The Boy Who Lived

Teddy Training

Draco eyed the note the Owl had delivered earlier, his heart thumping lightly. It was only an invite to join Potter and Teddy at puppy training the following night but, somehow, it seemed so significant.

He accepted, of course. How could he not? He wondered what drew him towards the raven-haired man. Perhaps it was the need for company, the need for familiarity. He was, if he was honest with himself, lonely. He'd cut himself off from everyone since the war, he never let anyone get close. He'd tried, briefly. He'd had a relationship with Astoria Greengrass. It was, to a degree, expected. Their fathers had set that one up long before the war.

Tori and he had got on well-enough so they tried anyway but there were no sparks. Without the pressure of his family pushing him towards the contracted marriage they agreed it wasn't working and after the war, both agreed they'd prefer to seek out their soulmates now that Pureblood marriages weren't the priority of the day. Draco walked away, somewhat relieved. Even their brief friendship fizzled out. That was the last time he'd let anyone get close.

He wondered about Potter again. Potter with a kid. At twenty-one.

It was then that Draco did the maths.

If Teddy was four, it meant he was born a month before the war. Had Potter really gone on the run, leaving a pregnant sixteen-year-old Weaslette behind? Salazar, it was scandalous. He wondered why he hadn't heard about this before. He knew he never read the papers but this, this went beyond idle gossip-column material. And he also wondered why it was never noticeable at school that Ginevra was pregnant. Salazar, did the staff even know? The thought of the way the Carrows targeted her was doubling horrifying with the knowledge that she was carrying a child. Obviously, Ginevra had disappeared from the school at Christmas. It was assumed she was in hiding, but perhaps this offered another explanation.

There had been no mention of her earlier, or other siblings. And he was fairly certain Harry was flirting with him but he wasn't quite sure if Harry was just overtly comfortable in others' company. He sighed, uncertain what to make of it all. Especially when he shut his eyes and heard Harry hissing Parseltongue by his ear, his breath ghosting over his neck. It made him shudder. Is it a kink? Harry had asked. Salazar, he'd never...

He met Harry, Teddy, and Mr Hercules on the south side of Battersea Bridge and they walked along the South Bank to the training venue, a community centre that lay in the shadows of Battersea Towers and the famous Dog's Home.

Miss Summerlee, who ran the classes, greeted them enthusiastically, 'oh, Mr Potter didn't explain he was bringing his partner but this is wonderful, the more family members involved the easier this is. And you both have such a charming little boy...'

Harry watched as Draco spluttered and went bright red.

He simply said, 'thank you, Teddy's a delight.' He couldn't help smirking though, highly amused by Draco's embarrassment at the woman's assumptions.

Before Draco had a chance to correct the woman, she had whisked away to the next arrivals and Harry placed a firm hand on the base of Draco's back and guided him towards some chairs at the side of the room.

'It's not worth it,' he said quietly, leaning close to Draco, inhaling an overwhelmingly pleasant smell of apples, vanilla, and gingerlily. Merlin, Draco smelt divine... 'People have always made assumptions about me, they always jump to conclusions, often the wrong ones. I've learnt now it's easier just to smile and let them get on with it. Trying to change their minds rarely works and is just a waste of energy.'

Teddy was fussing Hercules again and they were generally winding each other up into a state of excitement as they sat side-by-side on the chairs. Harry leant forward, his elbows on his knees, so his navy shirt raised slightly above his jeans, giving Draco a glimpse of olive skin cut by thin slices of white scars across his lower back. He couldn't deny being intrigued but there was no way he could ask. He wondered how on earth Harry had got scars like that. He wondered what had caused them and cold feeling of dread filled him at the probable reason. He couldn't imagine McGonagall was the perpetrator of such vindictive actions, which meant somewhere along the line, Harry had potentially been held captive and tortured for some reason. He didn't think it was connected to Voldemort but then he didn't know about everything that had gone on.He tried not to stare but the scars caught his attention time and time again. He tried looking at other details, his hair, his face, his hands...