Who We Are

Chapter 1

"I'm sorry, I must be drunk or not drunk enough," Harry said, blinking across the table at Kingsley. "I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Mind repeating that?"

Kingsley rolled his eyes. "It was your idea, kid."

"No. I just wanted the right people to get their reward," Harry retorted. "I never said anything about a gala."

"When else were we meant to award these Orders of Merlin?" Kingsley asked.

"I don't recall that being my problem, Minister," Harry sniped.

"You made it your problem when you started fighting publicly with the Ministry three years ago," Kingsley told him.

Harry looked pleadingly at the others around the table. "Come on, someone help me out here." He glared when he just got smirks or dodging eyes behind glasses. "Traitors, all of you."

"C'mon, mate, the Ministry throws this gala every year," Seamus said after a large swig of beer.

"I haven't had to go every year," Harry argued.

"You're supposed to," Kingsley pointed out.

Harry huffed. "Why would I willingly subject myself-and Draco, by the way-" he pointed at the blonde, "to the institution that, very publicly, hates us?"

Kingsley sighed. "Because, despite all of that, you are still the man that saved Britain's wizarding world."

"Because of everyone else," Harry shot back. "Which is why the gala should be about them, not me."

"What about your Order of Merlin?" Kingsley asked.

"Owl it," Harry said shortly.

"What about Draco's?" Kingsley raised an eyebrow.

Harry hesitated for the first time, looking at Draco beside him. The former Slytherin raised the hand not holding his wine and shook his head.

"Hey, leave me out of this," he said. "I never wanted or cared about the bloody thing."

Harry rolled his eyes while the rest of the table snickered and Kingsley glared. The Minister moved his eyes back to Harry where challenge set into the green eyes.

"What about Severus'?" Kingsley said and the expected hush fell over the table while Harry's eyes narrowed.

He dropped his gaze to his rum and Coke with a shot of Firewhiskey, his fingers tightening around the glass. Four years and he still couldn't handle any unexpected mention of Severus Snape, his single biggest regret. There honestly wasn't much he regretted or even felt guilty about anymore from the war and final battle. He accepted that losses were inevitable, as was horrific injury. Except Severus...his loss meant something else entirely and he wasn't sure he would ever fully accept it. There were a lot of 'could haves' and 'ifs' surrounding the man, his death, and their relationship.

For Kingsley to bring him up was a low blow and the Minster knew that.

"Someone has to accept the posthumous awards or they will sit in a cupboard forever," Kingsley continued, his tone gentling. "You should be the one to accept his since you're the one that went to war with the Ministry for it."

Harry tapped a finger against his glass, contemplating. "If you make me do this, you will not like what I end up saying."

Kingsley grinned. "Because you've held back all these years?"

"Oh, you have no idea, good sir," Harry said with his own smirk as the lightness that usually permeated these get togethers returned.

"I look forward to it," Kingsley said, raising his glass at Harry.