Vagary

{Thirteen}

"I love you."

Harry felt blindsided by his own reaction to Draco's declaration. Of course after a moment of intimacy he'd want to tell his husband he loved him, it was a logical, easy thing for him to come by. The only thing was that he wasn't his husband, not in a mind's eye anyways.

The cold shoulder wouldn't do, Harry was sorry for it, but love for a man he'd only known a week was a bit too much to ask. For Merlin's sake they had been there all of one week, and with the magical uprooting as well as mental one, he was surprised he hadn't been put in the Janus Thickney ward at St. Mungo's.

Harry imagined Neville's parents were alive and well... then he remembered Bellatrix probably was as well.

He shivered and rolled over in the covers, knowing Draco might be familiar with his Auntie Bella still made him nauseous and far less prone to attraction to the man than just an hour ago.

There was a thick haze of thoughts in his mind that he was attempting to sort through before going to bed, all of them questions he would have asked Draco if they weren't on yet another disagreement. It was hard to fight with everything he knew about the past and everything here that completely contradicted it.

He would have liked to have been in bed with Draco, just for the presence of him to settle Harry down. Maybe they could have shared a few more kisses, or something more, but Harry knew he wasn't ready for everything yet. It was just the fact he couldn't that made him want it... and probably a bit of their bonded magic as well.

Part of him felt like he was using his husband, but that alone sounded ridiculous. Actual dragons were less of a fuss than the man named after one. He was certainly a unique individual.

He rolled over again.

How was one even supposed to acclimate to this kind of switch? Did he throw himself in like Hermione, or ruin everyone's lives like his original instinct had told him to do. At least he wouldn't have to deal with the Draco situation anymore.

Harry was jealous of Hermione then, having blended in so seamlessly as she always did. Maybe it was because she was muggleborn that this absolutely bonkers transition hadn't ripped her open, but then one would think he would have been able to do the same thing considering his own muggle upbringing.

A noise in the living room sounded like apparition, and crying followed it. He knew that cry, arguably knew it better than anyone, rushing out of his bed and downstairs to find Hermione on her knees with a traveling case at her side.

This was not good.

"Harry," she said through a froggy voice, reaching up for him as an infant might to be held.

Either Severus Snape found out what had happened, or she was just emotionally charged because of the baby. Either way he knew she needed everything he had to give.

Reaching out his hands, he pulled her up and led her to the sofa, fitting her right under his arm as she shook and dampened his nightshirt. It felt good to hold her, but not like this. He would rather he just be holding his best friend, not dealing with the aftermath of what was probably the same strife he'd been going through with Draco.

"What's happened, Hermione?"

"He knows," she said slowly, hiccupping in the middle. "He knows everything."

"You told him all of it?"

This stopped Harry's hand on her head, looking down into her puffy and red eyes.

"All of it, yes. Was that alright?"

"Yes, of course, don't ask me that, Hermione. You don't need my permission. I just... I thought knowing what you'd been through might soften his-"