick, black coffee outside of tiny cafes, of traipsing around art galleries and stately homes. They didn't appeal to him, not in any way shape or form, but he knew that would be what Draco would want to do. That his eyes would light up even if he wasn't grinning from ear to ear.

He was starting to imagine finding a private corner in a gallery and pushing Draco against the wall. He imagined doing it there, but he only had a vague understanding of what exactly would happen. It sounded cool and exciting.

Better than traipsing around England looking for pieces of a Dark Lord's soul.

But he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if they went to Paris and someone got hurt fighting for them. If Sirius or Lupin died because they were hunting for horcruxes – because Voldemort was torturing them for information – Harry would never forgive himself. He would never forgive Draco, either, and that was a thought he couldn't stand.

Ginny wrote to him. She told him that she and Luna had thought it best to keep their relationship a secret. There were plenty of places in the Forbidden Forest to go to meet, she said. Luna knew them all. They would be safe there. It was brave enough to just be. Hogwarts wouldn't be safe for them any longer, she had gone on to explain. Luna's safety wasn't worth proving a point. Harry had told her that she had been spending too much time with Luna – that all that wisdom was starting to rub off on her stubbornness.

Hermione wrote as well. She was staying at the Burrow – Harry wondered what she had told her parents – and she desperately wanted Harry to join them. Just for a little while, she had written. Just so they could pretend it was like the old days. Just for a tiny while longer. There was a lot of crossings out at the bottom of the page, which was so un-Hermione-ish Harry wondered if someone else had scribbled on the bottom of her parchment. Especially since she had written 'I know you have Draco, but if you two weren't together, don't you think Ron is just a little bit attractive?'

Harry had no idea what that meant. He suspected Draco would laugh at him if he asked, so he just wrote 'I guess?' in response.

Nott was staying there too – Ron had been the one to tell him that. He hadn't wanted to chance going home – not with his father still skulking about with his wand ready. He was staying at the Burrow until Bill and Fleur's wedding, then he was off. He had mentioned some distant cousin in America, and he was flying there as soon as possible. He was going all the way on a broom if he needed to, but he wasn't staying in the UK.

That had annoyed Ron. Harry got the sense that Ron had wanted him to stay and fight.

Why should he? Harry wanted to reply. Why should any of them? He wasn't even seventeen yet and he didn't want to have to kill a man.

Seventeen. He was almost seventeen. He didn't like that. It felt like he was running out of time. Time for what? He wasn't sure.

He had insisted on having his birthday at Lupins.

"Because I've never spent a birthday with you," he had told Sirius. And begged and pleaded and made every promise under the sun to stay just a little while longer.

So he had gotten his way. They had eaten shop brought cake and watched a video of The Wizard of Oz that skipped every few minutes. When Dorothy was tapping her shoes together at the end and crying "There's no place like home!" Harry was surprised to find a large lump in his throat. He blinked furiously to hide his damp eyes. What was wrong with him? He never usually cared that much about this film.

This was home, he supposed. His home was with his Godfather, his werewolf-ex-teacher and his ex-Death Eater boyfriend. It didn't matter if they were in musty old Grimmauld Place, or a leaky, mouldy flat. They were family and home was wherever they were.

And he didn't want to leave it. He really didn't want to leave it at all. But he had to, one way or another.

He found Draco's hand and squeezed it tightly. Draco squeezed back instinctively, then rested his head on Harry's shoulder.

The boy who lived had to grow up now. There was the decision of Paris or Horcruxes.

And whichever he chose, he had to leave Hogwarts behind.

(A/N): So I have some good news and some bad news and I don't know the best way to do it.

I think I'm going to do good news first whilst I've still got your attention:

I'm going to be publishing an original novel on Tapastic. I've gotten far enough with my webcomic that I feel like I can juggle both as well as work and uni. It's going to be called 'The Prince and the Alchemist' and my tapastic name is S. - I'm putting the first chapter up tomorrow. (And yes, it is a fantasy novel featuring a gay romance.) I'm so genuinely excited to share it with you guys because I started the first draft when I was around 13 and it's come such a wonderfully long way and - ah! I really hope that you give it a chance and continue to support me.

So now the bad news - you may have already guessed this was coming:

There probably won't be a sequel to Hand in Glove/Still Ill.

Not because I don't /want/ to. Here's the thing: I hate Deathly Hallows. I hate their inclusion in the universe, it doesn't feel like it fits - it's just my least favourite Harry Potter novel. So I don't really want to write 100K more rewriting something I don't enjoy that much. I also don't have ideas past the wedding and the aftermath and I don't want to repeat what happened with this fic - where I wasn't 100% happy with the way it was going.

These fics are literally as long as Prisoner of Azkaban and that's crazy to me. No offence, my loves, but I'd love to put that many words into my own work.

(Someone did mention a prequel from Draco's POV to this and I might drabble with that. I'm more inclined to drabble with that.)

(Also I'm sorry that we never got to a sex scene. I did honestly want to try to write one but every time I did, someone on Quotev would remind me that they're all 12 and I couldn't bring myself to put it up knowing that.)

Thank you so incredibly absolutely much for all of the kudos, comments, bookmarks and views that both of these fics have gotten. When I started writing this about a year ago, I never thought that I would still be doing it and that I would be this close to all of you and to the series. It's rekindled some of my love for Harry Potter and it has just been a really incredible experience.

So, this won't be the last time I say it, I'm sure I'll be responding to comments with it, but-

THANK YOU. xx