The Wizarding Award Scheme Programme (or W.A.S.P. for short)

Epilogue

In mid-August, Harry wandered into the dining room at Hogglestane Croft and, despite already having had breakfast, he snagged a slice of toast from the sideboard which was being kept warm and crisp under a stasis charm. He'd eventually given in to hiring a House-elf; with five children to look after, it was something of a miracle not to have to deal with cooking breakfast, especially on the mornings when he needed to go up to school to prepare for the forthcoming term. As it was still the holidays, breakfast had become something of a relaxed affair with everyone appearing when they awoke.

'That was quick!' said the blond-haired man sitting at the table reading a newspaper as he finished his coffee.

'Yes, Minerva only wanted a breakfast meeting about staff roles.'

'Oh, anything to report?'

'She wants to offer you Head of Slytherin House.'

Draco grinned wickedly. 'Excellent!' he exclaimed.

'Really,' Harry said. 'And I thought you didn't like getting involved with the students...'

Draco waved his concern away, scoffing with an undisguised smirk, 'it's simply that I don't want the overt adversity between us to dwindle, Potter.'

'I see, Malfoy, like that, is it?' Harry's grin mirrored Draco's.

They both stared at each other, verdant-green and silvery-grey eyes sparkling mischievously. Harry took an exaggerated bite of his crispy toast as Draco broke eye-contact first.

'Alone this morning?' Harry asked, gleeful to have momentarily won a silent battle.

'Yes, the boys have already eaten and are off outside, something to do with a treehouse their dad built them. Lily is, of course, yet to appear.' He shook out the paper.

'Anything interesting in today's Prophet,' Harry said as he slid into the chair next to Draco, resting a hand briefly on Draco's slender thigh beneath the table and giving it a fond squeeze.

'Well...' Draco hesitated.

'Uh-oh...' Harry murmured as he poured himself a cup of tea from the pot.

'It seems that someone might have leaked the wedding photos...'

'Dray!' Harry turned his husband's face towards him with a finger under his chin and kissed him on the lips. 'If you'd wanted to have the press at the wedding, you only needed to tell me.'

'Goodness, Ry, of course I didn't want them here. It would have ruined everything. It's just the photos are so perfect, it was a shame not to share them with the world.' He pushed the paper towards Harry.

It was, indeed, a stunning photo of him and Draco on the front page under the large bold headline: HARRY POTTER AND DRACO MALFOY SHOCK WEDDING!!! Harry ignored the words for the moment, staring instead at the large photograph which took up nearly the whole cover. It was a full-length image of the two of them stood under the folly on the shore of Loch Hogheiliag which the garden ran down to. They had taken their vows under the flower-wrapped pavillion with Kingsley Shacklebolt acting as minister for the wedding and Kingsley was just visible in the background. Harry and Draco dominated the image, facing their guests but just with eyes for each other, the love was quite clear as they leant forward and gave each other a chaste kiss in front of their guests. The image then broke into a shower of rice and confetti. What couldn't be told by the photo was this was the moment Ysolte had sang for them from the loch, stunning both Harry and Draco and guests alike with her beautiful melodies.

'We look rather handsome, don't you think?' Draco said with a pleased smile.

They did. They both wore sleek ivory brocade robes that fell to their knees, over matching waistcoats and black trousers. Harry smiled at their hair, the small white daisies that Lily had made them wear were quite visible. It had been Harry's hair which had caused the most problems in the build up to the wedding itself. Lady Parkinson and Minister Granger had taken a week off work early in the summer and appeared together at Hogglestane; deeming it necessary to take the planning in hand. It turned out there wasn't much for them to do. However, they spent the first three days locked in the master bedroom trying to tackle the unruly mop of raven hair which refused to be tamed. They tried every product and every spell and every style they could think of, much to Harry's disgust at having his hair pulled and tugged into every torturous semblance of something they considered suitable.