Dream Lover

A/N: If you have not read the companion pieces, I, Lucius by VL Red Reign or Choices Made, go back one chapter for the links. They are POV pieces that fit before the start of this chapter.

Dedication: This epilogue is devoted entirely to my brilliant beta, knightmare. I cannot begin to describe how much I have learned from her and how much she has helped me, so all I will say is this: Thank you.

Beta’d by Alisanne. Thanks so much!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


Harry watched Draco with concern. They’d just been to see the judgements against the Inner Circle carried out, and he was worried about his lover. He had tried to talk Draco out of going, but Draco had been stubbornly insistent that he be there. He’d met with his father privately first, in his cell, and then gone to the Veil room with Harry, bearing haughty but for the fact that he was clutching Harry’s hand in a firm grip.

Harry had to give credit where it was due; Lucius Malfoy had gone to his death with dignity. He’d speared Harry with a cold look, turned, and stepped through the Veil. Harry had tightened his hold on Draco’s hand then, but Draco had remained stoic throughout, his façade only cracking once.

Harry could have beat the insipid little Ministry sod that turned at the end and gave his congratulations to the “new Lord Malfoy.” Draco’s eyes had gone glassy and a fine trembling had broken out over his entire body. Unfortunately for the man, Harry had yet to fully learn how to control his new power and the bastard’s lips had been sealed shut. Permanently.

Harry shrugged these thoughts off, though, as Draco turned to him, a question in his eyes. “He’s really gone this time, isn’t he? He’s not going to come back. Ever.”

Harry’s heart broke at the lost tone in Draco’s voice. “Oh, gods, Draco, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, love.” And then he held Draco as he wept for his father and all that might have been.

~*~

That night a subdued Draco turned to Harry, and asked the question that had been bothering him all day. “Harry, why did that man call me Lord Malfoy?”

Harry blinked at Draco, wondering if this was a trick question. “Umm, Draco, you were the Malfoy heir. Everything entailed, including the title, went to you upon Lucius’ death. Surely you realised that?”

Draco nodded, and then shook his head, the events of the past few days taking their toll on his ability to concentrate. “I know when you cast the judgements on the Inner Circle, that you made them surrender everything they owned to the Ministry to be liquidated. That’s why I’m confused.”

“Oh,” Harry said, then shrugged. “Entailments, including things like dowries, lands, titles, all that…the Ministry can’t touch those. It’s old laws and old magic, but basically, the laws were set up that way so that no one member of a family could harm that family irrevocably. I’m sorry, Draco. I thought you knew that. What did you think would happen to your accounts, and your mother’s? Did you think those would be seized, too?” he asked softly.

Draco looked up at him, and nodded. “I did. I didn’t want you to worry about me, so I didn’t say anything, but I’ve been a bit…concerned about how I would care for my mother and the family servants and retainers.”

Harry’s face softened in apology. “Draco, I had no idea. Gods, I feel like an utter arse. What you must think of me… I’m so sorry. I really thought you knew about the laws regarding entailed titles and properties. I mean, you’re the only one I know who has them, so I just assumed you knew.” Harry scrubbed at his face with his hands, silently castigating himself for not explaining all this earlier.

Draco stood and moved to Harry, dropping gracefully to his knees in front of Harry’s chair and tugging on his hands. “Harry, stop blaming yourself. You had no reason to believe I wouldn’t know about this. Hell, I should have known that. To be honest, it’s not something I’ve ever really concerned myself with, because I never expected my father…” He stopped and drew a deep breath, willing his emotions under control, before he continued. “I never expected to become Lord Malfoy at such a young age. I thought I would have plenty of time to learn all this.”

“Draco…do you hate me?” Harry whispered, avoiding Draco’s shocked gaze.

“What?! No! Why on earth would you ask me that, you silly git? Why would I hate you?” Draco couldn’t understand where Harry’s question had come from.

“I killed your Dad, Draco. I may not have pushed him through the Veil, but I was the one who cast the judgement that made sure he ended up there. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry,” he ended on a harsh whisper.

Draco lifted Harry’s face, cupping it in his hands as he stared deeply into Harry’s anguished gaze. “I want you to listen to me, Harry. No, not just listen, I want you to understand me. I love you. You were placed in a horrible position, and you made the right decision. My father,” Draco swallowed and closed his eyes, the grief still fresh. “My father was not a good man, Harry. He deserved the punishment he was dealt. You and I both know that. That doesn’t mean it’s easy for me. Just because I know he deserved it doesn’t mean I didn’t love him. He was my father. But I don’t want you to ever think, even for a minute, that I blame you for his death. He earned that death several times over.”

Harry put his hands over Draco’s on his cheeks. “What’s going to happen to your mother, Draco?”

Narcissa Malfoy had not attended the Veil ceremony. Harry had not actually seen her at all. As soon as word reached her of the fall of the Dark Lord, she had started packing. When she found out Lucius was being sentenced to death, she had Owled Draco to let him know that she was leaving for France to “learn how to live again.” Draco had taken it well, but Harry couldn’t help but feel that Narcissa had abandoned her son.

Draco sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know, Harry. I hope once the shock of the past few days wears off she’ll come home, but for now…maybe France will be good for her. Let her remember what life can be like when you don’t have to worry about your every word and action.”

They sat in silence for several minutes before Draco softly called Harry’s name.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking up into beautiful grey eyes.

“We’re seventeen years old, you’ve just defeated a dark lord and gained untold power, I’ve just become the next Lord Malfoy…why are we just sitting here?”

Harry searched Draco’s gaze, before saying, “What do you want to do, love?”

“I want to act young and carefree; I want to run naked through the halls; I want to forget how to be unhappy; I want to remember how to love unconditionally; and,” he paused, a wicked gleam coming into his eyes, as he said, “I want to make like bunnies and shag all night.”

Harry let out a whoop of laughter and stood up, capturing Draco around the waist and heaving him over his shoulder, staggering a little before smacking Draco’s arse and saying, “I think we can take care of all those…starting with the last one first, of course.”

Harry had been given a set of private rooms after the Final Battle, his to use until the end of the year, or until he learned to control his new magic, whichever came first. He walked, panting slightly, into the bedroom and gently lowered Draco onto the bed.

“You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, expression going serious again as he thought of all the emotional upheaval Draco had gone through in the past week, not to mention the physical and magical harm he had been subjected to.

“Not yet, but I expect, as soon as you lose your clothes, I will be,” Draco responded saucily, giving Harry a lascivious wink.

Harry chuckled and started a slow, seductive strip tease. They hadn’t been together sexually since that night in the Room of Requirement, before Draco had been taken. Draco and Harry had both needed time for their bodies and souls to heal before they could do this. And now…now there was nothing stopping them.

Harry trailed his fingers over the thin material of his shirt, watching Draco’s gaze follow the path of his hands. Slowly, steadily, he began to slip the buttons free of their holes, breath turning slightly ragged as Draco’s eyes darkened with desire. He slipped the now open shirt off his shoulders, struggling a bit when the cuffs hung up on his wrists. With a slight ripping sound, it was off and on the floor, and his hands were going to his belt.

Draco sat up and licked his lips, watching every move of Harry’s hands. His chest started heaving a bit as Harry lowered the zip of his trousers gently over his swollen cock. Anticipation was making Draco’s gut tighten with longing. When Harry dropped his trousers and pants, Draco couldn’t hold in a soft moan.

Lifting a shaking hand and moving to sit on the edge of the bed, he beckoned Harry forward. When he was within touching distance, Draco ran his hands over Harry’s flat, taut abdomen before smoothing them up over his shoulders and pulling him down to the bed. His eyelids fluttered as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to Harry’s lips.

Harry opened his mouth to Draco’s invading tongue, happy to let his lover set the pace for this encounter. After banishing Draco’s clothes, he brought his hands up to thread them in Draco’s silky hair, a contented hum escaping him. When Draco drew his tongue into his mouth and started sucking on it, that hum turned into a moan of pure need.

Draco whimpered at the incredibly arousing sounds Harry was making. Breaking the kiss, he lowered his head to lick gently along Harry’s strong jaw and down the side of his neck, stopping occasionally to nibble and suck on the fragrant skin there. “I love you,” he murmured in Harry’s ear, before swiping his tongue inside the shell.

Harry shuddered and pulled at Draco’s hips, seeking friction. Draco made a short growly sound and grabbed Harry’s hands, placing them above his head with a little extra force that clearly meant keep them there. Harry acquiesced with a small whimper, arching his back, seeking contact with Draco’s lithe frame.

Draco grinned to himself and released Harry’s hands, allowing his fingers to trail ever so lightly down his lover’s arms to his chest. As his touch whispered across the sensitive underside of Harry’s arms, Draco felt a delicious tremor run through the body under him. Finding that rather interesting, he did it again, forcing a moan from Harry. With a decidedly wicked glint in his eye, he leaned over and traced a light design on Harry’s arm with the very tip of his tongue, causing Harry to clench his hands into fists and say, “Dammit, Draco, stop teasing me! Please! I need you.”

Draco pecked a soft kiss to Harry’s lips and said, “Hush, you. All in good time. I want to play first.”

“Sweet Merlin, you want to drive me insane. It’s all an evil plot to do me in,” Harry whinged, a teasing note underlining his words.

Draco pulled back and looked at him, face suddenly serious. “I was rather thinking you could do me this time. I mean, it’s only fair since last time…” His voice trailed off as he watched heat leap into Harry’s eyes.

Harry swallowed harshly. “Oh. Oh, yeah. But I want to try something, okay?”

Draco’s eyes were caught on Harry’s lips; watching them form words was suddenly highly erotic to him. “Whatever you want,” he murmured.

Harry waggled his hands, only moving them at a nod from Draco. Reaching up, he pulled Draco up his body until his knees were on either side of Harry’s head. Breathing a bit erratically, Harry looked straight up into Draco’s mesmerising eyes and licked a stripe up the underside of his cock.

Draco gasped and arched his back, head falling backward even as he registered Harry whispering a cleansing spell. His entire body tingled as the spell hit him, leaving him squirming just a bit. The sensation had been almost erotic in nature, and was made even more so when Harry’s grip on his thighs pushed him into a slightly different position and he felt the swipe of a tongue over his entrance.

Harry stilled his movements when he heard Draco gurgle. “Okay?”

“Yeah, oh gods, Harry, don’t stop!”

Harry smiled with wonder at the totally breathless quality to Draco’s voice. Screwing up his courage he licked again at Draco’s hole. He was rewarded by another strange noise from his lover and set about doing everything he could to pull more and more of the sexy sounds out.

Draco was panting and moaning and cursing fluently in three languages by the time Harry pulled away. “Why the fuck are you stopping?!” Draco nearly screamed.

“Because,” Harry said, licking his lips to savour Draco’s taste, “you’re so fucking hot, and the sounds you’re making are driving me insane. I want you, Draco. I want you right fucking now.”

Draco’s whole body quivered at the blatant need in Harry’s voice. Beyond words now, he just nodded his head, letting Harry know he was just as ready.

Unable to resist the lure of Draco’s body, Harry gave one more lick over Draco’s entrance before whispering the same lubrication spell Draco had used on him the last time they’d made love. A choked sound from above had him glancing worriedly at Draco and asking, “All right?”

Draco’s voice was a bit strangled as he said, “Yeah, but I think we should let me do that one ‘til you figure out your magic. I’m not sure we need quite that much.”

Harry blinked in confusion until he felt a glob of lube fall on his chest and noticed that it was dripping out of Draco. He couldn’t help himself then and started laughing. Draco scooted back down Harry’s body and grinned at him, loving the way Harry’s green eyes sparkled with mirth.

Deciding that laughter had its moments, and this wasn’t one of them, Draco captured Harry’s lips in a fierce kiss, bringing Harry’s attention right back where he wanted it. As they kissed, Harry steadily prepared Draco with his fingers, causing him to moan and thrust his hips onto Harry’s hand, the overabundance of lube minimising any pain he might have felt.

When Harry was comfortably plunging three fingers into Draco, he pulled his hand back and urged Draco’s hips back and down, using the hand he’d been preparing Draco with to guide his cock into Draco’s eager hole.

Draco gasped as he slowly sat down on Harry’s cock, the feeling of the head slipping past his ring of muscles wrenching a moan from him. Loving the control he had in this position, Draco took over and began teasing both Harry and himself with tiny little movements of his hips, each one lowering him more and more, until finally Harry was fully inside him.

Harry was trying his best not to grab Draco’s hips and force him into movement, but the way he was just sitting there, not moving, eyes closed, teeth mashed into his bottom lip and forehead furrowed…wait…

“Draco, are you all right, love? Am I hurting you?”

Draco shook his head rapidly, hands coming down to brace on Harry’s chest as he leaned forward and took Harry’s mouth in a devastatingly sweet kiss. Lips still touching, he said softly, “I’m so much more than all right. Never in my life have I felt as good as I do right now, Harry. It’s the most amazing thing and I just want to memorise it.” Draco sat back up then, the shifting of his hips causing both of them to groan with pleasure. “I fucking take it back! That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.”

Harry brought his hands up to grip Draco’s hips then, locking gazes with Draco and getting a tiny nod of acceptance. With the help of Draco’s strong thighs, he guided him into a gentle rocking rhythm that quickly became hard and fast as both young men lost control.

Feeling a familiar tightening of his balls, Harry let go of Draco’s hips with one hand and used it to firmly manipulate Draco into a shattering orgasm. As he felt Draco’s inner muscles squeeze down on him, Harry threw back his head and arched his back and came, releasing his essence into Draco, even as Draco was coming in spurts on Harry’s chest.

Draco slumped down on top of Harry, breathing harsh and erratic. “Gods, Harry,” he moaned. “That was fan-fucking-tastic.”

Harry simply nodded in agreement, not quite capable of speech yet.

“Of course,” Draco murmured sleepily, “we’re gonna need new candles. You melted all the ones we had.”

Harry pried his eyes open and looked around. Sure enough, every candle in the room was now a melted puddle of wax.

Damn, he really needed to get his magic under control. Ah well, he'd have plenty of time to figure that out. With a contented sigh, he pulled Draco close and gave himself over to sleep.

~*~

Severus twisted in tangled sheets on his bed as he dreamed…

It was the Final Battle; the Entrance Hall was literally swarming with people. Black robes of Death Eaters mingled with those of the students, slowing down the opponents on both sides. “Don’t cast until you can see the whites of their eyes,” had never meant so much as it did now.

He was weakening every minute, his body nearly numb with fatigue, both from the battle and the lingering effects of being tortured through his Mark by Voldemort. Being this close to the Dark Lord was pure agony; he didn’t know how Potter could stand the pain that must be radiating from his curse scar.

His eyes flicked around the Hall to see where Potter was. Ah, he was fighting Dolohov on a balcony. His eyes were drawn then to the balcony above where Potter was fighting so desperately…and what he saw made his blood run cold.

Remus Lupin was locked in battle with Crabbe Sr and Rudolphus Lestrange, and as Severus watched in horror, a bolt of blue light struck Remus, flinging him backward, off the balcony, and sending him hurtling toward the ground over thirty feet below. As Severus was about to cast the spell to stop his fall, a hex hit him squarely from behind, knocking him off his feet and causing him to miss Remus with his spell. With an anguished shout, he saw Remus’ body hit the hard, unforgiving stone floor, a sickening thud reaching his disbelieving ears.

Suddenly the shouts of curses and hexes around him faded away to nothingness, as the people fighting winked out of existence. He was alone and aching, still lying on the hard floor. His tortured gaze went to where Remus had fallen, only to see the other man roll over, moaning and clutching at his head. It came to him then, this was a dream. Remus had died in the Final Battle, Severus had seen it with his own eyes, but now his mind was trying to deny it.

Standing shakily, he limped over to where Remus lay, still holding tightly to his head and cursing violently. Dropping to his knees, he pulled Remus’ hands away and muttered a healing spell, though he could laugh at himself for trying this now, in a dream, where it wouldn’t ever make a difference. Perhaps this, then, was his penance for failing Remus so horribly in life?

“Thanks,” Remus said gruffly, looking up at him with eyes the same clear amber as Severus’ favourite whisky.

Severus grunted in reply and allowed his hands to run through Remus’ hair, ostensibly to feel for damage to his cranium, but mostly just because he had always wondered if Remus’ hair was truly as soft as it looked. Even while Severus had been deeply involved in a relationship with James, Remus had fascinated him. His quiet demeanour had lent him an air of mystery, perhaps. And Merlin knew mysteries had always fascinated Severus.

A rumbling moan distracted him from his thoughts and he looked down to see Remus staring up at him, heat crackling in his eyes. His hands stilled as he felt an answering fire kindle within him. His breathing became shallow and he cursed himself silently, knowing the other man’s heightened senses would pick that up.

Remus shifted on the stone floor and brought one hand up to wrap around Severus’ neck, pulling his unresisting form down for a slow, tentative kiss. The gentle exploration was broken abruptly as Severus pulled back, clearing his throat for a moment before he looked away, and said, “I’m not Black. I won’t ever be him, nor will I allow myself to stand as substitute for him.”

Remus’ prolonged silence wore on Severus’ already strained nerves, forcing him to look back down into those eyes. “I’m not James. I won’t ever be him, nor will I allow myself to stand as substitute for him.”

Severus blinked and raised one eyebrow in question.

Remus pushed himself to a sitting position. “I know how badly it hurt you when James chose Lily. I watched you constantly after that, afraid of what you might do. Sirius…well, he didn’t understand my concern, perhaps because he knew there was a part of me that was more interested than I should have been. I loved Sirius with all my heart, but he’s dead. Just as James is dead. If we allow ourselves to live in the past, we’ll never have a future.”

Severus choked on a bitter laugh. “What future? You’re dead.” His façade broke then, as he closed his eyes on a grimace. “I’m sorry, Remus. I’m so terribly sorry. I—“ He drew in a sharp breath through his nose, as his eyes darted everywhere but at the man sitting before him. “I tried to stop your fall. I swear on everything I hold dear, I did! But I missed. I missed Remus, and now you’re dead.”

“Shhhh. I’m not dead. I’m here, aren’t I? I wouldn’t be here if I were dead, you know that, Severus. And you have nothing to feel sorry for. It was war. I’ve always known the danger of battle, just as you have. We all knew there was a chance we wouldn’t survive. But we did survive, Severus. We both did, and now we have to learn how to live again. Will you help me learn, Severus? Please?”

Severus locked gazes with Remus again, a small bit of pain lifting from him as he saw the gentle pleading in those eyes. Perhaps this dream Remus forgiving him would allow him to start forgiving himself. And since it was a dream, there was nothing stopping him from doing what he’d wanted to do for years.

Severus leaned forward slowly, staring into Remus’ eyes the whole while, until his vision blurred and their lips met.

Severus jerked awake, panting and sweating in the dark as he tried to make sense of his dream. A shudder coursed through him as he saw Remus’ body strike the floor once again. That image warred with the one of Draco’s skin bursting apart under the force of Bellatrix’ Slashing Hex as his least favourite memory of the Final Battle.

With a shaking hand, he reached for the vial of Dreamless Sleep he had started keeping on his nightstand. As he settled back against his pillows after taking the potion, he allowed his finger to trace over his lips, which still tingled from Remus’ kiss. Severus’ eyes slid closed, and just as sleep swallowed his conscious mind, a thought struggled to make itself known. Too late, though, for now Severus was sleeping again, this time without the burden of seeing death all around him.

~*~

Harry walked into the Great Hall that Saturday night, attired in formal dress robes. Tonight was the victory celebration. It had been six days since Voldemort’s defeat. Six days of recovery, grief, and healing. When Dumbledore had announced the previous evening that they would be holding a victory celebration tonight, Harry had actually agreed. He hated these types of events, but it was something the students and staff sorely needed.

They would never forget the ones who had fallen, but it was time to learn how to live again.

He scanned the room as he tried to decide what to do until Draco came down. Draco had still been trying to choose between three sets of dress robes when Harry had finished getting ready, and he had shoo’d Harry out of the room, telling him in no uncertain terms that if Harry stood around him looking so “utterly shaggable”, that they’d never make it to the party. Harry, lost in his perusal of Draco’s pert bum—covered only in a pair of green boxer shorts—had cleared his throat and agreed. Hormones were all well and good, but they did have to make an appearance at least.

Seeing Snape standing in a corner, looking rather elegant in a set of darkest green dress robes, he made his way over. If nothing else, he wouldn’t be expected to recount the Final Battle ad nauseum with the man.

“Professor,” he greeted, moving to stand next to the tall man, ignoring the long-suffering look Snape slid his direction.

“Potter.”

“Enjoying the party, sir?”

“I was. Was there something you needed?”

“Besides a week alone with Draco, you mean?” Harry asked with a grin, snagging a cup of pumpkin juice off a tray as it floated past.

“You’ll have to work that around your detention schedule, Potter,” Snape said, pulling a small flask from inside his robes and pouring a bit of firewhiskey into a conjured glass. When Harry’s jaw dropped in shock, he fought to keep a straight face. Really, the boy was far too gullible for his own good.

“You’re still going to make us serve detention? Even after…everything?!”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Snape asked, quirking one brow.

“Because we…the battle…you…”

Severus couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter at that point. Rolling his eyes, he muttered to himself, “It’s not even fun anymore.” Raising his voice so that Harry could hear him, he said, “Calm yourself, Potter. All detentions earned prior to the battle have been cancelled. You’ll just have to ensure that Mr Malfoy and yourself keep the fighting to a minimum now.”

Harry hid a small grin behind his cup of pumpkin juice and waited for Severus to take a sip of his whiskey before saying, “But, sir, fighting is so…stimulating.” Just as he’d hoped, Severus choked and went into a fit of coughing.

Harry chuckled then, pounding his new…friend? on the back. Amazing as it seemed, perhaps they were friends now, of a sort. Certainly, there were few people Harry trusted as much as he did this man with whom he had such a volatile history. But then again, couldn’t he say the same for his relationship with Draco?

And where was Draco anyway? He had promised to meet Harry at the party ten minutes ago. ‘Bloody primping pouf,’ Harry thought with a soft smile. A commotion at the entrance to the Great Hall had him turning his head. What he saw there made him let out a shout of joy and break into a dash across the hall.

~*~

Severus was still recovering from Harry’s little joke when he heard the noise level of the room pick up. Harry’s subsequent shout and undignified gallop across the Great Hall drew his eyes toward the entrance. What he saw there caused him to pale and drop his glass of firewhiskey, not even noticing when it shattered and splashed liquid on the hem of his robes.

“Remus,” he breathed. As he stood rooted to the ground in shock, the object of his scrutiny looked up and locked gazes with him, amber eyes burning into his own. The man then smiled wryly, disengaged himself from the people surrounding him and moved toward Severus.

“Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” Remus said quietly, as soon as he reached Severus.

“But…how?’

Remus’ lips quirked with humour. “I’m a werewolf, Severus. Surely you recall making a potion for me every month?” he teased gently. “We have rather useful healing abilities. I’m quite difficult to kill.”

Severus nodded, avoiding Remus’ gaze now to ask the most difficult question. “Why did you allow us to think you were dead? I’m sure Potter would have liked to have known you were alive, at the very least. Where have you been?”

Remus stood quietly until Severus looked back at him, obsidian gaze cool with censure. “The headmaster knew I was alive. I’m sure he had his reasons to keep my status a secret. As for where I’ve been, I have been working with Bill Weasley and Seamus Finnegan in seclusion since their results came back positive for lycanthropy. Finnegan especially has a lot to overcome. The boy was highly prejudiced to begin with; his new affliction has been rather difficult for him to adjust to.”

Severus nodded, finding it difficult to pay attention to the words, when all he wanted to do was revel in Remus’ husky voice and the fact that he was alive.

Remus stopped speaking and just stared at Severus, waiting for something, it seemed. Not certain why Remus was watching him so carefully, Severus dropped his gaze and asked brusquely, “What?”

Remus smiled gently. “I was merely wondering when it would occur to you…”

“When what would occur to me?” Severus snapped, nerves feeling raw and exposed.

“You generally reach the obvious conclusion far ahead of everyone else, Severus. Allow me a moment to savour your confusion,” Remus said, humour dancing in his eyes.

Severus growled softly, incensed at the suggestion that Remus was laughing at him.

With a small sigh, Remus asked, “Have you had pleasant dreams, Severus?”

Severus’ eyes flared with shock before he closed them and lifted a hand to rub at his temples. “The Morpheus Charm,” he muttered. “It seems I need to have a little talk with Draco.”

Remus grinned, enjoying Severus’ chagrin. “I think now would be the time to start anew, Severus. What do you think?” With those softly uttered words, he offered Severus his hand and waited.

Severus looked down at the hand, blinking rapidly as he fought to bring order to the chaos in his mind. Shaking himself a bit, he took a deep breath and lifted his hand to Remus’, sliding his palm against the slightly rough skin of the werewolf’s.

They stood that way, just holding hands, not even shaking them really, for quite some time. Neither realised that they had drawn the attention of four young adults, three of whom looked on with varying expressions of shock, while the fourth simply smirked with satisfaction.

“And they all lived happily ever after,” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear, drawing his lover back against him as they watched Severus and Remus get lost in each other.

THE END