Starts With a Spin

Epilogue

"You know what? Voldemort is a right pain in the arse."

"Is he? I hadn't realized..."

"Ha, right," Harry snorted. He'd been standing in front of a mirror in the Gryffindor dormitory in nothing but his boxers and a white undershirt, absently trying to decide what he wanted to wear for the night. Now he glanced up into the glassy surface, catching sight of Draco sitting on a bed behind him, dressed much the same way. "It's just...this stupid war," Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Why did he ever have to start it if he was just going to up and disappear again?"

Draco snorted lightly, giving Harry an amused look. "Five months later, and now you're wishing it had never started? And he didn't actually disappear, seeing as how we never knew where he was to begin with. He just...stopped. For a bit." He stood and crossed to stand behind Harry, still looking at him in the mirror. Harry sighed again.

"Yeah, that's true. I suppose I'm just feeling antsy, because usually I get into all sorts of trouble at the end of the year, but this time? Nothing. Not even a clue as to what he's planning." He dropped his eyes for a second, and then looked up again, chewing slightly on his bottom lip. "Draco, have you decided where you're going to stay this summer yet?"

Draco blinked at the abrupt change of topic. "I...hmmm." He looked away, rubbing his arm absently. "No," he replied. "I suppose I should go back to the manor and make sure everything's in order, but... It still doesn't seem real, you know?" Harry didn't answer and Draco looked back at him, continuing quickly, "I mean, it did...for about a minute. At the...at the funeral. But after that, being back here... I can still pretend that I'm going to see her over the summer. It feels like I am. But going back...when she won't be there..."

"...I know what you mean," Harry murmured, thinking of Sirius, and how sometimes it still felt like he would write back if Harry sent him a letter.

Narcissa's funeral had been an experience that Harry didn't ever care to repeat. There obviously hadn't been a funeral for Sirius, so, in a way, Harry had been able to treat Narcissa's as if it was his as well. That had made it difficult, though, because he'd been saying goodbye to Sirius all over again, which only reopened old wounds that Harry had thought had long since healed.

The Aurors that had been stationed throughout the attendees hadn't been needed, it turned out. No one had seen nor heard from Lucius since the breakout, and even months later, there still hadn't been any movement from him. In fact, Voldemort's attacks had stopped since Draco's mother had been murdered, and no one had any idea what he might be planning to do next.

Which, of course, left everyone in a state of agitated panic. It wasn't uncommon to be snapped at out of the blue, nowadays.

"Stay with me," Harry blurted out suddenly, spinning around to face Draco. "I've got my own place- I mean, well, Sirius left it to me. You could stay there over the summer." It came out in a jumbled rush, and Harry felt his cheeks warm slightly. He'd wanted to ask Draco for a few weeks now, but he hadn't known what the others boy's plans were, since Draco never gave him direct answer whenever he asked. But the days left until summer were dwindling, and if he didn't ask now...

"Stay with you...?" Draco repeated faintly, staring at Harry wide-eyed.

"Yeah. Yeah, I mean... You'd have your own room, obviously. So you'd have some privacy. And a place to put your things. Not that I don't want you sleeping in my room, but, you know, that way if anyone asks or gives you a hard time about it-"

"Harry," Draco interrupted, smirking, "do you really think I care what anyone thinks about us anymore?" He gestured at the wall beside Seamus' bed, where the Irish boy had taped up various newspaper clippings from a series of articles that had been released directly after the funeral. Everyday for nearly two weeks, the Daily Prophet had been showered with various pictures of Harry and Draco holding hands or leaning against each other, and there were even a few where Harry had his arm around Draco's waist. All of them had been taken at the funeral, and they were accompanied by asinine headlines that started out somewhat innocently enough as: