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hp_goldenage2017-03-12 11:00 am
hpgoldenage_mod) wrote in hp_goldenage2017-03-12 11:00 am
Entry tags:
Salt and Pepper Fest: Those Old Vows (Harry/Draco, NC-17)
Title: Those Old Vows
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pollyweasley
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Draco, mentions of Ginny/Blaise, Neville/Hannah, Luna/Pansy, Ron/Hermione, past Pansy/Blaise
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: around 5,5k
Content/Warning(s): Past!MPREG, bottom!Draco
Summary/Prompt: Dubhe absolutely hates her grandfathers’ house. It’s old, there’s no Wi-Fi and no electricity. She was causing problems after school, but it was entirely her father’s fault. She didn’t need to be punished to live with old, boring and conservative people. Harry and Draco, on the other side, were more than happy to have their oldest grandchild with them. Maybe they could show her that being old doesn’t mean being bad.
A/N: Thank you all those who helped me with this fic with ideas and cheering. Thank youminesomine with your valuable tips. They helped me A LOT with this one. This was a self-prompt. Could’ve been bigger, but I decided not to. Thank you all for reading.
Those Old Vows
Dubhe was furious. It wasn’t because she had caused a few problems in her last year at school that she deserved to be stuck in the middle of nowhere. She hated visiting her grandfathers’ house. They still lived in their beach house that they bought even before her father was born, and they still had that same old-fashioned way of living, not using electricity for most of things. They didn’t even had Wi-Fi! There was a limit to owls and she had friends on the other side of the world! Friends who were not wizards. They were extremely happy that she would move in with them, especially after her Aunt Phoenix had left home last year and they were living alone with her younger aunt, Cissa. She sighed, thinking she could convince them to relive the old flame and throw her back home to... Anything they like, hold hands and kissing, or whatever old people their age did.
When Dubhe left the fireplace, she found her grandfathers waiting on the small couch beside the brown coffee table. She remembered to love hiding under that little table when she was very small, but that was a long time ago. She was already an adult, and if her father hadn’t frozen her Gringotts account, she would be in some luxury flat in central London - as soon as she knew how and where to exchange wizard money for Muggle money. Harry stood up with a smile, approaching her with steady steps, as he always had.
“Dubs! At last you appeared! We've been waiting for you since morning..." he said and gave her a hug. Okay, she might not like visiting their house, but she liked them. Just a little. Harry, at least. He was always more sympathetic to her tastes and the fact that she liked to use her smartphone and online Messenger. Dubhe hugged her grandfather, breathing the scent of wood and chocolate he had, and moving away a little, noting that she was nearly as tall as him.
“You look beautiful! It seems like I haven’t seen you in years!”
“You saw me at Christmas, granddad,” she said, and walked away from him, looking for room to breathe. Harry was clingy and always hugged too much. Always.
“What’s with your hair?!” She heard another voice speaking, and rolled her eyes.
Grandpa Draco, the biggest and worst conservative in history, which was ironic because he had given birth to four children and was extremely gay. She touched her hair, usually curly and black, but that was now straight and dyed red from half to bottom.
“I dyed it.” She shrugged, and looked at the other’s face. He was taller than Harry, his hair completely white - different from the light pepper that covered her other grandfather’s head.
“And straightened, too. It’s awful,” Draco said, but he approached her with a small smile. "And where are your glasses?"
“Contact lenses,” she said, a little uncomfortable, crossing her arms. Here was one reason why she didn’t like it there. They always judged her, they always stared as if she had done something wrong.
“Doesn’t it tear your eyes off?” Draco asked, then got back a little. “But it’s time for lunch. Tutty must have done something by then,” he said, stretching out his arms with an elegance that Dubhe certainly hadn’t inherited, and went to where they always had lunch: on the back terrace.
“You already know where your room is, don’t you?” Harry asked, and Dubhe nodded. “Leave your stuff there and get down to eat with us. I believe that...”
“I'm sorry, but I have some things to do, then... I’ll ask Tutty to bring my lunch up there, okay?” Dubhe said, and she felt a little pain when his face lost some of the brightness it had before. He nodded and scratched his gray beard.
“Okay. When you want to come down, we’ll be out there on the hammock,” he said, and walked away towards the terrace.
“Let me guess, she’s not coming,” Draco said as he appeared, and Harry nodded, sitting heavily in his usual spot next to Draco. The table was wide enough for the two of them to be at one end comfortably. It was great when all the children, daughters-in-law and grandchildren were there, laughing and eating. “You know, I thought it would be the same as living with Phoenix... But at least she liked us.”
“Don’t say that, Dragon. Dubhe likes us,” Harry said, pouring himself some juice. It was almost as if he wanted to convince himself of it.
“And she doesn’t even want to have lunch with us. She has just arrived and already hid in the bedroom. She always does that,” Draco said, barely touching the food on his plate, looking extremely annoyed.
“Dragon... She’s from a different generation. She’d just finished school. It must be awful to have to live in a place that isn’t your home, away from your parents and your brother..." Harry said, raising one hand and smoothing the other's back. Draco let out a sigh.
“I told Sirius that so much Muggle stuff at his house wasn’t going to do the girl good,” Draco said, and Harry laughed.
“Jimmy loves to come here,” he reminisced.
“Jimmy’s eight. What child doesn’t love to come to the beach, get sun burnt and do nothing but run in despair?” he asked, and looked at Harry. After a few seconds the two said in unison, “Scorpius.”
They both laughed, and Harry put his hand on the table, looking at his husband. He lifted a hand, caressing the hair on the back of Draco’s neck. They might have changed colour, but they were as silky as they were when they started dating. Scorpius was their middle son, and had always been very much like Draco. Blue eyes, blond hair, his body longer and less defined, except the hands. His hands were Harry's. He had always been a boy who preferred books and board games rather than being on the beach, as Sirius and Phoenix preferred. Sirius was middle ground. When he was born, Harry wanted to call him James Sirius, not only because of the tribute to his two father figures, but also because the boy was the identical image of his father: Black hair, brownish skin and honey almost green eyes. His hair was smooth and behaved like Draco’s, but he liked to use them relaxed and wasn’t as careful as his daddy was. Draco, however, persuaded Harry to call him Sirius James because he planned to have more than one child and wanted everyone to have names of constellations. Harry was so happy to hear that that he hadn’t thought twice before accepting.
Scorpius Hyperion and Phoenix Lily were born not so much after, and they were only two years apart. Scorpius had always been the quietest, and Phoenix, the most excited. It was no surprise when Sirius had been sorted in Slytherin, Scorpius in Ravenclaw, and Phoenix in Gryffindor. Today, each had their own family except for Phoenix, who had no husband or children. She said she was too excited about her curse-breaker job to have a relationship.
After three, they thought they had enough and Draco stopped taking the potions. However, by chance from fate during Phoenix’s seventeenth birthday, Draco ended up pregnant again, without potions or spells, which they thought was impossible, but that eventually happened.
That wasn’t a good pregnancy. There were always risks, Draco being a man and Harry’s magic unstable, but at 46 the stakes were much greater. Draco had had to stay in bed for most of his pregnancy, and when Narcissa Iris was born, they were surprised to learn that she couldn’t hear or speak.
It was a great commotion in the family. Draco wept for weeks, and Harry, despite feeling equally sad, was the first to learn sign language.
Despite the lack of hope of many - especially the Malfoys - Cissa went to Hogwarts and got sorted in Ravenclaw. She was exceptional, considering she couldn’t hear spells’ names. She learned lip-reading and wordless magic before she even went to school, and she ended up with excellent grades. At that moment, she was with her sister on some excursion. Cissa and Phoenix were always united, and Harry and Draco were waiting for their arrival at any moment.
Dubhe, for her part, was frustrated. Tutty had left her lunch on the nightstand, but she hadn’t touched it for long.
Her cell phone was in her hand, and she tried in vain to connect the 5g signal, but the magical influence of the house prevented the internet from working. There were electronic gadgets in the house, and she could at least listen to music and read fanfictions she had saved on her cell phone, but the internet... She had warned her friends online that she could disappear, but she didn’t want that to be a reality. She ended up having lunch as she read, and paid no attention when the little house elf in a fancy lemon green dress came to pick up her plate, lying on the bed that used to be her Aunt Phoenix’s. There were posters of the Holyhead Harpies on the walls, her great-aunt Ginny in one of them, dated 2009. The paper was already torn in the folds and fixed with tape, but the image continued to fly indefinitely, as she looked at the camera before throwing the Quaffle against the pole. There was a single Puddlemore United poster, and it was huge. It took the whole wall and showed her grandfather Draco at the age of 22. As much as she thought him a tyrannical conservative, she had to admit that he was definitely handsome. At 22, then, and smiling at the camera, she understood exactly what her grandfather Harry had seen in him. Her father was an almost perfect mix of the two, and she looked at that poster for a few minutes before continuing with her story.
When she decided to leave the bedroom, it was late afternoon. She went to the kitchen and picked up an apple, biting it, bored. She looked around. Her grandfathers weren’t watching the telly - did they know how to turn the device on? - nor were they teasing each other in the kitchen, as they usually did. Curious, she walked through the house, and found them on the terrace facing the sea. Both were in a hammock, Harry lying underneath and Draco between his legs, with his head on his chest and sleeping deeply. Harry’s fingers stroked his husband’s thin hair, and Dubhe wondered why she hadn’t been born with that gene instead of the terrible Potter’s hair.
“All right, pumpkin?” asked Harry, and she smirked sideways. They had called her pumpkin since the day she was about 2 years old, and she had been soiled with pumpkin when her father and her uncles were doing Halloween decorations. She ran proudly and screaming “I am pumpkin!", and the nickname caught on for many years. Her grandfathers, of course, were the only ones who still called her that.
“A little bored,” she confessed, sitting down in a recliner so she could talk to him.
“Well, we don’t have everything you have in Sirius’ house, but it would be nice to see you leave the bedroom for a while,” Harry said, without stopping what he was doing with his hands. The movement was almost hypnotic and Dubhe felt a little lonely to see them together. Her last boyfriend had been an arsehole, and maybe it was one of the reasons she had problems at school.
“I’m just not used to... Well...”
“A classical wizarding house?” he asked, and she shrugged.
“There is no internet.” That was her answer. She had become so dependent on the internet that she felt naked when she couldn’t use it. The girl sighed, turning the phone in her hand. She was almost without battery and she didn’t have much to do, but it was comfortable to have it between her fingers.
“There is the beach. We have the telly. And us.” Harry grinned, and Dubhe pressed one hand to the other.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, but you-”
“...are old?” Harry laughed, making Dubhe feel uncomfortable. “I don’t know if you know it, but one day I was exactly your age. I was recovering from a war and trying to understand why I was no longer in love with the girl I dated at school, but I was young.” Dubhe rolled her eyes, knowing the speech that was coming. She was already bored. “Come on, I'll show you,” Harry said, and she raised one eyebrow. He tried to get up from the hammock, but the weight of his husband on him prevented it. “Darn it. I’m stuck.”
Dubhe laughed lightly, watching her grandfather struggle to get out from the hammock without waking the other.
“Do you know when a cat lies on your lap and you can’t breathe so it doesn’t wake up? I feel that way now.”
She laughed even more, standing and helping him out. Draco complained in his sleep, hugging the pillow that remained in the hammock, but didn’t wake up.
Harry shrugged, calling her into the house.
Dubhe followed doubtful, but didn’t question him. Before he could show her whatever he was about to show, however, the fireplace became alive and her Aunt Phoenix appeared. She had the reddest, bushiest, curlier hair that Dubhe had ever seen. They had been sunburned, leaving the tips blond, and she had incredibly green eyes, so green that they seemed weird between all of her makeup. Soon the fire shone again, and Narcissa appeared behind her. She was the opposite of sister, being pale and gentle when Phoenix was all colours and life.
“Pa!” The redhead practically jumped on top of Harry, hugging him by the neck and standing on her toes. She was about one metre and a half, but she made up for lack of height with enthusiasm. She turned to Dubhe and smiled, pulling her into a hug. “Dubs! Siri said you were going to be here for a while. Have you been on the beach already?”
“She didn’t leave the bedroom,” came a sleepy voice. Draco entered the house, and Narcissa, who was hugging Harry, immediately went to hug him, looking at him as if she had a thousand things to say.
“Papa!” Phoenix smiled, squeezing him at the same time as her sister, then turning to Dubhe. “And you. I don’t want to see you locked in. Let's go out. Do you have a swimsuit?”
“I have, but...”
“Great!” Phoenix clapped her hands, pulling her niece up and moving her hand to her sister, in a gesture that Narcissa seemed to understand but that made Dubhe frightened. “It will be great!”
Strange as it was, it really was great. She had never spent much time near her aunts, especially Narcissa, since she couldn’t understand her, but spending an afternoon feeling the soft sun on her skin and the waves caressing her body wasn’t bad. Phoenix was fun and exciting, and Narcissa was incredibly silly when it came to fun - for Dubhe, at least, who always thought she was a serious, boring girl in her life.
Harry and Draco watched from the terrace, lying in the hammock as they normally did since their children played on the same beach many years ago. From a distance, it was possible to see that Dubhe's hair was slowly returning to the natural curly state, and was opening a little more towards Narcissa, even trying to understand some of the gestures she made.
“Do you think she'll be better here?” Draco asked, lifting his face slightly to look at Harry, who lowered his.
“Siri thinks so. But, frankly, it's his fault she's caused so much trouble. If he didn’t work so much...”
“You spent weeks at St. Mungo's sometimes, Harry. Sirius is a businessman...” Draco was quick to defend his eldest, but Harry shook his head.
“I'd spend weeks, but then I'd take at least a week off to stay with my family. When was the last time Sirius took a break?” Harry asked, and Draco looked away. It was true. “Not to mention that... Dubhe is always alone. Her brother is at school most of the day, and you know how it feels to leave Hogwarts and not have things to do. Not having a clear objective.”
Draco glanced at his granddaughter thoughtfully again, before lifting his head from where it was on Harry's chest and out of the hammock.
“Come. Let's make dinner before you get merged into the hammock.” Draco shook his head, putting his silver hair in place.
“I'm not the one who refuses to wake up before 10,” Harry teased, standing up as well.
“I am a heavy sleeper! Besides, my shoulders hurt in the morning.” Draco walked towards the living room, chin up, with Harry right behind.
“See? It's because you're older. I have no old people problems.”
“I'm a month older than you!” Draco said indignantly, looking at him as if Harry had said that the Muggles had discovered the wizarding world.
“Who would have thought a month would be enough to end someone’s health? I hope next month is less painful for me than it will be for you.”
“Why don’t you fuck yourself, Potter?” Draco asked, and Harry hugged him around his waist, kissing his cheek.
“Because I hate having to do your job.” Harry laughed, going to the kitchen and shoving him along with him, making Draco laugh slightly, unable to control himself.
When the girls returned home, there was a delicious smell of food all over the place. Phoenix paused, sucking in a deep groan of pleasure.
“Daddy's making homemade bread!” she said, turning to the two of them and talking at the same time she moved her hands. “Let’s take a shower and come down. It's better right out of the oven.”
They didn’t take long. Dubhe hated her curly hair, but she'd forgotten the straightener at home and the straightening spells were never really good. Besides, her aunt seemed excited to hydrate and define her curls. When she looked in the mirror, the effect of black and red was even cooler on her curly hair, she had to admit, but she didn’t want to think about taking care of them every day. They went down to the kitchen where Draco and Harry were sitting at the table eating their loaves. There were several kinds of cheeses, hams and fillings on the table, and then Narcissa and Phoenix sat down. Dubhe, on the other hand, felt strange.
“Hm... Maybe I should get mine and go up...”
“What? There is homemade bread and you want to go up? Are you mad? Sit here.” Phoenix pushed her against a chair, placing a plate in front of her and a knife in her hand. “In what world were you raised in? This is tradition. When Dad makes bread, everyone eats.”
“And what's so special about it?" Dubhe asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I asked exactly the same thing when he did it for the first time,” Draco replied, buttering a crunchy slice and biting, licking his lips and closing his eyes in pleasure. “If you don’t think it’s anything special, just eat,” he said after swallowing. “It’s bread. The worst that can happen is you to gain a little weight. Merlin knows you need it.”
Dubhe looked at him with narrow eyelids, but decided to follow what he said. She cut a slice, deciding to eat with a paste of something that smelled good, but she didn’t know exactly what it was. She took an unpretentious bite, and the crusty bread seemed to melt in her mouth. It was delicious. It was unlike any bread she had ever eaten before, and she took another bite before realizing she was demonstrating that she had liked it. She tried to put a mask of indifference on her face, but realized that Harry was smiling.
“It’s tasty,” she said, trying to sound like it wasn’t special, but she still had about five slices before she felt full.
After dinner, Phoenix said goodbye to them and went home, leaving Dubhe with a sense of emptiness. Narcissa smiled at her, but the only thing Dubhe could do was smile back. She didn’t know how to communicate with her aunt, and frankly, she was too tired to try. She gave a quick “good night” and hid in her room again. The first day hadn’t been so bad. The problem was to put up with the next ones.
The routine was predictable in that house. Every day Harry would wake up at five in the morning. He would make breakfast listening to the radio, which would always wake Dubhe, and sing while pounding pans and cutlery. Narcissa would wake up soon after. She always took a shower early in the morning and passed by her door with a delicious scent of flowers, which, mixed with the coffee, made Dubhe want to leave the bedroom. However, she would stay there until she heard Draco leave the master room, complaining about how early it was and how much noise Harry was making. After a few minutes, Tutty would knock on her door, staring into the bedroom with her huge eyes and a flashier dress than the previous night, wondering if Miss Dubhe would like breakfast in the room or would go to the kitchen.
Dubhe usually asked that it be delivered to her room, but eventually she would go down to the kitchen, where she would watch them in their natural habitat. Harry and Draco were constantly teasing each other, and Narcissa smiled at them as if she could understand. In fact, Dubhe had discovered it during the first few days that she understood. She had learned to do lip reading before going to Hogwarts and hardly had any problem understanding people. This made Dubhe try to get closer to her aunt.
It wasn’t so hard. Sign Language wasn’t something from another world, and Dubhe prided herself on her wits. The fact that Narcissa was her age also helped a lot. She didn’t know how to use the internet or a smartphone, but she liked novels as much as her niece and had a collection of them in her bedroom. Dubhe showed Narcissa her favorite fanfics, and Narcissa began to write big phrases or very complex things with her wand in the air to speed up understanding. Dubhe did the same.
Her relationship with her grandfathers, however, didn’t change much for some time. She felt more comfortable next to them, but there was always a shock, something she didn’t understand, or something they didn’t understand. Sometimes she made comments that annoyed Harry, and consequently made Draco furious. One of the things she realized was that even after so long, they were still very protective of each other. Dubhe wanted to ask, to know about their relationship, but she didn’t have the guts. She didn’t want to be an intruder or talk about things she shouldn’t. It was enough to be disrespectful as she was with her red hair.
One night, however, as Dubhe and Narcissa returned from the beach, the house was full of old people. The two of them had begun to write together in a little notebook, each playing a different character, and they were positively addicted to it. They didn’t realize how much time had passed and now the house was crowded with old people talking loudly and drinking.
They weren’t any old people, of course. Dubhe had known them all her life. Great-aunt Hermione and Great-Uncle Ron were there, laughing at something someone had been talking and eating. Great-aunt Pansy too, along with Luna, Blaise, Ginevra, Neville and Hannah. The radio played classics, and who noticed the duo first was Hermione.
“Dubhe! Cissa! You arrived!” She stepped out of one of the sofas, moving closer and hugging them. She smelled of perfume and freshly trimmed grass, what reminded of Dubhe's childhood, chasing after her aunt's impossibly old cat.
After that, it was a sea of hugs, kisses and squeezes. It was obvious that Dubhe wanted to escape, but a look from Draco made her stay. Not that it forced her to stay, but she didn’t want any trouble after such a nice afternoon. Narcissa, on the other hand, was in her element. She smiled and waved her wand to and fro, silvery words rising in the air like an open, magical book. She sat on one of the couches and called her niece with one hand, making Dubhe have no choice but to sit down beside her.
“As I was saying,” Ron resumed. His cheeks were already red with alcohol, and he pointed to Harry with the bottle’s neck. “It was obvious you two were obsessed with each other in school.”
“Of course not!” Harry protested, but Hermione raised her hand.
“Harry, you cursed Malfoy by praising his 'silky, soft, golden hair.'” Everyone laughed, including Malfoy, who got a little shoving from his husband.
“Admit it, Potter, you couldn’t stop thinking about me,” He teased, causing Harry to roll his eyes.
“Do you want me to remember all the non-compulsory classes you had with me just to stare at my person?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
“All useless classes were compulsory. I don’t know what you're talking about.” Draco looked away, drinking from his bottle. Dubhe smiled as she realized that the pink on his cheeks was not from the drink.
“See? Obsessed.” Ron pointed one more time, and Harry crossed his arms.
“At least I didn’t start hating a Quidditch player that I loved just because he was dating my best friend.” Harry teased, and Ron looked at him hurt.
“That was low, Potter. Very, very low.”
“But it's true.” Hermione laughed, slapping his back and smiling sideways. “No one here is safe.”
“It is true.” Ginny said, turning to Luna. “And the wedding, how's it going?”
“We're planning everything calmly so there's no stress,” Luna replied, her white hair pinned with a pair of butterflies.
“You say that because you’re not in charge with the Buffet, the decorations, the invitations...” Pansy protested, and Luna just laughed.
“You are the one who wants all of this, baby. I thought you'd had all the glamour you wanted when you married Blaise,” Luna commented, making Pansy roll her eyes.
“I married because I was pregnant. I didn’t plan anything, everything was his mother. Now I want it to be perfect.” She squeezed one hand in the other, and Blaise, who had an arm around Ginny's shoulders, snorted.
“Old as you are it’s possible for you to drop dead while walking down the aisle. Beware of stress, Pansy,” he teased, and Pansy didn’t throw a full glass of liquor on him because Draco took it out of her hand in the last second.
“I think it's very remarkable that you're getting married after so long. It just shows that the flame of love isn’t over yet,” Neville said solemnly over his glass of wine.
“I think it's very romantic,” Hannah commented with a smile that Luna and Pansy had returned. Draco rolled his eyes.
“Women think too much with their hearts. I married for sex and we've been together for almost 45 years,” he said, drinking the rest of his glass before filling it again. Dubhe felt her cheeks flush as she heard her grandfather, but she couldn’t help laughing.
“Just for sex?” Harry asked, pretending to be offended, and Draco shrugged.
“You’re also a good cook.”
The night passed too quickly between drinks and songs from the 2000s. When they all left and they were putting the bottles back into the cellar while Tutty took care of the mess in the living room, Dubhe felt an overwhelming desire to ask her grandfathers things, which she hadn’t felt before. She set the bottle of liquor in place and turned to them, a little awkwardly.
“How did you two meet?”
Harry looked at her in confusion, brows furrowed.
“You don’t know?”
“Ah. Well. No.” She felt strange. Why should she know? “Dad never told me. Nor you.”
“It's because it's general knowledge,” Draco said, leaning against the table and crossing his arms. He looked sleepy but didn’t sit up. “We met at Hogwarts. I was in Slytherin, and he was in Gryffindor.”
“We hated each other. I wanted to kill him half the time. And in the other half, I only wanted to seriously hurt him.” Dubhe laughed at Harry's speech, while he pulled a chair closer to his husband, sat down and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist.
“There were a lot of things going on during our year at Hogwarts. There was the war, and Potter being a stupid hero... It took me a long time to know that what I felt wasn’t hate, but a very strong unresolved sexual tension,” Draco continued, making Harry laugh.
“After the war, we started to... You know? To live. Those were horrible times. You don’t know how lucky you are to be able to walk around with a Muggle phone and use the internet without the risk of being discovered.” Harry sighed, leaning his head against his husband's body. “It was natural. We liked Quidditch, and he had just joined Puddlemore. They had called me too, for the Hornets, but I was on the Mediwizard training and didn’t want to leave. We started talking to each other on Pansy's birthday party since I had gone with Luna and they were both good friends back then. The rest is history. We had a lot of reprieved energy.”
Draco laughed, clutching him in his arms and Dubhe decided to be even more pertinent.
“Do you still have sex?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, looking at Harry and then looking at his granddaughter.
“Whenever possible.” It was Draco who answered.
“Not as often as before, but as often as possible,” Harry added, and Dubhe laughed to herself.
They were nothing like she had ever imagined. Her father would never speak so openly about sex in front of her.
“I think I'll sleep. Thanks,” she said, approaching them and giving a crooked hug, which was returned with enthusiasm, before going upstairs. Narcissa was already getting ready for bed, and Dubhe gave her a “good night” before going to her own room. She didn’t even remember picking up her cell phone that night.
In the kitchen, Harry and Draco took their time to get apart. When they did, Harry stood up, facing the other and kissing him slowly, his mouth tasting like beer and sweets. Draco immediately hugged him by the neck, feeling his body soften, as it always did when Harry kissed him.
They parted, and Draco held up his hands, smoothing the other's gray hair.
“Do you still have sex?” he asked, and Harry laughed.
“Want to find out?” Harry countered, making Draco laugh. They went up to the couple's bedroom without haste. They were in a hurry before, but now they knew each other too well. Nothing would really stop them from doing that. They stripped off their clothes and went to bed. They took their time between kisses and touches, preparing their bodies, heating slowly, but efficiently. Draco was still long, slender, with smooth, smooth skin. Harry wasn’t as defined as before, and his skin wasn’t so firm, but Draco loved to squeeze it and feel the muscles that were still there.
There was no hurry. Harry prepared him with devotion, his eyes locked on his beloved without moving, drinking from his expression of pleasure. His fingers came and went from his lover's slicked interior, and there was a smile on Draco's lips as he indulged in uninhibited pleasure.
Harry took his fingers off of him, sliding into his body and slowly penetrating him, holding one of his legs and leaning with his other hand.
“How come you're still so tight?” Harry asked, out of breath, and Draco smiled.
“Pureblood genetics.” It was the answer, which earned him a particularly strong thrust, making him moan.
“Smug bastard,” Harry murmured, but he smiled. They began to move against each other, Draco meeting Harry halfway, his eyes closing as he lost his composure. It didn’t last that long. Harry knew exactly where to touch him and what speed to use to give him pleasure, and Draco didn’t bother to hold himself back. Harry followed soon after, coming into him with a hoarse groan against his neck.
They held each other for long minutes, until Harry decided it was time to get up and get clean.
They took a shower together, laughing lightly and tiredly.
“How many times this month?” Draco asked, and Harry smiled proudly.
“Four. And we still have 15 days until the end of the month.”
“Hm, it looks like you still have it working, don’t you?” Draco teased, and Harry patted his shoulder lightly. They changed into pyjamas, and laid back on the bed, hugging each other under the sheets.
“I love you. You know that, right?” Harry asked, and Draco shrugged.
“It's still just sex for me,” he answered, and Harry laughed, squeezing him a little more. Draco's hand automatically held Harry's, as he always did at night, his thumb touching his husband's ring on his finger, feeling under his digit the depression of the words in the gold. Infinite as Fiendfire.
--
The next morning, Dubhe had trouble finding her cell phone while it was ringing between the sheets. When she found it, she answered without looking at who was calling and was surprised by her father's voice on the other side.
“Is everything okay over there? We are going to come over on Saturday. How's everything going?” Sirius's deep voice asked, and Dubhe cleared her throat to find her voice before answering.
“It's all good. Saturday, me and Cissa plan to go to the fair that will happen on the beach. You can go too. It will be great,” she answered, and her father was silent for a few seconds.
“I thought you'd want to come back,” he admitted, and Dubhe smiled slightly.
“Not for now,” She answered, looking at the door and hearing to her two grandfathers coming down the stairs together, laughing and talking. “I'm fine here. Really, really fine.”
~fin
Author:
pollyweasleyCharacters/Pairings: Harry/Draco, mentions of Ginny/Blaise, Neville/Hannah, Luna/Pansy, Ron/Hermione, past Pansy/Blaise
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: around 5,5k
Content/Warning(s): Past!MPREG, bottom!Draco
Summary/Prompt: Dubhe absolutely hates her grandfathers’ house. It’s old, there’s no Wi-Fi and no electricity. She was causing problems after school, but it was entirely her father’s fault. She didn’t need to be punished to live with old, boring and conservative people. Harry and Draco, on the other side, were more than happy to have their oldest grandchild with them. Maybe they could show her that being old doesn’t mean being bad.
A/N: Thank you all those who helped me with this fic with ideas and cheering. Thank you
minesomine with your valuable tips. They helped me A LOT with this one. This was a self-prompt. Could’ve been bigger, but I decided not to. Thank you all for reading.Those Old Vows
Dubhe was furious. It wasn’t because she had caused a few problems in her last year at school that she deserved to be stuck in the middle of nowhere. She hated visiting her grandfathers’ house. They still lived in their beach house that they bought even before her father was born, and they still had that same old-fashioned way of living, not using electricity for most of things. They didn’t even had Wi-Fi! There was a limit to owls and she had friends on the other side of the world! Friends who were not wizards. They were extremely happy that she would move in with them, especially after her Aunt Phoenix had left home last year and they were living alone with her younger aunt, Cissa. She sighed, thinking she could convince them to relive the old flame and throw her back home to... Anything they like, hold hands and kissing, or whatever old people their age did.
When Dubhe left the fireplace, she found her grandfathers waiting on the small couch beside the brown coffee table. She remembered to love hiding under that little table when she was very small, but that was a long time ago. She was already an adult, and if her father hadn’t frozen her Gringotts account, she would be in some luxury flat in central London - as soon as she knew how and where to exchange wizard money for Muggle money. Harry stood up with a smile, approaching her with steady steps, as he always had.
“Dubs! At last you appeared! We've been waiting for you since morning..." he said and gave her a hug. Okay, she might not like visiting their house, but she liked them. Just a little. Harry, at least. He was always more sympathetic to her tastes and the fact that she liked to use her smartphone and online Messenger. Dubhe hugged her grandfather, breathing the scent of wood and chocolate he had, and moving away a little, noting that she was nearly as tall as him.
“You look beautiful! It seems like I haven’t seen you in years!”
“You saw me at Christmas, granddad,” she said, and walked away from him, looking for room to breathe. Harry was clingy and always hugged too much. Always.
“What’s with your hair?!” She heard another voice speaking, and rolled her eyes.
Grandpa Draco, the biggest and worst conservative in history, which was ironic because he had given birth to four children and was extremely gay. She touched her hair, usually curly and black, but that was now straight and dyed red from half to bottom.
“I dyed it.” She shrugged, and looked at the other’s face. He was taller than Harry, his hair completely white - different from the light pepper that covered her other grandfather’s head.
“And straightened, too. It’s awful,” Draco said, but he approached her with a small smile. "And where are your glasses?"
“Contact lenses,” she said, a little uncomfortable, crossing her arms. Here was one reason why she didn’t like it there. They always judged her, they always stared as if she had done something wrong.
“Doesn’t it tear your eyes off?” Draco asked, then got back a little. “But it’s time for lunch. Tutty must have done something by then,” he said, stretching out his arms with an elegance that Dubhe certainly hadn’t inherited, and went to where they always had lunch: on the back terrace.
“You already know where your room is, don’t you?” Harry asked, and Dubhe nodded. “Leave your stuff there and get down to eat with us. I believe that...”
“I'm sorry, but I have some things to do, then... I’ll ask Tutty to bring my lunch up there, okay?” Dubhe said, and she felt a little pain when his face lost some of the brightness it had before. He nodded and scratched his gray beard.
“Okay. When you want to come down, we’ll be out there on the hammock,” he said, and walked away towards the terrace.
“Let me guess, she’s not coming,” Draco said as he appeared, and Harry nodded, sitting heavily in his usual spot next to Draco. The table was wide enough for the two of them to be at one end comfortably. It was great when all the children, daughters-in-law and grandchildren were there, laughing and eating. “You know, I thought it would be the same as living with Phoenix... But at least she liked us.”
“Don’t say that, Dragon. Dubhe likes us,” Harry said, pouring himself some juice. It was almost as if he wanted to convince himself of it.
“And she doesn’t even want to have lunch with us. She has just arrived and already hid in the bedroom. She always does that,” Draco said, barely touching the food on his plate, looking extremely annoyed.
“Dragon... She’s from a different generation. She’d just finished school. It must be awful to have to live in a place that isn’t your home, away from your parents and your brother..." Harry said, raising one hand and smoothing the other's back. Draco let out a sigh.
“I told Sirius that so much Muggle stuff at his house wasn’t going to do the girl good,” Draco said, and Harry laughed.
“Jimmy loves to come here,” he reminisced.
“Jimmy’s eight. What child doesn’t love to come to the beach, get sun burnt and do nothing but run in despair?” he asked, and looked at Harry. After a few seconds the two said in unison, “Scorpius.”
They both laughed, and Harry put his hand on the table, looking at his husband. He lifted a hand, caressing the hair on the back of Draco’s neck. They might have changed colour, but they were as silky as they were when they started dating. Scorpius was their middle son, and had always been very much like Draco. Blue eyes, blond hair, his body longer and less defined, except the hands. His hands were Harry's. He had always been a boy who preferred books and board games rather than being on the beach, as Sirius and Phoenix preferred. Sirius was middle ground. When he was born, Harry wanted to call him James Sirius, not only because of the tribute to his two father figures, but also because the boy was the identical image of his father: Black hair, brownish skin and honey almost green eyes. His hair was smooth and behaved like Draco’s, but he liked to use them relaxed and wasn’t as careful as his daddy was. Draco, however, persuaded Harry to call him Sirius James because he planned to have more than one child and wanted everyone to have names of constellations. Harry was so happy to hear that that he hadn’t thought twice before accepting.
Scorpius Hyperion and Phoenix Lily were born not so much after, and they were only two years apart. Scorpius had always been the quietest, and Phoenix, the most excited. It was no surprise when Sirius had been sorted in Slytherin, Scorpius in Ravenclaw, and Phoenix in Gryffindor. Today, each had their own family except for Phoenix, who had no husband or children. She said she was too excited about her curse-breaker job to have a relationship.
After three, they thought they had enough and Draco stopped taking the potions. However, by chance from fate during Phoenix’s seventeenth birthday, Draco ended up pregnant again, without potions or spells, which they thought was impossible, but that eventually happened.
That wasn’t a good pregnancy. There were always risks, Draco being a man and Harry’s magic unstable, but at 46 the stakes were much greater. Draco had had to stay in bed for most of his pregnancy, and when Narcissa Iris was born, they were surprised to learn that she couldn’t hear or speak.
It was a great commotion in the family. Draco wept for weeks, and Harry, despite feeling equally sad, was the first to learn sign language.
Despite the lack of hope of many - especially the Malfoys - Cissa went to Hogwarts and got sorted in Ravenclaw. She was exceptional, considering she couldn’t hear spells’ names. She learned lip-reading and wordless magic before she even went to school, and she ended up with excellent grades. At that moment, she was with her sister on some excursion. Cissa and Phoenix were always united, and Harry and Draco were waiting for their arrival at any moment.
Dubhe, for her part, was frustrated. Tutty had left her lunch on the nightstand, but she hadn’t touched it for long.
Her cell phone was in her hand, and she tried in vain to connect the 5g signal, but the magical influence of the house prevented the internet from working. There were electronic gadgets in the house, and she could at least listen to music and read fanfictions she had saved on her cell phone, but the internet... She had warned her friends online that she could disappear, but she didn’t want that to be a reality. She ended up having lunch as she read, and paid no attention when the little house elf in a fancy lemon green dress came to pick up her plate, lying on the bed that used to be her Aunt Phoenix’s. There were posters of the Holyhead Harpies on the walls, her great-aunt Ginny in one of them, dated 2009. The paper was already torn in the folds and fixed with tape, but the image continued to fly indefinitely, as she looked at the camera before throwing the Quaffle against the pole. There was a single Puddlemore United poster, and it was huge. It took the whole wall and showed her grandfather Draco at the age of 22. As much as she thought him a tyrannical conservative, she had to admit that he was definitely handsome. At 22, then, and smiling at the camera, she understood exactly what her grandfather Harry had seen in him. Her father was an almost perfect mix of the two, and she looked at that poster for a few minutes before continuing with her story.
When she decided to leave the bedroom, it was late afternoon. She went to the kitchen and picked up an apple, biting it, bored. She looked around. Her grandfathers weren’t watching the telly - did they know how to turn the device on? - nor were they teasing each other in the kitchen, as they usually did. Curious, she walked through the house, and found them on the terrace facing the sea. Both were in a hammock, Harry lying underneath and Draco between his legs, with his head on his chest and sleeping deeply. Harry’s fingers stroked his husband’s thin hair, and Dubhe wondered why she hadn’t been born with that gene instead of the terrible Potter’s hair.
“All right, pumpkin?” asked Harry, and she smirked sideways. They had called her pumpkin since the day she was about 2 years old, and she had been soiled with pumpkin when her father and her uncles were doing Halloween decorations. She ran proudly and screaming “I am pumpkin!", and the nickname caught on for many years. Her grandfathers, of course, were the only ones who still called her that.
“A little bored,” she confessed, sitting down in a recliner so she could talk to him.
“Well, we don’t have everything you have in Sirius’ house, but it would be nice to see you leave the bedroom for a while,” Harry said, without stopping what he was doing with his hands. The movement was almost hypnotic and Dubhe felt a little lonely to see them together. Her last boyfriend had been an arsehole, and maybe it was one of the reasons she had problems at school.
“I’m just not used to... Well...”
“A classical wizarding house?” he asked, and she shrugged.
“There is no internet.” That was her answer. She had become so dependent on the internet that she felt naked when she couldn’t use it. The girl sighed, turning the phone in her hand. She was almost without battery and she didn’t have much to do, but it was comfortable to have it between her fingers.
“There is the beach. We have the telly. And us.” Harry grinned, and Dubhe pressed one hand to the other.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, but you-”
“...are old?” Harry laughed, making Dubhe feel uncomfortable. “I don’t know if you know it, but one day I was exactly your age. I was recovering from a war and trying to understand why I was no longer in love with the girl I dated at school, but I was young.” Dubhe rolled her eyes, knowing the speech that was coming. She was already bored. “Come on, I'll show you,” Harry said, and she raised one eyebrow. He tried to get up from the hammock, but the weight of his husband on him prevented it. “Darn it. I’m stuck.”
Dubhe laughed lightly, watching her grandfather struggle to get out from the hammock without waking the other.
“Do you know when a cat lies on your lap and you can’t breathe so it doesn’t wake up? I feel that way now.”
She laughed even more, standing and helping him out. Draco complained in his sleep, hugging the pillow that remained in the hammock, but didn’t wake up.
Harry shrugged, calling her into the house.
Dubhe followed doubtful, but didn’t question him. Before he could show her whatever he was about to show, however, the fireplace became alive and her Aunt Phoenix appeared. She had the reddest, bushiest, curlier hair that Dubhe had ever seen. They had been sunburned, leaving the tips blond, and she had incredibly green eyes, so green that they seemed weird between all of her makeup. Soon the fire shone again, and Narcissa appeared behind her. She was the opposite of sister, being pale and gentle when Phoenix was all colours and life.
“Pa!” The redhead practically jumped on top of Harry, hugging him by the neck and standing on her toes. She was about one metre and a half, but she made up for lack of height with enthusiasm. She turned to Dubhe and smiled, pulling her into a hug. “Dubs! Siri said you were going to be here for a while. Have you been on the beach already?”
“She didn’t leave the bedroom,” came a sleepy voice. Draco entered the house, and Narcissa, who was hugging Harry, immediately went to hug him, looking at him as if she had a thousand things to say.
“Papa!” Phoenix smiled, squeezing him at the same time as her sister, then turning to Dubhe. “And you. I don’t want to see you locked in. Let's go out. Do you have a swimsuit?”
“I have, but...”
“Great!” Phoenix clapped her hands, pulling her niece up and moving her hand to her sister, in a gesture that Narcissa seemed to understand but that made Dubhe frightened. “It will be great!”
Strange as it was, it really was great. She had never spent much time near her aunts, especially Narcissa, since she couldn’t understand her, but spending an afternoon feeling the soft sun on her skin and the waves caressing her body wasn’t bad. Phoenix was fun and exciting, and Narcissa was incredibly silly when it came to fun - for Dubhe, at least, who always thought she was a serious, boring girl in her life.
Harry and Draco watched from the terrace, lying in the hammock as they normally did since their children played on the same beach many years ago. From a distance, it was possible to see that Dubhe's hair was slowly returning to the natural curly state, and was opening a little more towards Narcissa, even trying to understand some of the gestures she made.
“Do you think she'll be better here?” Draco asked, lifting his face slightly to look at Harry, who lowered his.
“Siri thinks so. But, frankly, it's his fault she's caused so much trouble. If he didn’t work so much...”
“You spent weeks at St. Mungo's sometimes, Harry. Sirius is a businessman...” Draco was quick to defend his eldest, but Harry shook his head.
“I'd spend weeks, but then I'd take at least a week off to stay with my family. When was the last time Sirius took a break?” Harry asked, and Draco looked away. It was true. “Not to mention that... Dubhe is always alone. Her brother is at school most of the day, and you know how it feels to leave Hogwarts and not have things to do. Not having a clear objective.”
Draco glanced at his granddaughter thoughtfully again, before lifting his head from where it was on Harry's chest and out of the hammock.
“Come. Let's make dinner before you get merged into the hammock.” Draco shook his head, putting his silver hair in place.
“I'm not the one who refuses to wake up before 10,” Harry teased, standing up as well.
“I am a heavy sleeper! Besides, my shoulders hurt in the morning.” Draco walked towards the living room, chin up, with Harry right behind.
“See? It's because you're older. I have no old people problems.”
“I'm a month older than you!” Draco said indignantly, looking at him as if Harry had said that the Muggles had discovered the wizarding world.
“Who would have thought a month would be enough to end someone’s health? I hope next month is less painful for me than it will be for you.”
“Why don’t you fuck yourself, Potter?” Draco asked, and Harry hugged him around his waist, kissing his cheek.
“Because I hate having to do your job.” Harry laughed, going to the kitchen and shoving him along with him, making Draco laugh slightly, unable to control himself.
When the girls returned home, there was a delicious smell of food all over the place. Phoenix paused, sucking in a deep groan of pleasure.
“Daddy's making homemade bread!” she said, turning to the two of them and talking at the same time she moved her hands. “Let’s take a shower and come down. It's better right out of the oven.”
They didn’t take long. Dubhe hated her curly hair, but she'd forgotten the straightener at home and the straightening spells were never really good. Besides, her aunt seemed excited to hydrate and define her curls. When she looked in the mirror, the effect of black and red was even cooler on her curly hair, she had to admit, but she didn’t want to think about taking care of them every day. They went down to the kitchen where Draco and Harry were sitting at the table eating their loaves. There were several kinds of cheeses, hams and fillings on the table, and then Narcissa and Phoenix sat down. Dubhe, on the other hand, felt strange.
“Hm... Maybe I should get mine and go up...”
“What? There is homemade bread and you want to go up? Are you mad? Sit here.” Phoenix pushed her against a chair, placing a plate in front of her and a knife in her hand. “In what world were you raised in? This is tradition. When Dad makes bread, everyone eats.”
“And what's so special about it?" Dubhe asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I asked exactly the same thing when he did it for the first time,” Draco replied, buttering a crunchy slice and biting, licking his lips and closing his eyes in pleasure. “If you don’t think it’s anything special, just eat,” he said after swallowing. “It’s bread. The worst that can happen is you to gain a little weight. Merlin knows you need it.”
Dubhe looked at him with narrow eyelids, but decided to follow what he said. She cut a slice, deciding to eat with a paste of something that smelled good, but she didn’t know exactly what it was. She took an unpretentious bite, and the crusty bread seemed to melt in her mouth. It was delicious. It was unlike any bread she had ever eaten before, and she took another bite before realizing she was demonstrating that she had liked it. She tried to put a mask of indifference on her face, but realized that Harry was smiling.
“It’s tasty,” she said, trying to sound like it wasn’t special, but she still had about five slices before she felt full.
After dinner, Phoenix said goodbye to them and went home, leaving Dubhe with a sense of emptiness. Narcissa smiled at her, but the only thing Dubhe could do was smile back. She didn’t know how to communicate with her aunt, and frankly, she was too tired to try. She gave a quick “good night” and hid in her room again. The first day hadn’t been so bad. The problem was to put up with the next ones.
The routine was predictable in that house. Every day Harry would wake up at five in the morning. He would make breakfast listening to the radio, which would always wake Dubhe, and sing while pounding pans and cutlery. Narcissa would wake up soon after. She always took a shower early in the morning and passed by her door with a delicious scent of flowers, which, mixed with the coffee, made Dubhe want to leave the bedroom. However, she would stay there until she heard Draco leave the master room, complaining about how early it was and how much noise Harry was making. After a few minutes, Tutty would knock on her door, staring into the bedroom with her huge eyes and a flashier dress than the previous night, wondering if Miss Dubhe would like breakfast in the room or would go to the kitchen.
Dubhe usually asked that it be delivered to her room, but eventually she would go down to the kitchen, where she would watch them in their natural habitat. Harry and Draco were constantly teasing each other, and Narcissa smiled at them as if she could understand. In fact, Dubhe had discovered it during the first few days that she understood. She had learned to do lip reading before going to Hogwarts and hardly had any problem understanding people. This made Dubhe try to get closer to her aunt.
It wasn’t so hard. Sign Language wasn’t something from another world, and Dubhe prided herself on her wits. The fact that Narcissa was her age also helped a lot. She didn’t know how to use the internet or a smartphone, but she liked novels as much as her niece and had a collection of them in her bedroom. Dubhe showed Narcissa her favorite fanfics, and Narcissa began to write big phrases or very complex things with her wand in the air to speed up understanding. Dubhe did the same.
Her relationship with her grandfathers, however, didn’t change much for some time. She felt more comfortable next to them, but there was always a shock, something she didn’t understand, or something they didn’t understand. Sometimes she made comments that annoyed Harry, and consequently made Draco furious. One of the things she realized was that even after so long, they were still very protective of each other. Dubhe wanted to ask, to know about their relationship, but she didn’t have the guts. She didn’t want to be an intruder or talk about things she shouldn’t. It was enough to be disrespectful as she was with her red hair.
One night, however, as Dubhe and Narcissa returned from the beach, the house was full of old people. The two of them had begun to write together in a little notebook, each playing a different character, and they were positively addicted to it. They didn’t realize how much time had passed and now the house was crowded with old people talking loudly and drinking.
They weren’t any old people, of course. Dubhe had known them all her life. Great-aunt Hermione and Great-Uncle Ron were there, laughing at something someone had been talking and eating. Great-aunt Pansy too, along with Luna, Blaise, Ginevra, Neville and Hannah. The radio played classics, and who noticed the duo first was Hermione.
“Dubhe! Cissa! You arrived!” She stepped out of one of the sofas, moving closer and hugging them. She smelled of perfume and freshly trimmed grass, what reminded of Dubhe's childhood, chasing after her aunt's impossibly old cat.
After that, it was a sea of hugs, kisses and squeezes. It was obvious that Dubhe wanted to escape, but a look from Draco made her stay. Not that it forced her to stay, but she didn’t want any trouble after such a nice afternoon. Narcissa, on the other hand, was in her element. She smiled and waved her wand to and fro, silvery words rising in the air like an open, magical book. She sat on one of the couches and called her niece with one hand, making Dubhe have no choice but to sit down beside her.
“As I was saying,” Ron resumed. His cheeks were already red with alcohol, and he pointed to Harry with the bottle’s neck. “It was obvious you two were obsessed with each other in school.”
“Of course not!” Harry protested, but Hermione raised her hand.
“Harry, you cursed Malfoy by praising his 'silky, soft, golden hair.'” Everyone laughed, including Malfoy, who got a little shoving from his husband.
“Admit it, Potter, you couldn’t stop thinking about me,” He teased, causing Harry to roll his eyes.
“Do you want me to remember all the non-compulsory classes you had with me just to stare at my person?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
“All useless classes were compulsory. I don’t know what you're talking about.” Draco looked away, drinking from his bottle. Dubhe smiled as she realized that the pink on his cheeks was not from the drink.
“See? Obsessed.” Ron pointed one more time, and Harry crossed his arms.
“At least I didn’t start hating a Quidditch player that I loved just because he was dating my best friend.” Harry teased, and Ron looked at him hurt.
“That was low, Potter. Very, very low.”
“But it's true.” Hermione laughed, slapping his back and smiling sideways. “No one here is safe.”
“It is true.” Ginny said, turning to Luna. “And the wedding, how's it going?”
“We're planning everything calmly so there's no stress,” Luna replied, her white hair pinned with a pair of butterflies.
“You say that because you’re not in charge with the Buffet, the decorations, the invitations...” Pansy protested, and Luna just laughed.
“You are the one who wants all of this, baby. I thought you'd had all the glamour you wanted when you married Blaise,” Luna commented, making Pansy roll her eyes.
“I married because I was pregnant. I didn’t plan anything, everything was his mother. Now I want it to be perfect.” She squeezed one hand in the other, and Blaise, who had an arm around Ginny's shoulders, snorted.
“Old as you are it’s possible for you to drop dead while walking down the aisle. Beware of stress, Pansy,” he teased, and Pansy didn’t throw a full glass of liquor on him because Draco took it out of her hand in the last second.
“I think it's very remarkable that you're getting married after so long. It just shows that the flame of love isn’t over yet,” Neville said solemnly over his glass of wine.
“I think it's very romantic,” Hannah commented with a smile that Luna and Pansy had returned. Draco rolled his eyes.
“Women think too much with their hearts. I married for sex and we've been together for almost 45 years,” he said, drinking the rest of his glass before filling it again. Dubhe felt her cheeks flush as she heard her grandfather, but she couldn’t help laughing.
“Just for sex?” Harry asked, pretending to be offended, and Draco shrugged.
“You’re also a good cook.”
The night passed too quickly between drinks and songs from the 2000s. When they all left and they were putting the bottles back into the cellar while Tutty took care of the mess in the living room, Dubhe felt an overwhelming desire to ask her grandfathers things, which she hadn’t felt before. She set the bottle of liquor in place and turned to them, a little awkwardly.
“How did you two meet?”
Harry looked at her in confusion, brows furrowed.
“You don’t know?”
“Ah. Well. No.” She felt strange. Why should she know? “Dad never told me. Nor you.”
“It's because it's general knowledge,” Draco said, leaning against the table and crossing his arms. He looked sleepy but didn’t sit up. “We met at Hogwarts. I was in Slytherin, and he was in Gryffindor.”
“We hated each other. I wanted to kill him half the time. And in the other half, I only wanted to seriously hurt him.” Dubhe laughed at Harry's speech, while he pulled a chair closer to his husband, sat down and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist.
“There were a lot of things going on during our year at Hogwarts. There was the war, and Potter being a stupid hero... It took me a long time to know that what I felt wasn’t hate, but a very strong unresolved sexual tension,” Draco continued, making Harry laugh.
“After the war, we started to... You know? To live. Those were horrible times. You don’t know how lucky you are to be able to walk around with a Muggle phone and use the internet without the risk of being discovered.” Harry sighed, leaning his head against his husband's body. “It was natural. We liked Quidditch, and he had just joined Puddlemore. They had called me too, for the Hornets, but I was on the Mediwizard training and didn’t want to leave. We started talking to each other on Pansy's birthday party since I had gone with Luna and they were both good friends back then. The rest is history. We had a lot of reprieved energy.”
Draco laughed, clutching him in his arms and Dubhe decided to be even more pertinent.
“Do you still have sex?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, looking at Harry and then looking at his granddaughter.
“Whenever possible.” It was Draco who answered.
“Not as often as before, but as often as possible,” Harry added, and Dubhe laughed to herself.
They were nothing like she had ever imagined. Her father would never speak so openly about sex in front of her.
“I think I'll sleep. Thanks,” she said, approaching them and giving a crooked hug, which was returned with enthusiasm, before going upstairs. Narcissa was already getting ready for bed, and Dubhe gave her a “good night” before going to her own room. She didn’t even remember picking up her cell phone that night.
In the kitchen, Harry and Draco took their time to get apart. When they did, Harry stood up, facing the other and kissing him slowly, his mouth tasting like beer and sweets. Draco immediately hugged him by the neck, feeling his body soften, as it always did when Harry kissed him.
They parted, and Draco held up his hands, smoothing the other's gray hair.
“Do you still have sex?” he asked, and Harry laughed.
“Want to find out?” Harry countered, making Draco laugh. They went up to the couple's bedroom without haste. They were in a hurry before, but now they knew each other too well. Nothing would really stop them from doing that. They stripped off their clothes and went to bed. They took their time between kisses and touches, preparing their bodies, heating slowly, but efficiently. Draco was still long, slender, with smooth, smooth skin. Harry wasn’t as defined as before, and his skin wasn’t so firm, but Draco loved to squeeze it and feel the muscles that were still there.
There was no hurry. Harry prepared him with devotion, his eyes locked on his beloved without moving, drinking from his expression of pleasure. His fingers came and went from his lover's slicked interior, and there was a smile on Draco's lips as he indulged in uninhibited pleasure.
Harry took his fingers off of him, sliding into his body and slowly penetrating him, holding one of his legs and leaning with his other hand.
“How come you're still so tight?” Harry asked, out of breath, and Draco smiled.
“Pureblood genetics.” It was the answer, which earned him a particularly strong thrust, making him moan.
“Smug bastard,” Harry murmured, but he smiled. They began to move against each other, Draco meeting Harry halfway, his eyes closing as he lost his composure. It didn’t last that long. Harry knew exactly where to touch him and what speed to use to give him pleasure, and Draco didn’t bother to hold himself back. Harry followed soon after, coming into him with a hoarse groan against his neck.
They held each other for long minutes, until Harry decided it was time to get up and get clean.
They took a shower together, laughing lightly and tiredly.
“How many times this month?” Draco asked, and Harry smiled proudly.
“Four. And we still have 15 days until the end of the month.”
“Hm, it looks like you still have it working, don’t you?” Draco teased, and Harry patted his shoulder lightly. They changed into pyjamas, and laid back on the bed, hugging each other under the sheets.
“I love you. You know that, right?” Harry asked, and Draco shrugged.
“It's still just sex for me,” he answered, and Harry laughed, squeezing him a little more. Draco's hand automatically held Harry's, as he always did at night, his thumb touching his husband's ring on his finger, feeling under his digit the depression of the words in the gold. Infinite as Fiendfire.
--
The next morning, Dubhe had trouble finding her cell phone while it was ringing between the sheets. When she found it, she answered without looking at who was calling and was surprised by her father's voice on the other side.
“Is everything okay over there? We are going to come over on Saturday. How's everything going?” Sirius's deep voice asked, and Dubhe cleared her throat to find her voice before answering.
“It's all good. Saturday, me and Cissa plan to go to the fair that will happen on the beach. You can go too. It will be great,” she answered, and her father was silent for a few seconds.
“I thought you'd want to come back,” he admitted, and Dubhe smiled slightly.
“Not for now,” She answered, looking at the door and hearing to her two grandfathers coming down the stairs together, laughing and talking. “I'm fine here. Really, really fine.”
~fin
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I love how "real" it all felt. The character of Dubhe is very reliable with her internet-addiction (Guilty!), her passion for fanfics, her rocky relationship with hair and social events. I felt like "knowing" her my whole life, and I'm sure that the other readers will agree with me. Dubhe could be us, our sisters, our best-friends and our future granddaughter maybe.
I love how awkward she feels around her grandparents, how sad she maybe is. Draco seems so "real", in way, being the one who immediately notice her hair and who glares at her when she wants to disappear in her room. Harry is also very real, being the tender grandfather who just want to enjoy his family's company. I love them.
I love the original sons and daughters who had created for Draco and Harry, especially the addiction of Narcissa and the events of her birth, which complete this feeling of reading a story about two people who lived together through so much.
And, finally, the "Infinite as Fiendfire". WOW. It's such a beautiful metaphor and it speaks volume to the love that Draco and Harry share, a love still strong after 45 years. BLESS YOU, MA.
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I want some of Harry's hot fresh crusty bread, with butter melting into it.
Am hoping Hermione's impossibly old cat was Crookshanks!
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and yay for teenage rebellion and for amazing grandparents!
this was just such a nice read- i am already tempted to reread it because its so worth it.
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Oh man, Harry's bread being legendary, I loved that! I loved them being so protective of each other and, you know, wonderfully in love. Thank you!
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Beautifully done!
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