Author's Notes: This is slightly AU in that Harry defeats Voldemort several years after Hogwarts. This chapter, and the next one, "Winter's Here to Stay," were previously posted as two one-shots, but now I'm compiling them into one fic with two other points of view on the relationship.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, nor is any money being made from this.


Summer to Summer

Harry could smell the grass as it turned brown and dead from the heat of the sun. He liked sitting on the back veranda and looking out at the gardens. Narcissa said he spent entirely too much time out of doors, and that his lovely, pale skin would get burned. Harry slathered on sun block and kissed her on the cheek.

Draco came to the door and announced that dinner was ready. Harry tilted back in his chair, craning his neck to look up at him. "You spent all afternoon in the potions lab, didn't you?" he asked, noting the stains on Draco's fingers and the smell of smoke. "You work too hard."

Draco scowled and limped inside, leaning heavily on his cane. Harry watched him for a moment, then got up and followed. He caught Draco in the hall and slipped his arms around his waist. "Don't be mad," he whispered.

Draco held himself stiffly for a moment, and then relaxed in Harry's arms. "I was working on a new sleeping potion for you," Draco said. "To take away the nightmares."

Harry shuddered and clutched Draco more tightly. "I don't like taking potions," he complained. "They give me a headache."

Draco ran his hand through tangled black hair. "I know."

"It's best when you're there holding me," Harry murmured.

After dinner, Draco played the piano. Harry asked Narcissa to dance, and they whirled slowly around the room. Draco's reflection watched them from the windows. After awhile, Isolde started crying, and Narcissa went upstairs to check on her. Harry crept up behind Draco and started kissing him on the neck and nibbling his ear. Draco laughed, and Harry thought it was more beautiful than the music.

They had cake for breakfast the next day because it was Harry's birthday. Isolde had helped decorate it, and so the result was a mess of pink and green squiggles. Harry told her he loved it. "Did you make a wish?" Draco asked, after Harry blew out the candles.

Harry nodded, licking frosting off his fork.

"Tell me."

"I can't tell, or it won't come true."

Nightfall was long in coming, and Draco's skin was pale in the grey twilight. Harry loved hearing Draco moan his name and twist his hands in Harry's sweaty hair. Draco was always self-conscious about his scarred leg, but Harry told him how beautiful he was, in between kisses.


Red leaves clogged the gutters, sodden from the rain. Harry stared at them from the window in their bedroom. It was foggy outside, and Harry didn't like the fog. He latched the windows, closed the curtains tightly, and locked the door. He sat in the chair, his nails biting into his palms. The crack under the door was a weak spot. Harry could almost see the coldness creeping under it. He stuffed old Daily Prophets into it until the space was gone. But there might be cracks in the walls, minuscule cracks that Harry couldn't see, but the fog could find. He wished he had his wand. Where was his wand? It should be here somewhere...

There was a knock on the door, and Harry cringed in terror before he remembered that the fog wouldn't knock. "Harry, let me in," Draco ordered.

Harry didn't reply. He still hadn't found his wand and was currently absorbed in ripping the mattress apart.

There was a sudden flash of light, and the door banged open. Draco stood looking down at him. "Dammit, Harry, that's the fifth mattress this month."

Harry looked up from where he was sitting in a pile of feathers. "I can't find my wand," he explained.

Draco knelt down beside him. He plucked some feathers out of Harry's hair and kissed him. "Your wand was destroyed, Harry. Remember?"

Harry frowned, as the memory tried to come back. Tears slid down his cheeks. "Can't" he whispered.

Draco nodded and stood up to open the curtains, flooding the room with sunlight. "Look, the fog has cleared up. I'm sure Isolde would love to go for a walk."

Isolde picked asters while Harry watched her. She had inherited her mother's looks – brown hair and eyes. Harry sat down next to her. "Your mother's name was Pansy," he said. "Like the flower." Isolde waved an aster at his nose and giggled. "She's dead," Harry went on. "So is my mother. She was named after a flower, too, but I don't remember which one." Isolde held out her arms, and Harry picked her up, settling her on his chest as he lay back in the grass. The clouds were big and fluffy. "I can see a cat in that one," Harry told Isolde. For some reason this made him think of books and ink and brown eyes that were a few shades lighter than Isolde's.

Both of them fell asleep a short time later. Harry dreamed of flying through the sky, chasing a golden ball with wings. It was very important that he catch it, but he was distracted by a pair of grey eyes watching him.


Winter brought a bitter cold that seemed to lie about the house and spring on Harry when he was unprepared. He spent most of the time curled up in front of the fire with a good supply of hot chocolate. "What are you doing, Harry?" Draco asked, wandering into the room.

"Thinking," Harry replied.

"Professor Snape is turning in his grave," Draco murmured.

"Who?" Harry asked, curious.

"No one you would know," Draco told him.

Harry took Isolde sledding in the fresh snow. She squealed with excitement as they sped down the hill. They ended up in a heap at the bottom, both laughing. Harry showed her how to make snow angels. The sky was a brilliant blue above them, and Harry thought of chocolate frog cards and lumpy maroon sweaters. He saw Draco watching from a window and waved.

Nightfall brought another storm. The fire had burned down to glowing coals while the wind howled outside. Draco clutched Harry tightly, and Harry licked the salty trails from Draco's cheeks.


Lacy green leaves covered the branches of the tree above them. Harry lay with his head in Draco's lap. Draco ran his fingers through Harry's hair, and Harry looked up at him. "I love you," Harry said. Draco smiled. A dog barked over the hill, the sound carrying in the still air. Closing his eyes, Harry saw mirrors and black fur and dead rats.

Harry lifted Isolde in his arms to see the bird's nest and the two eggs nestled inside. "Be careful," Draco warned, looking up from reading the newspaper. His leg was propped up on a stool.

Harry kissed Isolde's brown curls. "We're always careful, aren't we?"

Draco's sleeves were rolled up, and Harry stared for awhile at the black tattoo that crept around his left forearm.

Harry held Draco locked in his arms that night. He could feel Draco's heart pounding next to his own. It was a steady rhythm that lulled Harry to sleep.


Sunlight filled Diagon Alley, glinting off the glass storefronts. Isolde raced in front of them, peering into shop windows and laughing. It was hot, and Draco wiped the sweat off his face. He reminded Harry to keep his cloak on and the hood up. Harry nodded. Draco and Isolde stepped into a store, but Harry paused on the threshold. A man and woman were standing across the street, looking at the display in the windows of Flourish and Blotts. The man had red hair. Harry stared at them and remembered playing chess and studying books of spells in the evenings. "You coming?" Draco called from inside.

Harry blinked and turned, entering the cool darkness. "Yes."