Drarry - It Was All Just a Game (REWRITE - MATURE VERSION)

CHAPTER 80 - PEACE

The following months were abnormal because they were so normal.

They didn't have to hide anymore. There wasn't some huge mystery that Harry had to solve, nor Voldemort around murdering anyone and everyone. They both focused on schoolwork, treatment, and being together and enjoying each and every second of it.

It was what they'd worked for, why they'd hung on through all the war. And it was worth it. A million times over.

Harry improved so much by the end of April that he didn't require in-patient treatment, only twice-weekly therapy and daily potions. He'd gained healthy weight. And that wasn't to say there weren't bad days, bad meals, bad moments, flashbacks, breakdowns, fits and fights, and all the ugly things that came along with deep trauma, childhood neglect, grief, torture and mental illness. That would be something they'd need to manage for years to come, if not their entire lifetimes. It was hard work and a constant thing to manage—and sometimes exhausting, too.

But the days were worth living. They laughed openly in classes when things were funny instead of felt excluded, wanting to roll up into a ball of depression. They played Quidditch and went on dates in the forest in between studying. They enjoyed weekends with their friends and took walks along the castle in the evenings.

They grieved during the ceremony for the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.

When it was time to study for their NEWTs, Harry kept looking over his shoulder, waiting for a disaster which never came. And since it never did, he was forced to study.

This was an advantage for their exam period, which lasted two weeks.

The night after their NEWT's, the couple was walking back from dinner, hand in hand, when Ron approached them.

"Harry did you hear?"

"Now what," Harry blinked.

"A bunch of the Quidditch players wanted to do a scrimmage. Would you be interested?"

"That would be incredible! Definitely!"

"Harry, that's great! You can finally play again," Draco encouraged.

"You too, Draco—Merlin, I will never get used to calling you that," Ron snickered. "I reckon we could get a pretty good game going. We could advertise it as the Battle of the Husbands, or something catchy like that?"

"That's not catchy," Draco said flatly.

"Whatever, you know what I mean," Ron replied. "So are you two up for it? It's on Saturday."

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"Awesome, I'll go tell Angelina," and with that Ron left with excitement swimming in the air.

"So this means we get to be enemies again," Draco asked.

"It does," Harry smiled, bumping into him. "And since it does, we should make a bet out of it."

"I like where you're going with this."

"Who ever wins, shags the other?"

"Too generic. I say whoever loses has to write 'Cumslut Potter' on all their essays for an entire week," Draco commented. Harry's mouth dropped before he began chuckling. He then stuck out his hand and Draco shook it.

A few days later, Harry wiped sweat off his face in the locker room. His Quidditch uniform stuck to him.

Everyone was ready for the next match against Slytherin, and Harry was getting into focus, trying to shake the thoughts that no matter what, he couldn't let his husband win.