Ten Steps

Author's Note: What's this? Another update of this story within the same week? *Gasp. How nice am I? I thought I would reward you all for giving this story 300 reviews already. It warms my heart to know you're all as fond of this pair as I am. Thanks to Kasey and Shannon for their edits of this chapter, and thanks to all who have been reviewing so far. This story is going to be quite long (this chapter as well), so buckle berry faerie, follow me.

Chapter 9

“Uncle Harry!!” a tiny, yet loud voice shouted, the only warning Harry had that he was about to get an armful of small Weasley. Prewett wasted no time in claiming his attentions, throwing his arms around Harry as his two older brothers waited patiently to the side.

After divesting himself of the small blond’s adoring grasp, he turned to introduce a blushing Oliver to Prewett and his brothers before Philius led them both by the hand into the sitting room where Luna and Ron were waiting with patient smiles. Oliver nodded casually to his hosts, Ron and Luna of course needing no introduction to Oliver, who held firmly onto Harry’s free hand until Quinn squished into the sofa between them, chatting animatedly about the new dragon toy Ron had bought him in Hogsmeade on their last visit with Aunt Hermione.

Harry watched Oliver for signs of discomfort, but beamed as he saw the Scot enter into a conversation with Ron and Philius on the art of Quidditch and a Keeper’s place within that group. Ron and Oliver could of course speak from professional experience; whereas Philius hoped to join the house team and liked the Keeper position the most, since it was his Father’s place.

“I might not be lucky enough to be chosen first year, like Uncle Harry was for Gryffindor, but I hope to make it second to third year,” the boy told Oliver judiciously.

“I was on the team with Harry his first year,” Oliver told the boy proudly.

“Really?” Philius asked in abject wonder.

“He was my captain, actually,” Harry corrected, shifting Quinn to his lap so he could lean in a bit closer to his date as he addressed his young nephew. All three boys were listening intently then, wanting to hear about how their guest had known Harry Potter as a boy. They’d heard all of their parents’ stories a dozen times over and were eager for new information about their favorite uncle.

Oliver wove exciting tales about Harry’s first year on the team, telling the boys how McGonagall had come to him with a prospective new player and how quickly Harry took to the game despite never even hearing of it before he was recruited. It was interesting to hear the story through his date’s perspective, even though he knew it was at least somewhat embellished for the children’s’ sake.

It seemed Oliver had looked up to him, as both a fellow Gryffindor and a talented player. It was nice to know after everything he’d been through that not every relationship had to be a battle. He had looked up to Oliver as well, and it seemed fated that they be pulled together later in life. Although, it wasn’t until Oliver glanced at him over the head of young Quinn, his eyes shining with untold emotion, that Harry noticed how well they clicked together.

Harry offered Oliver a smile, soft and sweet, and winked at him over the children’s heads. This was going to work, and with Malfoy’s help, they would have a perfect courtship. He’d been silly to even think of Malfoy as anything more than a teacher and perhaps a reluctant friend. They didn’t have this ease and comfort that he and Oliver had, nor did they have any fond memories of one another from their childhood.

He could just imagine introducing Draco to his nephews. Instead of ‘I used to play Quidditch with your uncle’ they’d hear ‘I used to openly insult and Hex your uncle in the corridors’. Wouldn’t that be pleasant?

Oliver shot him a curious glance, and Harry replaced the smile that had faltered on his lips. Worrying over something that would never happen was a rubbish way to spend his date with Oliver. “You make it sound as if I was the most brilliant Seeker to have ever existed when you and I both know that’s untrue. I couldn’t even win us the cup until the year you graduated.”

“Ah, but I’m not as fond of any other Seeker as I am of you,” Oliver replied with a faint blush tingeing his cheeks, placing a kiss on Harry’s own flushing face to the sound of childish ‘Ooh’s’ reverberating through the room. Harry was appalled to discover it wasn’t just the three boys catcalling but that Ron and Luna had joined in as well.

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Harry was basking in the warm glow of Oliver’s affection all afternoon. Tea had been entertaining with Quinn insisting on serving them all rather clumsily while Prewett could go into professional scone pushing he was so adept at making people feel guilty for not eating. Harry already saw the hints of Molly in the boy that indicated spending too much time around the bustling grandmother. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he thought of an older Prewett in a ruffled apron, toiling over several magical pots and pans filled with delicious smelling foods.

Quinn took more after his mother, with dusty blond hair and dreamy blue eyes. He was fascinated with anything abnormal or peculiar sounding and often made up tales of creatures he’d discovered in his room – mostly to excuse the messes – and often went hunting in the gardens for new and unusual specimens. Philius took after Ron in both Quidditch enthusiasm and appetite and Harry could always count on pawning off Prewett’s forced extra helpings on the growing boy.

Aside from the flurry of tiny waiters scurrying around the table, Harry mostly concentrated on Ron, Luna and their opinion of Oliver. Ron seemed rather proud of himself for the match, and kept nudging Harry in the rib with a ‘what did I tell ya, Harry? He’s the best, right?’ to which Harry never had any argument.

Oliver was reserved, but not terribly shy about subtle public displays of affection, always twining his fingers absently in Harry’s sleeve or running his index finger languidly down the man’s thigh as they chatted about the upcoming tour for the World Cup. Harry was fascinated to learn that the teams actually got on quite well outside the pitch, and never really quarreled amongst each other too much. Oliver and Ron spoke vaguely of strategy, and it was almost a given that Puddlemere would end up in the finals, while Ron hoped desperately to get the Cannons up to snuff so that they might make it to the championship this year again. It also came as a pleasant surprise that Oliver wouldn’t be out of town as often as Harry expected. They would typically only go away for the weekend and then practice in their home pitch for the rest of the week. It set his mind as ease to know he wasn’t going to be entirely abandoned for several straight months of games.

In the end, it wasn’t Harry who even had to bring up the touchy subject of children; Luna did that heavy lifting for him as they finished their tea. “So, Oliver, have you thought about having kids yourself?” she asked, grinning at her youngest boy bouncing in the Keeper’s lap.

“Sure,” he replied easily, ruffling Prewett’s hair. “It would have to wait until I retire from the team, of course, because I would want to spend as much time with them as possible, but I definitely see adoption in my future.”

Harry didn’t miss the man’s gaze sliding surreptitiously toward him as he finished, his dark eyes curious, but again, he didn’t need to say a word. “Harry’s always wanted kids,” Luna replied with a smirk, ignoring Harry’s blush at having the conversation taken out of his hands.

“I have,” Harry admitted with a nod, beaming over as Prewett grinned at him.

“I want another cousin,” the boy announced. “Uncle Harry, does that mean you’ll turn into a girl?”

Ron guffawed, Luna barely stifled a giggle and both Oliver and Harry blushed furiously at the question. “Well, Harry?” Ron prompted. “I think we’d all like to know the answer to that.”

“No, Prewett,” Harry explained carefully. “If I bring you a new cousin, they would be adopted.”

“What does doppded mean?” the boy asked, his head quirked like a curious owl.

“Adopted,” Harry corrected lightly, “means that another mommy would have had the child but couldn’t take care of it for some reason so I would take care of them instead.”

“Oh!” the boy exclaimed. “Like what daddy said happened to you?”

Harry nodded, his smile growing somber for a moment. “Exactly like that.”

“Only Harry will be a much better father than those fat lumps who raised him,” Ron pointed out. He ignored the harsh glance he got from Luna for using derogatory names around the children and Oliver stared at Harry for a long moment, both curiosity and understanding dawning in those dark, brown eyes.

“And you, Olli, are you going to marry my uncle Harry?” Prewett asked, a fountain of awkward comments that morning.

“We’ll just have to see about that, scout,” he replied, his smile lazy and content and his eyes all for Harry.

“Well, if you do, can I be in the wedding?” he asked, puffing up his chest.

“I’m sure that could be arranged,” Oliver replied, bouncing the toddler playfully on his knee. Harry could feel the warm fingers of bliss curl around him in a tight embrace as he watched his boyfriend playing with Prewett and the other boys while gazing at him with powerful emotions they couldn’t speak about with such an audience.

Luna seemed pleased with Oliver’s answers and behavior, and it was quite obvious that Ron thought he should be elected Minister for Matchmaking. “I could rival Malfoy with my pairing skills,” he muttered, making Luna laugh and Harry choke on his biscuit.

“So, you mentioned eventual retirement,” Harry blurted, quickly changing the subject before Oliver caught on to Ron and Luna’s conversation. “I didn’t think that would be in the cards for you anytime soon.”

“Not soon, no.” Oliver put Prewett down, who ran over to see what Quinn was up to and leveled his full attention on his date. “I hope to have another ten years in me, but who knows. Right now I have no reason to cut back, but maybe I’ll find a reason.”

Harry’s heart skipped as he suspected Oliver might be hinting at him, but he dared not hope too much. The man was obsessed with the game, and Harry knew he would be a close second to it at best for awhile, just like his job at the Ministry would likely come before Oliver until they got truly serious, but unlike Oliver and Quidditch, Harry didn’t think he’d ever be able to give up saving people, and Oliver might have a harder time giving up being Puddlemere’s Keeper than he was letting on.

Still, a niggling of worry set into Harry’s belly at the thought. If Oliver continued to play and travel, would he change his mind and want kids before he retired? Harry didn’t think he’d like to just start out with a toddler at forty. He already felt like it was growing too late for him to have the family he wanted. True, as a mostly pure-blood wizard, Harry would live well past a Muggle’s normal life, but he wanted to ensure that he would be around for all the big milestones. He didn’t want to be too old to enjoy them.

It was far too early in their relationship to be making demands or ultimatums, though. Plus, if he and Oliver got married, that might prove to be enough to make the man take a lesser role in the team than Keeper and Captain and then perhaps adoption would soon follow. Besides, he was only on step two of his program with Malfoy, so he could hardly get too worked up over anything now.

He had done what he’d set out to do, resolving the only unwavering demand he would have on a lover, and he felt content in Oliver’s answer and the promise of a bright future together.

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“I don’t know,” Luna objected before biting into a buttered croissant and chewing it for far longer than her friends deemed proper, especially when making them hang on her words. “They seemed very happy together,” she finished at last.

Ginny grumbled, fearing her steep wager was on the verge of tumbling into Luna’s pocket. She and Hermione had bet that Draco would woo the pants off of their Harry, quite literally, but now it seemed the other candidate for Harry’s affections was better suited to him than any of them could have anticipated. Expect perhaps Luna, who was smiling smugly at her girlfriends.

“You should have seen him with the boys today,” she went on wistfully. “They would make the most tender and caring parents.”

“If we could only get him into bed with Draco, there would be no room for Oliver in Harry’s mind then,” Ginny quipped, tapping the bottom of her saucer with perfectly manicured nails as she thought about how to do that. “Perhaps we could get them both drunk,” she mused.

“That’s hardly Harry’s style,” Hermione reminded her. “He’d just feel guilty about it and grovel for Oliver not to hate him and probably end up losing both prospects in the process.”

“True,” Ginny huffed. “That sounds exactly like Harry.”

“I still say that we should just let this all play out without any interference from us,” Luna sighed, looking for all the world like she was thinking of the whole situation quite charitably, but Ginny wasn’t buying it. She’d had too many glimpses of Luna’s Ravenclaw cunning to fall for that act.

“You would,” she scoffed daintily. “As is stands right now you’re winning without lifting a finger.”

Luna smirked, but said nothing more. Hermione seemed torn. She wanted Harry to be happy above all, and whoever did that for him was the one she wanted him to be with, but she honestly thought, after months of research and deliberation on the subject, that Harry was overlooking Draco in the worst way. He was imposing his childhood rivalry and making Malfoy into a man who no longer existed. Loath as she was to admit it, Draco Malfoy was a prize specimen. Not only his obvious qualities, like good looks and wealth, but the man also had a keen sense of humor, a deep intelligence and a larger heart than he would ever let anyone fully realize until he chose to share it completely.

The papers made him out to be the same villain he’d been as a teenager, but Hermione knew better. The more she learned about Draco, the more she thought he would perfectly compliment her best friend. “I don’t think it has much to do with a physical connection,” she corrected her flame-haired friend. “They obviously have that already. We need to find a way to make Harry realize that there is more to Draco than just the obvious attractions.”

“Well, that would certainly be enough for me, but you’re probably right,” she muttered. “If Harry just wanted a pretty face he could choose from a long list of willing suitors.”

“You’re so full of it, Gin,” Luna quipped and shook her head lightly. “You know very well that Clive is more to you than a nice face and body.”

Ginny blushed, but only slightly before she waved the comment off. “You’re right. He’s also spectacular in bed.”

Both of her friends scoffed at her blithe dismissal. “I’ve seen him feed you at meals, and I’ve seen your eyes light up,” Hermione told her.

“And I’ve seen the way you lean into him when you’re talking to someone else, as if you can’t even bare not to touch him,” Luna added.

“Hush,” Ginny reprimanded. “So, we’re well matched. That’s all Draco’s doing after all, so it seems time we pay him back for his good deeds. What better gift to tell him we appreciate him than our Harry?”

Hermione giggled at the image of a gift-wrapped Harry Potter being left on Draco’s doorstep. She wondered briefly if shiny, red bows came that large. Surely Draco would love the gesture, and equally love unwrapping his prize, but she didn’t think it would be quite as easy as that.

“Well, I have to agree with Luna for the moment,” she begrudgingly admitted, ignoring Ginny’s pout. “Harry and Draco will be spending plenty of time together in the coming weeks. If Draco can’t convince Harry of his worth by then, maybe it’s just not meant to be,” she reasoned.

Ginny wholeheartedly disagreed, but remained silent since she was outnumbered for the moment. She honestly thought both men were oblivious enough to botch everything up without any outside prompting, but she had no ideas for how to sneakily interfere, so she would bide her time and hope Harry didn’t get too much closer to Wood in the meanwhile.

She wanted Harry happy as well, and felt the same way about her Slytherin friend, and knew instinctively that they would be perfection together, but more importantly, she hated to lose.

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Monday came and went with no word from Malfoy. It wasn’t until Harry was preparing for bed - clad only in a pair of comfy pajama bottoms and no shirt - on Tuesday night that he realized he’d been waiting impatiently for Malfoy to contact him. The fireplace chose that moment to flare up, startling Harry to the point of jumping she he glanced over to see Malfoy’s head sticking out of the fire, his gaze lingering too long on Harry’s bare chest. He’d thought the man might still be irked from their awkward goodbye the other night, but Draco seemed neutral now, which was all Harry could rightfully ask for.

Draco had never looked so Slytherin in all his life as he did with green flames licking around his face, casting an eerie glow on his pointed features and making his eyes seemed shadowed. “So, how did it go?” he asked bluntly. No, ‘Hullo, Harry, how are you?’ or ‘Good to see you again, Mate’, but Harry supposed feeling bitter about that was counterproductive because it didn’t really matter that he and Draco weren’t friendly with one another. They were both professionals and could handle this arrangement without any of the animosity of their childhood making them bicker constantly, but it didn’t mean they had to go out for pints afterward either.

“Well, I think,” he answered with a grin, sitting on the floor just inside the cool flames so he could make out all of Draco’s expressions. “He seemed to have a good time, and he definitely wants to have kids eventually, and I didn’t even have to ask him.”

“Indeed? Do tell,” he asked, though his tone made him seem less interest than his words.

“Luna brought it up while Olli was playing with Prewett,” Harry explained.

“How are the boys?” Draco asked, skipping over Oliver altogether.

“They’re good, really good actually,” Harry replied. “Quinn is getting so big, and Philius is so excited to go to Hogwarts next year. They are all so bright and energetic.”

“I remember,” Draco mused, “though it’s been a couple months since I’ve seen them. Hermione tells me that the girls and Teddy are doing spectacular in their classes and that Teddy’s a natural flyer.”

“I don’t know about natural,” Harry teased. “It took me six weeks of prompting to even get him on a broom.”

“No doubt, after watching some of the terrifying maneuvers you do,” Draco laughed.

“I didn’t make him do anything like that.” Harry gasped with mock offence and wished he could shove the blond. “He was just nervous, that’s all, but he did take to it well enough afterwards, and lucky for him he didn’t inherit any of your cousin’s grace.”

“Or lack thereof,” Draco added, but his voice was distant and tinged with sorrow. “I wish I’d known her better.”

The comment seemed so out of context from someone of Draco’s masked countenance that Harry shifted slightly and leaned in toward the harmless flames. “Why didn’t you?” he asked, already suspecting the answer.

“Andromeda had been cast out of our family, just like Sirius,” he sighed. “Acknowledging them was forbidden.”

“That’s such a stupid way to deal with people,” Harry seethed, feeling injustice for both Sirius and himself. He’d dealt with his own childhood long ago, but it still incensed him when others so easily shoved aside family. Some people, purebloods especially, took their family members for granted in a way Harry never thought he would be capable of.

“You couldn’t even begin to understand the kind of sacrifice it takes to make a decision about someone who betrays the family name in the way that Andromeda did,” Draco replied sharply, before letting out a deep sigh, “but yes, it is quite stupid.”

Harry was preparing to snap and argue and perhaps even end the fire call based on Draco’s early words, but he paused abruptly and let the last comment wash over his anger, dulling it significantly. “Did I just hear a Malfoy admit that they were wrong,” Harry teased, hoping to lighten the heavy cloud that seemed to hang over them both.

A brief smirk shadows Draco’s lips but he shook his head. “Never,” he quipped. “I was merely pointing out that there might be, however so slight, flaws in the way purebloods as a whole see the world and their place in it.”

It was the closest thing Harry thought the blond had ever gotten to an admission of guilt and the round about way the blond came to it made him laugh aloud. “You’re devotion to antiquated things fascinates me, Malfoy.”

“It’s not antiquated, it’s traditional. There is a difference,” he pointed out.

“A very slight difference in this case,” Harry countered.

“Fine, fine,” Draco replied with a wave, his hand popping briefly into sight through the emerald flames, his gray eyes shimmering in the light. “So, back on point. No issues with Oliver? Nothing that you can see tearing you apart in the near of even distant future.”

“Nothing at all,” Harry reported with a grin and he imagined the sigh Draco gave was relieved and not grudging. “Luna and Ron both like him as well.”

“We already knew that though,” Draco pointed out. “I’ll need to observe you both with the rest of your friends soon, his as well.”

“I think that can probably be worked out.” Harry was trying to think of the kinds of people Oliver might introduce him to, teammates probably, and smiled. He could see himself fitting in well enough with the blokes from Puddlemere. “Maybe I’ll see if he wants to bring some of them by to the gathering this Friday. It’s at my place this week.”

“Splendid idea,” Draco replied, though he looked troubled. “Perhaps I could come by before hand and help you get the place in order.”

“What’s wrong, Malfoy? Worried I’ll leave out my porn collection to embarrass his friends?” Harry’s smile was taunting, but light, playful and exuberant and Draco simply rolled his eyes before returning one in kind.

“That’s exactly what I worry over,” he quipped.

“Well, it’s fine by me if you stop over early, but I’m not letting you go through my things,” he warned, still smiling.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Draco replied and held up his hand, symbolizing he was about to end the Floo call. Harry panicked slightly, not wanting the conversation to draw to a close so soon, which was the only way he could justify what blurted from his lips in that moment.

“What do you dream about?”

Draco’s eyes widened comically, but his face looked haunted, even after he smiled indulgently. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he asked, eyebrow raised in challenge before he abruptly ended the fire call, leaving Harry to stare into ordinary orange flames. He’d been leaning so close to the hearth that when the real fire returned, it nearly singed off his brow. Thankfully his sense of self-preservation kicked in enough to make him throw his weight away from the fire, instead sprawling out on the rug as he stared up at the ceiling. The rich, wooden fan blades circled around and around, making him as dizzy as he had been when chatting with his old enemy.

Harry decided he had to stop thinking of him that way once and for all. Malfoy was a different person now than he had been when they were children; Harry himself was different as well. There was no reason he and Malfoy couldn’t become close friends through this process, the others had all achieved a deeper bond with the man because of it, even Ron, so why wouldn’t it work that way for him as well?

It would, Harry decided, because he was going to make the effort to get closer to Draco. They had shared so many early experiences after all, so why not? Surely they had enough in common to be close mates one day. There was no good reason why he couldn’t go out to dinner, or to a pub with the blond if he wanted to. Furthermore, there was no good reason to feel guilty for talking to Malfoy about things that were unrelated to the program.

No good reason at all.

Author's Note: No good reason whatsoever, until the next chapter of course. *wink