The Boy who lived and The Boy who survived (Drarry)

Chapter 63: Epilogue

Present Day. Grimmauld Place. July 31.

1 year later...

It's been a year now since Harry had first awoken to find himself in what would have appeared to have been the realm of life and death. A year now since he had somehow brought back Draco from the dead, or to be more exact, prevent him from ever dying in the first place.

And a year since he had last seen him.

He told everyone what happened. And of course, though skeptical, Hermione and Ron, as well as a few others, were the only ones who believed him all the way.

It should have broken him more. The prospect of knowing he was still alive but not being able to see him. He would ask himself questions all day and all night, keeping himself awake and spiralling into an endless train of thoughts.

If he was alive, why didn't he come looking for him? Why couldn't he have taken him through the portal with him?

He voiced out his frustration to Hermione, who had become somewhat of a personal therapist for him, more than he'd like to admit, but she would always respond with the same answers. Something about "disrupting the fabric of time and space" or "it would create a paradox" or it being similar to how she used her time turner in 3rd Year. Either way, it gave him more questions than answers.

He should have gone insane from the experience. But he didn't.

Surprisingly, this past year has been exceedingly kind to Harry Potter. It is as if learning about the truth of what happened to Draco, knowing that he is alive somewhere, that they would see each other again, in a day, in a year, in 50 years... it didn't matter to him. The thought of being able to see him again made Harry live every day to the fullest, it gave him something that he had thought he lost the day he thought he lost Draco. He had given him hope. He had given him a purpose in life again. Gone were the days where he would wake up in grimmauld, his grief keeping him from stepping out of the bed, or even having an appetite some days. But now, everything is different. He had promised himself that, promised Draco that.

Now, on most days, he would awake with a smile, the light peeking through the curtains giving him that first touch of warmth for the day ahead. And today was extra special.

It was his birthday.

His 21st to be exact.

He shouldn't feel that old really, until Ron, having had a bit too much to drink last night, mentioned how its been 10 years since they first met on the Hogwarts Express, whilst trying not to get overly emotional, much to the dismay of Hermione and the amusement of Harry.

Still laughing at the thought of last night, he made his way down the creaky stairs of the old Black house, passing by Kreacher who gave him a forced smile.

"Happy Birthday Master Potter." the words sounded as if he had to force them out of his mouth. Harry cringed at the action and nodded in thanks and slowly made his way to the kitchen.

It came as no surprise to Harry anymore, as the moment he walked in the kitchen, he was greeted by a huge stack of fan mail on the table, and what's more, to find Ron and Hermione sat on the same table, drinking tea and making themselves at home.

They've been coming over so much that might as well be living here.

"Morning Harry!" Ron beamed at the sight of him and stood, "Happy Birthday old chap!"

He gave his best friend a bone-crushing hug, reminding him strongly of Molly's warm hugs, except for the warm part that is.

"I'm only 21, you know." Harry laughed as he returned the gesture.