The Auror and the Envoy (Drarry Slowburn)

IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS

"Harry!" cried a familiar voice.

He didn't even have to turn around; Harry could recognize it anywhere. It was the same voice that often paired with another raspier tone. Two hugs followed it in quick succession.

"We got your message." Hermione pined, "Is Draco okay?" She nodded to the stag trailing close behind them. Harry waved his hand, and the blue stag vanished in the air, unraveling like ribbon.

"He's sleeping right now," Harry said, preoccupied by how his heart caught in his throat when he thought about how he would deliver the hard-hitting news.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked, delicately.

Resolve burned like a phoenix within Harry's chest. He sighed, "No, I'm not."

People used to call him fearless, when he was younger. He never agreed with that consensus, though. He was no stranger to fear. He simply did what he needed to, in spite of it, for the sake of wizard-kind. This battle, however, was one that only a small few would be affected by—one that had no obvious conclusion.

It took everything Harry had to not break down. His voice faltered, "I . . . I need to tell you both something."

Hermione and Ron exchanged wordless glances before returning, expectantly, to Harry.

Harry needed to breathe, but he didn't. He breathlessly spat out the words that lay leaden on his palate, hoping to be rid of them as fast as possible, "I'm dating Draco Malfoy."

Hermione grinned and turned to Ron with conviction. He tried to ignore her, as if anticipating what would come next.

"I fucking told you!" she exclaimed.

"Fine! You were right," Ron mumbled. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Harry's eyes were as wide as a mooncalf's, "Care to explain what either of you are waffling on about?"

Hermione teetered her head with pride, "I just won a bet."

"You knew?" Harry asked, incredulous.

Ron laughed, "We're your best friends, Harry. Of course we knew."

Harry folded his arms in upset, "And just when were you planning on telling me this?"

"We wanted you to come to us on your own terms," Hermione said gently.

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. So much for keeping it a secret, he thought. His face started to turn red, thinking about what could've possibly tipped them off. "How did you find out?"

"You weren't exactly subtle about it, mate," Ron said lightly. He cited the night they returned from their fancy dinner to find Harry straddling Draco on the couch, the odd tickling fight that occurred between them, and the fact that Draco traveled with Harry, of all people, to a different country. Even when they tried to make it sound like a business trip, the gesture of spending an entire year together was far too extravagant and intimate to extend to a mere friend.

Harry shook his head in disbelief, "I thought you'd be more upset . . . or shocked."

"We were a little surprised, at first, but we trust your judgment," Ron admitted.

Hermione smiled sweetly, "Even if you don't say it, it's obvious how much you care about him, Harry. In the things you do—the way you look at him—it speaks for itself."

"So neither of you care that I'm bisexual?" Harry's eyes darted cautiously between Ron and Hermione, searching for a hint of reproach that never came.

"Of course we care, Harry," Hermione said placatingly, "but we don't think less of you for it, if that's what you're implying."