The sound of excited children screaming surrounded them, piercing Draco's ear drums. He climbed over the waist-high barrier separating the Quidditch pitch from the stands and crossed the field to where Harry was waiting.

"Are you sure these hoops are low enough?" Draco asked, looking at the highest hoop which stood at eye level.

His face twisted into apprehension, but then Harry leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead, and the tension faded away.

"There are cushioning charms all around the hoops," Harry explained, draping an arm of Draco's shoulder and pulling him in close. "Two metres is the maximum height these brooms go to, so you can be utterly certain these kids are going to fly that high anyway."

Draco glanced over at the crowd of eight years olds huddling excitedly in the centre. One of them had got their hands on a spare broom and was already trying to levitate it. His red curls whipped around his face in the wind, and his cheeks almost matched his hair with the exertion of how hard he was trying to make the broom jump into his hands.

"You have a point," he said drily.

"Did you want to stay for the kick off?" Harry asked, smiling up at him. "Or is this just a quick visit?"

Warmth bloomed in Draco's chest, curling slowly through his whole body. "I can stay."

Harry led the way over to the centre of the pitch. The grass crunched beneath their feet; it smelled as if it had been recently cut, and the scent mingled with the rich scent of hot food that carried over from where the mums and dads were hovering in the stands.

As they drew near, Draco fell back to the edge of the crowd, smiling at the few children that looked his way. Most of them only had eyes for Harry—bright, eager, reverent eyes.

"Right!" Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around at the small crowd of children at his feet. There were around fifteen of them.

His entire demeanor had changed. His voice was gentle, filled with laughter even when he wasn't joking. The children gazed up at him, and despite a few giggles and whispered conversations, they listened. Pretty impressive considering the ages ranged from around six to ten.

"We've got a few new faces today," Harry said, smiling down at them all. "So we might start back at the basics. Who here has ridden a kid's broom before?"

Several hands shot in the air while one or two voices piped up that they'd ridden a real broom.

"Who can tell me the first safety rule on a broom?"

"Tuck your feet in!" one kid yelled.

"Don't aim for anyone!" added another.

"Don't whack anyone with it!"

Draco watched Harry fight back a laugh.

"An excellent point, though I'm a little worried it was even an option. Yes, you're right—the first rule is not to fly straight at anyone. The charms are strong and the ground is soft, but it's not a good habit to get into. What you want to do is fly alongside someone. Always try to come up next to them. We'll have a few accidents—we always do—but that's all right because what are we doing?"

"Trying our best!" The kids yelled back.

Draco could spot the new faces in the crowd. They were mostly quiet, trying to follow along with the answers a beat behind everyone else. One little girl looked like she was about to be sick.

The crowd surged to their feet, and Draco took his cue to go back and join the parents waiting on the side lines. One mother was standing on her own, her hands clutched around a steaming cup of coffee, so Draco stood with her.

"First time today?" she asked eagerly the second he'd come to a stop beside her.

Draco shook his head. "I'm with Harry. Just popped over to see how it was all going."

Her face broke into a smile, though her forehead was still creased with nerves. "Oh that's lovely. He does such a wonderful job. My friend has been raving about him for weeks, but she couldn't come today. Her kids have all got the flu and she's racing around trying to make enough vegetable soup for the lot of them." She let out a high-pitched laugh and then shut her mouth quickly, as if worried she was too loud.

Draco smiled at her as reassuringly as he could manage. Her shoulders relaxed a little.

"Which one's yours?" he asked, nodding his head to the crowd that were now standing in a line and practicing the 'up' command.

"Emily," she said, pointing towards the end of the line. "The little blonde one, just there. My name's Evie."

It was the girl who had looked sick. She noticed her mum pointing and gave a timid little wave. Draco made sure to wave back.

"She seems a bit nervous," he said lightly. "She's never used a kid's broom?"

"Oh no," Evie shook her head. "We think she might be a Squib. Her sister showed signs of magic at four, and Emily's nearly eight."

"She might be a late bloomer," Draco suggested.

Evie shot him a grateful smile. "Maybe. We're just glad something like this exists. At least if the worst happens, she can still go for a fly with her sister."

Draco tried not to wince at her phrasing. Then he tried not to remember what his younger self would have thought.

"Harry's working on getting a program going with Hogwarts," he said casually. "She'd be able to join the Herbology classes as well if she was interested."

Evie's eyes widened, an almost painful level of hope taking over her face. "Really?" she breathed. "That would be amazing. I just hope she wouldn't feel too out of place, you know? It's hard being different."

Draco looked over at the group and bit back a smile. "Looks like she's doing just fine."

The redheaded boy who had been desperately trying to levitate his broom was eagerly helping Emily with her commands. Squibs tended to vary for how well the brooms responded to verbal commands, and it seemed Emily was one who would have to control it on her own. As he watched, the redheaded boy widened his stance, held his hands out dramatically with Emily's hands hovering in the air above his, and yelled "UP!" so loudly that they could hear it from the stands.

The broom shot into the air, and at the last second, he pulled his hands away so that Emily could catch it. She giggled, her entire face lighting up with joy.

When Draco looked over at Evie, her whole body had collapsed against the barrier with relief, a huge smile on her face.

Another mum came to stand beside them. "Are your kids on the field today?" she asked, rubbing her hands together to warm them and glancing over at them. "My Ben couldn't make it today, but he insisted I come along to make sure they hadn't started the new fixture without him."

Draco laughed. "Don't worry, the league doesn't start until October. They're just doing practice now."

She sighed with relief. "Phew. He was so worried he'd miss the first game, but he's just so sick, he couldn't even get out of bed."

"Oh, the flu's going around at the moment!" Evie said, turning to the other mum and widening her eyes. "So late in the season, too!"

"It's crazy!" the other agreed.

Draco let their conversation fade out of his awareness as he leant on the barrier and watched Harry teach. Harry was made for this. He had the kids hanging on his every word, and his expression was so light, so carefree, it was like Draco was looking at a different person. The tightness in his jaw that he'd always worn for hours after getting home from work was gone, the lines on his face overtaken by laughter rather than tension.

The moment of true realisation had come two weeks ago, when Harry had sat down at Draco's kitchen table and launched straight into a story about a Muggle-born child, Stacy, inviting three pure-blood children she'd met at the Junior Quidditch League to her birthday party. The three pure-blood children had been so honored that they were trusted to keep their secret. They'd spent days planning their outfits with Stacy's help, reminding each other of the written list of words they couldn't bring up, and basically amping each other up with excitement about this birthday party full of Muggles.

Stacy's mum had been a little more nervous, confiding to Harry that she was mildly terrified that something would explode with glitter and she wouldn't be able to think of a believable lie quick enough. But it had gone as smooth as possible. All four children had occasionally broken up into fits of giggles that left the other kids bewildered—particularly when one of the parents had commented on the old-fashioned broom tucked into the corner of the kitchen—but that was it.

All three pure-blood children had loved meeting their new Muggle friends, and now the biggest problem was the flustered parents who were busy trying to work out how to use a telephone so that they could arrange another play date.

Draco had watched Harry tell the story, watched the way his face lit up with pride and triumph and love, and he'd realised suddenly that everything had worked out. He still saw Eleanor, and Harry regularly met with a variety of Mind Healers and rehabilitation specialists, but they had weathered the worst part of the storm and come out flying.

The practice came to an end, and the sea of kids came rushing back to their parents, all talking over each other at once. Draco waited at the side while Harry collected the piles of brooms and shrunk the Quidditch hoops back into the ground, lest any Muggle break through the privacy shield around the oval.

He met Harry at the door to the change rooms, not that the kids were using them today. Those who had Quidditch jerseys had come dressed in them, and Draco had the feeling the parents would be putting up a fight to get them to change back out.

"How did it go?" Draco asked as Harry handed him a pile of shrunken brooms and moved past towards the storage lockers.

"Brilliant!" Harry enthused. "Did you see Arnold? He's the youngest of the lot and he's already got the hang of the wordless 'up' command. I'll have to get him to partner up with Emily and see if he can explain the difference in a way that works for her. She might go better wordless than verbal." He stowed the brooms away and turned back to grab the second pile off Draco.

"Or maybe she'll go better just picking it up. Who knows. It's always different when they're borrowed brooms. She told me she'd seen her mum hiding one away upstairs so she thinks it's going to be her birthday present." He started laughing. "She's a sneaky kid. I think she'll sort Slytherin if she goes to Hogwarts. Even if she doesn't, I reckon we'll find her sneaking across the grounds after hours if she goes to any of the holiday programs. Did I tell you McGonagall approved them? She wants to run a Potions program too."

Draco leaned back against the lockers and just let Harry's words wash over him. He couldn't keep the dopey smile from his face, so he didn't even try. When Harry finally turned to face him, surprise registered on his face for a moment before it was replaced with heat.

Harry lifted a hand and the door to the change room slammed shut and locked itself.

Draco pretended to look aghast. "There could still be parents out there, listening."

"They're too busy trying to justify to their kids why they can't buy the new Cleansweep Jr," Harry murmured, crossing the room and drawing Draco close.

"You didn't," Draco protested with a laugh, letting his forehead rest against Harry's.

"What was I meant to do?" Harry grinned. "I had a whole crate of them just begging to be tried out by enthusiastic children. It would have been an insult to the donation if I hadn't brought them out just in time for Christmas shopping."

"You're a menace." Draco tucked a finger under Harry's jaw and tilted him up for a kiss.

Their lips curved together, warm and soft. The conversation fell away, replaced by the gentle heat of their languid exploration. Harry shifted his hands beneath Draco's shirt, running his fingers across bare skin and tugging at his waist band questioningly.

Draco answered by undoing his trousers and shoving them down his thighs, making sure Harry's were quick to follow. He took them both in hand and began to set a rhythm in slow, measured strokes.

"You know, I had a dream about this once," Draco said, biting lightly against Harry's neck.

Harry dropped his head back on a gasp, his fingers entwining in Draco's hair and pulling almost unconsciously. "Yeah?"

"Or twice. Maybe several times. At Hogwarts." Draco could hear the rough desire in his own voice, and, beneath it, he could hear something warmer, something softer. "We'd just had that fight on the Quidditch pitch."

"You'll have to be more specific," Harry moaned, thrusting into Draco's loose fist. "Harder."

Draco let go of himself to focus the entire of his attention on Harry. As soon as Draco had enclosed around him, Harry groaned and surged forward for a kiss. His hand fell to Draco's cock and he began pumping him fast.

"The fight after I cheated," Draco murmured, wishing he'd taken a moment to get rid of both their shirts.

Then, he remembered he was a wizard. He waved a hand absently and their clothing vanished. Harry's eyes widened in surprise, and then he grinned, turning so that he could shove Draco up against the lockers.

Draco yelped at the sudden cold of the metal, but the sound died—transformed into an embarrassing moan—as Harry dropped to his knees and took Draco into his mouth.

He slid slowly to the base, eyes on Draco the entire time, before retreating backwards and pulling off with a faint pop. "Again," he muttered, voice hoarse, "you'll have to be more specific."

Draco laughed and dropped his head back against the lockers. "Shut up, Potter," he grunted, thrusting forward when Harry closed around him again. "I dreamed we took the argument into the change rooms, and then the showers, and then you were on your knees and I was fucking your mouth. Oddly prophetic, now that I think about it."

Harry murmured an affirmation around his cock, the sound vibrating against him and making his knees go weak. The lockers rattled behind them in time with Draco's thrusts, and when he looked down he could see Harry's spare hand moving fast between his own legs.

It was hotter than his teenage dream. The dream had been fueled by anger and a mutual yearning to prove the other wrong, to fight, to win. This was nothing like that. When Draco fell to his knees it was to bring them both pleasure, years-long feuds forgotten in the face of the other's offered vulnerability. Draco could get drunk off that sensation.

He looked down just at the moment that Harry's eyes opened again, looking up and searching Draco's face. He smirked, his mouth still full of Draco's cock, and sight of that wicked grin sent Draco soaring over the edge.

He clutched at Harry's hair, riding out the waves and thrusting as gently as he could manage. Then, Harry pulled away and spat onto the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smiling up at him. Before he could speak, Draco pulled him upwards and guided him back to the bench behind him. Still warm from the afterglow, he dropped to the ground and settled himself between Harry's spread thighs.

"Merlin," Harry breathed, eyes falling closed. "I'm so close, Draco."

Draco took him in, relishing the taste of sweat and arousal and clean man that filled his mouth. Above him, Harry's breath came in rough pants, interspersed with Draco's name in a tone of voice that made him feel like a god.

Within minutes, it was over. Harry stiffened beneath him and just held him there, his hand clasped around the back of Draco's neck as he groaned something incomprehensible. The sound went straight to Draco's spent cock, making it twitch with interest. When the moment had passed, Draco pulled away and let his head fall against Harry's thigh. He smiled against his skin as Harry's hand traced idle patterns into his hair.

Suddenly, Draco remembered why he'd come here today. He lifted his head and gazed up at Harry, seeing his own languid affection mirrored in his lover's face.

"Pansy wants a pub night," he said, standing and retrieving his clothes from where his spell had Vanished them. "She closed a major deal today and wants to celebrate."

Harry stretched and then leaned back on the bench, propping himself up by the hands. Draco took a moment to admire him in all his naked glory.

"I'm in," he said, waving his hand so that his clothing flew across the room to his lap. "We should get her something, too."

"Taken care of," Draco said. He couldn't find his boxers, so he reluctantly decided to go commando, buttoning up his trousers carefully. "I've bought her a disgustingly expensive bottle of wine to go with a disgustingly expensive bottle of perfume from France."

"Perfect." Harry smiled. "Anything I can do? Or have you done everything?"

"Don't look so surprised."

Harry slung his shirt over his shoulders and began to button it up slowly. "I'll just make sure to look pretty, then."

Draco snorted. "Oh, come on, I had to put in the extra effort to compete with the designer handbag you got her in autumn."

"It's not a competition," Harry said with a soft smile.

"Only if I'm winning."

Harry stopped dressing and stood up, his shirt still hanging loose and every other inch of him on display. He put his hands around Draco's waist and pulled him closer so he could rest his forehead against Draco's shoulder.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Draco stuttered. "For what?"

"You know what."

Draco let his hands come to rest on Harry's hips, the silence of the empty change room settling around them. It was comforting, as if he had one foot set in the past while facing inexorably forward to the future.

"Thank you," he replied, so softly he wasn't sure Harry heard it.

Harry's arms tightened around Draco's waist, and in the stillness of that moment together, Draco knew he had.

They Apparated back to Draco's to get ready for the pub, taking their time with languid kisses and conversation. By the time they were ready, the light had almost faded. Potter's eyes glittered in the lamplight, bright with affection and simmering heat.

A noise came from outside the window. Harry glanced through the gap in the curtains, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"I think you have visitors," he said conversationally.

Draco's eyes widened. "I thought they'd stopped!" he said, unable to keep the hint of glee from his expression as he hurried over to stand beside Harry. "I thought they must have triggered the spell while I was in France and then given up."

"Doesn't look like it," Harry mused, running a hand idly along Draco's lower back. "That, or these kids are new."

Draco hummed in thought. "I don't recognise them." A conflicting thought hit him. "Should I be morally opposed to taking pleasure from this?"

"There's a warning, right before they fire," Harry explained, eyes crinkling with amusement. "Whether or not they choose to challenge that is entirely their decision."

"Consider my guilt assuaged."

The shouting outside grew louder. "Oi, lads, I've found a weak spot!"

Draco and Harry leaned closer to the window to watch. Down below, a group of kids were huddled by the fence line with several cartons of eggs in their hands.

"No it's not! Look, it's just gonna bounce right back at you!"

"Nah, nah, I've got it! Watch this!"

One boy lifted his wand; the eggs rose as one. The wards around the house flickered, shining silver for a single moment, just like a mirror.

"No, don't do it!" one of them yelled while the others all covered their heads.

"Trust me!" the first boy yelled back.

It was a slow trajectory through the air, the eggs sailing in a beautiful wave towards the space where the wards began. A sound like cracking glass surrounded them, and for one shining moment the boy's face was alight with triumph.

Then, they were all covered in a mass of yellow. The boy stood there, staring up at the house with a dumbfounded expression.

"You idiot!" the others howled.

"I told you the weak spot was on the other side!"

"No, it's by the hydrangeas!"

"What the fuck is a hydrangea?"

Draco collapsed against Harry, weak with laughter. "That was better than I'd ever imagined."

Harry gripped the sill, shaking and trying to regain his breath. "God, I think it's just encouraged them."

"I know! This is awful!" Draco wiped happy tears away from his face, unable to look away from the sight of the egg-covered kids.

"Probably should have seen this coming."

"You mean we should have anticipated kids making stupid decisions?"

Harry pulled him close and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Yep. Did you want to take the wards down?"

"And ruin their fun?" Draco shook his head. "Not yet. Maybe I'll add a weak spot for them near the hydrangeas." He frowned. "I don't think I have any hydrangeas."

Harry shook his head, still smiling. "Come on, we're going to be late."

"I wonder if Rita will be spying tonight," Draco mused, mind racing with scandalous rumors they could spread through the pub, tailored for the reporter's ears.

He turned away from the window as Harry laughed, warmth suffusing his body at the sight of his partner's happiness.

"Who knows?"

Harry reached out to adjust Draco's lapel, and Draco ran a hand through Harry's hair. They were as ready as they could ever be, and after sharing a final, secret smile, they stepped into the Floo and left to face the outside world together.