Chapter Text
It was the end of July, a few days prior to Harry’s birthday. He’d be turning eighteen this year, an age he once thought he’d never live to see.
In the majestic Malfoy Château in the heart of the French Provence, on one of the large balconies overlooking endless acres of lavender and sunflowers, he and Draco were sitting at a small table, playing a game of wizard’s chess.
“What are you grinning about, Potter?” Draco asked smugly. “You look like a loon, and you do realise you’re losing again as well, don’t you?”
“Yeah, you’ve finally found something you can beat me at, Draco. Well done.” Harry shook his head in amusement. “I was just thinking how beautiful and peaceful it is here, and how glad I am that…“
“None of the parentals insisted on us staying at The Manor, Godric’s Hollow or heavens forbid, Grimmauld Place for the summer hols?”
“Yeah. It’s a lot more private here. Besides…“ He grins. “No offence, but your father still scares the living crap out of me. He’s so bloody nice here, it’s positively terrifying.”
“Really, Potter.” Draco chuckled. “I far prefer Father like this. Severus, on the other hand… Well, it boggles the mind how he’s become so… so..“
“Human?” Harry offered.
“I was going to settle for ‘mellow’, but I suppose ‘human’ works just as well; and I’m sorry to say, but your father’s a genuine dickhead, though.”
Harry sighed. Part of him wanted to protest. This was, after all, his dad Draco was insulting. But even though Harry was technically a Slytherin here, in his heart of hearts he still remained far too much of an honest Gryffindor to try and deny the obvious truth. So he simply said, “I know,” sighed deeply, and tried not to think of how much of a disappointment the illustrious James Potter had turned out to be. At least some comfort was to be found in how his mother had remarried someone who was actually worthy of her, even if that person, of all possible people, happened to be Severus Snape.
“Personally,” Tom cut in. He was sitting a few feet away, leafing through ‘La Vérité Magique’, a French wizarding newspaper. “I’m more concerned about that daft Bellatrix woman. Sometimes when she looks at me, I have to wonder if she wants to eat me alive.”
Draco chuckled. “She probably does. Mother mentioned in her latest Owl that the crazy wench even hit on Father last week. He wasn’t amused, or even remotely flattered.”
“I always thought it was Azkaban that had made her lose her marbles,” Harry remarked. “Who’d have thought she was off her rocker all along?”
The other two just shrugged.
“Sorry to interrupt, Masters.” A house-elf appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “But Tuppy be needing to know: how many visitors and which food?”
“Five guests will be joining us today,” Draco replied. “Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe and Ronald Weasley.”
The elf blinked, well aware that the Malfoys and the Weasleys, although both old wizarding families, had never been on terribly cordial terms; they certainly never mingled or invited one another over on social occasions. “W-Weasley, Master Draco?”
“Yes, Tuppy. Please don’t look at me like that. We have to accept, sad though it is, that Hermione is dating the freckled git; Merlin only knows why.”
“Hey!“ Harry piped up.
“Save it, Potter.” Draco gave him a pointed look. “I invited him, didn’t I? I told him he was welcome, even, so no need to get your knickers in a twist.”
“Sorry to interrupt again, Master Draco, but”—Tuppy fidgeted nervously— “which foods to be serving?”
Draco moved to stand. “Come on, I’ll show you,” he said and left with the elf in tow.
Harry stared after them. He could feel the warm sun playing with his hair and lightly tanning his skin, and he was amazed at how content and relaxed he felt here, at this very moment. He never wanted this summer to end, even though he also knew it was just the beginning of his new life, and that in all likelihood, from hereon out, things would only get better.
“So, Potter,” Tom said, breaking the odd silence. He put down his paper, rose from his chair and walked over to where Harry was seated. “Everything all right? You seemed miles away just now.”
Harry looked up. “Yeah,” he replied with an impish grin. “I’m great.”
“Good. Then I suggest we go and see what Malfoy’s up to, before he lands us with escargots or something equally vile for dinner.”
“What?” Harry made a face. “He wouldn’t!”
“There’s a Weasley coming over,” Tom pointed out. “Draco most certainly would. So…“ He held out his hand. “Shall we?”
Harry nodded. He took the proffered hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Standing face to face with Tom, he couldn’t help but smile. Impulsively, he threw his arms around the boy and kissed him thoroughly.
When they broke apart again, Tom shook his head, amused. “What was that for, you daft Gryffindor in Slytherin guise? Not that I’m complaining, per se.”
Harry swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “It’s just that… Well… I love you,” he blurted out at last.
Even though Harry spoke those words to Draco constantly, it was the first time he said them to Tom, and while finally doing so made him more than a little nervous and apprehensive as well, he was mostly relieved. After everything that had happened, everything the three of them had been through together, he considered it wrong to stay vague about such matters. His boyfriends (definitely boyfriends now, not just lovers, Harry decided) deserved better.
Tom smirked. “I must confess you’ve rather grown on me as well, Potter. Now come along, before Draco inflicts too much damage downstairs.”
Harry nodded. With a wide grin on his face, he followed Tom down to the kitchens.